July 2024
National Parks
31/07/24 01:12
I was fortunate to grow up near Yellowstone National Park and was able to visit it frequently. My parents flying service had contracts to provide a variety of services to the National Park service including fire patrol, game counts, and arial survey work. The view of the park from the air became familiar to me as I was able to join my father in frequent light airplane flights over the park. The most-used type of airplane for that work was a Piper Super Cub, a two-seat airplane with good performance in the mountains. My father also flew plenty of tourist charters over the park in a four-passenger plane, but I didn’t get to go on those trips often because the other three seats were occupied by paying tourists.
When I earned my driver’s license, I got the job, several times each summer, of driving guests through the park. We often hosted people in our home who were visiting the area for the first time and it was common for them to expect that they could tour the park in a day. We had a version of a tour that started at 6 am. We’d drive to the park entrance at Mammoth, stopping for breakfast in Gardiner. Then we’d drive the outside loop of the park in a clockwise direction, stopping for some short hikes and views and having lunch at Yellowstone Lake. We’d visit Old Faithful in the early afternoon and continue up the west side of the park making it back to our home around 8 pm. It was a long day with a lot of driving, but I knew where to stop and which hikes would yield views of geysers, waterfalls, and other features.
Throughout my life I have made man more visits to Yellowstone Park, often driving through just part of the park rather than completing the entire loop. As the number of visitors increased over the years, visits to the park began to require more planning. Campgrounds are all reserved in advance now, even those outside of park boundaries. If you don’t have a reservation, you won’t have a campsite. Roads become clogged with traffic and when roads that normally only accommodate 35 mph traffic slow to 25 mph it takes longer to drive between sights. Park visitors regularly block roads when game is sighted near the road because pullouts are full of cars.
In recent years the park has attracted over three million visitors each year. Last year the count was 4.5 million. That makes the park crowded.
When I was growing up, we knew several ways to avoid crowds. We often made family trips to the park in the winter. Only part of the park is open to vehicle traffic in the winter and the number of people is much less than during June, July, and August. Even in the busiest seasons, however, the best way to get away from crowds in the park is to walk. If you are willing to walk more than a mile, you can be mostly by yourself. If you walk five miles, you’ll have territory all to yourself. Most visitors don’t walk more than a quarter mile from a road or parking lot.
I haven’t kept up with the statistics, but Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona and Zion National Park in Utah used to have even more visitors than Yellowstone. I think Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee is the most visited park. I think, however, that the nearest national park to where we now live is among the least visited parks. North Cascades National Park was established with a different emphasis than other parks. North Cascades was established specifically as a wilderness park. There are minimal resources for tourists. Most of the park is accessible only to backpackers and mountain climbers. Washington State Highway 20 crosses part of the park and provides some “front country” visitor sites including campgrounds, viewpoints, and visitor centers. The most visited areas in the park are Lake Chelan and Ross Lake. Although we were able to obtain a camping site without a reservation a few years ago, I’m told that it is unlikely that one could do so during the summer any more. We do know of a campground just outside of the park boundaries where we can generally get a site with short notice.
Unlike some national parks, North Cascades doesn’t really have a single iconic feature. Yellowstone has Old Faithful. Grand Canyon has the south rim. Arches has Delicate Arch. Mount Rainier has Paradise Lodge. Olympic has Hot Rainforest. North Cascades, however, has rugged mountains and back country suitable for technical climbing and multiple-day backpack trips.
Part of the attraction of any national park, in my opinion, is its ability to offer contact with somewhat undisturbed nature. I go to parks to get away from crowds and crowded conditions definitely detract from the experience. On the other hand, as I grow older I am more likely to visit places that provide easy access and so find myself more likely to end up in crowds at those locations.
Balancing the preservation of wilderness with access and visitor services is an issue for all national parks. I need to remind myself that there is value to wilderness even when I don’t have access. I benefit from the waters stored in alpine snowfields that feed the rivers where the salmon spawn even when I am unable to hike onto the glaciers. I breathe air that has been freshened by acres of old growth forest even when I am not able to walk through the forest. All of us benefit from the preservation of wilderness for future generations that will give our grandchildren and their grandchildren glimpses of the natural world.
Just as I was fortunate to grow up with access to Yellowstone, I am fortunate to have retired with easy access to North Cascades National Park. Our national parks are treasures. They deserve the protection that our government can offer. And even when I become too old to visit the parks, I will have stories to tell to anyone who will listen.
When I earned my driver’s license, I got the job, several times each summer, of driving guests through the park. We often hosted people in our home who were visiting the area for the first time and it was common for them to expect that they could tour the park in a day. We had a version of a tour that started at 6 am. We’d drive to the park entrance at Mammoth, stopping for breakfast in Gardiner. Then we’d drive the outside loop of the park in a clockwise direction, stopping for some short hikes and views and having lunch at Yellowstone Lake. We’d visit Old Faithful in the early afternoon and continue up the west side of the park making it back to our home around 8 pm. It was a long day with a lot of driving, but I knew where to stop and which hikes would yield views of geysers, waterfalls, and other features.
Throughout my life I have made man more visits to Yellowstone Park, often driving through just part of the park rather than completing the entire loop. As the number of visitors increased over the years, visits to the park began to require more planning. Campgrounds are all reserved in advance now, even those outside of park boundaries. If you don’t have a reservation, you won’t have a campsite. Roads become clogged with traffic and when roads that normally only accommodate 35 mph traffic slow to 25 mph it takes longer to drive between sights. Park visitors regularly block roads when game is sighted near the road because pullouts are full of cars.
In recent years the park has attracted over three million visitors each year. Last year the count was 4.5 million. That makes the park crowded.
When I was growing up, we knew several ways to avoid crowds. We often made family trips to the park in the winter. Only part of the park is open to vehicle traffic in the winter and the number of people is much less than during June, July, and August. Even in the busiest seasons, however, the best way to get away from crowds in the park is to walk. If you are willing to walk more than a mile, you can be mostly by yourself. If you walk five miles, you’ll have territory all to yourself. Most visitors don’t walk more than a quarter mile from a road or parking lot.
I haven’t kept up with the statistics, but Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona and Zion National Park in Utah used to have even more visitors than Yellowstone. I think Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee is the most visited park. I think, however, that the nearest national park to where we now live is among the least visited parks. North Cascades National Park was established with a different emphasis than other parks. North Cascades was established specifically as a wilderness park. There are minimal resources for tourists. Most of the park is accessible only to backpackers and mountain climbers. Washington State Highway 20 crosses part of the park and provides some “front country” visitor sites including campgrounds, viewpoints, and visitor centers. The most visited areas in the park are Lake Chelan and Ross Lake. Although we were able to obtain a camping site without a reservation a few years ago, I’m told that it is unlikely that one could do so during the summer any more. We do know of a campground just outside of the park boundaries where we can generally get a site with short notice.
Unlike some national parks, North Cascades doesn’t really have a single iconic feature. Yellowstone has Old Faithful. Grand Canyon has the south rim. Arches has Delicate Arch. Mount Rainier has Paradise Lodge. Olympic has Hot Rainforest. North Cascades, however, has rugged mountains and back country suitable for technical climbing and multiple-day backpack trips.
Part of the attraction of any national park, in my opinion, is its ability to offer contact with somewhat undisturbed nature. I go to parks to get away from crowds and crowded conditions definitely detract from the experience. On the other hand, as I grow older I am more likely to visit places that provide easy access and so find myself more likely to end up in crowds at those locations.
Balancing the preservation of wilderness with access and visitor services is an issue for all national parks. I need to remind myself that there is value to wilderness even when I don’t have access. I benefit from the waters stored in alpine snowfields that feed the rivers where the salmon spawn even when I am unable to hike onto the glaciers. I breathe air that has been freshened by acres of old growth forest even when I am not able to walk through the forest. All of us benefit from the preservation of wilderness for future generations that will give our grandchildren and their grandchildren glimpses of the natural world.
Just as I was fortunate to grow up with access to Yellowstone, I am fortunate to have retired with easy access to North Cascades National Park. Our national parks are treasures. They deserve the protection that our government can offer. And even when I become too old to visit the parks, I will have stories to tell to anyone who will listen.
Another rant on healthcare costs
30/07/24 02:47
During the years that we served as pastors of congregations, we received medical and surgical insurance as part of our compensation package. Because my role in the church included the preparation of budgets, I was aware of how significant the cost of health care was for churches. Throughout my career the cost of health care increased at a pace far beyond that of inflation. That cost has meant that many small, rural, and isolated congregations can no longer afford pastoral leadership. Those congregations, long the training ground for new and inexperienced pastors were forced to reduce pastoral leadership to part-time positions and were unable to attract the kind of leadership they once had taken for granted.
We been our careers serving two congregations in southwest North Dakota. The total membership of both congregations was less than 200 people, but they managed to offer us a living wage, a parsonage in which to live with utilities paid, health insurance, and a reasonable investment in our retirement. Those congregations managed to keep up that practice for one more pastor, but after that pastorate they had to shift to a variety of different leadership solutions. Neither of those congregations was able to remain in business for the span of our careers. They have both closed their doors after a century of service.
While I paid attention to health care costs as a pastor, there were a lot of other issues that had to be managed in my service. Now that I am retired and we are paying the premiums for part of our insurance, I no longer have the luxury of ignoring health care costs. Susan and I are both covered by medicare, the federal program that provides health care coverage to all seniors. However, we have a supplemental insurance policy that covers items not covered by medicare. That policy is provided through the church. As was the case throughout our careers, we participate in the program offered by the denomination we served. Each month, part of our annuity is deducted to cover health insurance costs. That cost exceeds the amount of our total pay package when we began serving the church.
People in the United States pay some of the highest costs in the world for health care. Our system provides some incredible levels of life-saving and life-enhancing care, but that care comes at a very high price. Increasingly, people are unable to afford the costs of care. Health statistics in our country do not fare well when compared with other industrial nations. We pay more and receive less than our neighbors around the globe.
As is the case with many things in life, spending more money does not always result in a higher quality of life.
Part of our problem in this country is the strange mix of for-profit and non-profit corporations involved in health care. And when it comes to health care the definition of non-profit is especially murky. Seven of the 10 most highly paid nonprofit CEOs in the United States are the head of hospitals. Nonprofit hospitals pay millions, sometimes tens of millions to their executives. While the corporation may be non-profit, they offer very profitable compensation to those in executive positions.
We like to think of hospitals as charitable organizations that provide life-saving care to all regardless of ability to pay. But the level of free and unpaid medical care is surprisingly low. Everyone knows the story of someone who was forced to go to the emergency room for treatment and emerged with debt that exceeded their ability to pay. Health care debt is the leading cause of personal bankruptcy in our country.
Hospitals that are nonprofit by the rules of the IRS continue to own for-profit companies. A patient treated in a nonprofit hospital will likely receive anesthesia services form a for-profit company and the doctor may be part of a for-profit practice fully owned by the hospital.
Nonprofit hospitals in the US own for-profit insurance companies, venture capital companies and for-profit hospitals in other countries. A nonprofit hospital co-invests with private equity firms. Hospitals are diversified businesses and have multiple revenue streams.
Hospitals are part of the complex pattern of funding for ventures that are not directly health care. At Stanford University, 62% of operating revenue in fiscal 2023 was from health services. The University of Chicago patient services brought in 49% of operating revenue in fiscal 2022.
The result is that no one can explain the charges for health care. A recent out-patient procedure for a member of our family cost tens of thousands of dollars for a procedure that took less than half a day and that was after our insurance provider negotiated thousands of dollars of price reductions, something that does not happen for those who do not have supplemental insurance. There is no one at the hospital or in the medical practice that can give a clear explanation of why the charges were what they were. They cite the cost of comparable procedures at other US hospitals, not a clear breakdown of fees for services. Because we have small co pays, we see the number of different companies that are involved in medical billing. A simple surgery results in bills from the surgeon, the hospital, the anesthesiology services, the infusion services, the medical imaging services, a separate company that interprets the medical images, and more.
We are very fortunate. We have excellent health care provided by medicare and the church we served. Our out of pocket costs for health care are affordable. In consuming health care the way we do we participate in a system that funnels millions of dollars into the pockets of already wealthy individuals and corporations.
In the four years that we have been retired we have seen multiple mergers of giant non-profit hospital and health care corporations in our area. The number of providers continues to shrink as hospital corporations become larger and larger. At least two major hospital corporations in our state have operating budgets in the tens of billions of dollars. I’m sure that they do provide a certain level of charitable care, but I’m pretty sure that the amount of charity is pretty small in the big picture of their corporate fiscal pictures.
Big hospital systems do perform lifesaving care. But their systems are being richly paid for their services. Perhaps it is time to take a look at what is mostly a charade of community benefit and consider having these mega corporations pay some taxes. Local governments are already providing services that directly benefit residents’ health through services to homeless people, by providing mental health services, and meeting other community needs. A bit of property tax collected from a hospital might help fund more charitable health care than the hospital now provides.
We been our careers serving two congregations in southwest North Dakota. The total membership of both congregations was less than 200 people, but they managed to offer us a living wage, a parsonage in which to live with utilities paid, health insurance, and a reasonable investment in our retirement. Those congregations managed to keep up that practice for one more pastor, but after that pastorate they had to shift to a variety of different leadership solutions. Neither of those congregations was able to remain in business for the span of our careers. They have both closed their doors after a century of service.
While I paid attention to health care costs as a pastor, there were a lot of other issues that had to be managed in my service. Now that I am retired and we are paying the premiums for part of our insurance, I no longer have the luxury of ignoring health care costs. Susan and I are both covered by medicare, the federal program that provides health care coverage to all seniors. However, we have a supplemental insurance policy that covers items not covered by medicare. That policy is provided through the church. As was the case throughout our careers, we participate in the program offered by the denomination we served. Each month, part of our annuity is deducted to cover health insurance costs. That cost exceeds the amount of our total pay package when we began serving the church.
People in the United States pay some of the highest costs in the world for health care. Our system provides some incredible levels of life-saving and life-enhancing care, but that care comes at a very high price. Increasingly, people are unable to afford the costs of care. Health statistics in our country do not fare well when compared with other industrial nations. We pay more and receive less than our neighbors around the globe.
As is the case with many things in life, spending more money does not always result in a higher quality of life.
Part of our problem in this country is the strange mix of for-profit and non-profit corporations involved in health care. And when it comes to health care the definition of non-profit is especially murky. Seven of the 10 most highly paid nonprofit CEOs in the United States are the head of hospitals. Nonprofit hospitals pay millions, sometimes tens of millions to their executives. While the corporation may be non-profit, they offer very profitable compensation to those in executive positions.
We like to think of hospitals as charitable organizations that provide life-saving care to all regardless of ability to pay. But the level of free and unpaid medical care is surprisingly low. Everyone knows the story of someone who was forced to go to the emergency room for treatment and emerged with debt that exceeded their ability to pay. Health care debt is the leading cause of personal bankruptcy in our country.
Hospitals that are nonprofit by the rules of the IRS continue to own for-profit companies. A patient treated in a nonprofit hospital will likely receive anesthesia services form a for-profit company and the doctor may be part of a for-profit practice fully owned by the hospital.
Nonprofit hospitals in the US own for-profit insurance companies, venture capital companies and for-profit hospitals in other countries. A nonprofit hospital co-invests with private equity firms. Hospitals are diversified businesses and have multiple revenue streams.
Hospitals are part of the complex pattern of funding for ventures that are not directly health care. At Stanford University, 62% of operating revenue in fiscal 2023 was from health services. The University of Chicago patient services brought in 49% of operating revenue in fiscal 2022.
The result is that no one can explain the charges for health care. A recent out-patient procedure for a member of our family cost tens of thousands of dollars for a procedure that took less than half a day and that was after our insurance provider negotiated thousands of dollars of price reductions, something that does not happen for those who do not have supplemental insurance. There is no one at the hospital or in the medical practice that can give a clear explanation of why the charges were what they were. They cite the cost of comparable procedures at other US hospitals, not a clear breakdown of fees for services. Because we have small co pays, we see the number of different companies that are involved in medical billing. A simple surgery results in bills from the surgeon, the hospital, the anesthesiology services, the infusion services, the medical imaging services, a separate company that interprets the medical images, and more.
We are very fortunate. We have excellent health care provided by medicare and the church we served. Our out of pocket costs for health care are affordable. In consuming health care the way we do we participate in a system that funnels millions of dollars into the pockets of already wealthy individuals and corporations.
In the four years that we have been retired we have seen multiple mergers of giant non-profit hospital and health care corporations in our area. The number of providers continues to shrink as hospital corporations become larger and larger. At least two major hospital corporations in our state have operating budgets in the tens of billions of dollars. I’m sure that they do provide a certain level of charitable care, but I’m pretty sure that the amount of charity is pretty small in the big picture of their corporate fiscal pictures.
Big hospital systems do perform lifesaving care. But their systems are being richly paid for their services. Perhaps it is time to take a look at what is mostly a charade of community benefit and consider having these mega corporations pay some taxes. Local governments are already providing services that directly benefit residents’ health through services to homeless people, by providing mental health services, and meeting other community needs. A bit of property tax collected from a hospital might help fund more charitable health care than the hospital now provides.
Couldn't we ride side by side
29/07/24 00:49
One of the wonderful things about being the age that I am is that I have a host of memories of good times shared with other people. When I worked with people experiencing loss and grief, I frequently said to them, “Your memories will become your friends.” Our brains do a marvelous job of sifting and sorting through our memories. As time passes, we often discard painful memories in favor of pleasant ones. Victims of trauma sometimes need professional help to sort through their traumatic experiences, but for many of us the natural process of living with our memories provides an effective tool for sifting the good from the bad. When I planned funeral services with families they were often surprised at the laughter and giggles that erupted as they told me stories. I was always delighted by their stories because it helped their loved one come alive for me.
Of course we don’t have to wait until we experience loss to befriend our memories. Memories are triggered by pleasant experiences as well as pain. Each time I ride a bicycle, a host of memories come to my mind. The past couple of days as I have enjoyed venturing forth on a new bicycle, my mind goes into free association mode as I ride and the memories are joyful and fun.
Susan and I have different internal clocks. She is a night owl. She likes to sit with a cup of peppermint tea and a good book after I have crawled into bed and gone to sleep. She needs to wind down a bit before sleep comes. I have never had much trouble going to sleep. I crawl into bed and quickly am sleeping. In the morning, I’m ready to get up and get going while she likes to linger for a few minutes before getting up. The two different paces worked well for us early in our marriage when we were students. We shared a single typewriter. I wanted to use it first thing in the morning and she wanted to use it in the evening. We rarely had conflict about whose turn it was to type our papers and reports. It worked well when our children were tiny. She’d stay up late with a little one who needed attention. I was available for morning duty for early risers.
Our two children were one of each sense of timing when they were young. Our son liked to stay up late and sleep in. our daughter was quick to head for bed and liked to rise early. When she was just becoming a teen she and I had a Saturday routine. We would get up before the other two and ride our bikes to a nearby restaurant for breakfast. Riding a bike reminds me of those wonderful early morning rides with her. When she was a bit older and we had moved from Idaho to South Dakota we shifted or routine a bit. Our South Dakota home was in a hilly area where biking was a challenge. We often had to haul our bikes into town or to a trail head in order to find good places to ride. Our daughter and I began taking a canoe to the lake. Sometimes we would fish. Often we would just paddle around the lake and enjoy each other’s company.
Our children were just the right age for us to share the delight of Jim Henson’s Muppets. They were allowed to watch Sesame Street when they were young and when the Henson team began making movies, we often ended up in the theatre as a family. On our early morning canoe trips, our daughter and I would sing all of the songs from the movies. When she was visiting recently, she asked me if I could remember the lyrics. I may have trouble remembering what I came into the room to do. I sometimes have trouble remembering names of familiar people. I occasionally struggle to remember to turn off the water when it is our day to water the garden. But I can sing all of the words to “A Professional Pirate” from the Muppets Treasure Island.
When I was just a lad looking for my true vocation
My father said “Now son, this voice deserves deliberation
Though you could be a doctor or perhaps a financier
My boy, why not consider a more challenging career?”
Hey ho ho!
You’ll cruise the foreign shores
And you’ll keep your mind and body sound
By working out of doors.
True friendship and adventure are what we can’t live without
And when you’re a professional pirate
That’s what the job’s about.
There’s more to that song. When we sang it together we’d trade lyrics of the various pirates. Rachel would sing, “I could have been politics ‘cause I’ve always been a big spender.” I’d respond with “And me, I could’ve been a contender.”
Last evening as I was riding my bike, other muppet movies came to mind. One of the iconic scenes from the Muppet Movie that is easy to remember is when Kermit the Frog rides a bicycle. The bike in the movie has large, long handlebars and a basket on the front. My new bicycle has large handlebars and a basket on the front. Kermit appears to pedal effortlessly. The electric boost on my bike makes pedaling a lot easier than with my other bike which doesn’t have an electric motor. Somehow riding that bike with the big handlebars and basket while not working all that hard to pedal brings to mind Kermit riding the bike. In the movie the bike often appears to be floating in the air with the tires off of the ground. My new e-bike has a soft suspension and a feeling of floating as I ride.
In the Great Muppet Character, Kermit and Miss Piggy ride their bicycles singing,
Yes couldn’t we ride side by side
Why couldn’t we fly, I know we’d get by
Sunny day, pretty day
just a push and we’re on the way
Yes couldn’t we ride side by side
Couldn’t we ride.
I have to be careful to sing the song to myself as I ride my new bike. I think the neighbors might think I’d taken leave of my senses if I was singing Muppet lyrics each time I left the driveway. However, I can’t keep the lyrics from coming to mind. Memory is wonderful that way and I’ve got a lot of wonderful memories.
That’s why I’m smiling as I ride my bike.
Of course we don’t have to wait until we experience loss to befriend our memories. Memories are triggered by pleasant experiences as well as pain. Each time I ride a bicycle, a host of memories come to my mind. The past couple of days as I have enjoyed venturing forth on a new bicycle, my mind goes into free association mode as I ride and the memories are joyful and fun.
Susan and I have different internal clocks. She is a night owl. She likes to sit with a cup of peppermint tea and a good book after I have crawled into bed and gone to sleep. She needs to wind down a bit before sleep comes. I have never had much trouble going to sleep. I crawl into bed and quickly am sleeping. In the morning, I’m ready to get up and get going while she likes to linger for a few minutes before getting up. The two different paces worked well for us early in our marriage when we were students. We shared a single typewriter. I wanted to use it first thing in the morning and she wanted to use it in the evening. We rarely had conflict about whose turn it was to type our papers and reports. It worked well when our children were tiny. She’d stay up late with a little one who needed attention. I was available for morning duty for early risers.
Our two children were one of each sense of timing when they were young. Our son liked to stay up late and sleep in. our daughter was quick to head for bed and liked to rise early. When she was just becoming a teen she and I had a Saturday routine. We would get up before the other two and ride our bikes to a nearby restaurant for breakfast. Riding a bike reminds me of those wonderful early morning rides with her. When she was a bit older and we had moved from Idaho to South Dakota we shifted or routine a bit. Our South Dakota home was in a hilly area where biking was a challenge. We often had to haul our bikes into town or to a trail head in order to find good places to ride. Our daughter and I began taking a canoe to the lake. Sometimes we would fish. Often we would just paddle around the lake and enjoy each other’s company.
Our children were just the right age for us to share the delight of Jim Henson’s Muppets. They were allowed to watch Sesame Street when they were young and when the Henson team began making movies, we often ended up in the theatre as a family. On our early morning canoe trips, our daughter and I would sing all of the songs from the movies. When she was visiting recently, she asked me if I could remember the lyrics. I may have trouble remembering what I came into the room to do. I sometimes have trouble remembering names of familiar people. I occasionally struggle to remember to turn off the water when it is our day to water the garden. But I can sing all of the words to “A Professional Pirate” from the Muppets Treasure Island.
When I was just a lad looking for my true vocation
My father said “Now son, this voice deserves deliberation
Though you could be a doctor or perhaps a financier
My boy, why not consider a more challenging career?”
Hey ho ho!
You’ll cruise the foreign shores
And you’ll keep your mind and body sound
By working out of doors.
True friendship and adventure are what we can’t live without
And when you’re a professional pirate
That’s what the job’s about.
There’s more to that song. When we sang it together we’d trade lyrics of the various pirates. Rachel would sing, “I could have been politics ‘cause I’ve always been a big spender.” I’d respond with “And me, I could’ve been a contender.”
Last evening as I was riding my bike, other muppet movies came to mind. One of the iconic scenes from the Muppet Movie that is easy to remember is when Kermit the Frog rides a bicycle. The bike in the movie has large, long handlebars and a basket on the front. My new bicycle has large handlebars and a basket on the front. Kermit appears to pedal effortlessly. The electric boost on my bike makes pedaling a lot easier than with my other bike which doesn’t have an electric motor. Somehow riding that bike with the big handlebars and basket while not working all that hard to pedal brings to mind Kermit riding the bike. In the movie the bike often appears to be floating in the air with the tires off of the ground. My new e-bike has a soft suspension and a feeling of floating as I ride.
In the Great Muppet Character, Kermit and Miss Piggy ride their bicycles singing,
Yes couldn’t we ride side by side
Why couldn’t we fly, I know we’d get by
Sunny day, pretty day
just a push and we’re on the way
Yes couldn’t we ride side by side
Couldn’t we ride.
I have to be careful to sing the song to myself as I ride my new bike. I think the neighbors might think I’d taken leave of my senses if I was singing Muppet lyrics each time I left the driveway. However, I can’t keep the lyrics from coming to mind. Memory is wonderful that way and I’ve got a lot of wonderful memories.
That’s why I’m smiling as I ride my bike.
I remember when . . .
28/07/24 02:11
Once, when we had a family gathering, some of my cousins and I gave ourselves the giggles doing impressions of a couple of our uncles. From our point of view the uncles were old. They seemed to enjoy sitting around and eating and as they sat around they offered commentary on a wide variety of topics. In our imitations, we began each of our sentences with the line, “I remember when . . . “ Of course we offered completely ridiculous scenarios in our imitations. “I remember when we had a pterodactyl as a pet.” “I remember when gas was so cheap that they paid you to fill up your tank.” “I remember when we were so poor that we didn’t have a lemon for our lemonade stand. We sold sugar water and there wasn’t that much sugar in the water, either.” We could go on and on with each new statement prompting a round of giggles from the cousins.
Time passed. The uncles grew olde and died. In 2021 at a family gathering a cousin and I were sitting on a couple of lawn chairs watching the others and we realized that we have become those old uncles. I have since tried to avoid too many “I remember when” statements when around younger members of our family. Being an elder is a joy in many regards, but I’m aware that my children watch my driving wondering when they’ll have to intervene to tell me it is time to quit. I still love to get down with the children and play, but sometimes when they are all splashing in the water, I’m only wading in to my knees. I still look forward to bike riding with my grandchildren, but am a bit relieved to have five levels of electric boost on my bike.
And yesterday I caught myself saying, “I remember when” and seriously meaning it. I’ve got to keep an eye on myself and listen to what I am saying. I do, however, remember when we replaced two garage doors on our home in Idaho for half of the amount I paid yesterday to have one garage door repaired.
The drama started Friday afternoon. A spring broke as I attempted to raise the garage door. The car was inside and the opener was unable to lift the door. I released the opener and the door returned to the closed position and was too heavy for me to lift without the assistance of the spring. I called a company that advertises emergency repairs and was told by their dispatcher that they could have someone to repair the door between 5 and 6 pm. Within minutes of calling the company, I received a call from the person scheduled to make repairs informing me that they had to change the schedule and could not come until the next morning. Since our pickup was not in the garage and we didn’t have anywhere to go I accepted the 10 am to noon appointment time.
Two men arrived at our house at 11:55 yesterday. They took a look at the door, had the correct parts on their truck and made the repair in less than an hour. They replaced a few other worn parts on the door, adjusted and inspected everything and gave me a receipt and a 5-year warranty on labor and parts. They even had a discount for not using a card to pay. I gladly accepted the discount and gave them a check. The check was electronically processed before they left my driveway. I remember when it took a couple of days for a check to process, but I didn’t say anything to anyone about it.
Both of the men spoke to me in English with slight accents, but communication was simple and clear. They explained everything before doing anything and were upfront about costs. They spoke another language between themselves, however. I am not good with other languages, but I could tell that they were speaking a middle-eastern language. However, I didn’t know which one. As we were settling up, I asked what language they spoke. It turned out they were speaking Hebrew. I studied Biblical Hebrew for a couple of years, but the emphasis in that instruction is on reading and translation, not on speaking. I was a bit surprised to learn that they were speaking Hebrew. I had assumed that it might be Arabic or Farsi or Turkish.
Of course their lives are far more interesting and complex than I could discern from a few minutes of casual conversation, but I did learn that one of the men came to the United States at the age of 20 after completing his military service in Israel. He met his wife while traveling in the US and she is from Seattle. He has been living and working in the US for nine years now and is 29 years old. He still has lots of family in Israel and goes to visit regularly. He just got back form a visit. He described Israel as a very beautiful place and encouraged me to visit. He also said, “It is so peaceful there.”
I was really struck by what he said because I had just read about the Hezbollah strike on the soccer field that killed 12 children. I didn’t want to get into politics with him. I doubt if a 29-year-old tradesman in the US has any authority for setting governmental policy and directing the course of the war with Hezbollah. And I didn’t want to offend the men who had come and done needed repair work on our home. I simply said, “I hope your families are safe from the terrorists and hostage-takers.” It was genuine. I do hope they are safe.
I wished that there would have been more time for me to ask questions and learn. I suspect that the reason the after hours appointment on Friday had to be rescheduled was that they were celebrating Sabbath with family, but I do not know if they are religious and observe traditional practices. I would have loved to hear their opinion on the death and destruction in Gaza as I know that Israeli citizens have many different perspectives on their country’s leadership and policies.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet and have a brief conversation with a couple of men from Israel. Now, I’ll have to be sure not to start any stories about the experience with the words, “I remember when . . .”
Time passed. The uncles grew olde and died. In 2021 at a family gathering a cousin and I were sitting on a couple of lawn chairs watching the others and we realized that we have become those old uncles. I have since tried to avoid too many “I remember when” statements when around younger members of our family. Being an elder is a joy in many regards, but I’m aware that my children watch my driving wondering when they’ll have to intervene to tell me it is time to quit. I still love to get down with the children and play, but sometimes when they are all splashing in the water, I’m only wading in to my knees. I still look forward to bike riding with my grandchildren, but am a bit relieved to have five levels of electric boost on my bike.
And yesterday I caught myself saying, “I remember when” and seriously meaning it. I’ve got to keep an eye on myself and listen to what I am saying. I do, however, remember when we replaced two garage doors on our home in Idaho for half of the amount I paid yesterday to have one garage door repaired.
The drama started Friday afternoon. A spring broke as I attempted to raise the garage door. The car was inside and the opener was unable to lift the door. I released the opener and the door returned to the closed position and was too heavy for me to lift without the assistance of the spring. I called a company that advertises emergency repairs and was told by their dispatcher that they could have someone to repair the door between 5 and 6 pm. Within minutes of calling the company, I received a call from the person scheduled to make repairs informing me that they had to change the schedule and could not come until the next morning. Since our pickup was not in the garage and we didn’t have anywhere to go I accepted the 10 am to noon appointment time.
Two men arrived at our house at 11:55 yesterday. They took a look at the door, had the correct parts on their truck and made the repair in less than an hour. They replaced a few other worn parts on the door, adjusted and inspected everything and gave me a receipt and a 5-year warranty on labor and parts. They even had a discount for not using a card to pay. I gladly accepted the discount and gave them a check. The check was electronically processed before they left my driveway. I remember when it took a couple of days for a check to process, but I didn’t say anything to anyone about it.
Both of the men spoke to me in English with slight accents, but communication was simple and clear. They explained everything before doing anything and were upfront about costs. They spoke another language between themselves, however. I am not good with other languages, but I could tell that they were speaking a middle-eastern language. However, I didn’t know which one. As we were settling up, I asked what language they spoke. It turned out they were speaking Hebrew. I studied Biblical Hebrew for a couple of years, but the emphasis in that instruction is on reading and translation, not on speaking. I was a bit surprised to learn that they were speaking Hebrew. I had assumed that it might be Arabic or Farsi or Turkish.
Of course their lives are far more interesting and complex than I could discern from a few minutes of casual conversation, but I did learn that one of the men came to the United States at the age of 20 after completing his military service in Israel. He met his wife while traveling in the US and she is from Seattle. He has been living and working in the US for nine years now and is 29 years old. He still has lots of family in Israel and goes to visit regularly. He just got back form a visit. He described Israel as a very beautiful place and encouraged me to visit. He also said, “It is so peaceful there.”
I was really struck by what he said because I had just read about the Hezbollah strike on the soccer field that killed 12 children. I didn’t want to get into politics with him. I doubt if a 29-year-old tradesman in the US has any authority for setting governmental policy and directing the course of the war with Hezbollah. And I didn’t want to offend the men who had come and done needed repair work on our home. I simply said, “I hope your families are safe from the terrorists and hostage-takers.” It was genuine. I do hope they are safe.
I wished that there would have been more time for me to ask questions and learn. I suspect that the reason the after hours appointment on Friday had to be rescheduled was that they were celebrating Sabbath with family, but I do not know if they are religious and observe traditional practices. I would have loved to hear their opinion on the death and destruction in Gaza as I know that Israeli citizens have many different perspectives on their country’s leadership and policies.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet and have a brief conversation with a couple of men from Israel. Now, I’ll have to be sure not to start any stories about the experience with the words, “I remember when . . .”
A new bike
27/07/24 01:53
The traditional big gift for a sixth birthday in the house where I grew up was a bicycle. However there was a caveat. In order to receive a bicycle for one’s birthday, the child had to demonstrate that he or she could ride a two wheel bike. There were never any training wheels in our household. I learned to ride a bike on my sister’s big bike. I had three older sisters and the two oldest didn’t have much interest in bikes by the time I was five years old. They had a large blue bicycle that lived in our garage and was available for me to learn to ride. The seat was too high for me, but the bike had a step through frame, so I learned to ride standing on the pedals, reaching up to hold the handlebars that were at about eye level for me.
Our father had a somewhat lighter weight bicycle. His had two speeds. He could remove the back wheel and turn it around. It had a larger sprocket on one side for power and hill climbing and a smaller one on the other for going fast. He rode up the hill to the airport with the chain around one sprocket and turned the wheel around for the trip down the hill to come home.
My first bicycle was a red one from the Montgomery Wards catalogue. I had looked at and wished for a sleek Schwinn Phantom with metal fairing between the two top bars, but was happy with my red bike. I rode that bike all around town and even took it on multiple trips eight miles up the road to a hot springs pool. We’d take a swim, eat our lunches, and then pedal eight miles back home. It was mostly uphill to the pool and downhill home, which made for some fond memories of riding fast.
That bicycle was replaced with a 5-speed bike with a twist grip shifter that I purchased with money earned by sweeping the feed warehouse once a week. That bike was fun, but its glory was eclipsed a couple of years later by my younger brother’s stingray bike with a banana seat, high-rise handlebars and a t-shifter on the center bar. His bike even sported a speedometer that went all the way to 45 mph. Of course we argued that there was no way my brother could peg the speedometer, which proved to be the bike’s undoing. He raced down the airport hill at breakneck speed and proceeded to miss the turn at the bottom of the hill crashing into a gravel berm hard enough to bend the front wheel and cover himself with road rash. He probably also suffered a concussion in the accident. At least he lay still for quite a while before opening his eyes and declaring that he had pegged the speedometer. It was the first of several dramatic bike crashes in my brother’s career, one of which as an adult, earned him a life flight trip from Whidby Island to a trauma center in Seattle. That accident also earned him a new bike helmet after the one he was fortunately wearing when the accident occurred had saved his life.
After I earned my driver’s license and my attention turned to working on my pilot’s license, I stopped riding my bike. College and graduate school followed and I didn’t have a bike until we were settled in our first parish. We both got 12-speed bikes from a local store and rode them for several years. During that time I made several different kinds of bike racks to haul bikes on the car including a way to attach bicycles to a set of rooftop bars long before such items were available commercially.
My third bicycle was a green Schwinn mountain bike, purchased around the time our children were upgrading to mountain bikes from their first learner bikes. That 18-speed bike is rugged and has served me well for 30 years. I keep it in good condition and have enjoyed riding it with our grandchildren.
Yesterday, however, I went in for another major upgrade. I have been looking at new bicycles at our local bike shop. The shop owner is a friend and we have rented a small apartment that he and his wife rent to visitors for additional income. He has done a tune up on my bike and his prices are fair and his work good. He had an electric bike that he was selling on commission. The bike has a digital speedometer that shows only 27 miles and the owner was asking less than half the price of a new e-bike. I had ridden a friend’s e-bike once a few years ago, but didn’t think I needed one at the time. However, this bike has just the right amount of boost to take the strain out of the hills around here. It is brand new to me and I haven’t ridden it very much, but I think I’m going to really appreciate it. Before I purchased it, I did ride it with the electric boost turned off to prove to myself that I would be able to get home if the battery died, though the range of the bike exceeds any trips I have in mind.
I know that I’m attracted to gadgets and have a tendency to spend money on shiny new objects. On the other hand four bicycles in 65 years isn’t all that extravagant. Even at a greatly discounted price for its used status this bike was very expensive compared to my previous bike purchases. I’m going to have to use it quite a bit to justify the expense. It is probably a good thing that I’m retired and live in a community where people drive golf carts on the streets and the speed limit is low. Unfortunately the road between our house and our son’s farm is too narrow and the traffic moves too quickly to make that a safe corridor for regular bike rides. I am, however, already used to loading up the grandkids’ bikes in my pickup to transport them to bike paths and campgrounds for us to ride together.
All I have to do is to remember to keep the battery charged so I’ll be able to keep up as my grandchildren gain speed on their bikes.
Our father had a somewhat lighter weight bicycle. His had two speeds. He could remove the back wheel and turn it around. It had a larger sprocket on one side for power and hill climbing and a smaller one on the other for going fast. He rode up the hill to the airport with the chain around one sprocket and turned the wheel around for the trip down the hill to come home.
My first bicycle was a red one from the Montgomery Wards catalogue. I had looked at and wished for a sleek Schwinn Phantom with metal fairing between the two top bars, but was happy with my red bike. I rode that bike all around town and even took it on multiple trips eight miles up the road to a hot springs pool. We’d take a swim, eat our lunches, and then pedal eight miles back home. It was mostly uphill to the pool and downhill home, which made for some fond memories of riding fast.
That bicycle was replaced with a 5-speed bike with a twist grip shifter that I purchased with money earned by sweeping the feed warehouse once a week. That bike was fun, but its glory was eclipsed a couple of years later by my younger brother’s stingray bike with a banana seat, high-rise handlebars and a t-shifter on the center bar. His bike even sported a speedometer that went all the way to 45 mph. Of course we argued that there was no way my brother could peg the speedometer, which proved to be the bike’s undoing. He raced down the airport hill at breakneck speed and proceeded to miss the turn at the bottom of the hill crashing into a gravel berm hard enough to bend the front wheel and cover himself with road rash. He probably also suffered a concussion in the accident. At least he lay still for quite a while before opening his eyes and declaring that he had pegged the speedometer. It was the first of several dramatic bike crashes in my brother’s career, one of which as an adult, earned him a life flight trip from Whidby Island to a trauma center in Seattle. That accident also earned him a new bike helmet after the one he was fortunately wearing when the accident occurred had saved his life.
After I earned my driver’s license and my attention turned to working on my pilot’s license, I stopped riding my bike. College and graduate school followed and I didn’t have a bike until we were settled in our first parish. We both got 12-speed bikes from a local store and rode them for several years. During that time I made several different kinds of bike racks to haul bikes on the car including a way to attach bicycles to a set of rooftop bars long before such items were available commercially.
My third bicycle was a green Schwinn mountain bike, purchased around the time our children were upgrading to mountain bikes from their first learner bikes. That 18-speed bike is rugged and has served me well for 30 years. I keep it in good condition and have enjoyed riding it with our grandchildren.
Yesterday, however, I went in for another major upgrade. I have been looking at new bicycles at our local bike shop. The shop owner is a friend and we have rented a small apartment that he and his wife rent to visitors for additional income. He has done a tune up on my bike and his prices are fair and his work good. He had an electric bike that he was selling on commission. The bike has a digital speedometer that shows only 27 miles and the owner was asking less than half the price of a new e-bike. I had ridden a friend’s e-bike once a few years ago, but didn’t think I needed one at the time. However, this bike has just the right amount of boost to take the strain out of the hills around here. It is brand new to me and I haven’t ridden it very much, but I think I’m going to really appreciate it. Before I purchased it, I did ride it with the electric boost turned off to prove to myself that I would be able to get home if the battery died, though the range of the bike exceeds any trips I have in mind.
I know that I’m attracted to gadgets and have a tendency to spend money on shiny new objects. On the other hand four bicycles in 65 years isn’t all that extravagant. Even at a greatly discounted price for its used status this bike was very expensive compared to my previous bike purchases. I’m going to have to use it quite a bit to justify the expense. It is probably a good thing that I’m retired and live in a community where people drive golf carts on the streets and the speed limit is low. Unfortunately the road between our house and our son’s farm is too narrow and the traffic moves too quickly to make that a safe corridor for regular bike rides. I am, however, already used to loading up the grandkids’ bikes in my pickup to transport them to bike paths and campgrounds for us to ride together.
All I have to do is to remember to keep the battery charged so I’ll be able to keep up as my grandchildren gain speed on their bikes.
Sacred places
26/07/24 02:19
It has been eighteen years since July, 2006, when we had a three month sabbatical funded by the Lily Endowment. The program that benefitted us and the congregation we were serving, was designed in part to strengthen relationships between pastors and congregations. Research shows that long term relationships between pastors and congregations lead to healthy congregations. With the intensity of the pastoral vocation an extended break from day to day ministry combined with study and travel can provide renewal and increased energy for the calling. Lily also supports congregations. In the absence of their regular pastor, outside leadership that can focus on specific ideas and projects can give the congregation an emotional boost. New ideas and new programs often grow from ideas developed by the congregation with outside leadership. In the case of our 2006 sabbatical three different scholars each participated in a one month residency. An historian, a biblical scholar, and a writer helped the congregation explore hidden histories, fresh perspectives from the New Testament, and creative writing and storytelling skills.
Meanwhile, we focused our attention on sacred spaces. We sought out rural and remote places where there were congregations serving semi-isolated populations. The first month of our sabbatical focused on Lakota sacred places where we lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The second month we traveled across Montana, Alberta, and British Columbia seeking out communities that shared qualities with the place where we lived including beautiful scenery, significant tourist visitations, and places where congregations were far apart from other congregations of their denomination. Our family visited sacred sites in Australia including Uluru and Tasmania during our third month.
In July of 2006, as our congregation was being led by a visiting scholar we drove from my cousin’s river ranch, a place that is sacred in the story of my mother’s family, north into Glacier National Park, across the border to Watertown National Park, and continued north through Banff and Jasper Parks. In mid July, we camped in a large park on the outskirts of Jasper. Among other activities we drove up to Maligne Lake where we parked near Maligne Lodge and I paddled my kayak in the lake. I took pictures from my boat of Spirit Island as the tourist boats circled it heading back towards the lodge. It was a gray day with a bit of wind and I had fun surfing the small waves that formed as I paddled toward the glacier at the head of the lake. We also took a hike around the edge of the lake. Later that same day we hiked down Malign canyon and marveled at the steep gorge that water had carved through the mountains. I remember falling asleep in the camper listening to the rush of water in the river. Although it was mid-July, it was spring in the Mountains and the river was near flood stage with ice-cold snow melt. It was rushing so rapidly that we could hear the boulders rolling in the river bed.
I was just a tourist at Jasper and Mailgne Lake. We knew that we would never live in that place. But we were drawn by the same beauty that has drawn millions of tourists for a long time. We were touched by the same sense of awe that led indigenous people to see that area as sacred since time immemorial. Just down the Maligne River we paused at Medicine Lake, a relatively shallow lake surrounded by high mountains. Bathing in the icy colder glacial waters of the lake was believed to have healing properties. My body was not in need of special healing that summer, but our spirits were restored by the beauty of the place.
Looking back through the photographs I took at the time I am a bit surprised that I didn’t take more. I was relatively new to digital photography at the time and my camera was a bit limited, but the images from that sabbatical summer are precious to me. They remind me not only of what we saw, but of how we felt and of the importance of taking time to visit “thin places” where the glory of the Creator is evident and our spirits are lifted by the beauty of space.
Our thoughts about sacred spaces expanded over the years with a subsequent sabbatical invested in the study of sacred times.
Now, I look with sadness and horror at the devastating destruction of the fires that have burned through that sacred space. Malign Lodge is no more, destroyed by raging fire. It is estimated that half of the buildings in the town of Jasper have been destroyed. When the fire raced out of the Malign canyon the fire was so large and so intense that it was making its own weather. The rush of the fiery wind down the canyon propelled a wall of flames over 300 feet high. The most skilled and best equipped firefighters in the world were helpless to slow the onslaught. They fought valiantly to protect the hospital and schools, but private residences were reduced to ash and rubble in a matter of minutes.
Fortunately officials were successful in evacuating 20,000 tourists and 5,000 residents from the mountainous area without any loss of life.
Across the prairies and mountains of the United States and Canada there are many features that were identified by indigenous people as sacred. When settlers arrived they recognized the beauty and power of those places. Often, however, the settler’s language shifted the meaning of those places. Because the indigenous people were considered to be heathen and their religion was not understood, when they spoke of the presence of the Creator in particular places, the settlers thought that they were referring to false gods. Places with holy names were re-named “Devil’s” in the language of the settlers. My father grew up on the shores of Spirit Lake in North Dakota, which is called Devil’s Lake in English. Similarly, Mato Tipi, place of the Bear, in Wyoming, is called Devil’s Tower.
The raging fires that have swept through sacred places in British Columbia and Alberta this summer seem to deserve such dramatic language. The walls of flames that cannot be resisted are the stuff of descriptions of hell. While fire can kill trees and destroy buildings, it is powerless to change the dramatic geology of the mountains. The land continues to be sacred even in its fire-scarred state. I hope that one day I will be able to return and witness the beauty that remains. I pray for those who live in that place. May their resolve to rebuild be strengthened by the support of neighbors and governments as they seek new ways to live in a world that is so dramatically changed.
Meanwhile, we focused our attention on sacred spaces. We sought out rural and remote places where there were congregations serving semi-isolated populations. The first month of our sabbatical focused on Lakota sacred places where we lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The second month we traveled across Montana, Alberta, and British Columbia seeking out communities that shared qualities with the place where we lived including beautiful scenery, significant tourist visitations, and places where congregations were far apart from other congregations of their denomination. Our family visited sacred sites in Australia including Uluru and Tasmania during our third month.
In July of 2006, as our congregation was being led by a visiting scholar we drove from my cousin’s river ranch, a place that is sacred in the story of my mother’s family, north into Glacier National Park, across the border to Watertown National Park, and continued north through Banff and Jasper Parks. In mid July, we camped in a large park on the outskirts of Jasper. Among other activities we drove up to Maligne Lake where we parked near Maligne Lodge and I paddled my kayak in the lake. I took pictures from my boat of Spirit Island as the tourist boats circled it heading back towards the lodge. It was a gray day with a bit of wind and I had fun surfing the small waves that formed as I paddled toward the glacier at the head of the lake. We also took a hike around the edge of the lake. Later that same day we hiked down Malign canyon and marveled at the steep gorge that water had carved through the mountains. I remember falling asleep in the camper listening to the rush of water in the river. Although it was mid-July, it was spring in the Mountains and the river was near flood stage with ice-cold snow melt. It was rushing so rapidly that we could hear the boulders rolling in the river bed.
I was just a tourist at Jasper and Mailgne Lake. We knew that we would never live in that place. But we were drawn by the same beauty that has drawn millions of tourists for a long time. We were touched by the same sense of awe that led indigenous people to see that area as sacred since time immemorial. Just down the Maligne River we paused at Medicine Lake, a relatively shallow lake surrounded by high mountains. Bathing in the icy colder glacial waters of the lake was believed to have healing properties. My body was not in need of special healing that summer, but our spirits were restored by the beauty of the place.
Looking back through the photographs I took at the time I am a bit surprised that I didn’t take more. I was relatively new to digital photography at the time and my camera was a bit limited, but the images from that sabbatical summer are precious to me. They remind me not only of what we saw, but of how we felt and of the importance of taking time to visit “thin places” where the glory of the Creator is evident and our spirits are lifted by the beauty of space.
Our thoughts about sacred spaces expanded over the years with a subsequent sabbatical invested in the study of sacred times.
Now, I look with sadness and horror at the devastating destruction of the fires that have burned through that sacred space. Malign Lodge is no more, destroyed by raging fire. It is estimated that half of the buildings in the town of Jasper have been destroyed. When the fire raced out of the Malign canyon the fire was so large and so intense that it was making its own weather. The rush of the fiery wind down the canyon propelled a wall of flames over 300 feet high. The most skilled and best equipped firefighters in the world were helpless to slow the onslaught. They fought valiantly to protect the hospital and schools, but private residences were reduced to ash and rubble in a matter of minutes.
Fortunately officials were successful in evacuating 20,000 tourists and 5,000 residents from the mountainous area without any loss of life.
Across the prairies and mountains of the United States and Canada there are many features that were identified by indigenous people as sacred. When settlers arrived they recognized the beauty and power of those places. Often, however, the settler’s language shifted the meaning of those places. Because the indigenous people were considered to be heathen and their religion was not understood, when they spoke of the presence of the Creator in particular places, the settlers thought that they were referring to false gods. Places with holy names were re-named “Devil’s” in the language of the settlers. My father grew up on the shores of Spirit Lake in North Dakota, which is called Devil’s Lake in English. Similarly, Mato Tipi, place of the Bear, in Wyoming, is called Devil’s Tower.
The raging fires that have swept through sacred places in British Columbia and Alberta this summer seem to deserve such dramatic language. The walls of flames that cannot be resisted are the stuff of descriptions of hell. While fire can kill trees and destroy buildings, it is powerless to change the dramatic geology of the mountains. The land continues to be sacred even in its fire-scarred state. I hope that one day I will be able to return and witness the beauty that remains. I pray for those who live in that place. May their resolve to rebuild be strengthened by the support of neighbors and governments as they seek new ways to live in a world that is so dramatically changed.
Getting around
25/07/24 01:56
As the news stories continue from last weeks widespread failed IT upgrade that caused computers to go down in a number of critical industries and forced airlines to ground their fleets temporarily, we are learning that our family was very fortunate in the midst of the mess. Our daughter and grandson were scheduled to fly home from here to South Carolina on the night that the computers crashed. As a result of the CrowStrike/Microsoft computer outage, the airplane scheduled to transport them was grounded. At first airline employees had no idea how long the delays would last, so notices were sent that the flight would be delayed. When the delay stretched past midnight, our daughter was able to call and re-book her flight to the next night. She was able to re-book because the computer outage was caused by an automatic software update set to take place in the middle of the night. Because the middle of the night comes earlier in time zones to the east, the computers here on the west coast had not yet crashed when she re-booked her flight. The result for us was simple. Our daughter and grandson stayed with us for an extra 24 hours and were able to travel home without delay the next day.
We have since heard of friends who were stranded for many hours in airports, unable to make connections. With all of the flights that were grounded and IT problems making it difficult for passengers to rebook missed flights there was a lot of chaos and a lot of people faced major disruptions.
We don’t fly on the airlines very much these days. I have had a couple of trips related to my involvement in Faith Formation Ministries in the past year and we continue to plan trips to South Carolina to visit our daughter each year. In fact, we will be booking tickets soon. It isn’t however, the way I imagined my life might be when I was younger. I grew up in Montana. Both of my parents were pilots and I assumed that I would be able to fly as much or more than they had. Anticipated flying cars, however, have not materialized. And although I pursued aviation as a hobby and we had partial ownership in an airplane at one stage of our life, it was never practical for us to use general aviation as a primary means of travel. For a while I was flying fairly regularly for church meetings and activities, serving as an educational consultant in our church’s national setting. Those days have passed, however, and we have fewer reasons to travel by air than I once thought.
There are many things about my life that I did not imagine when I was younger. I assumed that I would always live in the Intermountain west. It was where I was born and I love the mountains and the people who live there. I expanded my vision to include the Dakotas early in our career and we enjoyed living and serving congregations there. We raised our children with a sense of adventure and encouraged them to follow their dreams and so far that has meant that they have lived quite far from where they graduated from high school. Our daughter has lived overseas for seven years of her life and she and her husband continue to anticipate moves as his career progresses. Our son, however, seems settled in the Pacific Northwest and so we moved near him when we retired. With four grandchildren just down the road, our travel desires have, for the most part, focused on our daughter and her family who live 3,000 miles away on the opposite coast of the country.
Here on the coast of Washington, I am learning about a form of travel that has not previously been something to which I’ve paid attention. Our county and a neighboring county have islands and islands mean passenger ferries. Sometimes we lead worship at an island congregation near our home. The ferry to Lummi Island runs from the nearby reservation to the island. It is a simple thing for us to drive to the ferry terminal and make our way to the Island. Recently we served the congregation for a couple of weeks while their pastor was on vacation and the auto ferry was in dry dock so passenger only travel was what was available. It was a simple matter for us to ride the ferry and hop onto a bus to get to the church. We had to allow for a bit of extra time for parking and walking to the ferry, but it all worked out.
Having the ferry in dry dock, however, made me aware of how complex the process of traveling among the islands is. Ferries are related to road systems. That means out here that just as we have roads that are built and maintained by different governmental jurisdictions, we have a Washington State ferry system and we also have county ferries. The Lummi Island ferry is operated by our county. Like roads, ferries are expensive to build and operate. In 2021, shortly before we moved to our current home it was announced that the county had secured $35 million in state and federal grants to purchase a 34-car electric ferry to replace the current 20-car Whatcom Chief, a diesel-craft that has been serving since 1962. However, since the grants were announced, the cost of the electric ferry has skyrocketed. It is now estimated that the replacement ferry and the needed upgrades to the ferry terminal will cost and estimated $90 million. The county does not have a funding source to make up the difference. Delaying likely involves even more increases in cost.
Electric ferries, however, are not the only option. Just south of us, in Bellingham, All American Marine is a company that builds commercial boats including passenger ferries. They launched “Sea Change” a 75-passenger ferry in August of 2021. That boat just went into service in San Francisco Bay after almost three years of sea trials and regulatory red tape. It is the first zero emissions hydrogen-powered ferry to be certified by the Coast Guard and that process took time.
It is hard to predict how we may travel in the future. I’m now expecting self-driving cars and other new technologies. Flying cars, however, don’t seem to be making their way to our garage anytime soon.
We have since heard of friends who were stranded for many hours in airports, unable to make connections. With all of the flights that were grounded and IT problems making it difficult for passengers to rebook missed flights there was a lot of chaos and a lot of people faced major disruptions.
We don’t fly on the airlines very much these days. I have had a couple of trips related to my involvement in Faith Formation Ministries in the past year and we continue to plan trips to South Carolina to visit our daughter each year. In fact, we will be booking tickets soon. It isn’t however, the way I imagined my life might be when I was younger. I grew up in Montana. Both of my parents were pilots and I assumed that I would be able to fly as much or more than they had. Anticipated flying cars, however, have not materialized. And although I pursued aviation as a hobby and we had partial ownership in an airplane at one stage of our life, it was never practical for us to use general aviation as a primary means of travel. For a while I was flying fairly regularly for church meetings and activities, serving as an educational consultant in our church’s national setting. Those days have passed, however, and we have fewer reasons to travel by air than I once thought.
There are many things about my life that I did not imagine when I was younger. I assumed that I would always live in the Intermountain west. It was where I was born and I love the mountains and the people who live there. I expanded my vision to include the Dakotas early in our career and we enjoyed living and serving congregations there. We raised our children with a sense of adventure and encouraged them to follow their dreams and so far that has meant that they have lived quite far from where they graduated from high school. Our daughter has lived overseas for seven years of her life and she and her husband continue to anticipate moves as his career progresses. Our son, however, seems settled in the Pacific Northwest and so we moved near him when we retired. With four grandchildren just down the road, our travel desires have, for the most part, focused on our daughter and her family who live 3,000 miles away on the opposite coast of the country.
Here on the coast of Washington, I am learning about a form of travel that has not previously been something to which I’ve paid attention. Our county and a neighboring county have islands and islands mean passenger ferries. Sometimes we lead worship at an island congregation near our home. The ferry to Lummi Island runs from the nearby reservation to the island. It is a simple thing for us to drive to the ferry terminal and make our way to the Island. Recently we served the congregation for a couple of weeks while their pastor was on vacation and the auto ferry was in dry dock so passenger only travel was what was available. It was a simple matter for us to ride the ferry and hop onto a bus to get to the church. We had to allow for a bit of extra time for parking and walking to the ferry, but it all worked out.
Having the ferry in dry dock, however, made me aware of how complex the process of traveling among the islands is. Ferries are related to road systems. That means out here that just as we have roads that are built and maintained by different governmental jurisdictions, we have a Washington State ferry system and we also have county ferries. The Lummi Island ferry is operated by our county. Like roads, ferries are expensive to build and operate. In 2021, shortly before we moved to our current home it was announced that the county had secured $35 million in state and federal grants to purchase a 34-car electric ferry to replace the current 20-car Whatcom Chief, a diesel-craft that has been serving since 1962. However, since the grants were announced, the cost of the electric ferry has skyrocketed. It is now estimated that the replacement ferry and the needed upgrades to the ferry terminal will cost and estimated $90 million. The county does not have a funding source to make up the difference. Delaying likely involves even more increases in cost.
Electric ferries, however, are not the only option. Just south of us, in Bellingham, All American Marine is a company that builds commercial boats including passenger ferries. They launched “Sea Change” a 75-passenger ferry in August of 2021. That boat just went into service in San Francisco Bay after almost three years of sea trials and regulatory red tape. It is the first zero emissions hydrogen-powered ferry to be certified by the Coast Guard and that process took time.
It is hard to predict how we may travel in the future. I’m now expecting self-driving cars and other new technologies. Flying cars, however, don’t seem to be making their way to our garage anytime soon.
Wildfire in a tourist town
24/07/24 02:52
I know a little bit about tourist towns. When I was growing up, my father’s parents lived in Red Lodge, one of the communities that is near an entrance to Yellowstone National Park. My grandfather owned a service station that sold gas to car after car of tourists during the summer. The tourists were heading through town up the Beartooth Highway, sometimes called the Highway to the Sky. Highway 212 zigzags across the Montana-Wyoming border through the high country. It takes over an hour to get to the Northeast Entrance of Yellowstone Park near Cook City, where the price of gas is even higher. Sensible drivers leave Red Lodge with a full tank of gas. Service stations are few and far between, the road is steep and people want to stop often to look at the scenery. The highway closes in the winter due to heavy snow and when it does the ski season opens on Red Lodge Mountain. In the summer there are days when there are more tourists in town than permanent residents.
We lived for 25 years in Rapid City, South Dakota, which has a lot of different elements to its economy, but tourists are definitely part of the picture. People come to Rapid City to see Badlands National Park, Mount Rushmore National Monument, the Crazy Horse mountain carving, Custer State Park, Wind Cave, Jewell Cave, and a host of other attractions. The annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally brings more visitors to the region than permanent residents.
And now we live in Birch Bay, Washington, where approximately 40 percent of the houses are offered as short term rentals to guests who come to the beach, many from the nearby busy city of Vancouver. Some of the businesses along the beach operate in the summer only. We play host to guests throughout the summer, and our little area is fairly quiet and calm during the winter months.
I have also visited a number of tourist towns as one who travels and enjoys seeing new places. Among the places we have visited that I would love to return to one day is Jasper, Alberta. We traveled there with our pickup camper coming up highway 99 through Banff National Park past the ice fields into Jasper National Park. The scenery is gorgeous and camping next to roaring mountain streams and putting our canoe into remote mountain lakes was delightful. The historic town of Jasper features a beautiful train station where tourists come and go. Jasper is a town like Red Lodge, where you want to make sure to fill up your gas tank. Just three roads come into the town and it is a fair distance on any of them to the next town. The remoteness of the location is part of its appeal in my mind.
I can imagine the chaos when wild fires forced the evacuation of both the town and the National Park earlier this week. Wildfire had already cut off the road south towards Banff, the quickest way to the major city of Calgary. There were also fires burning to the northeast closing Highway 16 to Edmonton. The only way out of town was to travel west through the mountains toward Kamloops and even farther to Kelowna. As tourists and residents lined up at the gas stations to prepare for the journey the electricity was cut off. Some didn’t get their cars filled up. Then they had to drive through smoke and ash in a line of cars heading out of the town. The town of Jasper has about 10,000 residents. It is estimated that there was an additional 15,000 visitors in the national park who were asked to flee late Monday. Over 2,000 campsites were closed and reservations cancelled.
And when people arrived in Kamloops, that town was overwhelmed with people fleeing wildfire. Kamloops had already opened itself as a shelter for residents of Williams Lake, in British Columbia, which also had to evacuate due to wildfire. Evacuees are now being instructed to circle back to Calgary by a southern route through the mountains.
It remains to be seen what will remain when people are allowed to return. There are multiple fires threatening the town and burning through the National Park. Some fire predictions say that flames could reach the town this week. The fire is within 5 miles of town and conditions are very challenging for firefighters who are making preparations to protect residences and businesses.
What I know about tourist towns is that being forced to close in the summer can be devastating for local businesses. Hotels, restaurants, ice cream parlors and liquor stores all depend on summer traffic to earn their profit. Evacuating summer vacationers from the park means removing customers from businesses. Although some businesses will be able to maintain limited services for firefighters in the area, most have simply had to be closed without any certainty when or if they will be able to return to serving people. And if they are able to re open this summer there may not be any customers. It simply is not a good year to visit Jasper National Park. Consequently, it simply is not a good year to be in business in Jasper.
All of Alberta is under weather warnings with unseasonably hot temperatures and hundreds of wildfires Similar conditions exist in British Columbia to the West, Northwest Territories and the Yukon to the north and Manitoba to the east.
Wildfire has now become an important part of planning travel in the north. We had planned to do quite a bit of camping and exploring in the western provinces when we retired. So far we haven’t camped in Canada a single night since retiring, however. Fires are only part of the picture for us, but we know that we will have to pay attention and have contingency plans when we are able to camp and explore. A satellite phone is now an essential piece of equipment for those who explore the back country.
Right now our little community has a bit of space for guests who choose the seaside over the mountains this summer. We’re open for business. We may have to learn to welcome and provide services to an increasing number of climate refugees going forward.
We lived for 25 years in Rapid City, South Dakota, which has a lot of different elements to its economy, but tourists are definitely part of the picture. People come to Rapid City to see Badlands National Park, Mount Rushmore National Monument, the Crazy Horse mountain carving, Custer State Park, Wind Cave, Jewell Cave, and a host of other attractions. The annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally brings more visitors to the region than permanent residents.
And now we live in Birch Bay, Washington, where approximately 40 percent of the houses are offered as short term rentals to guests who come to the beach, many from the nearby busy city of Vancouver. Some of the businesses along the beach operate in the summer only. We play host to guests throughout the summer, and our little area is fairly quiet and calm during the winter months.
I have also visited a number of tourist towns as one who travels and enjoys seeing new places. Among the places we have visited that I would love to return to one day is Jasper, Alberta. We traveled there with our pickup camper coming up highway 99 through Banff National Park past the ice fields into Jasper National Park. The scenery is gorgeous and camping next to roaring mountain streams and putting our canoe into remote mountain lakes was delightful. The historic town of Jasper features a beautiful train station where tourists come and go. Jasper is a town like Red Lodge, where you want to make sure to fill up your gas tank. Just three roads come into the town and it is a fair distance on any of them to the next town. The remoteness of the location is part of its appeal in my mind.
I can imagine the chaos when wild fires forced the evacuation of both the town and the National Park earlier this week. Wildfire had already cut off the road south towards Banff, the quickest way to the major city of Calgary. There were also fires burning to the northeast closing Highway 16 to Edmonton. The only way out of town was to travel west through the mountains toward Kamloops and even farther to Kelowna. As tourists and residents lined up at the gas stations to prepare for the journey the electricity was cut off. Some didn’t get their cars filled up. Then they had to drive through smoke and ash in a line of cars heading out of the town. The town of Jasper has about 10,000 residents. It is estimated that there was an additional 15,000 visitors in the national park who were asked to flee late Monday. Over 2,000 campsites were closed and reservations cancelled.
And when people arrived in Kamloops, that town was overwhelmed with people fleeing wildfire. Kamloops had already opened itself as a shelter for residents of Williams Lake, in British Columbia, which also had to evacuate due to wildfire. Evacuees are now being instructed to circle back to Calgary by a southern route through the mountains.
It remains to be seen what will remain when people are allowed to return. There are multiple fires threatening the town and burning through the National Park. Some fire predictions say that flames could reach the town this week. The fire is within 5 miles of town and conditions are very challenging for firefighters who are making preparations to protect residences and businesses.
What I know about tourist towns is that being forced to close in the summer can be devastating for local businesses. Hotels, restaurants, ice cream parlors and liquor stores all depend on summer traffic to earn their profit. Evacuating summer vacationers from the park means removing customers from businesses. Although some businesses will be able to maintain limited services for firefighters in the area, most have simply had to be closed without any certainty when or if they will be able to return to serving people. And if they are able to re open this summer there may not be any customers. It simply is not a good year to visit Jasper National Park. Consequently, it simply is not a good year to be in business in Jasper.
All of Alberta is under weather warnings with unseasonably hot temperatures and hundreds of wildfires Similar conditions exist in British Columbia to the West, Northwest Territories and the Yukon to the north and Manitoba to the east.
Wildfire has now become an important part of planning travel in the north. We had planned to do quite a bit of camping and exploring in the western provinces when we retired. So far we haven’t camped in Canada a single night since retiring, however. Fires are only part of the picture for us, but we know that we will have to pay attention and have contingency plans when we are able to camp and explore. A satellite phone is now an essential piece of equipment for those who explore the back country.
Right now our little community has a bit of space for guests who choose the seaside over the mountains this summer. We’re open for business. We may have to learn to welcome and provide services to an increasing number of climate refugees going forward.
Canoes and honey
23/07/24 01:16
As our children approached their teens, one of the things I was doing was leading experiences for teens that we called “Exodus Water Sports.” The week-long camps were held at our church’s beautiful Pilgrim Cove Camp, located on Payette Lake near McCall, Idaho. Over the years, I expanded the camp’s fleet of boats from four fiberglass canoes and one very used Hobie Cat sailboat to include a half dozen wind surf boards, a fleet of newer and lightweight canoes, and a fleet of four small sailboats that included two monohull and two catamaran boats. The camp featured Emergency Medical Technicians who taught as each camper earned their CPR certification. We also had an ACA certified canoe instructor, a qualified sailing instructor, and certified lifeguards. We ended each week with a half-day whitewater rafting experience that was subcontracted to a professional river guide service.
In that process, I did a lot of “horse trading” to obtain equipment for the camp. I was used to raising funds, but I developed skills in encouraging in kind donations and discounts that I used throughout my career as a pastor. I also gained a modest level of skill at repairing various boats. I learned to work fiberglass and epoxy to make repairs. I learned a bit about carving and shaping wooden parts for boats.
I also fell in love with paddling. Before long, I developed the desire to have my own canoe that I could use for vacations and family adventures. Lacking the funds to purchase a canoe, I read up on the process of building a strip plank canoe. I purchased a set of plans and began cutting inexpensive cedar from the lumberyard into strips. That first canoe was a bit rough, but it was balanced and water tight. We paddled it in lakes and rivers, including a trip down part of the Yellowstone River in Montana. I obtained a mast and sail from a family member who had once started to built a sailboat but abandoned the project. I built a set of lee boards and a rudder for the canoe, installed a mast step and had a serviceable, though slightly tippy sailboat.
The canoe bug stuck with me and over the next few years, I built two more canoes, refining my technique and learning more about how to take the lines from another boat. One of those canoes is a copy of a “Wee Lassie,” an historic design about which much has been written. The other is the design of a Chestnut Prospector, perhaps the most iconic canoe of 20th Century Canadian canoeing. One summer, while on vacation, I partially swamped the Wee Lassie paddling it in the Puget Sound off of Whitby Island and developed a desire for a kayak. Two kayaks followed. One was strip planked like the canoes. The other was built skin on frame to a Greenland design. The skin on frame kayak was covered with aircraft Dacron and designed to handle fairly substantial waves. I learned to paddle with a Greenland style paddle.
I have continued to build, making a row boat and currently am nearing completion of an expedition kayak. I continue to love paddling open canoes, but see the advantage of a kayak in the waters of the Salish Sea.
Much of the design of the canoes and kayaks I paddle is based on traditional indigenous canoe making. Now that I am retired, we have moved to a place where people have made and paddled canoes since time immemorial. Part of the preservation of the culture of the Coast Salish tribes is the making and paddling of canoes.
Yesterday we had the privilege of going down to the bay not far from our home and witnessing the arrival of the canoes of the Paddle to Puyallup Youth Canoe Journey. In recent years there has been an annual canoe journey with several traditional boats representing different tribal nations paddling together significant distances across the Salish Sea. Each evening the canoes come to shore and are formally welcomed according to the traditions of the local tribe. There is a public dinner, story telling, singing, and dancing. Earlier this year we witnessed the landing of canoes welcomed by Lummi people. Yesterday the welcoming tribe was Nooksack.
When the indigenous people of the region speak of the craft they paddle in English, they are careful to use the term “Canoe.” They joke that anyone who calls the vessel a boat will be thrown into the sea to swim. The canoes are works of art. The tradition was to carve canoes out of a single cedar log and I have seen some canoes built the traditional way. Other canoes have been built using the strip plank method incorporating modern epoxy and fiberglass. One canoe that I have seen is made entirely out of modern composites. I have also seen a skin on frame canoe. The canoes are large, accommodating a dozen or more paddlers and the teams of paddlers are coached and guided by a captain at the stern of the boat who steers with draw strokes from that position.
Canoe culture is just one of the many lessons that our indigenous neighbors have to teach and I am grateful for the experiences to witness and learn.
I, however, am not indigenous. I am a transplant. I have moved around during my life, living in six different states from Illinois to Washington. I have made some friendships with indigenous people, but I also have many friends who, like me are descendants of settlers.
The honey bees I tend are not indigenous. They are descendants of bees bred in Europe and imported to this region to produce honey and help pollinate commercial agricultural crops. Our colonies live at our son’s farm and pollinate fruit trees, berry bushes, field crops, flowers and vegetables. They also produce abundant honey. They have been especially productive this year and we will be able to harvest honey at least twice. The first honey harvest is now in progress with two heavy supers with ten frames each completely filled with honey. The first jar extracted seemed worthy of ceremony. Like the canoes it was the object of my photographs yesterday.
Life continues to have many adventures. I am learning much from our new neighbors and also learning much from the bees. There are teachers everywhere I turn and I am grateful for their lessons.
Truth and story
22/07/24 02:54
Although I have tried to be fair, I confess that I do hold some biases. One of the strongest of my biases might be described as educational elitism. I am a product of a traditional academic education. I was good at learning in the way colleges and universities teach. I have earned degrees from a college and an accredited graduate school. I have realized privilege from the fact that I have an education. I don’t go so far as to think that I am somehow better than those who do not have the same level of education, but I am aware of my bias. I have been vocal in my criticism of changes in the church over the course of my career that have resulted in fewer clergy with graduate degrees.
Part of my experience is that during my years as a student, I was selective in my reading. I focused on history, theology, philosophy, and academic subjects. I didn’t read much fiction. For several years the only novels I read were assignments for classes I took. I continued to read short stories, but I made a distinction between recreational reading and the reading I was doing as part of my formal education.
As a preacher, however, I have been deeply aware of the power of story. I worked hard to hone my skills as a storyteller. I participated in the Network of Biblical Storytellers International. I carefully studied the distinction between written and oral language and worked hard to improve my skills in using both languages. My journal writing has been an attempt to continue to improve my skills both as a writer and as a teller of stories.
I have come to understand that stories have the potential for conveying the truth. In the introduction to one of his novels, holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel wrote of a conversation he had with a rabbi who asked him directly about his use of fiction to write about his experiences in concentration camps. The rabbit asked him if he was writing the truth. His response to the rabbi was, “Sometimes you have to tell a story in order to tell the truth.” That idea has stuck with me. It sparked a new opening to reading fiction for me that started with my reading nearly every book that Elie Wiesel wrote.
It is important to understand that truth and fiction are not diametrically opposed. It is not a dichotomy. There are stories that convey the truth. Jesus employed storytelling effectively in his teaching. Take the story of the Good Samaritan as an example. The truth conveyed in the story is not dependent upon whether or not there was an actual person who fell among robbers, others who passed by without rendering aid and a Samaritan who helped the man and paid for his care. The story is about the obligation to care for neighbors and the expansive definition of who our neighbors are. There is great truth beyond a list of historical facts.
The relationship between truth and fiction has been an important part of my struggle to understand the current status of American politics. I struggle to understand the popularity of former President Trump and those who are so loyal to him despite what seems to me to be a campaign based on lies and obvious distortions of the truth. Speaker after speaker at the recent Republican Convention spoke of the previous Trump administration in terms that were simply not accurate. The economy was not stronger four years ago than it is today. Unemployment was higher. Immigration issues have been handled far better under the Biden administration than was the case with the Trump administration. Furthermore landmark legislation that would have overhauled the immigration system was blocked by Republicans in lock step with Trump.
I don’t understand how so many people can ignore felony convictions, jury awards for victims of sexual abuse, and the obvious riot and attempt to subvert constitutional processes in the January 6 assault on the halls of congress.
The answer in part lies in the power of story. What the Trump campaign has been successful in doing is selling a powerful fictional narrative. The appeal is in a fantasy that somehow the flow of history could be reversed. The campaign strives to promote a narrative that there was a time in the past that was better and the promise to return to those former times. Even though it is obvious that the image of that “better” past is not accurate. The narrative does not include the problems and injustices of the past. It is not accurate about easily verifiable facts of the recent past such as employment, stock market values, border crossings, and crime rates.
It is, however, a strong story that inspires a lot of people and has the power to upend constitutional democracy. The history of the rise of autocrats in other countries demonstrates the vulnerability of our nation. The blind loyalty to a single flawed human being poses direct risks to the freedoms we now enjoy.
Our faith, however, reminds us that in the long run the truth will prevail. John’s Gospel reports that Jesus said, “you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Despite the fact that the lies and the people telling the lies seem to be prevailing, they are not the whole story. There is an objective truth that overrides the narratives of power and privilege. Abraham Lincoln said in a speech, “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.”
As an observer of politics and one who seeks to understand, I am interested in the sudden change in the narrative brought about by the withdrawal of President Biden from the 2024 presidential election. The story took a dramatic change yesterday. It will be interesting to see how the shift in the Democratic party affects the narrative from the Republicans.
As a student of story, the events have captured my interest. As a seeker of truth, I am grateful for the critical thinking skills I honed in my academic career.
Part of my experience is that during my years as a student, I was selective in my reading. I focused on history, theology, philosophy, and academic subjects. I didn’t read much fiction. For several years the only novels I read were assignments for classes I took. I continued to read short stories, but I made a distinction between recreational reading and the reading I was doing as part of my formal education.
As a preacher, however, I have been deeply aware of the power of story. I worked hard to hone my skills as a storyteller. I participated in the Network of Biblical Storytellers International. I carefully studied the distinction between written and oral language and worked hard to improve my skills in using both languages. My journal writing has been an attempt to continue to improve my skills both as a writer and as a teller of stories.
I have come to understand that stories have the potential for conveying the truth. In the introduction to one of his novels, holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel wrote of a conversation he had with a rabbi who asked him directly about his use of fiction to write about his experiences in concentration camps. The rabbit asked him if he was writing the truth. His response to the rabbi was, “Sometimes you have to tell a story in order to tell the truth.” That idea has stuck with me. It sparked a new opening to reading fiction for me that started with my reading nearly every book that Elie Wiesel wrote.
It is important to understand that truth and fiction are not diametrically opposed. It is not a dichotomy. There are stories that convey the truth. Jesus employed storytelling effectively in his teaching. Take the story of the Good Samaritan as an example. The truth conveyed in the story is not dependent upon whether or not there was an actual person who fell among robbers, others who passed by without rendering aid and a Samaritan who helped the man and paid for his care. The story is about the obligation to care for neighbors and the expansive definition of who our neighbors are. There is great truth beyond a list of historical facts.
The relationship between truth and fiction has been an important part of my struggle to understand the current status of American politics. I struggle to understand the popularity of former President Trump and those who are so loyal to him despite what seems to me to be a campaign based on lies and obvious distortions of the truth. Speaker after speaker at the recent Republican Convention spoke of the previous Trump administration in terms that were simply not accurate. The economy was not stronger four years ago than it is today. Unemployment was higher. Immigration issues have been handled far better under the Biden administration than was the case with the Trump administration. Furthermore landmark legislation that would have overhauled the immigration system was blocked by Republicans in lock step with Trump.
I don’t understand how so many people can ignore felony convictions, jury awards for victims of sexual abuse, and the obvious riot and attempt to subvert constitutional processes in the January 6 assault on the halls of congress.
The answer in part lies in the power of story. What the Trump campaign has been successful in doing is selling a powerful fictional narrative. The appeal is in a fantasy that somehow the flow of history could be reversed. The campaign strives to promote a narrative that there was a time in the past that was better and the promise to return to those former times. Even though it is obvious that the image of that “better” past is not accurate. The narrative does not include the problems and injustices of the past. It is not accurate about easily verifiable facts of the recent past such as employment, stock market values, border crossings, and crime rates.
It is, however, a strong story that inspires a lot of people and has the power to upend constitutional democracy. The history of the rise of autocrats in other countries demonstrates the vulnerability of our nation. The blind loyalty to a single flawed human being poses direct risks to the freedoms we now enjoy.
Our faith, however, reminds us that in the long run the truth will prevail. John’s Gospel reports that Jesus said, “you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Despite the fact that the lies and the people telling the lies seem to be prevailing, they are not the whole story. There is an objective truth that overrides the narratives of power and privilege. Abraham Lincoln said in a speech, “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.”
As an observer of politics and one who seeks to understand, I am interested in the sudden change in the narrative brought about by the withdrawal of President Biden from the 2024 presidential election. The story took a dramatic change yesterday. It will be interesting to see how the shift in the Democratic party affects the narrative from the Republicans.
As a student of story, the events have captured my interest. As a seeker of truth, I am grateful for the critical thinking skills I honed in my academic career.
Wishing for more information
21/07/24 02:20
I don’t write about politics very much. When I was working as a pastor, I didn’t hide my political beliefs from the congregation I served, but I was careful to avoid changing others’ political beliefs. I would often say, “I’m glad to tell you what I believe. What I won’t do is to tell you what you should believe.” We knew that our politics were a minority point of view in the communities where we lived. For example, prior to my retirement in every presidential election of my life the electors of my state voted differently than I did in the general election. I that never bothered me to hold minority points of view. In general, however, while I care about politics and participate in the political process by voting, I haven’t written or spoken much about politics.
I still pay attention and try to remain educated and thoughtful in my political decisions. I read voter guides carefully. I study sample ballots before I vote. I vote in every election.
While I haven’t participated in governmental politics, I confess that other institutions have their own political realities as well. I lived my life fully immersed in church politics. A successful career as a pastor involves knowing how to court donations, recruit, train, and support volunteers, stand up to bullies, and pay attention to the needs and moods of a congregation. The denomination I served grew up with the United States and shared many of its governing principles with those that went into forming this country. Fourteen signers of the Declaration of Independence were members of one of the predecessor denominations that joined to form our church. The Mayflower Compact is an early document of our church that is reflected in the constitution of the United States. Our congregations retain control of local church practices. We have annual meetings where we set priorities, vote on budgets, elect leadership, adopt policy and deliberate on other important issues.
Among the issues that will be on our August 6 primary election ballot is an issue called a “levy lid lift.” If passed, the local fire district would be able to apply to increase property taxes beyond the current levels. The increase would amount to about $170 per year for a home with the value of ours. The additional money would, among other things, provide kickstarter funds for replacing the fire station that is nearest to our house. If the increase passes, it would not provide the full amount needed to tear down the existing fire station and build a new one. For that to happen the commissioners of the fire district would have to pass a bond that allows the fire district to borrow the necessary funds, a move that would authorize an additional tax increase to pay the debt. I am not an opponent of taxes. I believe that there are many things that require us to work together. Certainly fire departments are good examples of how taxes benefit a community.
Still, I am confused by the information about this particular levy lid lift. I know that tear down and rebuild is a common practice for fire departments. The fire station is a little over 40 years old. The fire district commissioners have pointed out several problems with the existing building including the need for a roof replacement, additional shower and restroom facilities to accommodate an increase in female fire fighters, and additional space for training and meeting. The existing fire training tower has structural issues that do not allow for its use at present. What the commissioners have not done so far, is to talk about what a new building would provide and how it would increase community safety. I have yet to discover a vision for the proposed structure. If I were to support a new fire station, it seems to me that we should at least plan for a building that would serve for more than 40 years. Fire departments, including this one, already replace trucks and other equipment that has seen little use. Replace seems to be the solution to small issues that other operators of equipment respond to with repairs. I know of a person who purchased a used ambulance and converted it to a camper and drove the vehicle an additional 250,000 miles after a local fire department deemed that the vehicle needed to be replaced. It is not at all uncommon for fire trucks to have more hours on the engine at idle than have been used in actual fire fighting operations.
I have yet to find any discussion about the possibility of repairing and remodeling the existing fire station. It is difficult to get the information about what would be best for the safety of our community from the existing debate. Our local newspaper devoted parts of three pages to the proposed levy lid lift without giving any information about what would be built, how long it would take to build it, how replacing costs compare to the costs of maintaining the existing building, why a 40 year old building has been allowed to deteriorate so much, and other important information. The article presents the choice as binary: either raise the amount that taxes can be raised or risk loosing the fire station. As a homeowner and as a person with a 44 year career behind him, I have experienced very few decisions that are binary. Generally there are many different options. In maintaining church buildings, for example, if funds were short, which was often the case, we sought ways to lower costs. We often looked at total cost over long periods of time as opposed to current operational costs only. As a homeowner, I have often had to balance short term needs with long term investments. I imagine that a fire district would face similar complex choices.
It is increasingly difficult to find political debate that is complex and nuanced. Choices are presented to voters as “either/or” with a lot of predicting catastrophe if the choice goes one way. Enemies are identified. Issues are presented as battles.
I still have time to contemplate how I will vote on this issue. I know, however, that getting additional information will be a challenge. I know I am not alone in my frustration. Many of us long for more informed and open discussion.
I still pay attention and try to remain educated and thoughtful in my political decisions. I read voter guides carefully. I study sample ballots before I vote. I vote in every election.
While I haven’t participated in governmental politics, I confess that other institutions have their own political realities as well. I lived my life fully immersed in church politics. A successful career as a pastor involves knowing how to court donations, recruit, train, and support volunteers, stand up to bullies, and pay attention to the needs and moods of a congregation. The denomination I served grew up with the United States and shared many of its governing principles with those that went into forming this country. Fourteen signers of the Declaration of Independence were members of one of the predecessor denominations that joined to form our church. The Mayflower Compact is an early document of our church that is reflected in the constitution of the United States. Our congregations retain control of local church practices. We have annual meetings where we set priorities, vote on budgets, elect leadership, adopt policy and deliberate on other important issues.
Among the issues that will be on our August 6 primary election ballot is an issue called a “levy lid lift.” If passed, the local fire district would be able to apply to increase property taxes beyond the current levels. The increase would amount to about $170 per year for a home with the value of ours. The additional money would, among other things, provide kickstarter funds for replacing the fire station that is nearest to our house. If the increase passes, it would not provide the full amount needed to tear down the existing fire station and build a new one. For that to happen the commissioners of the fire district would have to pass a bond that allows the fire district to borrow the necessary funds, a move that would authorize an additional tax increase to pay the debt. I am not an opponent of taxes. I believe that there are many things that require us to work together. Certainly fire departments are good examples of how taxes benefit a community.
Still, I am confused by the information about this particular levy lid lift. I know that tear down and rebuild is a common practice for fire departments. The fire station is a little over 40 years old. The fire district commissioners have pointed out several problems with the existing building including the need for a roof replacement, additional shower and restroom facilities to accommodate an increase in female fire fighters, and additional space for training and meeting. The existing fire training tower has structural issues that do not allow for its use at present. What the commissioners have not done so far, is to talk about what a new building would provide and how it would increase community safety. I have yet to discover a vision for the proposed structure. If I were to support a new fire station, it seems to me that we should at least plan for a building that would serve for more than 40 years. Fire departments, including this one, already replace trucks and other equipment that has seen little use. Replace seems to be the solution to small issues that other operators of equipment respond to with repairs. I know of a person who purchased a used ambulance and converted it to a camper and drove the vehicle an additional 250,000 miles after a local fire department deemed that the vehicle needed to be replaced. It is not at all uncommon for fire trucks to have more hours on the engine at idle than have been used in actual fire fighting operations.
I have yet to find any discussion about the possibility of repairing and remodeling the existing fire station. It is difficult to get the information about what would be best for the safety of our community from the existing debate. Our local newspaper devoted parts of three pages to the proposed levy lid lift without giving any information about what would be built, how long it would take to build it, how replacing costs compare to the costs of maintaining the existing building, why a 40 year old building has been allowed to deteriorate so much, and other important information. The article presents the choice as binary: either raise the amount that taxes can be raised or risk loosing the fire station. As a homeowner and as a person with a 44 year career behind him, I have experienced very few decisions that are binary. Generally there are many different options. In maintaining church buildings, for example, if funds were short, which was often the case, we sought ways to lower costs. We often looked at total cost over long periods of time as opposed to current operational costs only. As a homeowner, I have often had to balance short term needs with long term investments. I imagine that a fire district would face similar complex choices.
It is increasingly difficult to find political debate that is complex and nuanced. Choices are presented to voters as “either/or” with a lot of predicting catastrophe if the choice goes one way. Enemies are identified. Issues are presented as battles.
I still have time to contemplate how I will vote on this issue. I know, however, that getting additional information will be a challenge. I know I am not alone in my frustration. Many of us long for more informed and open discussion.
Smooth travels
20/07/24 03:31
We’ve dropped off our children at airports often enough that we have a routine. I drop off the passengers and my wife curbside. We unload their luggage and they head for the check in area while I park the car. Airports around the world are surprisingly similar. Most have the departure level above the arrival level and after dropping someone off at the departure level, it is easy to circle around to the parking garage. Parking garages tend to run alongside terminals so that it is possible to choose a parking spot that makes it fairly easy to reunite with the departing family members for a quick good bye before they have to pass through security.
At Vancouver International airport, flights to and from the United States are at the end of the terminal that drivers reach first when coming to the airport. Like other urban airports, curbside is a bit of a misnomer because there are usually two lanes of cars dropping off departing passengers. That area was not particularly busy when I dropped off our daughter, grandson and my wife last evening. it didn’t take me long to get the car into the garage and find a parking place though I did park quite a few rows from the end of the terminal where flights to the US were departing.
Having family members from the US arrive and depart from Vancouver International is interesting because they fly on international flights and have to go through immigration and customs as part of their journey. When we drove across the border eight miles from our home we all had to show our passports and answer a few questions. Then our daughter and grandson boarded an international flight and had to clear customs when their plane landed in Charlotte, North Carolina on their way home. With that bit of fanfare, however, using Vancouver International is way easier for us than the next closest big airport, Seattle-Tacoma International. Vancouver International is 36 miles from our home and we don’t have to drive through the city of Vancouver itself as the airport is on our side of the city. Sea-Tac, on the other hand is 125 miles away and requires driving through the city of Seattle with all of its traffic. 45 minutes each way verses 2 hours each way means Vancouver International can be the airport of choice. That choice was supported in this trip for our daughter and grandson by lower fares for them to fly in and out of Vancouver. We discovered similar results in previous travel. We have twice used Vancouver as our airport of departure for trips that we have taken.
Yesterday was unique, however, because the airport and passengers were still recovering from the chaos caused by the previous day’s worldwide IT outage. When I got inside the airport terminal there were very long lines at most of the check in counters. After I found our family members, I discovered that although the computers of the agents had been restored, the automatic check-in kiosks were still unable to accept credit card payment and could not process baggage checking. The lines at American Airlines, which our daughter and grandson were taking were significantly shorter than some other carriers, but they moved slowly. It took the better part of an hour for agents to serve six groups of passengers before our daughter’s turn. Fortunately, we had heeded the airline’s advice to arrive at the airport three hours before the scheduled departure and so were not pressed for time.
As it turned out, the agents were moving customers from some lines to others and when she had made it to first in line, our daughter was escorted to the priority lane and her status was upgraded to priority which meant that baggage check in was expedited from that point forward.
Our good byes were rushed a bit. As we walked back through the terminal towards our parking spot, we noticed that the lines were long only at the check in counters. I stopped and got a cup of tea for the drive home and did not have to stand in line and was served quickly. My debt card was accepted at the coffee and tea shop and it also worked at the automated terminal to pay for parking. Just like driving in Canada requires a bit of mental math as one adjusts to distances and speed limits in kilometers, making a purchase requires an adjustment as US dollar is worth about $1.40 Canadian. Initially prices appear to be high for a cup of tea and parking, but once the exchange rate is taken into consideration, prices are a bit lower than they are at Sea-Tac airport. Using our debt card, which has no fees for currency exchange, makes transactions easy. Although I was carrying cash in anticipation of some IT systems not working, I had forgotten to take our Canadian currency with me. Many businesses in Canada don’t accept US currency because of the confusion surrounding exchange. We have a few dollars of Canadian currency on hand from previous trips to Canada. We need to get in the habit of taking that with us when we cross the border. However for this trip everything worked well and we did not need cash for any of our transactions.
There had been no delay crossing the border into Canada, but when we came back into the US, customs had only two lanes open and there was about a 20 minute wait for those ahead of use to clear customs. Going through was a simple procedure for us as we had nothing to declare, we had a clear and easy to understand reason for crossing the border, and we live very close to the border so agents recognize the name of our town. I suspect that most of them have their homes in the same town.
Our lives were so minimally affected by the IT crisis even though the flight our daughter and grandson were initially booked to travel on had been cancelled. Because the delay was caused by computer problems on the east coast, she knew about it and was able to re book through a west coast agent, whose computer had not yet crashed. We got the bonus of an extra day with our daughter and grandson and the neighbor who is meeting them at the airport when they arrive was easily able to make the change because it is a weekend.
There are still lingering disruptions for some travelers around the world, but we got lucky and our lives were not disrupted. We stood in line just enough to have compassion for those who had to endure much more significant crowds, delays, and being stranded for hours at airports.
At Vancouver International airport, flights to and from the United States are at the end of the terminal that drivers reach first when coming to the airport. Like other urban airports, curbside is a bit of a misnomer because there are usually two lanes of cars dropping off departing passengers. That area was not particularly busy when I dropped off our daughter, grandson and my wife last evening. it didn’t take me long to get the car into the garage and find a parking place though I did park quite a few rows from the end of the terminal where flights to the US were departing.
Having family members from the US arrive and depart from Vancouver International is interesting because they fly on international flights and have to go through immigration and customs as part of their journey. When we drove across the border eight miles from our home we all had to show our passports and answer a few questions. Then our daughter and grandson boarded an international flight and had to clear customs when their plane landed in Charlotte, North Carolina on their way home. With that bit of fanfare, however, using Vancouver International is way easier for us than the next closest big airport, Seattle-Tacoma International. Vancouver International is 36 miles from our home and we don’t have to drive through the city of Vancouver itself as the airport is on our side of the city. Sea-Tac, on the other hand is 125 miles away and requires driving through the city of Seattle with all of its traffic. 45 minutes each way verses 2 hours each way means Vancouver International can be the airport of choice. That choice was supported in this trip for our daughter and grandson by lower fares for them to fly in and out of Vancouver. We discovered similar results in previous travel. We have twice used Vancouver as our airport of departure for trips that we have taken.
Yesterday was unique, however, because the airport and passengers were still recovering from the chaos caused by the previous day’s worldwide IT outage. When I got inside the airport terminal there were very long lines at most of the check in counters. After I found our family members, I discovered that although the computers of the agents had been restored, the automatic check-in kiosks were still unable to accept credit card payment and could not process baggage checking. The lines at American Airlines, which our daughter and grandson were taking were significantly shorter than some other carriers, but they moved slowly. It took the better part of an hour for agents to serve six groups of passengers before our daughter’s turn. Fortunately, we had heeded the airline’s advice to arrive at the airport three hours before the scheduled departure and so were not pressed for time.
As it turned out, the agents were moving customers from some lines to others and when she had made it to first in line, our daughter was escorted to the priority lane and her status was upgraded to priority which meant that baggage check in was expedited from that point forward.
Our good byes were rushed a bit. As we walked back through the terminal towards our parking spot, we noticed that the lines were long only at the check in counters. I stopped and got a cup of tea for the drive home and did not have to stand in line and was served quickly. My debt card was accepted at the coffee and tea shop and it also worked at the automated terminal to pay for parking. Just like driving in Canada requires a bit of mental math as one adjusts to distances and speed limits in kilometers, making a purchase requires an adjustment as US dollar is worth about $1.40 Canadian. Initially prices appear to be high for a cup of tea and parking, but once the exchange rate is taken into consideration, prices are a bit lower than they are at Sea-Tac airport. Using our debt card, which has no fees for currency exchange, makes transactions easy. Although I was carrying cash in anticipation of some IT systems not working, I had forgotten to take our Canadian currency with me. Many businesses in Canada don’t accept US currency because of the confusion surrounding exchange. We have a few dollars of Canadian currency on hand from previous trips to Canada. We need to get in the habit of taking that with us when we cross the border. However for this trip everything worked well and we did not need cash for any of our transactions.
There had been no delay crossing the border into Canada, but when we came back into the US, customs had only two lanes open and there was about a 20 minute wait for those ahead of use to clear customs. Going through was a simple procedure for us as we had nothing to declare, we had a clear and easy to understand reason for crossing the border, and we live very close to the border so agents recognize the name of our town. I suspect that most of them have their homes in the same town.
Our lives were so minimally affected by the IT crisis even though the flight our daughter and grandson were initially booked to travel on had been cancelled. Because the delay was caused by computer problems on the east coast, she knew about it and was able to re book through a west coast agent, whose computer had not yet crashed. We got the bonus of an extra day with our daughter and grandson and the neighbor who is meeting them at the airport when they arrive was easily able to make the change because it is a weekend.
There are still lingering disruptions for some travelers around the world, but we got lucky and our lives were not disrupted. We stood in line just enough to have compassion for those who had to endure much more significant crowds, delays, and being stranded for hours at airports.
Delays and chaos
19/07/24 02:22
My parents were both pilots and together they founded, owned and operated Sky Flight, Inc., an aviation services company that provided sales, instruction, maintenance, fuel and other services to general aviation pilots. Sky Flight bid for and secured contracts to provide aviation services to the Forest Service and to Yellowstone National Park. The company flew regular fire patrols, provided aircraft for game counts and for tracking animals equipped with radio collars. A subsidiary company, Yellowstone Air Service, owned by Sky Flight provided charter flights and operated an air ambulance.
I grew up with the phrase, “Time to spare, go by air.” Although my father was rated as an instrument pilot and an instrument instructor, the aircraft we could afford to operate were definitely not all weather airplanes. Without equipment for flying into known icing conditions, and without pressurization that allows flight into higher altitudes, Sky Flight pilots had to keep track of weather patterns and forecasts and be prepared to use alternate airports or to stay on the ground when severe weather threatened. There were many times when our father’s flights were delayed by weather and he spent time on the ground waiting for better conditions.
When I was old enough to earn my pilot’s license, I became a pilot, but was only licensed to fly in visual flight conditions, which meant that I could not fly into clouds. I’ve spent considerable time on the ground waiting for fog to clear or for weather conditions to improve. There were many times when it would have been much quicker to drive than flying under Visual Flight Rules.
Even traveling by airlines can result in delays. Once I spent my wife’s birthday stuck in the Denver Airport being bumped from flight after flight because of overbooking and cancelled flights. Another time Susan and I rented a car and drove from Denver to Rapid City on slippery winter roads because we otherwise would have been waiting in a motel for an available flight.
Last night we were prepared to take our daughter to Vancouver International Airport to board a red eye flight that would connect to a short flight to Columbia near their home. The flight was originally scheduled for a 10 pm departure and she had been advised by the airline to arrive at the airport three hours early because of the international flight. Although we live only 40 miles from Vancouver International, we were allowing an hour and a half to get to the airport so that we would have time for any delays at the border. As the afternoon went on we received notice from the airline that the flight was delayed, so we delayed our departure from home by an hour. Then, as we were driving out of our neighborhood, we received notice of another delay from the airlines that put the departure time after midnight. That delay meant that our daughter and grandson would miss their connecting flight so she called the airlines to check on rebooking. The trip was complicated because when they arrive in South Carolina they are depending on friends to meet them at the airport to drive them back to their home which is a ways from a city served by airlines.
The easiest rebooking was to delay the flight by 24 yours. We were happy because we get another day with our daughter and our grandson. Various family members and friends were called to coordinate the trip and everything was in place when we went to bed last night.
I checked the computer when I got up to find out that all flights of American Airlines, the carrier on which they were planning to travel, had been forced to cancel all flights. It is still unclear whether or not the airlines will be able to provide service tonight, but the problem is much bigger than American Airlines. American Airlines says Crowdstrike, a cybersecurity company is the source of tech issues that caused their computer systems to disrupt flights. There is a huge disruption in transportation worldwide with computer systems failing. Other airlines are cancelling flights and airports are filling with people attempting to find ways to travel. Alaska police warn that the 911 system is unavailable. Shipping terminals are turning away container ships. The Paris Olympics It systems are affected. Rail companies are experiencing widespread IT issues. In Delhi all electronic check in terminals were shut down. In several major airports, airline companies are unable to use their electronic message boards. Some airlines are using white boards to update flight information. People stranded in airports are discovering that computer systems allowing for credit card payment for food are down and coffee shops and restaurants are unable to accept card payment. People traveling with electronic boarding passes find that none of the machines to read the passes are working. Those seeking to bypass the card reader problem by withdrawing cash from ATMs are discovering that the ATMs are not working. Some radio and television stations have gone off the air due to computer service problems. In the UK, the national Pharmacy Association reports that accessing prescription medicines is disrupted.
In short it is chaos.
Fortunately for us, our daughter and grandson are safe in our home and not stranded in an airport. For now they are rebooked on a flight that may leave on time if the IT problems can be solved today. It is a minor inconvenience for them. We are much more fortunate than the families of millions of air travelers who are stranded in airports with limited access to service.
Time to spare, go by air.
We have grown dependent upon computer systems. We continually rely on technology for all kinds of day to day living. It remains to be seen how widespread the problem is or how quickly companies can get computer systems operating normally. Meanwhile, we’ve got plenty of food in our pantry and freezers, we have electricity to run our home and our cars happen to be full of fuel. I have enough cash to make any emergency transactions. And we get extra time with our daughter and grandson.
As the IT systems are restored companies will have to deal with the backlog of stranded customers and cancelled flights. With any luck we may even get to have our daughter and grandson with us for an additional day. We could even make some progress on the backlog of leftover food in our refrigerator.
I grew up with the phrase, “Time to spare, go by air.” Although my father was rated as an instrument pilot and an instrument instructor, the aircraft we could afford to operate were definitely not all weather airplanes. Without equipment for flying into known icing conditions, and without pressurization that allows flight into higher altitudes, Sky Flight pilots had to keep track of weather patterns and forecasts and be prepared to use alternate airports or to stay on the ground when severe weather threatened. There were many times when our father’s flights were delayed by weather and he spent time on the ground waiting for better conditions.
When I was old enough to earn my pilot’s license, I became a pilot, but was only licensed to fly in visual flight conditions, which meant that I could not fly into clouds. I’ve spent considerable time on the ground waiting for fog to clear or for weather conditions to improve. There were many times when it would have been much quicker to drive than flying under Visual Flight Rules.
Even traveling by airlines can result in delays. Once I spent my wife’s birthday stuck in the Denver Airport being bumped from flight after flight because of overbooking and cancelled flights. Another time Susan and I rented a car and drove from Denver to Rapid City on slippery winter roads because we otherwise would have been waiting in a motel for an available flight.
Last night we were prepared to take our daughter to Vancouver International Airport to board a red eye flight that would connect to a short flight to Columbia near their home. The flight was originally scheduled for a 10 pm departure and she had been advised by the airline to arrive at the airport three hours early because of the international flight. Although we live only 40 miles from Vancouver International, we were allowing an hour and a half to get to the airport so that we would have time for any delays at the border. As the afternoon went on we received notice from the airline that the flight was delayed, so we delayed our departure from home by an hour. Then, as we were driving out of our neighborhood, we received notice of another delay from the airlines that put the departure time after midnight. That delay meant that our daughter and grandson would miss their connecting flight so she called the airlines to check on rebooking. The trip was complicated because when they arrive in South Carolina they are depending on friends to meet them at the airport to drive them back to their home which is a ways from a city served by airlines.
The easiest rebooking was to delay the flight by 24 yours. We were happy because we get another day with our daughter and our grandson. Various family members and friends were called to coordinate the trip and everything was in place when we went to bed last night.
I checked the computer when I got up to find out that all flights of American Airlines, the carrier on which they were planning to travel, had been forced to cancel all flights. It is still unclear whether or not the airlines will be able to provide service tonight, but the problem is much bigger than American Airlines. American Airlines says Crowdstrike, a cybersecurity company is the source of tech issues that caused their computer systems to disrupt flights. There is a huge disruption in transportation worldwide with computer systems failing. Other airlines are cancelling flights and airports are filling with people attempting to find ways to travel. Alaska police warn that the 911 system is unavailable. Shipping terminals are turning away container ships. The Paris Olympics It systems are affected. Rail companies are experiencing widespread IT issues. In Delhi all electronic check in terminals were shut down. In several major airports, airline companies are unable to use their electronic message boards. Some airlines are using white boards to update flight information. People stranded in airports are discovering that computer systems allowing for credit card payment for food are down and coffee shops and restaurants are unable to accept card payment. People traveling with electronic boarding passes find that none of the machines to read the passes are working. Those seeking to bypass the card reader problem by withdrawing cash from ATMs are discovering that the ATMs are not working. Some radio and television stations have gone off the air due to computer service problems. In the UK, the national Pharmacy Association reports that accessing prescription medicines is disrupted.
In short it is chaos.
Fortunately for us, our daughter and grandson are safe in our home and not stranded in an airport. For now they are rebooked on a flight that may leave on time if the IT problems can be solved today. It is a minor inconvenience for them. We are much more fortunate than the families of millions of air travelers who are stranded in airports with limited access to service.
Time to spare, go by air.
We have grown dependent upon computer systems. We continually rely on technology for all kinds of day to day living. It remains to be seen how widespread the problem is or how quickly companies can get computer systems operating normally. Meanwhile, we’ve got plenty of food in our pantry and freezers, we have electricity to run our home and our cars happen to be full of fuel. I have enough cash to make any emergency transactions. And we get extra time with our daughter and grandson.
As the IT systems are restored companies will have to deal with the backlog of stranded customers and cancelled flights. With any luck we may even get to have our daughter and grandson with us for an additional day. We could even make some progress on the backlog of leftover food in our refrigerator.
A refrigerator full of food
18/07/24 02:51
Nearly a century has passed since the Great Depression marked the worst economic downturn in US history. Like tens of millions of others, my relatives didn’t have their savings tied up in the stock market, so the market crash of October 1929 didn’t have an immediate effect. But that crash was only the beginning of hard times. By 1933, when my parents were teenagers, more than 5,000 banks had gone out of business and the savings of millions of people were wiped out. Unemployment reached 25%.
All of this happened before I was born, but I grew up with the stories of the depression. Those stories were told by relatives as lessons that I should learn about frugality and not wasting. the culture of saving, reusing, handing down, and not spending money on frivolous items was part of the story of our family and of the families of my friends. I don’t have memories of poverty. My parents were able to provide well for our family. We had enough food and clothing and always had a warm and comfortable home. I had a kind of privileged position in our family. My older siblings were sisters. I was the oldest boy in our family and as such, didn’t have to wear hand me down clothing as much as some of the others. I did, however, often head off to school wearing clothes that had belonged to older cousins and had been carefully washed and passed on to me. I didn’t see that as a hardship.
More than the objective realities of the general economy or my parents’ general economic health following the Second World War, I was shaped by the stories that were told in our family. I grew up hearing about making household items out of scrap materials. I knew the story of how my mother’s parents and sisters were not present at her wedding because of war era gas rationing.
If I left a scrap of food on my plate I could count on a lecture about hard times and times when there wasn’t enough food to satisfy. In our family the crusts of bread loaves were treated as special treats. Scraps of meat were saved for soup stock and cooked in the water from cooking vegetables that had been carefully saved in quart canning jars.
I have never suffered from a lack of food, but I cringe when I see food waste. Our children heard about Uncle Bill’s Clean Plate Club when they were little, but it is a story that they chose not to impose on their children. They are educated about the health risks of obesity. They want to offer their children a bit more balance and a bit less pressure to eat unwanted food.
The combination of the moderation of our children and the significantly different attitude about food of our grandchildren with the stories and memories of their grandparents means that at the end of a visit from our daughter and grandson that has included many shared meals with cousins and a couple of birthday celebrations our refrigerator is full of food. We over prepared for meal after meal, placing leftovers in containers in the refrigerator.
Part of returning our household to our usual mode will be a few days of planning meals of leftovers and discerning which foods can be frozen for later consumption. We’ll be feeling the impact of this visit for a long time. I don’t mean to complain. I am overjoyed at the blessing of all of the family meals we have enjoyed. I like planning food for our grandchildren. I love it when our dining room table has all of the leaves in it and all of the chairs are full. I like passing heaping platters of food. I’m a big consumer of pies and cakes and brownies. I am deeply blessed. But I will take pleasure in decreasing the amount of food that goes into our compost container in the days to come. I’ll try to be creative in planning meals to minimize food waste. I’ll carefully label packages and place them in the freezer.
And as we go through the refrigerator and freezer, I’ll carefully save plastic bags and containers that have stored food, wash them out and organize them for reuse. I’ll take secret pride from decreasing the quantity of waste coming from our house. I’ll eat the crusts of the bread that I have been saving for the past couple of weeks. I’ll make fewer trips to the grocery store and there are quite a few things that I’ve had on my shopping lists in the last couple of weeks that won’t appear on my shopping list until the next family visits.
Americans waste more food than any other country in the world. It has been estimated that 40 percent of the US food supply is wasted. The amount of food wasted each year in our country is the equivalent of 130 billion meals. It is far more than would be required to consistently feed the 35 million people, including 10 million children, who suffer from food insecurity in our country. The Internet is full of articles about the economic and environmental effects of food waste in our country.
I’m willing to participate in a bit higher level of consumption and a higher level of food waste in order to practice extravagant hospitality with our family and other guests. I know, however, that the values of wasting less and being more careful about purchasing and preparing food are important to pass down to our grandchildren. They won’t hear me promoting Uncle Bill’s Clean Plate Club, but they will see me carefully sorting and saving food at the end of a meal. And they will continue to hear the stories of people who died long before they were born. I don’t know which of those stories will become the stories they tell, but I’m confident that some of those stories will have an impact on their lives. And I am hopeful that they will learn enough about the impacts of food waste to become a bit more careful as they grow up.
All of this happened before I was born, but I grew up with the stories of the depression. Those stories were told by relatives as lessons that I should learn about frugality and not wasting. the culture of saving, reusing, handing down, and not spending money on frivolous items was part of the story of our family and of the families of my friends. I don’t have memories of poverty. My parents were able to provide well for our family. We had enough food and clothing and always had a warm and comfortable home. I had a kind of privileged position in our family. My older siblings were sisters. I was the oldest boy in our family and as such, didn’t have to wear hand me down clothing as much as some of the others. I did, however, often head off to school wearing clothes that had belonged to older cousins and had been carefully washed and passed on to me. I didn’t see that as a hardship.
More than the objective realities of the general economy or my parents’ general economic health following the Second World War, I was shaped by the stories that were told in our family. I grew up hearing about making household items out of scrap materials. I knew the story of how my mother’s parents and sisters were not present at her wedding because of war era gas rationing.
If I left a scrap of food on my plate I could count on a lecture about hard times and times when there wasn’t enough food to satisfy. In our family the crusts of bread loaves were treated as special treats. Scraps of meat were saved for soup stock and cooked in the water from cooking vegetables that had been carefully saved in quart canning jars.
I have never suffered from a lack of food, but I cringe when I see food waste. Our children heard about Uncle Bill’s Clean Plate Club when they were little, but it is a story that they chose not to impose on their children. They are educated about the health risks of obesity. They want to offer their children a bit more balance and a bit less pressure to eat unwanted food.
The combination of the moderation of our children and the significantly different attitude about food of our grandchildren with the stories and memories of their grandparents means that at the end of a visit from our daughter and grandson that has included many shared meals with cousins and a couple of birthday celebrations our refrigerator is full of food. We over prepared for meal after meal, placing leftovers in containers in the refrigerator.
Part of returning our household to our usual mode will be a few days of planning meals of leftovers and discerning which foods can be frozen for later consumption. We’ll be feeling the impact of this visit for a long time. I don’t mean to complain. I am overjoyed at the blessing of all of the family meals we have enjoyed. I like planning food for our grandchildren. I love it when our dining room table has all of the leaves in it and all of the chairs are full. I like passing heaping platters of food. I’m a big consumer of pies and cakes and brownies. I am deeply blessed. But I will take pleasure in decreasing the amount of food that goes into our compost container in the days to come. I’ll try to be creative in planning meals to minimize food waste. I’ll carefully label packages and place them in the freezer.
And as we go through the refrigerator and freezer, I’ll carefully save plastic bags and containers that have stored food, wash them out and organize them for reuse. I’ll take secret pride from decreasing the quantity of waste coming from our house. I’ll eat the crusts of the bread that I have been saving for the past couple of weeks. I’ll make fewer trips to the grocery store and there are quite a few things that I’ve had on my shopping lists in the last couple of weeks that won’t appear on my shopping list until the next family visits.
Americans waste more food than any other country in the world. It has been estimated that 40 percent of the US food supply is wasted. The amount of food wasted each year in our country is the equivalent of 130 billion meals. It is far more than would be required to consistently feed the 35 million people, including 10 million children, who suffer from food insecurity in our country. The Internet is full of articles about the economic and environmental effects of food waste in our country.
I’m willing to participate in a bit higher level of consumption and a higher level of food waste in order to practice extravagant hospitality with our family and other guests. I know, however, that the values of wasting less and being more careful about purchasing and preparing food are important to pass down to our grandchildren. They won’t hear me promoting Uncle Bill’s Clean Plate Club, but they will see me carefully sorting and saving food at the end of a meal. And they will continue to hear the stories of people who died long before they were born. I don’t know which of those stories will become the stories they tell, but I’m confident that some of those stories will have an impact on their lives. And I am hopeful that they will learn enough about the impacts of food waste to become a bit more careful as they grow up.
Places to play
17/07/24 02:14
When our kids were little we took them to parks and they climbed all over play structures of various kinds. At the time, structures made out of wood were quite popular and there were lots of variations on tree houses. We participated in the fundraising for a new play structure at our children’s elementary school. There is something about being a grandfather, however, that has led me to paying more attention to play structures. We go to parks a lot these days. Our grandson from South Carolina is visiting us and one of the things he wants to do is to play with his cousins. Another thing he wants to do is to go to parks. And when he says go to a park he means finding a play structure.
Off the top of my head, I can think of a half dozen different play structures that we have visited during the time he has been with us. All of them feature different places to climb. Several have climbing walls made to simulate rock climbing with good places to put hands and feet. A few have ropes or chains that can be held to assist with climbing or descending. Metal bars and overhead ladders are popular. Most of there play structures are made of metal and plastic.
There was a trend when our children were growing up of making play structures where the equipment was static and the children moved. This was in contrast to the playgrounds of our childhood that featured merry-go-rounds and swings. The updated play structures featured tube slides that were hard to fall off of.
I remember kids flying off of the merry-go-round when I was a kid, but I don’t remember injuries from them. I can remember several children who suffered broken arms and other injuries from swings. My father used to delight in saying that despite our having a trampoline in our back yard the only insurance claim for an injured child came from a neighbor who broke an arm jumping off of a swing.
I have a friend who was a school nurse for most of her career and she says that the most dangerous thing on the school yard in terms of injuries is the monkey bars. She has seen lots of injuries from falling from the climbing structures.
Childhood, like the rest of life, is filled with risks. And our five grandchildren have different attitudes about taking risks. We have one who seems to be nearly fearless when it comes to climbing. He has take a few falls, but without significant injury. We have another who wants to look and study before he tries a new form of play. He doesn’t seem to be very big on risks at this point. Although we keep our eyes on him and stand by ready to assist or to prevent a fall, he seems to be less likely to take a fall than some of his older family members.
One of the things that affects the play value of a climbing structure is how busy it is with other children. When a structure is mobbed with lots of children, it seems less appealing for our grandkids. We notice that it is common for children to be playing with minimal or no adult supervision. Although most play structures post rules that include suggested ages of children who are allowed to play, adults seem to routinely ignore the upper age limits. When we have our preschool and early elementary grandchildren with us three or four or more junior high kids on a play structure designed for younger kids can make the experience much less enjoyable.
Because we pay close attention to our grandchildren and their parents expect such of us, we are aware of other children who seem to be allowed to play without supervision.
Who knew that I would become so interested in play structures and the children who play on them?
Men my age who are paying attention to children playing in parks are seen as a bit suspect these days. There are enough stories about children who are abducted and injured by predators to keep adults wary of strangers in the park. On several occasions I have been approached by concerned parents who ask about what I am doing taking pictures at the park. When I point out that I am photographing my grandchildren and not other children they seem a bit relieved, but it is clear that I am seen as suspect by some adults. That makes me sad. I have been an advocate for safe places for children and careful screening of adults for my entire career. All children deserve safe places to play and they deserve to be protected from predatory adults. I wish I wasn’t seen as suspicious because of my age and my love of children. However, I understand the concern of adults and I try not to take their inquiries personally. I share with them a concern for the safety of the children.
My passport to the play structures, of course, are my grandchildren. I adhere to the rule that all adults must be accompanied by a child to enter the area where the play structures are located. I tell my grandchildren that I need someone to hold my hand when I am crossing a street or a busy parking lot, instead of telling them that they need to hold someone’s hand. We belong together and we help each other to be safe.
As was the case for us when we were children and for our children when they were younger, our grandchildren love to swing. I can still give a pretty good underdog push to a swinger even though our grandchildren know how to pump their own swings and I make jokes about it not being nice to call me a dog. There is a wonderful feeling of going fast but having a level of control that makes swings really fun play.
For a few more years I’ll keep scouting parks for play structures and remembering which parks have the most interesting features. I’m lucky to have grandchildren who frequently take me to the park.
Camping and growing up
16/07/24 02:40
OK, for those who might still believe that global warming is not a reality, I have a simple question: How do you take your grandchildren camping without s’mores? Are you comfortable saying that cooking hot dogs over the campfire is no longer an important part of growing up?
We live in one of the more temperate parts of the United States. Our county is filling up with climate refugees who have fled other parts of the globe that have less comfortable climates. Still, the temperatures have been extreme (for us) under this heat dome. I know that 80 degrees is nothing compared to 117 in some parts of the country, but it is hot for an area where many public buildings and the majority of private homes do not have air conditioning. And the high temperatures have combined with lower than usual snowpack in the mountains and lower than usual rainfall in our area to result in an elevated risk of wildfire. The risk is high enough that all of the state parks and the nearby national park and the national forest service areas in our county all have a ban on all campfires and all charcoal fires. No wood or charcoal fires of any type are allowed.
And we are camping with our grandchildren.
So, I did what any sensible grandfather who has a comfortable standard of living would do. I purchased an approved propane fire pit for kids to toast marshmallows. As far as I know s’mores are a requirement of a camping trip. And I don’t even like marshmallows. I’ll toast them for the kids if they ask me. I’ll eat a graham cracker with a square of chocolate. I like the idea of melted chocolate, but I’m no fan of the pure sugar taste of marshmallows. So I don’t actually eat s’mores. But as a dedicated grandfather, I don’t want to deny my grandchildren the experience of campfire cooking.
There are some experiences of growing up that I had that I think are important to share with our grandchildren.
I was pleased as could be yesterday. The big pasture at the farm had been hayed and in this country, bales need to be stacked indoors to keep them from molding in the wet season. So the bales had to be picked onto a trailer and when the trailer was full they had to be boosted from the trailer into the hay loft at the farm. Hay in the hay loft is easy to feed as you can drop bales directly into feeding stalls below the loft. Our 13-year old grandson helped buck bales from the trailer into the barn. The bales were heavy for him. He could get them into the loft when standing on a couple of layers of bales, but when the load on the trailer got deleted, he could not longer lift the bales high enough. However, he hung in with the job, carrying bales to others who would life them. It was hard work for him and he had to push to do it.
However, when they were bucking bales from the field, he was simply too short to lift them onto the deck of the trailer. The kids’ partner had a couple of teenage helpers who were older and bigger than our grandson who could pitch bales onto the trailer. So the partner walked one side of the trailer, with one teen on the other side and one on the trailer to stack the bales. And, if you’ve been hanging out around the farm, you’d accurately guess that our grandson was driving the truck. It was his first time of driving a pickup and he was pulling a trailer. Of course, the truck was in low range and in the lowest gear. So he had to learn to put on the brake, be gentle with the accelerator and steer. And it was taking place in the pasture where there was nothing to run into except the fence at the edges.
He was understandably proud that he was able to drive and to contribute to the process of getting the hay into the barn. I can’t remember exactly being his age, but I do remember my first experiences with driving. Unlike our grandson, I had to be able to work a clutch, but we learned to drive at the airport. Our job was checking the perimeter lights and replacing any burned out bulbs. There wasn’t much to run into at the airport in those days.
I didn’t work on the farm the summer I was his age, but I did work there the next summer. I, too, was too short to buck the bales all the way up to the truck bed, so I got the job of stacking the bales on the truck. Unlike the bale crew at the farm yesterday, we put the truck in its lowest gear and let it idle across the field with no driver. It worked until one front wheel hit an especially big rock or a hole in the ground, which would cause the truck to jerk into a new direction. One of the people bucking bales would rush to the driver’s seat and correct the direction. They had to do the same thing each time we got to the end of a row at the edge of the field.
Our son never had the opportunity to do farm work as a teenager. He did learn to drive on dirt and gravel country roads. Farm kids have special opportunities to learn to drive, and though we didn’t live on a farm, I had enough farm experience in my background to start our kids out with their driving on rural country roads.
I thought of our grandson driving the hay truck later in the day when I was backing our camp trailer into a campsite from a fairly narrow campground road. I learned to back up trailers before there were backup cameras and trailer assist. I’m sure I do it more by instinct than by conscious skill. Each time camping season comes around, I need to park the trailer several times before I get used to the length of the trailer, but once I get that down, I can usually get the trailer to go where it needs to go.
It will be a while before our grandson learns to back the trailer. It isn’t a skill needed to haul bales to the barn, but I can imagine that he will need to learn how to do so at some point. It is part of living on a farm. He can start to learn right now with the small dump trailer that they have for their garden tractor. When he masters that, I may give him an opportunity with my utility trailer. We use it to haul straw from a farm down the road. If I give him the chance to drive the pickup, perhaps he’ll be as motivated to help me unload and stack bales as he was yesterday when he got to drive the truck in the field.
We live in one of the more temperate parts of the United States. Our county is filling up with climate refugees who have fled other parts of the globe that have less comfortable climates. Still, the temperatures have been extreme (for us) under this heat dome. I know that 80 degrees is nothing compared to 117 in some parts of the country, but it is hot for an area where many public buildings and the majority of private homes do not have air conditioning. And the high temperatures have combined with lower than usual snowpack in the mountains and lower than usual rainfall in our area to result in an elevated risk of wildfire. The risk is high enough that all of the state parks and the nearby national park and the national forest service areas in our county all have a ban on all campfires and all charcoal fires. No wood or charcoal fires of any type are allowed.
And we are camping with our grandchildren.
So, I did what any sensible grandfather who has a comfortable standard of living would do. I purchased an approved propane fire pit for kids to toast marshmallows. As far as I know s’mores are a requirement of a camping trip. And I don’t even like marshmallows. I’ll toast them for the kids if they ask me. I’ll eat a graham cracker with a square of chocolate. I like the idea of melted chocolate, but I’m no fan of the pure sugar taste of marshmallows. So I don’t actually eat s’mores. But as a dedicated grandfather, I don’t want to deny my grandchildren the experience of campfire cooking.
There are some experiences of growing up that I had that I think are important to share with our grandchildren.
I was pleased as could be yesterday. The big pasture at the farm had been hayed and in this country, bales need to be stacked indoors to keep them from molding in the wet season. So the bales had to be picked onto a trailer and when the trailer was full they had to be boosted from the trailer into the hay loft at the farm. Hay in the hay loft is easy to feed as you can drop bales directly into feeding stalls below the loft. Our 13-year old grandson helped buck bales from the trailer into the barn. The bales were heavy for him. He could get them into the loft when standing on a couple of layers of bales, but when the load on the trailer got deleted, he could not longer lift the bales high enough. However, he hung in with the job, carrying bales to others who would life them. It was hard work for him and he had to push to do it.
However, when they were bucking bales from the field, he was simply too short to lift them onto the deck of the trailer. The kids’ partner had a couple of teenage helpers who were older and bigger than our grandson who could pitch bales onto the trailer. So the partner walked one side of the trailer, with one teen on the other side and one on the trailer to stack the bales. And, if you’ve been hanging out around the farm, you’d accurately guess that our grandson was driving the truck. It was his first time of driving a pickup and he was pulling a trailer. Of course, the truck was in low range and in the lowest gear. So he had to learn to put on the brake, be gentle with the accelerator and steer. And it was taking place in the pasture where there was nothing to run into except the fence at the edges.
He was understandably proud that he was able to drive and to contribute to the process of getting the hay into the barn. I can’t remember exactly being his age, but I do remember my first experiences with driving. Unlike our grandson, I had to be able to work a clutch, but we learned to drive at the airport. Our job was checking the perimeter lights and replacing any burned out bulbs. There wasn’t much to run into at the airport in those days.
I didn’t work on the farm the summer I was his age, but I did work there the next summer. I, too, was too short to buck the bales all the way up to the truck bed, so I got the job of stacking the bales on the truck. Unlike the bale crew at the farm yesterday, we put the truck in its lowest gear and let it idle across the field with no driver. It worked until one front wheel hit an especially big rock or a hole in the ground, which would cause the truck to jerk into a new direction. One of the people bucking bales would rush to the driver’s seat and correct the direction. They had to do the same thing each time we got to the end of a row at the edge of the field.
Our son never had the opportunity to do farm work as a teenager. He did learn to drive on dirt and gravel country roads. Farm kids have special opportunities to learn to drive, and though we didn’t live on a farm, I had enough farm experience in my background to start our kids out with their driving on rural country roads.
I thought of our grandson driving the hay truck later in the day when I was backing our camp trailer into a campsite from a fairly narrow campground road. I learned to back up trailers before there were backup cameras and trailer assist. I’m sure I do it more by instinct than by conscious skill. Each time camping season comes around, I need to park the trailer several times before I get used to the length of the trailer, but once I get that down, I can usually get the trailer to go where it needs to go.
It will be a while before our grandson learns to back the trailer. It isn’t a skill needed to haul bales to the barn, but I can imagine that he will need to learn how to do so at some point. It is part of living on a farm. He can start to learn right now with the small dump trailer that they have for their garden tractor. When he masters that, I may give him an opportunity with my utility trailer. We use it to haul straw from a farm down the road. If I give him the chance to drive the pickup, perhaps he’ll be as motivated to help me unload and stack bales as he was yesterday when he got to drive the truck in the field.
Camping
15/07/24 01:43
The story I was told as a child is that when I was around 2 months old, our family went to church camp. My mother served as camp nurse. We stayed in a cabin that did not have running water but was fairly close to the camp shower house that had two showers and a generator that could be fired up to bring electricity to the camp. The camp cook prepared meals over a wood-fired stove in a dining hall that had been hastily constructed for the Civilian Conservation Corps. The mill slat siding had holes that showed daylight. My father emptied the firewood box for the cabin where we were staying and my folks made a bed for me in the fire box.
I don’t remember that particular camping trip. And I don’t remember any trip as being my first camping trip. Going to camp was simply something that we always did. I spent at least a week at church camp every summer of my life. For the first 25 years we went to the same camp every summer. When I turned 22, I was manager at the camp and my wife was cook. We did that job for two summers while we were seminary students.
I don’t remember ever getting my first sleeping bag. A sleeping bag was something that everyone in our family had. We used sleeping bags for more than just church camp. Our family had a wall tent and we went camping with the tent. Most of the time we would stay at a Forest Service campground with pit toilets. We were used to outhouses. No one ever thought of needing to make reservations to stay at a campground. You just showed up and selected a campsite. We had a two burner Coleman stove that ran on white gas and a lantern that used the same fuel. My great uncle had made a picnic box that fit in the back of our car that held plates, cups, silverware and enough pots and pans to prepare meals. We had an ice chest that kept perishables cool with blocks of ice that we froze in our freezer.
In the first years of our marriage we had sleeping bags, but didn’t own a tent. It seemed to us that it always rained when we wanted to go camping. We got good at making rain coats out of garbage bags that covered our backpacks and we had a tarp that we could rig up for shelter from the rain. We gathered firewood and made fires to cook our meals. By the time we had children, we had a good four-person tent. Sometimes we’d go camping with my mother and take a second small tent. I remember mother playing countless games of “go fish” with our daughter on one trip when we car camped and it rained. We developed a routine. When we reached a campsite, we would work together to set up the tent. Susan would care for the children while I cooked supper. I had a relatively small catalogue of meals I knew how to cook, so camping meant a bit of repetition with food.
When our kids were teens we acquired a used tent camper. It had a two burner propane stove, a five gallon water tank with a hand pump that dispensed water into a small sink. We camped around quite a bit with that trailer. It had two fold out beds with a tent top. There was also a small dinette that could be converted into another bed. The summer that we had our Japanese exchange daughter with us we camped from Rapid City through Yellowstone Park to Boise, Idaho, and on to Portland and Seattle. We stayed out on Whidby Island before camping our way back across Washington, Idaho, Montana and the corner of Wyoming to our home in Rapid City. We never made a campground reservation for the entire trip and always found a place to stay. We found several campgrounds with showers along the way.
When our children were grown and out of the home, we camped with a slide-in pickup camper for a few years before graduating to the bumper pull trailer that we now have. This trailer is filled with luxury items including a bathroom with a shower, a kitchen with a sink, a four-burner cooktop with an oven and a microwave. It has an air conditioner, though the microwave and air conditioner require that we be hooked up to electricity in order to operate. There is also a reasonably sized refrigerator with a freezer that keeps ice cream cold. This camper can sleep a lot of people. There is a bunkhouse room with four bunks, plus a queen sized bed. There is a jackknife sofa and the dinette can also be made into a bed.
We got this camper the year after our first grandson was born and before we moved out to Washington, we pulled that camper out here every summer. Our oldest grandson stayed with us in the camper when he was only two years old. He and his sister stayed with us in our camper when their little sister was born. We’ve made camping a family adventure for lots of occasions. In the summer of 2021, we pulled the camper from Washington to South Carolina and back staying at campgrounds all the way and camping in the trailer in the yard of our daughter and son in law’s home. We had to have reservations for every campground on that trip.
This evening we plan to do a first for us. We have reservations at a campground right next to our home. I’ll pull the camper over and set it up in the early afternoon. We’ll have four grandchildren to fill up all of the beds. We’ve camped with three before, but never have had all of the bunks full. Our daughter will be along for the adventure as well, so we’ll be a total of seven sleeping in the camper. It will be for only one night and the campground does not allow open campfires so we’ll be making s’mores over the camp stove, but we’ll have grandpa’s pancakes for breakfast. We’ll take all of the kids’ bikes and have time to go to the beach.
The kids, however, will be sleeping in beds with sheets. I don’t know if our grandchildren have ever slept in sleeping bags. It’s not quite the same as a row of sleeping bags on the bare ground in a canvas tent, but it will be enough for memories to be made. I hope that the joy of camping rubs off on our grandchildren enough that they will one day take their children camping. At any rate, we’ll have stories to tell for years to come.
I don’t remember that particular camping trip. And I don’t remember any trip as being my first camping trip. Going to camp was simply something that we always did. I spent at least a week at church camp every summer of my life. For the first 25 years we went to the same camp every summer. When I turned 22, I was manager at the camp and my wife was cook. We did that job for two summers while we were seminary students.
I don’t remember ever getting my first sleeping bag. A sleeping bag was something that everyone in our family had. We used sleeping bags for more than just church camp. Our family had a wall tent and we went camping with the tent. Most of the time we would stay at a Forest Service campground with pit toilets. We were used to outhouses. No one ever thought of needing to make reservations to stay at a campground. You just showed up and selected a campsite. We had a two burner Coleman stove that ran on white gas and a lantern that used the same fuel. My great uncle had made a picnic box that fit in the back of our car that held plates, cups, silverware and enough pots and pans to prepare meals. We had an ice chest that kept perishables cool with blocks of ice that we froze in our freezer.
In the first years of our marriage we had sleeping bags, but didn’t own a tent. It seemed to us that it always rained when we wanted to go camping. We got good at making rain coats out of garbage bags that covered our backpacks and we had a tarp that we could rig up for shelter from the rain. We gathered firewood and made fires to cook our meals. By the time we had children, we had a good four-person tent. Sometimes we’d go camping with my mother and take a second small tent. I remember mother playing countless games of “go fish” with our daughter on one trip when we car camped and it rained. We developed a routine. When we reached a campsite, we would work together to set up the tent. Susan would care for the children while I cooked supper. I had a relatively small catalogue of meals I knew how to cook, so camping meant a bit of repetition with food.
When our kids were teens we acquired a used tent camper. It had a two burner propane stove, a five gallon water tank with a hand pump that dispensed water into a small sink. We camped around quite a bit with that trailer. It had two fold out beds with a tent top. There was also a small dinette that could be converted into another bed. The summer that we had our Japanese exchange daughter with us we camped from Rapid City through Yellowstone Park to Boise, Idaho, and on to Portland and Seattle. We stayed out on Whidby Island before camping our way back across Washington, Idaho, Montana and the corner of Wyoming to our home in Rapid City. We never made a campground reservation for the entire trip and always found a place to stay. We found several campgrounds with showers along the way.
When our children were grown and out of the home, we camped with a slide-in pickup camper for a few years before graduating to the bumper pull trailer that we now have. This trailer is filled with luxury items including a bathroom with a shower, a kitchen with a sink, a four-burner cooktop with an oven and a microwave. It has an air conditioner, though the microwave and air conditioner require that we be hooked up to electricity in order to operate. There is also a reasonably sized refrigerator with a freezer that keeps ice cream cold. This camper can sleep a lot of people. There is a bunkhouse room with four bunks, plus a queen sized bed. There is a jackknife sofa and the dinette can also be made into a bed.
We got this camper the year after our first grandson was born and before we moved out to Washington, we pulled that camper out here every summer. Our oldest grandson stayed with us in the camper when he was only two years old. He and his sister stayed with us in our camper when their little sister was born. We’ve made camping a family adventure for lots of occasions. In the summer of 2021, we pulled the camper from Washington to South Carolina and back staying at campgrounds all the way and camping in the trailer in the yard of our daughter and son in law’s home. We had to have reservations for every campground on that trip.
This evening we plan to do a first for us. We have reservations at a campground right next to our home. I’ll pull the camper over and set it up in the early afternoon. We’ll have four grandchildren to fill up all of the beds. We’ve camped with three before, but never have had all of the bunks full. Our daughter will be along for the adventure as well, so we’ll be a total of seven sleeping in the camper. It will be for only one night and the campground does not allow open campfires so we’ll be making s’mores over the camp stove, but we’ll have grandpa’s pancakes for breakfast. We’ll take all of the kids’ bikes and have time to go to the beach.
The kids, however, will be sleeping in beds with sheets. I don’t know if our grandchildren have ever slept in sleeping bags. It’s not quite the same as a row of sleeping bags on the bare ground in a canvas tent, but it will be enough for memories to be made. I hope that the joy of camping rubs off on our grandchildren enough that they will one day take their children camping. At any rate, we’ll have stories to tell for years to come.
Baptism
14/07/24 01:48
I served a church that has a very broad recognition of baptism. Over the course of a 44 year career, I was blessed to officiate at baptisms of infants and adults, by sprinkling and by immersion, in churches and hospitals and homes and camps. For over 500 years Christians have found ways to argue over the sacrament with some preferring the baptism of infants and others advocating a believer’s baptism of those who are old enough to make their own choice for baptism. Christians have been baptized by sprinkling, by pouring, and by full immersion. Christians have argued that one means of baptism is superior to others. Some Christians have refused to accept certain baptismal ceremonies and required those who wish to join their denomination to be baptized again if their first baptism was in a form that they do not recognize. Our church, however, has recognized and embraced all forms of baptism.
One of the things I miss most about being retired is that I am no longer a regular officiant at the sacraments of the church. In the case of baptism, the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my role as an officiant suddenly and without warning a little over four years ago. And the congregation we now attend doesn’t have many families with young children. I’ve only witnessed one baptism in this congregation since we joined.
There are baptisms that I will always remember. I have officiated at the baptisms of children whose parents I baptized. I will always remember the baptisms of our two children. One was baptized at an Easter service by one of the pastors who officiated at our wedding and who was one who laid hands on us at our ordinations. The other was baptized at a ceremony officiated at by a Conference Minister on whose search committee I served. The vows we took at parents at those sacraments are among the deepest commitments I have made in my life. It is deeply meaningful to me that I stood before the same pastor to say the vows of our marriage, the vows of ordination, and the vows of a baptismal parent.
I remember sharing baptisms with our partner pastor in Costa Rica. The ceremony was conducted in a public swimming pool. I don’t speak Spanish, but I found the words for the sacrament and waded into the water looking earnest young people in the face as they made commitments to become members of the universal church. I remember the baptism of a nephew in a fountain at a park int he mountains. I remember the baptism of a great niece in the river that flows by the place where I grew up. I remember the baptism of a man a few years older than I in the immersion tank at a Baptist Church that opened its doors to our congregation to celebrate the sacrament when we did not have an immersion tank. I have kept the tiny ink pad footprint of a baby born prematurely at whose baptism I officiated in the neonatal intensive care unit of a hospital in Boise, Idaho. The child is now grown and we have moved on, but the tiny slip of paper with the tiny footprint was on my desk for more than three decades and still is a treasure I keep. I remember the baptism of our second grandson at the chapel of Misawa Air Force Base in Japan almost 5 years ago.
Today is the day of another special baptism that will be forever in my memory. In a few hours, I will stand before our congregation and be the one to dip my hands into the font and place the water on the head of our youngest grandchild. We have five grandchildren and we have co-officiated at the baptisms of four of them. Today makes five. Five grandchildren. The other four will all be present. Over dinner last night we spoke of today’s ceremony and remembered the ceremonies of the others. One granddaughter remembers the quilt she received from the congregation and keeps it as a special treasure. Our older grandson has pretty clear memories of the baptisms of his two sisters and a pretty clear sense of what will happen today. All of them appreciated the time last night when we and their parents recalled each baptism.
This grandson is two years old and he is a pretty quiet child. He is unlikely to complain when we tie the baptismal cape around his shoulders for a few family pictures. The cape is now in its fifth generation. It was worn by Susan’s grandfather at his baptism and is one of the treasures that has been passed down to us. Five grandchildren and a cape in its fifth generation make for a memorable occasion.
We had a very large family presence at the baptism of our first grandchild. It took place on the weekend of our daughter’s wedding. The pictures show both sets of grandparents, our daughter’s in-laws, my sister and her children, Susan’s sisters, and others. One of the treasures of our time serving the church in Rapid City was that there were many occasions that combined the worship of that congregation and the gathering of our family. The congregation got to know our extended family through baptisms and weddings and funerals.
It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitment of our son and daughter in law, the commitment of our daughter as sponsor, and the commitments of our other grandchildren at the baptism. It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitments of love and care and support of our congregation. We now count many members of this congregation as our friends and their presence will be treasured.
I don’t want to be maudlin on this occasion. Baptism is always a sacrament of the church and not an act of an officiant in our tradition. This is not about me. But in the back of my mind I know that it is possible that this will be the last baptism at which I am the officiant. There will be tears of sentiment at the occasion, partly tears of gratitude for the blessings of grandchildren and family. But they may also be a few tears of grief. Growing old is a process of learning to live with grief and to recognize that grief is a companion and not an enemy.
We will tell the stories of this baptism and the stories of other baptisms to our grandchildren over and over again. The fifth is likely the last grandchild for us. However, the fifth may not be the last generation for the baptismal cape.
One of the things I miss most about being retired is that I am no longer a regular officiant at the sacraments of the church. In the case of baptism, the Covid-19 pandemic shut down my role as an officiant suddenly and without warning a little over four years ago. And the congregation we now attend doesn’t have many families with young children. I’ve only witnessed one baptism in this congregation since we joined.
There are baptisms that I will always remember. I have officiated at the baptisms of children whose parents I baptized. I will always remember the baptisms of our two children. One was baptized at an Easter service by one of the pastors who officiated at our wedding and who was one who laid hands on us at our ordinations. The other was baptized at a ceremony officiated at by a Conference Minister on whose search committee I served. The vows we took at parents at those sacraments are among the deepest commitments I have made in my life. It is deeply meaningful to me that I stood before the same pastor to say the vows of our marriage, the vows of ordination, and the vows of a baptismal parent.
I remember sharing baptisms with our partner pastor in Costa Rica. The ceremony was conducted in a public swimming pool. I don’t speak Spanish, but I found the words for the sacrament and waded into the water looking earnest young people in the face as they made commitments to become members of the universal church. I remember the baptism of a nephew in a fountain at a park int he mountains. I remember the baptism of a great niece in the river that flows by the place where I grew up. I remember the baptism of a man a few years older than I in the immersion tank at a Baptist Church that opened its doors to our congregation to celebrate the sacrament when we did not have an immersion tank. I have kept the tiny ink pad footprint of a baby born prematurely at whose baptism I officiated in the neonatal intensive care unit of a hospital in Boise, Idaho. The child is now grown and we have moved on, but the tiny slip of paper with the tiny footprint was on my desk for more than three decades and still is a treasure I keep. I remember the baptism of our second grandson at the chapel of Misawa Air Force Base in Japan almost 5 years ago.
Today is the day of another special baptism that will be forever in my memory. In a few hours, I will stand before our congregation and be the one to dip my hands into the font and place the water on the head of our youngest grandchild. We have five grandchildren and we have co-officiated at the baptisms of four of them. Today makes five. Five grandchildren. The other four will all be present. Over dinner last night we spoke of today’s ceremony and remembered the ceremonies of the others. One granddaughter remembers the quilt she received from the congregation and keeps it as a special treasure. Our older grandson has pretty clear memories of the baptisms of his two sisters and a pretty clear sense of what will happen today. All of them appreciated the time last night when we and their parents recalled each baptism.
This grandson is two years old and he is a pretty quiet child. He is unlikely to complain when we tie the baptismal cape around his shoulders for a few family pictures. The cape is now in its fifth generation. It was worn by Susan’s grandfather at his baptism and is one of the treasures that has been passed down to us. Five grandchildren and a cape in its fifth generation make for a memorable occasion.
We had a very large family presence at the baptism of our first grandchild. It took place on the weekend of our daughter’s wedding. The pictures show both sets of grandparents, our daughter’s in-laws, my sister and her children, Susan’s sisters, and others. One of the treasures of our time serving the church in Rapid City was that there were many occasions that combined the worship of that congregation and the gathering of our family. The congregation got to know our extended family through baptisms and weddings and funerals.
It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitment of our son and daughter in law, the commitment of our daughter as sponsor, and the commitments of our other grandchildren at the baptism. It is an honor and a humbling experience to witness the commitments of love and care and support of our congregation. We now count many members of this congregation as our friends and their presence will be treasured.
I don’t want to be maudlin on this occasion. Baptism is always a sacrament of the church and not an act of an officiant in our tradition. This is not about me. But in the back of my mind I know that it is possible that this will be the last baptism at which I am the officiant. There will be tears of sentiment at the occasion, partly tears of gratitude for the blessings of grandchildren and family. But they may also be a few tears of grief. Growing old is a process of learning to live with grief and to recognize that grief is a companion and not an enemy.
We will tell the stories of this baptism and the stories of other baptisms to our grandchildren over and over again. The fifth is likely the last grandchild for us. However, the fifth may not be the last generation for the baptismal cape.
the games are coming sportsfans!
13/07/24 01:35
I’ve never been a great sports fan. I kept up with sports enough to participate in intelligent conversations about various games and matches when I was serving as a pastor. I attended plenty of games, especially high school games, that involved members of the congregations that I served. I have cheered on Chicago teams, especially the Cubs baseball organization, since I lived in Chicago in the 1970’s. It is fairly easy to be a Chicago Cubs fan. The Cubs have only appeared in one World Series in my lifetime and they won that series in 2016. To be a Cubs fan is to remain loyal to a team that frequently loses. I’m a bit of a fan of underdogs in general, so being a Cubs fan seems to fit naturally.
When it comes to sports other than baseball, I try to know the rules enough to enjoy watching a game, but I seldom have much of an opinion about which team I would prefer to win. In general, I don’t enjoy watching games on television, and I’m not a big watcher of television in the first place.
However, sports are big with a lot of people and it is nearly impossible to ignore how much sports are part of the news of the world.
Although soccer isn’t the biggest sport in the United States, it is growing in popularity in our country and the enthusiasm around soccer matches seems to be increasing. The FIFA World Cup, held every four years, draws hundreds of thousands to live matches in stadiums and millions watch on television. FIFA requires cities that vie to host World Cup matches to have stadiums that seat a minimum of 40,000 fans. A game with 40,000 fans all in one stadium is bound to be a lively event.
The next FIFA World Cup will be held in 2026 and will be jointly hosted by Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Sixteen cities will host matches during the event. We live between two of those cities. Lumen Field, in Seattle has a capacity of 69,000 fans, expandable to 72,000. It is about 100 miles from our home. BC Place in Vancouver holds 54,500 fans and is only 40 miles from our home.
The games are two years away and neither of the cities in our area will be hosting championship games. The tournament consists of 104 matches starting with 48 teams. As is the case with other sports brackets, teams are eliminated from the tournament with loses. The teams will be organized into 12 groups of 4 teams with the top 2 of each group plus the 8 best third-placed teams progressing to a round of 32 teams, followed by a rounds of 16, 8, 4, and finally 2 teams that will vie for the cup. The host cities in our area will only have games in the initial rounds when there are still plenty of teams in the bracket. After the round of 16, Seattle and Vancouver will no longer be host cities.
All of that is fairly complex. What is clear is that there will be a lot of soccer fans in our area during the summer of 2026 and some of those fans will be attending matches both in Seattle and Vancouver. That means that there will be an impact on all of the cities and towns between those two places. The impact is significant enough that cities in the corridor between Seattle and Vancouver have already been holding meetings of planners to assess the impact and plan for the events.
I’ve been told that many of the local hotels, motels, and vacation rentals are already booked by fans in preparation for the world cup. Those fans, however, are not the majority of those who will want to watch the matches because it is impossible to know which teams will be playing in specific cities beyond the very first round of matches. The big matches, in the round of 16, will be played by teams that are yet to be determined. And the number of fans will vary depending on the population of the countries where the teams originate.
It is possible that our little town will be overrun with soccer fans in early July with a round of 16 match in Seattle on July 6 and another in Vancouver on July 7.
Like the annual motorcycle rally in Sturgis, SD, there are already a few folks in our neighborhood who are planning to be gone when the crowds arrive. Like the years we lived in Rapid City, we are likely to stick around just to see the folks who come to visit. I’m inclined toward people watching and although I generally avoid crowds, they are good places to watch people.
It is surprising to me, however, that there is already talk about the impact of sports matches that will not take place for two more years. I really don’t know what I will be doing during the summer of 2026. I do know that my grandson’s birthday is July 12 and that I really enjoy celebrating birthdays with family members. I don’t know for sure where our daughter’s family will be living in two years. Air Force families have to be prepared to move as their service member’s assignments change. Although they live in South Carolina now, it doesn’t mean that we will be heading there to celebrate a birthday in two years.
It is safe to say that I’m a bigger fan of birthdays than I am of sports events. 2024 counts as a banner year for me. I have been able to be with all five of our grandchildren on their birthdays. I have plans to be with both of our children on their birthdays as well. The only birthday in our immediate circle that I will miss this year is our son-in-law, whose deployment meant that he was not able to be home for his birthday this year. As a result I’m holding out the possibility that I might have a year in the near future when I make it to all of the birthdays. I doubt that the World Cup will have any impact on my travel plans for 2026.
When it comes to sports other than baseball, I try to know the rules enough to enjoy watching a game, but I seldom have much of an opinion about which team I would prefer to win. In general, I don’t enjoy watching games on television, and I’m not a big watcher of television in the first place.
However, sports are big with a lot of people and it is nearly impossible to ignore how much sports are part of the news of the world.
Although soccer isn’t the biggest sport in the United States, it is growing in popularity in our country and the enthusiasm around soccer matches seems to be increasing. The FIFA World Cup, held every four years, draws hundreds of thousands to live matches in stadiums and millions watch on television. FIFA requires cities that vie to host World Cup matches to have stadiums that seat a minimum of 40,000 fans. A game with 40,000 fans all in one stadium is bound to be a lively event.
The next FIFA World Cup will be held in 2026 and will be jointly hosted by Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Sixteen cities will host matches during the event. We live between two of those cities. Lumen Field, in Seattle has a capacity of 69,000 fans, expandable to 72,000. It is about 100 miles from our home. BC Place in Vancouver holds 54,500 fans and is only 40 miles from our home.
The games are two years away and neither of the cities in our area will be hosting championship games. The tournament consists of 104 matches starting with 48 teams. As is the case with other sports brackets, teams are eliminated from the tournament with loses. The teams will be organized into 12 groups of 4 teams with the top 2 of each group plus the 8 best third-placed teams progressing to a round of 32 teams, followed by a rounds of 16, 8, 4, and finally 2 teams that will vie for the cup. The host cities in our area will only have games in the initial rounds when there are still plenty of teams in the bracket. After the round of 16, Seattle and Vancouver will no longer be host cities.
All of that is fairly complex. What is clear is that there will be a lot of soccer fans in our area during the summer of 2026 and some of those fans will be attending matches both in Seattle and Vancouver. That means that there will be an impact on all of the cities and towns between those two places. The impact is significant enough that cities in the corridor between Seattle and Vancouver have already been holding meetings of planners to assess the impact and plan for the events.
I’ve been told that many of the local hotels, motels, and vacation rentals are already booked by fans in preparation for the world cup. Those fans, however, are not the majority of those who will want to watch the matches because it is impossible to know which teams will be playing in specific cities beyond the very first round of matches. The big matches, in the round of 16, will be played by teams that are yet to be determined. And the number of fans will vary depending on the population of the countries where the teams originate.
It is possible that our little town will be overrun with soccer fans in early July with a round of 16 match in Seattle on July 6 and another in Vancouver on July 7.
Like the annual motorcycle rally in Sturgis, SD, there are already a few folks in our neighborhood who are planning to be gone when the crowds arrive. Like the years we lived in Rapid City, we are likely to stick around just to see the folks who come to visit. I’m inclined toward people watching and although I generally avoid crowds, they are good places to watch people.
It is surprising to me, however, that there is already talk about the impact of sports matches that will not take place for two more years. I really don’t know what I will be doing during the summer of 2026. I do know that my grandson’s birthday is July 12 and that I really enjoy celebrating birthdays with family members. I don’t know for sure where our daughter’s family will be living in two years. Air Force families have to be prepared to move as their service member’s assignments change. Although they live in South Carolina now, it doesn’t mean that we will be heading there to celebrate a birthday in two years.
It is safe to say that I’m a bigger fan of birthdays than I am of sports events. 2024 counts as a banner year for me. I have been able to be with all five of our grandchildren on their birthdays. I have plans to be with both of our children on their birthdays as well. The only birthday in our immediate circle that I will miss this year is our son-in-law, whose deployment meant that he was not able to be home for his birthday this year. As a result I’m holding out the possibility that I might have a year in the near future when I make it to all of the birthdays. I doubt that the World Cup will have any impact on my travel plans for 2026.
A day to celebrate
12/07/24 03:27
Today is our grandson’s fifth birthday. He was so excited last night that he was having trouble going to sleep. We anticipated the excitement. After all he isn’t our first experience with a five year old. After supper we went for a bike ride around the bay to help him get out some of the physical energy that was building up. That was followed by a bath to calm and sooth. But there are some excitements that are too great to be cast aside.
His birthday celebration is a bit unique this year for several reasons. His father is at the mid point of a six-month deployment overseas. We often are aware of the sacrifices that service people make. We have Veteran’s Day each year to thank them for their service. It isn’t just the enlisted person who sacrifices for service, however. Their entire families make concessions to allow their service. A six month separation is a long time for a five year old. There are, however some technological advances that help the families of service people. Our five year old gets to have video chats with his father almost every day. Half a world away, his father is winding down in the evening after work as the boy is waking up and starting his day. His dad will be on the phone this morning to speak with him and recall some of their shared memories of five years.
Another unique thing about this birthday is that our five year old is not at his own home. He and his mother are visiting here in Washington. That means that we get to be with him on his birthday, which is a special treat for us. And his cousins will all be with him for his birthday party this evening, which is a special treat for him. However, none of his South Carolina friends can be with us. He had a small birthday party, complete with a cake, before he left South Carolina, so his celebration is a bit spread out this year.
We’ve got plenty of birthday plans for today. After he gets up and has his good morning/happy birthday phone call with his father, we’ll be heading to a donut shop for breakfast. Like the five year old, grandpa likes donuts, but doesn’t make them a regular part of his diet, so the treat is for more than the grandson.
Another request the 5 year old has made for his birthday is to play in the ocean. That’s an easy one for us. The forecast is for sunny skies and temperatures in the low seventies today. That’s a bit cooler than it was over the weekend, but still warm enough for water play at the beach. High tide is about 11 am and the beach is within walking distance, though we may drive a bit to another beach.
His cousins helped bake the birthday cake yesterday and will be coming over to our house to help with decorating it. He wanted a Minecraft theme for his birthday party, and fortunately Minecraft characters are made from simple geometric shapes, so the biggest challenge to making a Creeper cake will be getting the right shade of green for the frosting. The basic shape has already been made, so decorating will be great fun for the children.
His oldest cousin is attending a technology day camp this week, so will not be available until late afternoon and his uncle will be busy at work until dinner time, so there will be some waiting to unwrap presents and have a go at the piñata. Waiting seems to be part of birthday celebrations and waiting is hard for a five year old, but there are plenty of activities to fill up the day.
The day is one of the rewards of my retirement. Regular readers of this journal know that it has been process for me to settle into retirement. I’ve struggled a bit. Today, however, it seems like a great luxury to be able to just focus my time and attention on celebrating a birthday with a five year old. His father doesn’t have a day off to just celebrate with his family. His mother isn’t working outside of the home right now, but she has a lot of responsibilities to juggle with her husband overseas. His uncle still has the commute and a day at the office before he can join the celebration. Grandparents, however, are free to give an entire day to birthday celebration without giving up anything else.
Because my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer not long after he started to retire and he died before our first child was born, he never got the opportunity that I enjoy every day of having retirement time to be with grandchildren. And there are so many wonderful treats of being retired and available to play with grandchildren. I can go on a bike ride whenever the notion strikes a five year old. I can play in the ocean in the middle of the day and shower up more than once if the urge grips us. I wouldn’t be healthy if everyday started with donuts and ended with pizza, cake, and ice cream, but one day with lots of food treats won’t disrupt my lifestyle. And around the edges of my day, I have all of the memories of my father and other family members and I know how much they would have enjoyed the blessings that inhabit my life.
I don’t remember much about birthday celebrations in my childhood. My mother made some pretty impressive cakes and provided the inspiration to make character cakes for grandchild birthdays. But as the years have passed the memories layer one upon another and some of the details are lost. I can, however, remember a glorious trip we took the summer I turned six. My parents had a capable long-distance airplane for their business and we made the trip from Montana to Washington DC with a single fuel stop in Indianapolis. I’m not sure how long we were in DC, but we had a day on the Mall to visit the Smithsonian and view the White House and Monuments. We climbed the stairs to the top of the Washington Memorial and marveled at the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials.
We also drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to Delaware where we spent one night at the beach. I have pictures of my father playing with us in the water there. I have memories that go beyond the pictures. It was a good time.
I hope we can create some memories for a five year old that will last a lifetime. And I hope that one day he will experience the deep joy that being a grandpa brings.
His birthday celebration is a bit unique this year for several reasons. His father is at the mid point of a six-month deployment overseas. We often are aware of the sacrifices that service people make. We have Veteran’s Day each year to thank them for their service. It isn’t just the enlisted person who sacrifices for service, however. Their entire families make concessions to allow their service. A six month separation is a long time for a five year old. There are, however some technological advances that help the families of service people. Our five year old gets to have video chats with his father almost every day. Half a world away, his father is winding down in the evening after work as the boy is waking up and starting his day. His dad will be on the phone this morning to speak with him and recall some of their shared memories of five years.
Another unique thing about this birthday is that our five year old is not at his own home. He and his mother are visiting here in Washington. That means that we get to be with him on his birthday, which is a special treat for us. And his cousins will all be with him for his birthday party this evening, which is a special treat for him. However, none of his South Carolina friends can be with us. He had a small birthday party, complete with a cake, before he left South Carolina, so his celebration is a bit spread out this year.
We’ve got plenty of birthday plans for today. After he gets up and has his good morning/happy birthday phone call with his father, we’ll be heading to a donut shop for breakfast. Like the five year old, grandpa likes donuts, but doesn’t make them a regular part of his diet, so the treat is for more than the grandson.
Another request the 5 year old has made for his birthday is to play in the ocean. That’s an easy one for us. The forecast is for sunny skies and temperatures in the low seventies today. That’s a bit cooler than it was over the weekend, but still warm enough for water play at the beach. High tide is about 11 am and the beach is within walking distance, though we may drive a bit to another beach.
His cousins helped bake the birthday cake yesterday and will be coming over to our house to help with decorating it. He wanted a Minecraft theme for his birthday party, and fortunately Minecraft characters are made from simple geometric shapes, so the biggest challenge to making a Creeper cake will be getting the right shade of green for the frosting. The basic shape has already been made, so decorating will be great fun for the children.
His oldest cousin is attending a technology day camp this week, so will not be available until late afternoon and his uncle will be busy at work until dinner time, so there will be some waiting to unwrap presents and have a go at the piñata. Waiting seems to be part of birthday celebrations and waiting is hard for a five year old, but there are plenty of activities to fill up the day.
The day is one of the rewards of my retirement. Regular readers of this journal know that it has been process for me to settle into retirement. I’ve struggled a bit. Today, however, it seems like a great luxury to be able to just focus my time and attention on celebrating a birthday with a five year old. His father doesn’t have a day off to just celebrate with his family. His mother isn’t working outside of the home right now, but she has a lot of responsibilities to juggle with her husband overseas. His uncle still has the commute and a day at the office before he can join the celebration. Grandparents, however, are free to give an entire day to birthday celebration without giving up anything else.
Because my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer not long after he started to retire and he died before our first child was born, he never got the opportunity that I enjoy every day of having retirement time to be with grandchildren. And there are so many wonderful treats of being retired and available to play with grandchildren. I can go on a bike ride whenever the notion strikes a five year old. I can play in the ocean in the middle of the day and shower up more than once if the urge grips us. I wouldn’t be healthy if everyday started with donuts and ended with pizza, cake, and ice cream, but one day with lots of food treats won’t disrupt my lifestyle. And around the edges of my day, I have all of the memories of my father and other family members and I know how much they would have enjoyed the blessings that inhabit my life.
I don’t remember much about birthday celebrations in my childhood. My mother made some pretty impressive cakes and provided the inspiration to make character cakes for grandchild birthdays. But as the years have passed the memories layer one upon another and some of the details are lost. I can, however, remember a glorious trip we took the summer I turned six. My parents had a capable long-distance airplane for their business and we made the trip from Montana to Washington DC with a single fuel stop in Indianapolis. I’m not sure how long we were in DC, but we had a day on the Mall to visit the Smithsonian and view the White House and Monuments. We climbed the stairs to the top of the Washington Memorial and marveled at the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials.
We also drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to Delaware where we spent one night at the beach. I have pictures of my father playing with us in the water there. I have memories that go beyond the pictures. It was a good time.
I hope we can create some memories for a five year old that will last a lifetime. And I hope that one day he will experience the deep joy that being a grandpa brings.
Grandchildren splashing in the ocean
11/07/24 01:18
Our bay is across from Vancouver Island, not too far from the mouth of the Salish Sea. In our bay, the tidal range is generally between ten and 12 feet. In November, December, and January, when the sun, moon, and Earth line up just right, we have King Tides, which makes the high tide significantly higher. An extra three feet, combined with high winds at times, results in a bit of coastal flooding. This isn’t a danger for our home, which is well above the highest tides. In fact, our home is above the projected tsunami area, right next to the gathering and staging place in the event of a tsunami event. We are where those who live in lower elevations are supposed to come in the event of a tsunami.
Having lived most of my life a thousand miles or more from an ocean, I have little experience with the tides. The first time I remember being aware of somewhat higher tidal range is when we visited the Brittany coast of France, where the tidal range is about twice what it is here in our bay. When the difference between high tide and low tide is 25 feet, fishermen can safely bring their boats in near shore at high tide and the boat will be resting on the mud at low tide. Some fishermen in the region routinely ground their boats to perform routing maintenance including removing barnacles and applying bottom paint. I was impressed with the tidal range that we witnessed during our visit.
Many years later, having learned a bit more about tidal variation and range, we were privileged to visit the Bay of Funny on the east coast of Canada. I think that the Bay is one of the places in the world with the most extreme tidal range. When we visited, the difference between high and low tides was around 50 feet. That meant that we went walking on a sandy beach, underneath some dramatic bank erosion at low tide. Later that same day, I kayaked along the same stretch of coast at high tide. My boat was nearly 20 feet higher than where the tops of our heads were when we walked on the beach.
There are clearly places in the world with more tidal range than where we live. However, the range hers is fairly dramatic. Small boats that are attached to mooring anchors in the bay will be floating at high tide and sitting in the mud at low tide. Our bay is fairly shallow which means that there is a half mile and more of exposed sand and mud when the tide is out. Among other things this means that when we want to take a dip in the ocean at low tide, we have to walk an additional half mile to get to the water’s edge. It also means that the water is shallow, making for a safe place for children to play.
Yesterday was another hot day for us. I think the high temperature was around 80 degrees, but there was a good sea breeze to make things feel cooler at the coast. It was a good day to take the children to the beach, which we did in the mid afternoon. After a long trudge across the sand and mud flats with a bit of delightful stomping in puddles, the children were able to dip into the water and play. The water in the bay is around 50 degrees in the summer and generally about 5 degrees cooler in the winter. It is a great temperature for children’s water play on a hot summer day. The long stretch of the beach at low tide means that the water play will take place where there is no available shade. The high tidal range means that the water level changes quite a bit in the time that the children were playing and one of my jobs was to keep track of the shoes and other items that had been shed at water’s edge. Since the tide was coming in at the time of the play, I had to move those items farther away from water’s edge several times. Each time I retreated farther from where the children were playing. There was no danger as their mother and grandmother had waded out to where they were and the tidal variation is low enough that the water was still very shallow even though the beach was moving away as they played.
Three of our grandchildren wear glasses, so those had to be carefully stowed in a backpack worn by an adult while the children were playing in the water.
Despite mild challenges of organization with five grandchildren of varying ages, the shallow water meant that they stayed together and the job of keeping track of five grandchildren was light duty for three adults. And, because this is where we live, we can easily promise the children that they will get another opportunity to play in the ocean soon. After all their silly grandfather joined with his neighbors to take a plunge in the bay on New Year’s Day. I have a friend who lives on Whidby Island, a couple of hour’s drive from our home, who swims in the ocean every day year round. I’m not that hardy, but I don’t mind sweeping the sand that gets transported back to our house. When our grandchildren are around we do laundry a bit more often, so a daily load of towels and swimwear doesn’t increase the work load much.
And the children have so much fun playing in the water. I’d put up with double the mess for the absolute delight to be with children who are so able to live in the present. The few worries that I carry melt away in the laughter and splashes in the water.
One of the gifts that grandparents have to offer to grandchildren is witness. Many times all we do is watch and remember. Today is five years to the day from the day I received a text message with a photo from Japan announcing the arrival of a grandson. His birthday is tomorrow here because of the time variation between Japan and where we live. It was kind of fun to announce to a church meeting, “My daughter just gave birth to a grandson tomorrow in Japan. I knew of his birth before midnight the evening before in our time zone. So today is a day of quiet celebration for me and tomorrow will be a delightful day of celebration for him.
Here’s another blessing of retirement: This year we have been able to be present for the birthday celebrations of all of our grandchildren. It is so much fun that i hope we can do it again many times in the years to come. The laughter of the children, however, invites me to be present in the here and now and not to think too much about the future. Here and now, life is good.
Learning to be retired
10/07/24 01:32
I think I am going to change my response in conversations with those who ask me how retirement is going for me. I’ve been retired for four years now. Well, perhaps that isn’t totally accurate because for two of those four years I went back to work as an Interim Minister of Faith Formation. A more complete statement is that I was retired for a year then went back to work for two years and now have been retired again for a year. When I first retired, during the year that I did not have a job, I told people that I wasn’t sure how being retired was going. I cited the Covid-19 pandemic and other factors that made retirement a challenge for me. Then, when I went back to work, I told people that I had discovered that I wasn’t very good at retirement and that I was happy to be back at work. It was true. At least the part about being happy to be back at work. I thoroughly enjoyed the interim position. I would recommend taking an interim position for other newly retired persons. It was a good fit for me.
Now, however, I think it is time for me to stop speaking about my retirement in negative terms. I’m going to stop saying that I failed at retirement. What is true is that it was a big adjustment for me. I had to change the way I think about myself. A lot of my identity was caught up in the work that I did. I had a wonderful career and was fortunate to have a job that I loved for all of my adult life. I had a pretty good run at a career. I got 42 years in before the initial retirement and now speak of 44 years as an ordained minister. I was fortunate to serve congregations that were good to their pastor and supportive of my ministry.
I confess that I have done my share of complaining about active ministers now that I have retired. It is an interesting dynamic. Intellectually I know that I wasn’t somehow better than other ministers. I am aware that my ego was inflated and that I enjoyed being in charge. Now, however, I am learning to let others assume leadership. It has taken time. There was some real grief involved in making the transition from work for me. But time is one of the gifts of retirement. I have time to grieve the losses and time to move on. And it is time for others to assume leadership.
In the past few days I have watched our son and daughter in law artfully balance the demands of busy careers with family life. Our son has taken a few days off from work to make time to be with his sister and to participate in a round of family gatherings. It hasn’t been easy for him because there are demands at work that need to be met. Like me during my working career he has a job where the work needs to be done. In order to take time off, he has to accomplish the needed tasks before and after he takes a day off. He and his wife juggle schedules to make sure that their children have rides to summer activities, doctor appointments, play dates with friends, and the various gatherings with family that have accompanied our daughter’s visit. Yesterday they discovered that one parent needed to be at work for an important task and the other needed to take one of the children to an appointment. You can’t be in two places at the same time and there was no one to give a ride to their oldest child who is attending a special day camp this week. Fortunately, I can be the third adult in the family and give the ride. I have a flexible schedule and I don’t need to be elsewhere at that particular moment.
I have also watched as our niece takes phone calls from her job, manages scheduling and keeps on top of projects while taking her daughter and her mother to visit family. Others have developed other techniques for balancing work and family in order for us to have this particular gathering.
I, on the other hand, really don’t have to wrestle with a complex schedule. I’m free to discover each day which projects and activities work best for the family. It was hot yesterday. A piece of plastic sheet for a “slip and slide,” a lawn sprinkler, a small kiddie pool, and a beach umbrella rigged up with an old piece of pipe to provide shade over the picnic table was sufficient to entertain grandchildren and a great niece while parents and grandparents visited comfortably. I was free to make a quick trip to the grocery store for a couple of items needed for an easy to prepare supper for the gang. After supper I left the family gathering for an hour to participate in an online meeting. When I returned, all of the food had been put away and the dish washer was loaded. There was no stress and no pressure for me. I go to bed when I am tired and I get up when I feel like it. I don’t have a list of tasks that need to be accomplished by a deadline. If a last minute schedule adjustment is necessary, I’m free to respond. I can give my grandson a ride without having to reschedule anything.
There are definite advantages to retirement and I’m happy to enjoy them. It is just a big adjustment that took me time to make. I plan to start telling people when I am asked that I feel grateful to be retired and that I am enjoying my new lifestyle. After all, I’m pretty lucky to be able to retire. There are plenty of folks who don’t have that option. They need to work in order to have health care. They need to work to make rent and groceries.
How is retirement going for me? Pretty good. My life is full of meaning and joy. I’m happy to allow others to be in charge while I enjoy many newfound freedoms.
Now, however, I think it is time for me to stop speaking about my retirement in negative terms. I’m going to stop saying that I failed at retirement. What is true is that it was a big adjustment for me. I had to change the way I think about myself. A lot of my identity was caught up in the work that I did. I had a wonderful career and was fortunate to have a job that I loved for all of my adult life. I had a pretty good run at a career. I got 42 years in before the initial retirement and now speak of 44 years as an ordained minister. I was fortunate to serve congregations that were good to their pastor and supportive of my ministry.
I confess that I have done my share of complaining about active ministers now that I have retired. It is an interesting dynamic. Intellectually I know that I wasn’t somehow better than other ministers. I am aware that my ego was inflated and that I enjoyed being in charge. Now, however, I am learning to let others assume leadership. It has taken time. There was some real grief involved in making the transition from work for me. But time is one of the gifts of retirement. I have time to grieve the losses and time to move on. And it is time for others to assume leadership.
In the past few days I have watched our son and daughter in law artfully balance the demands of busy careers with family life. Our son has taken a few days off from work to make time to be with his sister and to participate in a round of family gatherings. It hasn’t been easy for him because there are demands at work that need to be met. Like me during my working career he has a job where the work needs to be done. In order to take time off, he has to accomplish the needed tasks before and after he takes a day off. He and his wife juggle schedules to make sure that their children have rides to summer activities, doctor appointments, play dates with friends, and the various gatherings with family that have accompanied our daughter’s visit. Yesterday they discovered that one parent needed to be at work for an important task and the other needed to take one of the children to an appointment. You can’t be in two places at the same time and there was no one to give a ride to their oldest child who is attending a special day camp this week. Fortunately, I can be the third adult in the family and give the ride. I have a flexible schedule and I don’t need to be elsewhere at that particular moment.
I have also watched as our niece takes phone calls from her job, manages scheduling and keeps on top of projects while taking her daughter and her mother to visit family. Others have developed other techniques for balancing work and family in order for us to have this particular gathering.
I, on the other hand, really don’t have to wrestle with a complex schedule. I’m free to discover each day which projects and activities work best for the family. It was hot yesterday. A piece of plastic sheet for a “slip and slide,” a lawn sprinkler, a small kiddie pool, and a beach umbrella rigged up with an old piece of pipe to provide shade over the picnic table was sufficient to entertain grandchildren and a great niece while parents and grandparents visited comfortably. I was free to make a quick trip to the grocery store for a couple of items needed for an easy to prepare supper for the gang. After supper I left the family gathering for an hour to participate in an online meeting. When I returned, all of the food had been put away and the dish washer was loaded. There was no stress and no pressure for me. I go to bed when I am tired and I get up when I feel like it. I don’t have a list of tasks that need to be accomplished by a deadline. If a last minute schedule adjustment is necessary, I’m free to respond. I can give my grandson a ride without having to reschedule anything.
There are definite advantages to retirement and I’m happy to enjoy them. It is just a big adjustment that took me time to make. I plan to start telling people when I am asked that I feel grateful to be retired and that I am enjoying my new lifestyle. After all, I’m pretty lucky to be able to retire. There are plenty of folks who don’t have that option. They need to work in order to have health care. They need to work to make rent and groceries.
How is retirement going for me? Pretty good. My life is full of meaning and joy. I’m happy to allow others to be in charge while I enjoy many newfound freedoms.
Cousins
09/07/24 01:24
I don’t know how often we got together with cousins when I was growing up, but I remember gatherings of cousins on my father’s side of the family being day events. My father’s parents lived in a town about 60 miles from our house and his sister and one of his brothers lived in another nearby city. The three places formed a triangle that allowed family get togethers for a mid-day meal and a return home the same day. We thought it a bit strange that dad’s brothers had fairly small families, but ours and his sister’s families had lots of children, so whenever there was a family get together we had lots of cousins.
There were a few less cousins on my mother’s side and her sisters lived a bit farther away. When we got together with the cousins on that side it usually was a multiple day event. One of our mother’s sisters lived in the Washington DC area, and there were two others who lived in Montana, but places a couple of hundred miles from our home.
One of my strong memories of gatherings of cousins on my mother’s side of the family is of times when the family gathered at our aunt and uncle’s farm between Great Falls and Fort Benton, Montana. The farmhouse was a tiny two-bedroom structure with an additional room in the basement where quite a few people could sleep on cots and roll-away beds. Our Aunt Teddy was one of the world’s great refrigerator engineers. By that I don’t mean she designed and built appliances. Rather, she could find just the right container for each bit of leftover food and stack those containers into her tiny refrigerator in such a way that huge quantities of food could be stored inside. In my memory there was never any spare space in her refrigerator and most of the time there was at least one and sometimes as many as three coolers in the basement with blocks of ice made by freezing water in paper milk cartons into half gallon chunks. The ice came out of the freezer and the coolers were filled with food. Aunt Teddy’s pantry cupboards were equally masterpieces of stacking and piling and finding a variety of canisters and containers for food.
It didn’t matter which side of the family we were visiting, whenever we got together with cousins there was a lot of food available. Everyone brought food to the gatherings and we ate well. And when we got together we had enough kids to form teams for softball.
We have been blessed with five grandchildren. Four of them live on their family farm just a couple miles from our place. The fifth lives with his parents in South Carolina. Since we retired we’ve been blessed to have all of our grandchildren together at least once a year. This year we have an extended visit because our son in law is deployed serving our country and so our daughter is able to visit a bit longer than some other years. Cousin time is just five kids, but it still involves significant refrigerator engineering. And yesterday, we got a couple of blocks of ice out of our freezer and filled the cooler for a picnic with my brother and my sister. They each have only one grandchild, so we managed to have seven cousins together. We have another brother and he has grandchildren, but he wasn’t able to make it to our gathering.
Our children and their cousins did most of the organizing with a chain of emails and we contributed some of the food. We have a cooler that is larger than the ones of our parents’ generation and our refrigerator is significantly larger than the one at Aunt Teddy’s farm, but there has been considerable refrigerator engineering going on at each meal. Last night after the picnic food was shifted into smaller containers and containers were stacked rather tightly into our refrigerator. The picnic generated even more leftovers because when everyone brings food the result is a lot more food than we can eat even with many of us eating a bit more than typical. Seven grandchildren together each had watermelon and cherries and chocolate chip cookies and cup cakes as well as hot dogs. I think a couple of them even ate a bite or two of the generous and tasty salads that were present.
Seven cousins may not seem like a lot, but a lot of planning and coordination was invested in getting them all together. There are more cousins but the grandchildren of our oldest sisters are significantly older than the grandchildren of the siblings who are still alive.
Yesterday seemed like a rare and delightful treat. One of the bonuses of being of the older generation is that we get to enjoy the children while their parents assume the bulk of the responsibility for care of those children. I get to entertain the children by breaking a watermelon over my head while their parents have the job of getting them to sleep after they have had way more dessert than usual. While the parents were putting those seven precious ones to bed, we were sitting on our porch swing sipping tea and watching the neighbors. This grandparent job is really fun.
We do, however, have responsibility for a significant amount of refrigerator engineering. Before long everyone will be going back to their homes and we’ll be left with a refrigerator full of leftovers. Some of that food can make its way into the freezer, but we’ll be eating a pretty varied menu for a while. Each gathering means a fresh meal plan. Last night was picnic. Tonight we’ll only have six of the cousins together and the plan is for a taco bar. Our refrigerator already had leftovers from a pizza dinner, a bit of macaroni and cheese, and a variety of lunch meats. We added some brats and hot dogs from last night. Tonight will produce a bit of taco meat, cheese, and probably a few refried beans as well.
And when all is said and done, the cousins will remember getting together as being good times with good food and happy adults. Their grandparents can’t stop grinning with the joy of it all.
The Stories we Carry
08/07/24 02:05
I’m not particularly a fan of Aesop’s fables, but it seems that Aesop had a thing about Larks. There are at least three of the fables that feature larks. The Fable of the Lark and Her Young Ones is probably the most common and perhaps the longest. The moral of that one is “self-help is the best help.” The Fowler and the Lark is a short parable about foolishness. One of the little-known parables is one called The Lark and Her Crest. It is a pretty strange story. In it, the lark was the first bird to be created. It was around even before the earth existed. When the lark’s father became sick and died, there was no earth to bury him. On the fifth day that his body had been lying with no place to be put, the frustrated lark, not knowing what else to do, buried her father in her own head. And that is why the bird has a crest of feathers. A quick Internet search of the story reveals that, like many other fables attributed to Aesop, it didn’t originate with Aesop, who was primarily a collector of stories. The Ancient Greek Playwright and poet Aristophanes wrote about the crested lark and used the story to explain the crest. Aristophanes was known as a comic playwright, and sometimes is referred to as the father of comedy, so perhaps the whole story is a joke.
Somehow, however, the story came to my mind this weekend as I was thinking about the simple fact that my father died before any of our grandchildren were born. They know him primarily through the stories about him that I tell them. Without the rather macabre imagery of a bird burying her father in her head, there is a sense in which my father very much lives in my head. Instead of a crest, however, I have a memory. And as I share the stories from my memory with our grandchildren, a bit of my father continues to dwell within them.
Our thirteen year old grandson knows why we have a World War II reserve parachute. It was the reserve chute that my father was wearing when he was forced to bail out of a disabled plane over the Arizona desert. The reserve chute did not need to be deployed as the main chute saved his life. However, both chutes were retired after he used them. The main chute was never repacked and I don’t know if it was left in the desert. More likely it was picked up by the crew that was sent to recover the wreckage and transport it to a military bone yard after the accident. The plane was headed to the bone yard in the first place. It just didn’t have enough flying left in it after a brief but intense career in the Pacific Theatre of the war to make it from San Diego where it was unloaded from the ship to Arizona where it was supposed to be retired.
Our grandson can tell a credible version of that story and did so in a brief YouTube video that he made.
I think that several of our grandchildren could tell you that both my mother and my father were pilots and that my father was also a John Deere dealer for part of his life.
Having our grandson from South Carolina visiting and being together with our grandchildren and tomorrow meeting with two of our great nieces as well, somehow got me to thinking about what stories they might tell. Our grandchildren will probably remember playing in the snow in July and I hope they will remember that they played int he ocean the very next day. I also hope that they remember walks through the old growth forest and stories bout grandmother trees and about mycorrhizal fungi that connect trees in the forest.
Who knows what stories they will remember and what stories they will tell to their grandchildren. It is possible that they might even tell a story about their somewhat silly grandfather who seems to be full of dad and granddad jokes and who really, really enjoys being with his grandchildren. It is not for me to choose or even for me to know which stories will carry the most meaning for them as the years go by.
Our faith teaches us that love never dies. And I certainly love those grandchildren and I’m certain that they know that I love them.
In my head are stories of many others as well. I know stories about Susan’s parents that I’m sure I have told to our grandchildren. And I have stories of some really incredible teachers and of my sisters and brother who never had the opportunity to know our grandchildren. Our son met a pair of the greatest teachers of my life when he was just 2 years old. They gave him a collection of A.A. Milne stories about Pooh. I don’t know if he remembers that time of meeting, but he knows that his middle name came from one of those teachers. And perhaps he or I will one day tell his children how he got his middle name. And perhaps that story will dwell in their memories long enough for them to tell others the story.
Like the incredibly complex ecology of the forest and the ocean, we live in incredible ecologies of spirit. Who I am is a network of relationships, some minor and every day, some major and life-changing. I have been shaped by the people I have met and by the people who have loved me. When I show my love to others it is a reflection of the love that has been passed down from generation to generation for as long as humans have inhabited this planet.
I suppose it is possible that one day I will randomly tell the story of how the lark got her crest to one or more of our grandchildren, but I don’t feel inclined to do so at this time. The bit about her burying her father in her head is a bit too graphic for the kind of story I like to tell our grandchildren. Then again, I told the story of how their great grandfather became a member of the silkworm club at the end of a huge war that shaped generations and still is part of our national story.
Some stories live on for a long time and become sacred to our people. It is a privilege to pass them on.
Somehow, however, the story came to my mind this weekend as I was thinking about the simple fact that my father died before any of our grandchildren were born. They know him primarily through the stories about him that I tell them. Without the rather macabre imagery of a bird burying her father in her head, there is a sense in which my father very much lives in my head. Instead of a crest, however, I have a memory. And as I share the stories from my memory with our grandchildren, a bit of my father continues to dwell within them.
Our thirteen year old grandson knows why we have a World War II reserve parachute. It was the reserve chute that my father was wearing when he was forced to bail out of a disabled plane over the Arizona desert. The reserve chute did not need to be deployed as the main chute saved his life. However, both chutes were retired after he used them. The main chute was never repacked and I don’t know if it was left in the desert. More likely it was picked up by the crew that was sent to recover the wreckage and transport it to a military bone yard after the accident. The plane was headed to the bone yard in the first place. It just didn’t have enough flying left in it after a brief but intense career in the Pacific Theatre of the war to make it from San Diego where it was unloaded from the ship to Arizona where it was supposed to be retired.
Our grandson can tell a credible version of that story and did so in a brief YouTube video that he made.
I think that several of our grandchildren could tell you that both my mother and my father were pilots and that my father was also a John Deere dealer for part of his life.
Having our grandson from South Carolina visiting and being together with our grandchildren and tomorrow meeting with two of our great nieces as well, somehow got me to thinking about what stories they might tell. Our grandchildren will probably remember playing in the snow in July and I hope they will remember that they played int he ocean the very next day. I also hope that they remember walks through the old growth forest and stories bout grandmother trees and about mycorrhizal fungi that connect trees in the forest.
Who knows what stories they will remember and what stories they will tell to their grandchildren. It is possible that they might even tell a story about their somewhat silly grandfather who seems to be full of dad and granddad jokes and who really, really enjoys being with his grandchildren. It is not for me to choose or even for me to know which stories will carry the most meaning for them as the years go by.
Our faith teaches us that love never dies. And I certainly love those grandchildren and I’m certain that they know that I love them.
In my head are stories of many others as well. I know stories about Susan’s parents that I’m sure I have told to our grandchildren. And I have stories of some really incredible teachers and of my sisters and brother who never had the opportunity to know our grandchildren. Our son met a pair of the greatest teachers of my life when he was just 2 years old. They gave him a collection of A.A. Milne stories about Pooh. I don’t know if he remembers that time of meeting, but he knows that his middle name came from one of those teachers. And perhaps he or I will one day tell his children how he got his middle name. And perhaps that story will dwell in their memories long enough for them to tell others the story.
Like the incredibly complex ecology of the forest and the ocean, we live in incredible ecologies of spirit. Who I am is a network of relationships, some minor and every day, some major and life-changing. I have been shaped by the people I have met and by the people who have loved me. When I show my love to others it is a reflection of the love that has been passed down from generation to generation for as long as humans have inhabited this planet.
I suppose it is possible that one day I will randomly tell the story of how the lark got her crest to one or more of our grandchildren, but I don’t feel inclined to do so at this time. The bit about her burying her father in her head is a bit too graphic for the kind of story I like to tell our grandchildren. Then again, I told the story of how their great grandfather became a member of the silkworm club at the end of a huge war that shaped generations and still is part of our national story.
Some stories live on for a long time and become sacred to our people. It is a privilege to pass them on.
Summer adventures
07/07/24 04:42
What do you do when your grandson from South Carolina is visiting, his uncle has the day off from work, his cousins want an adventure, and the temperature is nearly 80 degrees? We could have headed for the beach. We might even have gone for short dips in the ocean though the water temperature is still below 60 degrees, which feels chilly in a swim suit. Some of the folks serious about water sports wear wetsuits year round in our bay. We might head for the water and may do so this afternoon. After all, their grandpa went swimming in the ocean on New Year’s Day as part of the annual Polar Bear Plunge.
Yesterday, however, we took advantage of this amazing place where we live and drive 75 miles up to Artists Point near the top of Mount Baker so the kids can play in the snow. We live in this truly incredible place where we can walk to the beach and still have mountains with year-round snow within reach for an easy day trip.
My style of being a grandpa is to take our grandchildren on adventures that build memories. I get a lot of help in that from their grandma. And since the two of us are that way with children, we have raised children who also want to make memories with their children. Yesterday’s adventure was an easy one for us as grandparents because we had both of our children with us to help shepherd all five of our grandchildren. Of course the parents are perfectly capable of caring for their own children without us, but we get to go on their adventures with them and the ratio of four adults to five children, and one of them a teen, makes it easy to keep everyone safe.
Our Washington grandchildren get to see and play in snow every winter. Though it doesn’t snow much here, we always get a few days when the snow sticks to the ground enough for them to make snowballs and a snow man and get in a bit of sledding. And here almost any amount of snow means a day off from school. Our South Carolina grandson, however, doesn’t get to see snow where he lives. He was born in northern Japan where there is a lot of snow, but he was only two when they moved to South Carolina and he doesn’t remember that part of his life very much. When he thinks of snow, he thinks of his trips to Washington and when he comes, he wants to make driving up to the snow one of the adventures. Last year when he visited, we had a lot of family adventures and we didn’t manage to squeeze a snow adventure into his visit, but this year he is with us for a bit longer and we’ve been planning to head for the snow since he arrived.
I grew up with plenty of snow. There were some winters when snow stayed on the ground from late October through March. And we lived close enough to the mountains to have places we could visit in the summer where the snow stays year round. These days, however, most of those places no longer have snow year round. The glaciers are melting and many of the places where we used to be able to count on snow are no longer snow covered year round.
This adopted home of ours is amazing on that score, however. Whenever the weather is clear, we can view snow capped mountains from our home. And Mount Baker, also known by its Nooksack name, Kushan, is a sentinel that stands to the east that we can see as we go about the usual activities of our lives.
Snow is just one of the wonders we have to share with our grandchildren on a visit to Mount Baker. Yesterday we also were able to take them for a walk in old growth forest among giant trees. Although a great deal of the Pacific Northwest has been logged and there are still great patches of clear cut in our mountains, there are a few truly wonderful places where we can visit old growth forest. Part way up Mount Baker is a pull out with room for three or four cars to park and from their a trail that goes directly into a stand of giant Douglas fir, hemlock and cedar rising over 100 feet in the air. The undergrowth is lush with the trunks of fallen giants giving nurture to thousands of seedlings. The path winds around giant trees and requires scrambles to go over and under deadfall. There are places where you can climb up on top of giant logs and walk comfortably for a hundred and fifty feet on top of a giant log. Like the glaciers, old growth forest is shrinking in this world and it is a privilege to live in a place where I can share these wonders with grandchildren.
Fairly early in my career, I once considered moving to this part of the world. I was briefly in conversation with a congregation that is just a few miles from where we now live. However, we ended up accepting a call from a congregation in Idaho and ten years later moving to South Dakota where our children graduated from high school and from where they launched into their adult adventures. I don’t think we could have imagined back then what it would be like to be retired and living in this place. When I imagined retirement while still working, I didn’t really consider what being a grandpa might be like. It is definitely far more wonderful than I could have imagined.
Our grandchildren will tell their grandchildren stories of throwing snowballs on a hot summer’s day and going on adventures through the forest giants while their grandpa goes on and on about nurse logs and fungal networks in the forest. They might even remember sitting at the picnic table on our back deck and eating watermelon and fried chicken while watching a hot air balloon drift overhead.
I don’t believe in magic, though magical is a word I might use to describe these times with our grandchildren. I am aware how fortunate I am to live where I do.
In my garden
06/07/24 02:13
We are well aware that we have a lot to learn about gardening here in the Pacific Northwest. Our yard is a lot smaller than was the case with our South Dakota home, but there are a lot of plants that are much easier to grow here. While we see deer on the road and have often seen them quite close to our place, we have never seen them in our neighborhood or on the farm. This means that we don’t have any fences around our plants. It also means that we are having great success with flowers from bulbs. Since Skagit County, just to the south of ours is the source of a huge percentage of the tulips and daffodils grown for florists and the major producer of bulbs for home gardening in the United States, we have easy access to places to purchase bulbs. Our tulips and daffodils did great this spring and we plan to add more bulbs this fall and add crocus and hyacinth as well. In South Dakota the deer were so quick to eat most of our bulb plants and we ended up growing only iris successfully.
Our herbs are doing great. We have a ready supply of parsley, basil, and oregano right outside our door. The oregano has been particularly successful. In fact it has spread and proliferated so much that we will definitely need to dig some of it out. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty hanging and drying and have more than a year’s supply of dried oregano on hand. We are quick to offer that spice to friends and neighbors. The mint is looking healthy, but we’re still a bit shy of growing the quantity that we consume. We’re big drinkers of peppermint tea. I’m hoping that we’ll be growing all of our own peppermint in a couple of years as the plants mature and expand.
However, there are a few plants that have been a challenge for us. Something has been eating our lettuce and kale so much that we’ve done second, third, and maybe fourth plantings. We have a pot of lettuce growing up on our front porch because the bed in front of the porch, where the oregano is thriving, proved to be a poor location for lettuce. At least the lettuce in the pot is reserved for human consumption. There are plenty of greens growing at the farm, so we have a ready source, but lettuce is something that is best to have right outside your door. Fortunately, we are having a bit better success in the raised beds in the back, especially the ones that are on top of our deck.
This week, to the delight of our visiting grandson, whose fifth birthday is just a week away, we discovered the issue with lettuce and carrots in our front garden. One evening when I was watering, I saw the tiniest baby bunny in the front bed. I went to get our grandson who brought his mother to see as well. After a bit of looking we discovered a nest with four baby bunnies under the oregano. Yesterday we saw the mother as well. Baby bunnies in the oregano seems to be much more valuable than lettuce in that particular bed and I’m willing to sacrifice the carrot tops which have been eaten before the roots are fully developed. This isn’t much of a sacrifice for us because there are carrots for our grandson to pull in the back and he doesn’t seem to be big on eating them, so we have enough for ourselves.
I don’t know if the bunnies eat oregano, but they are welcome to all they want of it.
Even though we haven’t discussed it as a family, I do know the names of the rabbits. So far the rule at our house is that you can look, but not touch the bunnies, and that children have to have an adult supervise them when looking in the garden. Also, no one gets to step into the bed where the oregano and bunnies are currently sharing space. I’m not sure how I’m going to go about watering the plants, but I’m pretty sure that the rabbits will grow quickly enough that I won’t have a problem doing so in a week or two.
About the names. Well, they are Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. I’m not very good at determining the gender of rabbits and none of them seems to be in possession of a blue coat, but the one who would have a blue coat would be Peter, of course. Oh, and their mother is Josephine Rabbit. The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter was a beloved read aloud book in our home when I was a child and I remember the names of the characters. I’m pretty sure that cousin Benjamin Bunny lives pretty close to Peter and his family so that is likely the name of one the bunnies we’ve seen in the neighbor’s lawn. Our grandson loves to point out all of the bunnies he sees in our walks around the neighborhood and this year seems to have been a very good one for bunnies.
However, I’m no Mr. McGregor. Although I have been accused of being grouchy, I’m not Scottish. Also I’m not sure I would accuse the rabbits of stealing. I rather prefer to think of us as being willing to share the bounty of the garden with them. I may, however, investigate some forms of fencing and netting that would allow for the increase of salad greens next year. I am certain that if I found a tiny blue jacket caught in the fence, I would leave it there and not prohibit Peter from coming back to retrieve it. Finally, though I am old, my name is not John. You wouldn’t know Mr. McGregor’s first name from the original book, but it does appear in “The Tale of The Flopsy Bunnies.”
For now, having a clutch of baby bunnies in my oregano gives me a pretty good story to tell and a great bit of enchantment for grandchildren. They might not remember that grandpa keeps sunflowers and dahlias and hydrangeas in his garden, but they won’t forge that he has bunnies in his oregano. And now they know which plant is the oregano if I need to send them to harvest a bit of it to spice our dinner. Of course I won’t do that until the bunny family moves on. We’ve got plenty of oregano inside for our use.
Our herbs are doing great. We have a ready supply of parsley, basil, and oregano right outside our door. The oregano has been particularly successful. In fact it has spread and proliferated so much that we will definitely need to dig some of it out. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty hanging and drying and have more than a year’s supply of dried oregano on hand. We are quick to offer that spice to friends and neighbors. The mint is looking healthy, but we’re still a bit shy of growing the quantity that we consume. We’re big drinkers of peppermint tea. I’m hoping that we’ll be growing all of our own peppermint in a couple of years as the plants mature and expand.
However, there are a few plants that have been a challenge for us. Something has been eating our lettuce and kale so much that we’ve done second, third, and maybe fourth plantings. We have a pot of lettuce growing up on our front porch because the bed in front of the porch, where the oregano is thriving, proved to be a poor location for lettuce. At least the lettuce in the pot is reserved for human consumption. There are plenty of greens growing at the farm, so we have a ready source, but lettuce is something that is best to have right outside your door. Fortunately, we are having a bit better success in the raised beds in the back, especially the ones that are on top of our deck.
This week, to the delight of our visiting grandson, whose fifth birthday is just a week away, we discovered the issue with lettuce and carrots in our front garden. One evening when I was watering, I saw the tiniest baby bunny in the front bed. I went to get our grandson who brought his mother to see as well. After a bit of looking we discovered a nest with four baby bunnies under the oregano. Yesterday we saw the mother as well. Baby bunnies in the oregano seems to be much more valuable than lettuce in that particular bed and I’m willing to sacrifice the carrot tops which have been eaten before the roots are fully developed. This isn’t much of a sacrifice for us because there are carrots for our grandson to pull in the back and he doesn’t seem to be big on eating them, so we have enough for ourselves.
I don’t know if the bunnies eat oregano, but they are welcome to all they want of it.
Even though we haven’t discussed it as a family, I do know the names of the rabbits. So far the rule at our house is that you can look, but not touch the bunnies, and that children have to have an adult supervise them when looking in the garden. Also, no one gets to step into the bed where the oregano and bunnies are currently sharing space. I’m not sure how I’m going to go about watering the plants, but I’m pretty sure that the rabbits will grow quickly enough that I won’t have a problem doing so in a week or two.
About the names. Well, they are Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. I’m not very good at determining the gender of rabbits and none of them seems to be in possession of a blue coat, but the one who would have a blue coat would be Peter, of course. Oh, and their mother is Josephine Rabbit. The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter was a beloved read aloud book in our home when I was a child and I remember the names of the characters. I’m pretty sure that cousin Benjamin Bunny lives pretty close to Peter and his family so that is likely the name of one the bunnies we’ve seen in the neighbor’s lawn. Our grandson loves to point out all of the bunnies he sees in our walks around the neighborhood and this year seems to have been a very good one for bunnies.
However, I’m no Mr. McGregor. Although I have been accused of being grouchy, I’m not Scottish. Also I’m not sure I would accuse the rabbits of stealing. I rather prefer to think of us as being willing to share the bounty of the garden with them. I may, however, investigate some forms of fencing and netting that would allow for the increase of salad greens next year. I am certain that if I found a tiny blue jacket caught in the fence, I would leave it there and not prohibit Peter from coming back to retrieve it. Finally, though I am old, my name is not John. You wouldn’t know Mr. McGregor’s first name from the original book, but it does appear in “The Tale of The Flopsy Bunnies.”
For now, having a clutch of baby bunnies in my oregano gives me a pretty good story to tell and a great bit of enchantment for grandchildren. They might not remember that grandpa keeps sunflowers and dahlias and hydrangeas in his garden, but they won’t forge that he has bunnies in his oregano. And now they know which plant is the oregano if I need to send them to harvest a bit of it to spice our dinner. Of course I won’t do that until the bunny family moves on. We’ve got plenty of oregano inside for our use.
Small town July 4
05/07/24 04:34
I grew up in a small town that was pretty good at celebrating holidays, but the 5th of July wasn’t one of the big ones in our town. We didn’t have a parade, though we had parades for memorial day, high school homecoming, and other holidays. Our town had as many veterans and other patriotic citizens as other small towns. Our fire department put on a pretty good amateur fireworks display for the 4th, However, the summer energy was focused on the week before July 4, which in our town was Rodeo Sunday.
Rodeo Sunday was a big deal in our town. We hosted what was billed as “The Biggest One Day Rodeo in the West.” We were the hometown of Cramer Rodeo Stock that provided bulls for riding, steers for wrestling, and broncs for busting all across the west. Animals from Cramer Ranch appeared in the Stampede in Calgary and other famous rodeos. Cramer Rodeo Stock is not to be confused with the Kramer family that produced a bareback champion who is in the Montana Rodeo Hall of Fame. We knew how to spell those names. As the small town nearest the Cramer ranch, we had to host a big rodeo and we had to have our rodeo before the other small towns in our area. Since Red Lodge was a little bit bigger than our town and had more tourists, they got to have their rodeo on the weekend after July 4. So our rodeo was the weekend before.
Church services, which usually were at 11 am, were moved up to 9 am on Rodeo Sunday. The parade headed down main street at noon and the rodeo started at 2 pm. We got new jeans for Rodeo Sunday every year. Some years we got new western shirts to go with those jeans. Cowboy boots were a bit of a luxury in my family and we generally wore our tennis shoes, but I remember one rodeo Sunday when I did have a new pair of boots.
Although my father’s shop was closed on July 4 so that employees could have a holiday, if the ranchers were cutting and baling hay the parts department had to be available, which meant that our father would run up to the shop to get parts for ranchers when they called. We usually had a picnic and cooked over the fire, but it wasn’t much different than many other summer weekends.
I was sharing a few memories of summer fun in our small town with our children and grandchildren yesterday as we waited for the fireworks to begin. The question got asked if I grew up with July 4 celebrations that were like those we participated in yesterday. Our day was pretty much what one would expect of July 4 in a small town.
We went to the parade in Blaine at noon. It was the first time I had attended the parade, which is a big deal. Cars were parking alongside the road a half mile from town. In town it was as hard to get around as Sturgis SD during the motorcycle rally. Streets wee blocked off, cars were parked on lawns, and things were generally quite crowded. After circling around, thinking that we might be able to park at the library only to discover that we couldn’t even get to the library, we found a place to walk about a half mile from the parade route. The parade had the usual politicians running in local elections, shiny fire trucks from the refinery, big machines from construction companies, beautiful cars from the car show, the high school band, horses including a couple of teams pulling wagons, floats from local businesses, and the like. Our grandchildren gathered enough treats thrown from parade vehicles to rival halloween.
Back at home we had a late lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches before imposing a quiet hour on excited grandchildren with the promise of being allowed to stay up late for fireworks. Supper was a traditional barbecue with hamburgers, hot dogs, salads, cherry pie and ice cream. The kids were wound up and the weather was beautiful so there was plenty of chasing and running and kicking balls and such as we waited for time to go to the fireworks.
We live up north, so the fireworks didn’t start until 10:30 which is well past the usual bedtime for our grandchildren and often past bedtime for their grandfather as well. For the fireworks display it did work to park at the library and the walk to the park on the waterfront was about the same distance as we walked to view the parade at noon. Both grandkids and grandparents got their steps in yesterday.
For a small town it was a pretty good display. Our son was well prepared with headphones that blocked the loudest blasts for the children to wear. The park was filled with a holiday crowd, but there was plenty of room for us to spread our blankets and watch the show.
It wasn’t the same as the small town celebrations of my childhood. The town where we now live isn’t the county seat and doesn’t have a rodeo. And I don’t think we ever had boats on trailers in the parades of the town where I grew up. We definitely didn’t have an ocean to reflect the bursts of fireworks for the evening’s show. Each small town has its own unique events and twists on the national holiday.
This is the third year that we have attended the July 4 fireworks at Marine Park in Blaine with some of our grandchildren. This year was special because our South Carolina grandson is visiting. Still the youngest grandson was at home in bed with his mother because the day had stretched out too long for him and he wouldn’t have appreciated the noise of the fireworks. Although we had all of our grandchildren for most of the day’s events, we had the kids matched one adult for each kid for the fireworks display.
It was a good day - one of many that I get to enjoy. I think I’m learning a bit about how to be retired. Not bad for an old guy.
Celebrating the 4th
04/07/24 03:23
Our corner of the United States has big plans for today. We plan to have breakfast at home this morning, but if we wanted, we could join the crowd at the community pancake breakfast at the community center in Blaine then head downtown to take a look at the Show N Shine Car Show and see what treasures we might find at the library book sale and wander the vendors at the art and crafts street fair. There is a parade at noon. The parade, of course, will have many of the same cars that are part of the car show, but this year’s big attraction will be the Plover Ferry. It is the oldest food passenger ferry in Washington and it usually operates in the summer between Blaine and Semiahmoo Resort, across the harbor. The Plover, however, was in dry dock all last year and the anticipated launching on Memorial Day didn’t happen because the work was not completed. The ferry, however, has now passed its Coast Guard inspection for the hull repairs and has received the many coats of new paint to have it all shiny and fresh to return to the water today if all goes as planned.
Those lucky enough to endure the lines and crowd to get on the ferry might linger over at the resort where there will be a seaside barbecue. Those who don’t get on the ferry and who don’t want to wait in line can listen to free live music on main street. There will be a beer garden open all afternoon.
We’ll probably skip all of those busy activities, but our gang will spread our blankets and be ready for the big fireworks display. One of the realities of fireworks displays here in the north is that it is pretty late before it is dark enough for the show. Tonight’s fireworks start at 10:15. The official sunset time is 9:17, but last light lingers until 10 pm. Judging from our experience with previous years, the fireworks will be worth the wait.
Before the fireworks, however, I’m looking forward to cherry pie. We have a very productive cherry tree in our back yard. Yesterday alone, I processed over 15 pounds of cherries for the freezer and I’ll need to keep up that pace for several more days in order to keep up. Some of the fresh cherries will be baked into pies for our dessert this evening.
There is another tradition around our small bay. Hundreds and hundreds of people will gather on the beach all around the bay. They’ll start camping out to claim their spots early this morning and many will have their cars parked well before noon and will maintain a presence saving their lawn chairs and staking out their territory. There will be so many gathered that inevitably some will not wait until dark to begin to light their fireworks. There will be so many people that the fireworks will continue around the bay well past midnight.
Just because we will avoid the beach crowding and craziness with a family barbecue on our back deck we won’t fully escape the event. We’ll be listening to the noise of the fireworks all evening long. They’ll be shooting them off while we eat super. They’ll still be shooting them off when we leave for the formal fireworks display in Blaine. They’ll still be going on when we drive home. We may even take the longer trip down the street along the bay just to see a few of them on our way home.
And we’ll go to sleep with the booming of fireworks and probably we awakened at midnight with several volleys of blasts.
Last night when we were walking around the neighborhood we stopped to greet our neighbor’s aging dog, Ginger. I noticed that old age has granted Ginger a particular grace this year. She didn’t react at all when the booming of fireworks was heard coming up from the waterfront. Ginger’s hearing problems seem to have progressed to the point where she is deaf. I can’t imagine what it is like for the many dog owners in our neighborhood whose animals have their usual sensitive hearing. I’m pretty sure there will be plenty of miserable dogs all day and all night long.
Tomorrow morning there is a big community event that is a tradition here. That is the July 5 community beach clean up. Hundreds of volunteers will collect tons of garbage off of the beach. Revelers with car loads of fireworks and coolers of beverages will be less than careful about cleaning up after themselves today. Our community has brought in truck loads of portable bathrooms and installed a lot of extra garbage containers, but those will be completely overwhelmed by tomorrow. There will be a few responsible people who will clean up after themselves and a small sub set of that group will even haul their own trash and dispose of it at home. A whole lot of people, however, will just leave their garbage behind.
More worrisome than the garbage that can be collected is the garbage that is left behind. Fireworks leave behind bits of cardboard that fall to the earth after the displays. When they are aimed at the water, lots of debris falls into the bay. Some of it washes up on the shore and will be picked up by volunteers over the next few days. Some of it adds to the pollution in the bay that is already threatening the safety of the abundant crabs and clams that live in the bay and provide a rich food harvest for those who venture out.
Independence is worth celebrating and we enjoy community spirit and welcoming guests to our community. We are also interdependent. We need one another. Learning to work together and support one another is another important quality of community. All of the planning and events would not occur if people didn’t cooperate and work together. Celebrating our nation’s independence from the British monarchy so long ago requires that we be more than completely independent from one another. Working together is a necessary part of community and continuing to defend freedom requires cooperative skills.
We’re all in this together. The mess that one leaves behind affects the rest of the community. The work of the volunteers who clean up benefits everyone. May your celebrations be joyful and may you remember your connections with others in your community.
Those lucky enough to endure the lines and crowd to get on the ferry might linger over at the resort where there will be a seaside barbecue. Those who don’t get on the ferry and who don’t want to wait in line can listen to free live music on main street. There will be a beer garden open all afternoon.
We’ll probably skip all of those busy activities, but our gang will spread our blankets and be ready for the big fireworks display. One of the realities of fireworks displays here in the north is that it is pretty late before it is dark enough for the show. Tonight’s fireworks start at 10:15. The official sunset time is 9:17, but last light lingers until 10 pm. Judging from our experience with previous years, the fireworks will be worth the wait.
Before the fireworks, however, I’m looking forward to cherry pie. We have a very productive cherry tree in our back yard. Yesterday alone, I processed over 15 pounds of cherries for the freezer and I’ll need to keep up that pace for several more days in order to keep up. Some of the fresh cherries will be baked into pies for our dessert this evening.
There is another tradition around our small bay. Hundreds and hundreds of people will gather on the beach all around the bay. They’ll start camping out to claim their spots early this morning and many will have their cars parked well before noon and will maintain a presence saving their lawn chairs and staking out their territory. There will be so many gathered that inevitably some will not wait until dark to begin to light their fireworks. There will be so many people that the fireworks will continue around the bay well past midnight.
Just because we will avoid the beach crowding and craziness with a family barbecue on our back deck we won’t fully escape the event. We’ll be listening to the noise of the fireworks all evening long. They’ll be shooting them off while we eat super. They’ll still be shooting them off when we leave for the formal fireworks display in Blaine. They’ll still be going on when we drive home. We may even take the longer trip down the street along the bay just to see a few of them on our way home.
And we’ll go to sleep with the booming of fireworks and probably we awakened at midnight with several volleys of blasts.
Last night when we were walking around the neighborhood we stopped to greet our neighbor’s aging dog, Ginger. I noticed that old age has granted Ginger a particular grace this year. She didn’t react at all when the booming of fireworks was heard coming up from the waterfront. Ginger’s hearing problems seem to have progressed to the point where she is deaf. I can’t imagine what it is like for the many dog owners in our neighborhood whose animals have their usual sensitive hearing. I’m pretty sure there will be plenty of miserable dogs all day and all night long.
Tomorrow morning there is a big community event that is a tradition here. That is the July 5 community beach clean up. Hundreds of volunteers will collect tons of garbage off of the beach. Revelers with car loads of fireworks and coolers of beverages will be less than careful about cleaning up after themselves today. Our community has brought in truck loads of portable bathrooms and installed a lot of extra garbage containers, but those will be completely overwhelmed by tomorrow. There will be a few responsible people who will clean up after themselves and a small sub set of that group will even haul their own trash and dispose of it at home. A whole lot of people, however, will just leave their garbage behind.
More worrisome than the garbage that can be collected is the garbage that is left behind. Fireworks leave behind bits of cardboard that fall to the earth after the displays. When they are aimed at the water, lots of debris falls into the bay. Some of it washes up on the shore and will be picked up by volunteers over the next few days. Some of it adds to the pollution in the bay that is already threatening the safety of the abundant crabs and clams that live in the bay and provide a rich food harvest for those who venture out.
Independence is worth celebrating and we enjoy community spirit and welcoming guests to our community. We are also interdependent. We need one another. Learning to work together and support one another is another important quality of community. All of the planning and events would not occur if people didn’t cooperate and work together. Celebrating our nation’s independence from the British monarchy so long ago requires that we be more than completely independent from one another. Working together is a necessary part of community and continuing to defend freedom requires cooperative skills.
We’re all in this together. The mess that one leaves behind affects the rest of the community. The work of the volunteers who clean up benefits everyone. May your celebrations be joyful and may you remember your connections with others in your community.
Sunny with a chance of ice cream
03/07/24 02:13
My father in law often said, “It is a good thing we have weather. Otherwise we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.” I’m pretty sure that there are many other things to talk about, but I am a bit surprised about how often I write about weather in my journal. I’m not sure that this is a cause of concern, but I know that sorting through my great-grandfather’s journals requires a great deal of reading through boring writing to find the few gems that are important recordings of history. He was a court reporter and trained in accurately recording testimony. Therefore his journal entries that record sermons by a pioneering Methodist Circuit Rider are of interest to the Montana Methodist Historical Archives. Similarly, his recording of the various moves of the Montana State Capitol in the early politically charged days of the territory on its way to becoming a state are of interest to the Montana Historical Society. However, getting to those bits of important information involves reading through pages and pages in which little is recorded except the weather. Perhaps there is some weather historian out there to whom those journals might hold more interest, but to me, it is a real chore to read them.
I don’t particularly want to leave behind a similar legacy. On the other hand, I’m not sure that I’m leaving behind any kind of a legacy. Although my journals are all collected into a digital archive and entries since 2007 are all available online right now, I suspect that the day will come when there is no interest in maintaining the web site and although our children know how to access the digital archive right now, there is no real evidence that what I have written is of much long-lasting impact. At any rate, what I will leave behind is less physical volume than the boxes and boxes of paper journals from my forebears that have ended up in storage and wait for me to sort, digitize, and process. I hope to leave a bit less work for those who come after me.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the weather a bit lately. The visit of our daughter and grandson is a precious short treat this summer and we don’t want to lose any time in pursuing adventures with them. Consequently we have quite a list of activities from which we can chose depending on the weather. If possible, we’d like to save adventures like visiting beaches and driving into the mountains to play in the snow for days when the weather is warm and nice and reserve indoor activities like bowling and the children’s museum for days when it is rainy. So far, we don’t have a very good track record on that score. Yesterday we headed to the beach even though the day was a bit gray in the morning because the grandkids were raring to go to the beach after hearing us discuss it as a possibility the day before. Then, since it was gray and a bit chilly at the beach, we decided to go bowling in the afternoon, which proved to be sunny and very warm.
So I’ve been consulting the weather apps on my phone a bit more often than usual to help guide our decisions. I suspect that it isn’t much of a problem because we seem to have the ability to have a really good time no matter which activity we choose. I’m still giggling about the reaction of our 13-year-old grandson when his grandmother put her hand on the back of her neck after holding an icy beverage. It gave us all a good laugh as we sat in an ice cream store after a fun afternoon of bowling. Whatever the activity, we seem to find a lot of opportunities to laugh and enjoy each other. And whatever the weather we seem to find ourselves in one of the may excellent ice cream vendors in our area. I still have a long list of ice cream places we could visit in the days to come. And I’m pretty sure that the grandchildren won’t complain if we end up repeating one of them.
Looking ahead at the weather, chances of ice cream remain very strong in the days to come as we enjoy the visit and the time with all of our grandchildren together. We certainly get good treatment as our gang lines up at an ice cream counter, and I appreciate the knowing smiles from other grandparents who are having adventures with their grandchildren.
I’ve had my attention on a map from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administrations Climate Prediction Center that depicts almost all of the united States with temperatures above average for this time of the year. Only a bit of southern Texas and Hawaii are predicted to have normal temperatures. All of Alaska is showing below normal temperatures for this time of the year and all of the rest of the states are pictures in red and orange with a few bits of yellow around the Great Lakes and in central Texas.
The forecasters are predicting our first extended heat wave in Western Washington for later this week, with temperatures predicted to climb into the lower 80s and possibly the 90s. Temperatures like that could force us indoors to escape the heat, something that has been mercifully rare so far this summer around here. Of course there are movie theaters and ice cream parlors on the list of options for hot days. And we are lucky to have air conditioning in our home powered by solar panels so our utility costs don’t go up when we turn on the AC. When all of the grandchildren are here, we’re grateful for the outdoor space that gives extra room for active children. All of us indoors with the doors and windows shut tends to get a bit loud. Our son’s place down the road has a large outbuilding with lots of play possibilities for children that has heat pumps to cool the air. Both we and our son have plenty of freezer space so we can store extra ice cream if necessary.
Other weather watchers have their eyes on the weather maps with concerns about potential for increased wildfire danger, especially with too many people being careless with July 4 fireworks. At our household, we’re watching the weather maps with a bit different set of concerns.
Don’t worry about us, however, we’ve got enough savings set aside for the week to come to allow for additional ice cream in the grocery budget as necessary.
I don’t particularly want to leave behind a similar legacy. On the other hand, I’m not sure that I’m leaving behind any kind of a legacy. Although my journals are all collected into a digital archive and entries since 2007 are all available online right now, I suspect that the day will come when there is no interest in maintaining the web site and although our children know how to access the digital archive right now, there is no real evidence that what I have written is of much long-lasting impact. At any rate, what I will leave behind is less physical volume than the boxes and boxes of paper journals from my forebears that have ended up in storage and wait for me to sort, digitize, and process. I hope to leave a bit less work for those who come after me.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the weather a bit lately. The visit of our daughter and grandson is a precious short treat this summer and we don’t want to lose any time in pursuing adventures with them. Consequently we have quite a list of activities from which we can chose depending on the weather. If possible, we’d like to save adventures like visiting beaches and driving into the mountains to play in the snow for days when the weather is warm and nice and reserve indoor activities like bowling and the children’s museum for days when it is rainy. So far, we don’t have a very good track record on that score. Yesterday we headed to the beach even though the day was a bit gray in the morning because the grandkids were raring to go to the beach after hearing us discuss it as a possibility the day before. Then, since it was gray and a bit chilly at the beach, we decided to go bowling in the afternoon, which proved to be sunny and very warm.
So I’ve been consulting the weather apps on my phone a bit more often than usual to help guide our decisions. I suspect that it isn’t much of a problem because we seem to have the ability to have a really good time no matter which activity we choose. I’m still giggling about the reaction of our 13-year-old grandson when his grandmother put her hand on the back of her neck after holding an icy beverage. It gave us all a good laugh as we sat in an ice cream store after a fun afternoon of bowling. Whatever the activity, we seem to find a lot of opportunities to laugh and enjoy each other. And whatever the weather we seem to find ourselves in one of the may excellent ice cream vendors in our area. I still have a long list of ice cream places we could visit in the days to come. And I’m pretty sure that the grandchildren won’t complain if we end up repeating one of them.
Looking ahead at the weather, chances of ice cream remain very strong in the days to come as we enjoy the visit and the time with all of our grandchildren together. We certainly get good treatment as our gang lines up at an ice cream counter, and I appreciate the knowing smiles from other grandparents who are having adventures with their grandchildren.
I’ve had my attention on a map from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administrations Climate Prediction Center that depicts almost all of the united States with temperatures above average for this time of the year. Only a bit of southern Texas and Hawaii are predicted to have normal temperatures. All of Alaska is showing below normal temperatures for this time of the year and all of the rest of the states are pictures in red and orange with a few bits of yellow around the Great Lakes and in central Texas.
The forecasters are predicting our first extended heat wave in Western Washington for later this week, with temperatures predicted to climb into the lower 80s and possibly the 90s. Temperatures like that could force us indoors to escape the heat, something that has been mercifully rare so far this summer around here. Of course there are movie theaters and ice cream parlors on the list of options for hot days. And we are lucky to have air conditioning in our home powered by solar panels so our utility costs don’t go up when we turn on the AC. When all of the grandchildren are here, we’re grateful for the outdoor space that gives extra room for active children. All of us indoors with the doors and windows shut tends to get a bit loud. Our son’s place down the road has a large outbuilding with lots of play possibilities for children that has heat pumps to cool the air. Both we and our son have plenty of freezer space so we can store extra ice cream if necessary.
Other weather watchers have their eyes on the weather maps with concerns about potential for increased wildfire danger, especially with too many people being careless with July 4 fireworks. At our household, we’re watching the weather maps with a bit different set of concerns.
Don’t worry about us, however, we’ve got enough savings set aside for the week to come to allow for additional ice cream in the grocery budget as necessary.
Generations of joy
02/07/24 02:02
For at least a century some sociologists have expounded on generational theory. The basic concept is that events in history have deep impacts on those who live through those events thereby creating similarities among those who are the in the same age cohort and differences between various groups of people based on their age. This theory was significantly developed by William Strauss and Neil Howe in their book, “Generations: The History of America’s Future, 1584 to 2069.” The book, published in 1991, expounded a theory that there is a cycle of generations that recurs. The book doesn’t quite claim the ability to predict the future based on the theory, but it does make some generalized observations about the character of different groups of people that have been used by others in attempts to predict the future.
I’ve used generational theory to explain some of the differences between people my age and those of other age groups. It can be helpful to see how we are shaped by large historic events. I draw the line, however, when it comes to prediction. While it can be useful to reflect on how my grandparents were different from my parents and how we are different from our children, I don’t presume to have any insight on how the world will unfold for our grandchildren.
The bottom line for me is that I do not believe that the future can be known. There are some predictions that come true, but others do not.
Having said that, here is a bit of generational trivia. A large number of people of a certain age, by which I mean those who are my age and older, attended public schools when Shakespeare’s plays were written into the general curricula. Not only did I read Romeo and Juliet in the 9th grade, a whole lot of others read the same play at a similar age. We might have forgotten most of the details, but we used snippets from the play in our conversation. Just as we all knew, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” we could all quote Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “Alas, poor York! I knew him Horatio,” and the soothsayer in the play Julius Caesar, “Beware the Ides of March.”
The dramatic technique of foreshadowing, expertly employed by Shakespeare, has colored the perception of many people my age about the nature of prophecy. In the play the warning of the soothsayer proves to be central. Caesar is assigned on March 15. The problem is that we sometimes forget that the soothsayer is a fictional character in a play. We begin to think that there are people who can predict the future.
As an interpreter of scripture, I constantly had to do bits of teaching to people in my age group about prophetic literature. It is common for folks to read those sections of the bible looking for predictions about the future. Prophets, however, play the role of bringing God’s message to people, not predicting the future. The Revelation of John in the last book of the Christian Bible contains significant teaching about how to remain faithful in troubled times, but it is not a prediction of the future. I have been asked, however, many times to interpret contemporary events reported in the news in the light of what people see as predictions made by that book.
I’m no good at predicting the future. Like any other fool, however, I occasionally make some statement that ends up coming true. Once, when your two children were young adults and working through the process of forming relationships and becoming married, I said, casually to them, “I think five grandchildren is a good number.” Somehow the number five for grandchildren became a bit of a family joke. After the birth of our first grandchild in 2011, the number five kept coming up. At the time it seemed unlikely that there would be that number of grandchildren. There were some significant struggles on the way. But here we are. We have five grandchildren. That does not make me a predictor of the future. When I made the statement, I was incapable of imagining what it would be like for us to have five grandchildren playing in our back yard.
It has turned out, however, that five is a good number for us, just like two turned out to be a good number for children in our case.
The truth didn’t come to our family in terms of the number or the count of grandchildren as much as it did in the sharing of the joy of being parents. Having children has been such an important and wonderful part of our lives that we wanted our children to have that joy. Their becoming parents has delighted us because we were so delighted to be parents ourselves. Regardless of the number, I feel fortunate to have had conversations with our children that conveyed positive feelings about raising children. Our children and their spouses are really good parents. I know that there are times when it is hard for them to keep up the balance of family and career in the pressures of these times, but I also know that they are blessed by their children and have learned to treasure time with them.
I can’t predict the future, but I can express my hope. I don’t care if our grandchildren remember the menu of last night’s dinner, or how they were required to cooperate with their grandparents by putting on matching t-shirts and lying on the lawn to pose for a picture. I doubt that they will remember the last minute pivot when we added macaroni and cheese and a grilled cheese sandwich to the menu when a couple of grandchildren weren’t eating the grilled vegetables and chicken we had planned. What I hope they remember, however, is how good it is to be together. I hope they remember how happy it makes their grandfather just to have them come and play at our house. I hope they remember picking cherries and eating them off of the tree. I hope they remember their parents laughing with each other at the picnic table on the deck.
And I’ll go out on a limb once more. I think that a dozen great grandchildren would be a fine number. I doubt that the number will be accurate, but I do hope that each of the five one day has the opportunity to feel the joy of children of their own. And whether or not they have children, I hope that they remain close enough to each other to share the joys they find.
I’ve used generational theory to explain some of the differences between people my age and those of other age groups. It can be helpful to see how we are shaped by large historic events. I draw the line, however, when it comes to prediction. While it can be useful to reflect on how my grandparents were different from my parents and how we are different from our children, I don’t presume to have any insight on how the world will unfold for our grandchildren.
The bottom line for me is that I do not believe that the future can be known. There are some predictions that come true, but others do not.
Having said that, here is a bit of generational trivia. A large number of people of a certain age, by which I mean those who are my age and older, attended public schools when Shakespeare’s plays were written into the general curricula. Not only did I read Romeo and Juliet in the 9th grade, a whole lot of others read the same play at a similar age. We might have forgotten most of the details, but we used snippets from the play in our conversation. Just as we all knew, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” we could all quote Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “Alas, poor York! I knew him Horatio,” and the soothsayer in the play Julius Caesar, “Beware the Ides of March.”
The dramatic technique of foreshadowing, expertly employed by Shakespeare, has colored the perception of many people my age about the nature of prophecy. In the play the warning of the soothsayer proves to be central. Caesar is assigned on March 15. The problem is that we sometimes forget that the soothsayer is a fictional character in a play. We begin to think that there are people who can predict the future.
As an interpreter of scripture, I constantly had to do bits of teaching to people in my age group about prophetic literature. It is common for folks to read those sections of the bible looking for predictions about the future. Prophets, however, play the role of bringing God’s message to people, not predicting the future. The Revelation of John in the last book of the Christian Bible contains significant teaching about how to remain faithful in troubled times, but it is not a prediction of the future. I have been asked, however, many times to interpret contemporary events reported in the news in the light of what people see as predictions made by that book.
I’m no good at predicting the future. Like any other fool, however, I occasionally make some statement that ends up coming true. Once, when your two children were young adults and working through the process of forming relationships and becoming married, I said, casually to them, “I think five grandchildren is a good number.” Somehow the number five for grandchildren became a bit of a family joke. After the birth of our first grandchild in 2011, the number five kept coming up. At the time it seemed unlikely that there would be that number of grandchildren. There were some significant struggles on the way. But here we are. We have five grandchildren. That does not make me a predictor of the future. When I made the statement, I was incapable of imagining what it would be like for us to have five grandchildren playing in our back yard.
It has turned out, however, that five is a good number for us, just like two turned out to be a good number for children in our case.
The truth didn’t come to our family in terms of the number or the count of grandchildren as much as it did in the sharing of the joy of being parents. Having children has been such an important and wonderful part of our lives that we wanted our children to have that joy. Their becoming parents has delighted us because we were so delighted to be parents ourselves. Regardless of the number, I feel fortunate to have had conversations with our children that conveyed positive feelings about raising children. Our children and their spouses are really good parents. I know that there are times when it is hard for them to keep up the balance of family and career in the pressures of these times, but I also know that they are blessed by their children and have learned to treasure time with them.
I can’t predict the future, but I can express my hope. I don’t care if our grandchildren remember the menu of last night’s dinner, or how they were required to cooperate with their grandparents by putting on matching t-shirts and lying on the lawn to pose for a picture. I doubt that they will remember the last minute pivot when we added macaroni and cheese and a grilled cheese sandwich to the menu when a couple of grandchildren weren’t eating the grilled vegetables and chicken we had planned. What I hope they remember, however, is how good it is to be together. I hope they remember how happy it makes their grandfather just to have them come and play at our house. I hope they remember picking cherries and eating them off of the tree. I hope they remember their parents laughing with each other at the picnic table on the deck.
And I’ll go out on a limb once more. I think that a dozen great grandchildren would be a fine number. I doubt that the number will be accurate, but I do hope that each of the five one day has the opportunity to feel the joy of children of their own. And whether or not they have children, I hope that they remain close enough to each other to share the joys they find.
Preachers
01/07/24 01:28
I want to say up front that I am a retired minister in my 70’s and my age, profession, and retirement status definitely color my opinions.
We had a guest preacher in church yesterday and I really enjoyed the sermon. That is saying quite a lot because I have been critical of the preaching in our church more often than I have expressed appreciation. The guest preacher is a retired United Methodist pastor who attended our congregation for a few years following his retirement. Then the lure of grandchildren drew them to another community. I am not sure of the reason they were back in our congregation. We have been having discussions about topics that were suggested by members of the congregation this summer and our guest was the leader of an after church discussion about aging and so an invitation to present at the discussion may have prompted the visit and since he was visiting, an invitation to preach was also in order. Our regular lead pastor was in attendance, so it wasn’t coverage for a vacation or other need for pulpit supply.
Whatever the case, I found the sermon to be delightful. It was inspired by the scripture choices of the day, contained genuine personal stories that connected with the texts, was sprinkled with quotes and references to classical theology and relevant books including fiction and poetry. And the delivery was spot on. I felt engaged from the beginning to the end of the sermon.
I have been reflecting on the reasons for my reactions since our time of worship. I know that one distinct possibility is that it is easier for me to relate to someone who is my own age and at a similar stage of life. It can be more challenging to connect with someone who is 20 or more years younger than I, I suppose. It is also possible that our educations have similarly aged. We have read the same books and we may not have kept up on the latest trends in theology and scripture exposition.
I think, however, that it is more than the obvious.
Here are some of the challenges for me in terms of connecting with our pastor in terms of preaching. My primary concern has to do with her strong sense of boundaries between her personal life and the life of our congregation. She keeps her home life completely separate from her professional life. We don’t get to see her spouse in worship or even at special events. If there is a potluck, she joins the congregation as our pastor, not as someone who is bringing here family to the event. We, of course, had a different connection with the congregations we served. In the first place, my spouse was also serving the same congregations so they saw our relationship in action. They knew how important my family is to me because it was in front of them every week. Our children participated in the congregation every week. I know that being on constant display can create stresses for the children of preachers and there is a stigma about being a preacher’s kid, but both of our children seem to have weathered that storm with grace and with a bit of ease. Whatever the reasons and differences, the result is that it doesn’t seem like our pastor puts her whole self into her preaching. There are parts of her life that she keeps separate. This leaves me with a feeling that she is not as deeply connected to the texts or to the congregation as I would like.
I know from speaking with others and from visiting other congregations that this careful creation of boundaries is very common among the current generation of clergy. They have been rightly trained in boundaries and are careful not to mix their personal and professional lives. The way that we engaged in ministry may just be a thing of the past now that there is deeper awareness of appropriate boundaries.
I also struggle with a difference between how many younger pastors connect with scholarship and with scripture. They will quote scholars. Our pastor often reads extended portions from scholarly books as part of her sermons. But they don’t give the sense that they have incorporated those scholars into their ecology of spirit. They seem to be familiar with scripture and able to quote scripture, but the scriptures don’t seem to live inside of these ministers. There is a distance between them and the texts that matches the distance between them and the congregations they serve. I find this to be very different from the way I approached scripture and scholarship and I am challenged to understand the way many clergy approach those elements of life.
The bottom line is that for me, being a pastor was more than just a job. It was an identity. I lived the cycles of the lectionary. I traveled the seasons of the church year. I wrestled with an angel alongside Jacob and I was overwhelmed by love with Paul. I felt that I belonged to the congregations I served. It wasn’t just that I was hired by them, I became a member of those congregations and invested my time and energy. I tried to always match the members of my congregation in terms of giving volunteer hours to the congregation. I treasured opportunities to work side by side with them whether we were cutting firewood or going on a mission trip or painting a classroom or preparing a meal in the church kitchen.
I long for a pastor who feels that connection to our congregation. Yet I understand that I may simply be asking too much of any individual. After all, churches don’t pay the highest salaries, though the salary and benefits of a senior pastor in a church like ours is sufficient for a very comfortable life. The generosity of the congregations I served have made for a comfortable retirement as well.
I may be asking too much of the pastors who serve our congregations. Still, I really appreciated yesterday’s sermon. I hope I can deliver as meaningful messages when I am invited to peach on occasion.
If you are a regular reader you probably already know that I’m celebrating this morning, Our daughter and grandson are here in our home. The next few weeks will be joy, joy, joy for us.
We had a guest preacher in church yesterday and I really enjoyed the sermon. That is saying quite a lot because I have been critical of the preaching in our church more often than I have expressed appreciation. The guest preacher is a retired United Methodist pastor who attended our congregation for a few years following his retirement. Then the lure of grandchildren drew them to another community. I am not sure of the reason they were back in our congregation. We have been having discussions about topics that were suggested by members of the congregation this summer and our guest was the leader of an after church discussion about aging and so an invitation to present at the discussion may have prompted the visit and since he was visiting, an invitation to preach was also in order. Our regular lead pastor was in attendance, so it wasn’t coverage for a vacation or other need for pulpit supply.
Whatever the case, I found the sermon to be delightful. It was inspired by the scripture choices of the day, contained genuine personal stories that connected with the texts, was sprinkled with quotes and references to classical theology and relevant books including fiction and poetry. And the delivery was spot on. I felt engaged from the beginning to the end of the sermon.
I have been reflecting on the reasons for my reactions since our time of worship. I know that one distinct possibility is that it is easier for me to relate to someone who is my own age and at a similar stage of life. It can be more challenging to connect with someone who is 20 or more years younger than I, I suppose. It is also possible that our educations have similarly aged. We have read the same books and we may not have kept up on the latest trends in theology and scripture exposition.
I think, however, that it is more than the obvious.
Here are some of the challenges for me in terms of connecting with our pastor in terms of preaching. My primary concern has to do with her strong sense of boundaries between her personal life and the life of our congregation. She keeps her home life completely separate from her professional life. We don’t get to see her spouse in worship or even at special events. If there is a potluck, she joins the congregation as our pastor, not as someone who is bringing here family to the event. We, of course, had a different connection with the congregations we served. In the first place, my spouse was also serving the same congregations so they saw our relationship in action. They knew how important my family is to me because it was in front of them every week. Our children participated in the congregation every week. I know that being on constant display can create stresses for the children of preachers and there is a stigma about being a preacher’s kid, but both of our children seem to have weathered that storm with grace and with a bit of ease. Whatever the reasons and differences, the result is that it doesn’t seem like our pastor puts her whole self into her preaching. There are parts of her life that she keeps separate. This leaves me with a feeling that she is not as deeply connected to the texts or to the congregation as I would like.
I know from speaking with others and from visiting other congregations that this careful creation of boundaries is very common among the current generation of clergy. They have been rightly trained in boundaries and are careful not to mix their personal and professional lives. The way that we engaged in ministry may just be a thing of the past now that there is deeper awareness of appropriate boundaries.
I also struggle with a difference between how many younger pastors connect with scholarship and with scripture. They will quote scholars. Our pastor often reads extended portions from scholarly books as part of her sermons. But they don’t give the sense that they have incorporated those scholars into their ecology of spirit. They seem to be familiar with scripture and able to quote scripture, but the scriptures don’t seem to live inside of these ministers. There is a distance between them and the texts that matches the distance between them and the congregations they serve. I find this to be very different from the way I approached scripture and scholarship and I am challenged to understand the way many clergy approach those elements of life.
The bottom line is that for me, being a pastor was more than just a job. It was an identity. I lived the cycles of the lectionary. I traveled the seasons of the church year. I wrestled with an angel alongside Jacob and I was overwhelmed by love with Paul. I felt that I belonged to the congregations I served. It wasn’t just that I was hired by them, I became a member of those congregations and invested my time and energy. I tried to always match the members of my congregation in terms of giving volunteer hours to the congregation. I treasured opportunities to work side by side with them whether we were cutting firewood or going on a mission trip or painting a classroom or preparing a meal in the church kitchen.
I long for a pastor who feels that connection to our congregation. Yet I understand that I may simply be asking too much of any individual. After all, churches don’t pay the highest salaries, though the salary and benefits of a senior pastor in a church like ours is sufficient for a very comfortable life. The generosity of the congregations I served have made for a comfortable retirement as well.
I may be asking too much of the pastors who serve our congregations. Still, I really appreciated yesterday’s sermon. I hope I can deliver as meaningful messages when I am invited to peach on occasion.
If you are a regular reader you probably already know that I’m celebrating this morning, Our daughter and grandson are here in our home. The next few weeks will be joy, joy, joy for us.