I love the 4th of July. It makes me feel my freedom and independence. But the personal question is freedom from what and independence for what? Coming and going are bound by money and health. One is not free with material goods. All of that needs tending, dusting and lots of admiring. I am a tied to my dirt; which by the way is a blooming wonder again with tomatoes in pots about to ripen.
I guess I need the independence to break loose from the stuff I so cherish, and simplify my life a little at a time, so when I check out completely, the remaining clutter won't complicate our grown son's lives.
Nothing we do, have, or say will ever complicate our daughter's life. There isn't much good to be said about bi-polar illness; but one thing about her she is more free and independent than any of the rest of us.
Have as free and independent a 4th of July as you can muster; tack up the 10 commandments somewhere. Print up 95 copies of them and nail them to some door.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Blogs of Consequence, Where Did They Go?
A few days ago I changed some settings on my computer and fouled up all kinds of places. One was the appearance of this template. I fearlessly went into the templates and reinstalled the one I use called Snapshot.
Doing so, I lost my Blogs of Consequence. I haven't put one up for so long, I am not certain I recall how to do it. I have read the Salty Vicar so long I feel like I know him. I found the Wichita Eagle blog this morning and will add it to the side-bar as well.
Prof. John Maeda of MIT Media Lab's blog, Simplicity, is a wonderful read, if you can read it. It makes me stretch, a lot. He says he will terminate when he gets to the sixteenth law of simplicity. He is on the tenth. I hope it gets him a long time to get any farther. I don't want him to stop before I can figure out what he is writing about.
I can't bear the thought of losing the South Dakota Magazine blog. I am never going to try to improve anything again, ever. In it is an article on Pa Ingalls Farm in De Smet. I know a Pa Ingalls who is a descendent to Laura and will be going to his grandson's 1870's theme wedding in Wyoming in a couple of weeks. Going in Victorian attire would be fun, hot, but fun.
Doing so, I lost my Blogs of Consequence. I haven't put one up for so long, I am not certain I recall how to do it. I have read the Salty Vicar so long I feel like I know him. I found the Wichita Eagle blog this morning and will add it to the side-bar as well.
Prof. John Maeda of MIT Media Lab's blog, Simplicity, is a wonderful read, if you can read it. It makes me stretch, a lot. He says he will terminate when he gets to the sixteenth law of simplicity. He is on the tenth. I hope it gets him a long time to get any farther. I don't want him to stop before I can figure out what he is writing about.
I can't bear the thought of losing the South Dakota Magazine blog. I am never going to try to improve anything again, ever. In it is an article on Pa Ingalls Farm in De Smet. I know a Pa Ingalls who is a descendent to Laura and will be going to his grandson's 1870's theme wedding in Wyoming in a couple of weeks. Going in Victorian attire would be fun, hot, but fun.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Guitars, Violins, Cellos
I am not quite certain why I got on such a rant on hunger and ethanol. You know the saying that the butterfly across the world can change the weather somewhere else. I don't believe that, even though there is something about the chaos theory that I find intriguing.
I have Google Alerts on several names and several subjects, one being South Dakota oil exploration. Through it I noticed that seven new wells are being drilled in Harding County by a company that hasn't drilled there before.
Another Alert came in on my eldest sister-in-law, who entered four events in the Senior Games in PA and took a gold, two silvers and a bronze. M runs like a gazelle in the over 75 age group. I have seen and photographed her mid-air in a running broad jump, in which she flew over 12 feet. Watching that through a camera lens takes a person's breath away.
Tomorrow our son and family from the Northwest will arrive for their summer visit. They drive away from the misty, balmy, beautiful area into Nebraska at its hot and humid best. We have one aspect in common with that area, we are both green. Everything grows like crazy here. We have planted a assorted bulbs a couple of years in a row and have been amazed by lilies that are blooming under the pear tree.
The father of my brood was properly honored yesterday. His children certainly hold him dear in spite of his continual guidance that sounds more like admonition to me. After a call from his youngest son, he turned to me after he hung up and said, "He probably didn't expect that." It is a wonder any of them call. It was a ghastly litany. Mothers would never get by with it.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is sending his number two son a twelve string guitar this morning. It is a beautiful black Gibson. Incidentally, after the work was done on the little yellow stickered violin, the nice man at Nielson's Violin Shop estimated it was worth several hundreds of dollars. Our number three son will get it next time he comes home. Number four son wants to buy his cello back from me along with my two and a half years worth of lesson books and a very nice metronome.
I would have given anything to have been able to take music lessons as a kid. I flatter myself, thinking I would have been a fair musician. Even at 65, taking my first lessons on the cello and my first time reading music, I was fair. My hands were so arthritic, I had to ice them down to be able to hold the bow. But I was determined and loved the learning. When my back got so bad I couldn't sit to the instrument, I had to give it up and have surgery.
It occurred to me that this visiting son, number one, will be 50 this fall. I always have 20 years on him. Sometimes it feels like he and I grew up together; he is the wiser of the two of us, however. He is an incredible husband and father, his wife tells me. To have a daughter-in-law tell you that is as good as it gets.
I have Google Alerts on several names and several subjects, one being South Dakota oil exploration. Through it I noticed that seven new wells are being drilled in Harding County by a company that hasn't drilled there before.
Another Alert came in on my eldest sister-in-law, who entered four events in the Senior Games in PA and took a gold, two silvers and a bronze. M runs like a gazelle in the over 75 age group. I have seen and photographed her mid-air in a running broad jump, in which she flew over 12 feet. Watching that through a camera lens takes a person's breath away.
Tomorrow our son and family from the Northwest will arrive for their summer visit. They drive away from the misty, balmy, beautiful area into Nebraska at its hot and humid best. We have one aspect in common with that area, we are both green. Everything grows like crazy here. We have planted a assorted bulbs a couple of years in a row and have been amazed by lilies that are blooming under the pear tree.
The father of my brood was properly honored yesterday. His children certainly hold him dear in spite of his continual guidance that sounds more like admonition to me. After a call from his youngest son, he turned to me after he hung up and said, "He probably didn't expect that." It is a wonder any of them call. It was a ghastly litany. Mothers would never get by with it.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is sending his number two son a twelve string guitar this morning. It is a beautiful black Gibson. Incidentally, after the work was done on the little yellow stickered violin, the nice man at Nielson's Violin Shop estimated it was worth several hundreds of dollars. Our number three son will get it next time he comes home. Number four son wants to buy his cello back from me along with my two and a half years worth of lesson books and a very nice metronome.
I would have given anything to have been able to take music lessons as a kid. I flatter myself, thinking I would have been a fair musician. Even at 65, taking my first lessons on the cello and my first time reading music, I was fair. My hands were so arthritic, I had to ice them down to be able to hold the bow. But I was determined and loved the learning. When my back got so bad I couldn't sit to the instrument, I had to give it up and have surgery.
It occurred to me that this visiting son, number one, will be 50 this fall. I always have 20 years on him. Sometimes it feels like he and I grew up together; he is the wiser of the two of us, however. He is an incredible husband and father, his wife tells me. To have a daughter-in-law tell you that is as good as it gets.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Crude and Kerosene
When minding my own business, just making the bed, clearing out the clutter, watering tomatoes, and figuring out what to have for dinner, would make life so easy; I wonder why I get side tracked like I do?
Ethanol seems to be one of the solutions for the gasoline problem in America. At the pump it appears that the more of it in one's gasoline the less expensive the cost. Not too long ago that was not the case. "Senator John Thune (South Dakota) says passing the energy bill will dramatically increase ethanol demand and guarantee a good market for South Dakota farmers."
It isn't just South Dakota, ethanol plants are being promoted and built throughout the American corn belt. Good for agribusiness. Good for the corporate and small farmers, good for gas guzzling suv owners. But the upshot is what about the hungry world?
"In developing countries, 6 million children die each year, mostly from hunger-related causes.
In the United States, 13 million children live in households where people have to skip meals or eat less to make ends meet. That means one in ten households in the U.S. are living with hunger or are at risk of hunger."
They certainly cannot stir up a cup of crude and wash it down with kerosene.
Ethanol seems to be one of the solutions for the gasoline problem in America. At the pump it appears that the more of it in one's gasoline the less expensive the cost. Not too long ago that was not the case. "Senator John Thune (South Dakota) says passing the energy bill will dramatically increase ethanol demand and guarantee a good market for South Dakota farmers."
It isn't just South Dakota, ethanol plants are being promoted and built throughout the American corn belt. Good for agribusiness. Good for the corporate and small farmers, good for gas guzzling suv owners. But the upshot is what about the hungry world?
"In developing countries, 6 million children die each year, mostly from hunger-related causes.
In the United States, 13 million children live in households where people have to skip meals or eat less to make ends meet. That means one in ten households in the U.S. are living with hunger or are at risk of hunger."
They certainly cannot stir up a cup of crude and wash it down with kerosene.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Weak Women/Bold Women
Just spending a few hours in Omaha's Old Market seemed like a retreat. Five of us Miriams looked around Soul Desires, a charming bookstore, got our coffees and circled around a table for our Lutheran Women Today study on Bold Women. Deborah, the judge and prophet; the story has a bold, gory end to it with another woman driving a stake through a guy's forehead. Sometimes it takes more than a tap on the head to get men's attention. Why didn't they teach us those things in Sunday School? We decided the male dominated church didn't want to give girls any stupid ideas about becoming judges.
I could write about a bold woman judge in Omaha, who has come into our lives a couple of times through her work with families and children. She awarded us guardianship of a granddaughter and later she made that granddaughter our own daughter. It all happened so late in our parenting, that the Gma and Gpa stick on our tongues and the words are as awkward as having our sons become brothers to this beloved child, now woman, who is biologically their niece. Mental illness does really crazy things to families. In the same manner it made her mother her sister.
Bold Women: isn't that just what a Meyer's/Briggs INFP needs help with! I am not even bold enough to say what needs to be said. Yes, we do need Bibles in our pews. I need to pray for boldness as much as I do for self discipline in diet and exercise.
I cannot abide the fact that even at my advanced age, and in this world amuck, I would have the audacity to pray for resistance to gluttony. It is a sin, if I recall, and maybe it isn't any more annoying to God than anything else that I pray for, like green lights and parking places.
We humans are a sorry, sorry lot. I say we, because I know quite a few people, some sorrier than others..but all of us more or less sorry. I suspect some even pray for money, which always seemed the most impolite sort of prayer of all, seeing how money is the root of all evil. Why would God put something like that on his children?
I did do one bold thing a while ago. I wrote a letter to the editor of my home town paper in response to the Rapid City Journal article that recognized of one of the ranch women in my home county. She stayed on the ranch with her small daughters after her husband died. Bold things are always a leap of faith, sticking one's neck out, opening the self up for criticism and/or failure. The really bold women of this midwestern high plain go on ranching when husbands die or divorce them. Their boldness is incomparable, an example to the rest of us, and I applaud them for it.
I could write about a bold woman judge in Omaha, who has come into our lives a couple of times through her work with families and children. She awarded us guardianship of a granddaughter and later she made that granddaughter our own daughter. It all happened so late in our parenting, that the Gma and Gpa stick on our tongues and the words are as awkward as having our sons become brothers to this beloved child, now woman, who is biologically their niece. Mental illness does really crazy things to families. In the same manner it made her mother her sister.
Bold Women: isn't that just what a Meyer's/Briggs INFP needs help with! I am not even bold enough to say what needs to be said. Yes, we do need Bibles in our pews. I need to pray for boldness as much as I do for self discipline in diet and exercise.
I cannot abide the fact that even at my advanced age, and in this world amuck, I would have the audacity to pray for resistance to gluttony. It is a sin, if I recall, and maybe it isn't any more annoying to God than anything else that I pray for, like green lights and parking places.
We humans are a sorry, sorry lot. I say we, because I know quite a few people, some sorrier than others..but all of us more or less sorry. I suspect some even pray for money, which always seemed the most impolite sort of prayer of all, seeing how money is the root of all evil. Why would God put something like that on his children?
I did do one bold thing a while ago. I wrote a letter to the editor of my home town paper in response to the Rapid City Journal article that recognized of one of the ranch women in my home county. She stayed on the ranch with her small daughters after her husband died. Bold things are always a leap of faith, sticking one's neck out, opening the self up for criticism and/or failure. The really bold women of this midwestern high plain go on ranching when husbands die or divorce them. Their boldness is incomparable, an example to the rest of us, and I applaud them for it.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Coming Up Short
On the Sundays that I don't go to church I feel the loss. No connections made, no blessed liturgy, no prayers in unison, no hymns, life becomes nothing but the laundry and the house akimbo, the left behind, and the empty feeling.
Making lists of things to do has always helped me. I did make one this morning and did put stamps and addresses on five envelopes filled with notes to some folks I need to make a connection to. Some are get well wishes, some need thanking, a birthday wish, a letter full of regret to a daughter, mentally ill and angry. I can't say enough of the right thing to any of them. Hence, coming up short.
I am tring to read what I need to regarding "Bold Women," our Lutheran Women Today study for in the morning. We are going to the Old Market and meeting at a book store. I am looking forward to seeing these compassionate friends. I should be prepared for the discussion. I am not, yet. I don't feel very bold, either.
During our evening swim, He Who Must Be Obeyed said we should have visited another church this morning. He is right, we should have. Sluggardly of us not to do anything.
Life seems hard right now for this short person, coming up short, always too short. What happened to the old days of bouncing out of bed at 5:30 a.m. because it was such a sweet time of the day to do quiet peaceful things? I miss those days of accomplishing listfulls of things to do.
Making lists of things to do has always helped me. I did make one this morning and did put stamps and addresses on five envelopes filled with notes to some folks I need to make a connection to. Some are get well wishes, some need thanking, a birthday wish, a letter full of regret to a daughter, mentally ill and angry. I can't say enough of the right thing to any of them. Hence, coming up short.
I am tring to read what I need to regarding "Bold Women," our Lutheran Women Today study for in the morning. We are going to the Old Market and meeting at a book store. I am looking forward to seeing these compassionate friends. I should be prepared for the discussion. I am not, yet. I don't feel very bold, either.
During our evening swim, He Who Must Be Obeyed said we should have visited another church this morning. He is right, we should have. Sluggardly of us not to do anything.
Life seems hard right now for this short person, coming up short, always too short. What happened to the old days of bouncing out of bed at 5:30 a.m. because it was such a sweet time of the day to do quiet peaceful things? I miss those days of accomplishing listfulls of things to do.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Mt. Michael Abby
It feels a little like walking on Holy Ground. I know that I am a bit too impressed; after all they are only men, albiet men called to a Benedictine way of life, in the beautiful setting near Elkhorn, NE. Brother Jerome prepared our lunch, served, cleared and washed up after the seven of us.
My retired library/media friends met at Mt. Michael Abby again for lunch yesterday. I got there a little earlier than the rest and had time to check over the books and cards sold at the Guest House. Bro. Jerome teaches art at the boarding school for boys there. His watercolored greeting cards are beautiful in their stunning simplicity.
Bro. Jerome told me he would drive into Omaha, as he does every day, to see to the needs of his mother. He is in charge of the oblates, I find on the web site. This is their life:
Called by God to serve through monastic life, we devote ourselves to:
Daily worship, study and prayer
Meaningful work
Ongoing conversion of life
Caring for one another in our monastic community
Promoting peace in the world
Extending God's Love to all through our varied gifts and ministries.
I look at that and my own life pales in comparison, and feels like chopped liver.
My retired library/media friends met at Mt. Michael Abby again for lunch yesterday. I got there a little earlier than the rest and had time to check over the books and cards sold at the Guest House. Bro. Jerome teaches art at the boarding school for boys there. His watercolored greeting cards are beautiful in their stunning simplicity.
Bro. Jerome told me he would drive into Omaha, as he does every day, to see to the needs of his mother. He is in charge of the oblates, I find on the web site. This is their life:
Called by God to serve through monastic life, we devote ourselves to:
Daily worship, study and prayer
Meaningful work
Ongoing conversion of life
Caring for one another in our monastic community
Promoting peace in the world
Extending God's Love to all through our varied gifts and ministries.
I look at that and my own life pales in comparison, and feels like chopped liver.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Sisu
I have had 'sisu' held up before me forever. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the first word my parents coaxed out of me. I read once where Americans teach their babies to say nouns, naming every little object in sight; the Japanese teach thier babies the words of politeness, excuse me, please, thank you; what is with Finns, teaching tender children 'sisu?'
Sitting on my older computer tower is the word created out of negative space in white on blue, the colors of the Finnish flag. The little three dimensional plaque was made by a pastor friend of my parents. Sometimes I can make out the word and other times when looking at it, it eludes me completely. Sisu is like that. When it is absent one cannot go through the wall, with it nothing is impossible.
Prof. John Maeda of MIT Media Lab, in his Simplicity blog, starts today with the Japanese word, "Gaman. This is a Japanese word to describe the concept of enduring pain. In Japan, it is considered a certain strength to be able to withstand uncomfortable situations." The comprable Finnish word must be Sisu.
There is undoubtedly something heroic in enduring pain and attempting to do the impossible. To tell the truth, sometimes just getting the daily tasks done, and then doing just a little bit extra in order to avoid feeling like a complete slug, feels like enough. But one can never quite do 'enough.' What is there about the human soul that wants to stive to be a little more compassionate, a little happier than you feel, to reach for above average.
After watching Luther on PBS last night, I know a little about how he felt before he discovered faith and grace. Now, how can faith and grace be enough when one doesn't have to even think about 'gaman' or 'sisu' to find it. Is life actually easier than we try to make it?
Sitting on my older computer tower is the word created out of negative space in white on blue, the colors of the Finnish flag. The little three dimensional plaque was made by a pastor friend of my parents. Sometimes I can make out the word and other times when looking at it, it eludes me completely. Sisu is like that. When it is absent one cannot go through the wall, with it nothing is impossible.
Prof. John Maeda of MIT Media Lab, in his Simplicity blog, starts today with the Japanese word, "Gaman. This is a Japanese word to describe the concept of enduring pain. In Japan, it is considered a certain strength to be able to withstand uncomfortable situations." The comprable Finnish word must be Sisu.
There is undoubtedly something heroic in enduring pain and attempting to do the impossible. To tell the truth, sometimes just getting the daily tasks done, and then doing just a little bit extra in order to avoid feeling like a complete slug, feels like enough. But one can never quite do 'enough.' What is there about the human soul that wants to stive to be a little more compassionate, a little happier than you feel, to reach for above average.
After watching Luther on PBS last night, I know a little about how he felt before he discovered faith and grace. Now, how can faith and grace be enough when one doesn't have to even think about 'gaman' or 'sisu' to find it. Is life actually easier than we try to make it?
Saturday, June 04, 2005
When I hear noise like rain on the plexiglass roof of the screened porch, off the kitchen, it would be hard to tell without looking if it is rain or sun heating it. Both make similar small distinct noises. Just now it is the first sun of the day and it is noon.
The pool looks inviting and it is back up to a good warmth. We will swim soon. I have taken hand weights out to use them. It was startling to discover my lack of buoyancy in swimming with both hands full of heavy metal. I fear I would be sadly lacking in any ability of life-guarding, even if I am the better swimmer of the two of us. He Who Must Be Obeyed has a shoulder problem and his legs appear useless in water. They are good to look at though and always have been.
We were on the road from 7:30 A.M. until 7:00 P.M yesterday. It is better than it sounds as we drove east from the Black Hills to Omaha and changed time zones. Even so, it is a long time. We timed eating on the road and skipped lunch, so we could stop at Elk Point, SD, at Edgar's and drank large chocolate malts on the last leg home.
The pool cover is off, the water is probably 90 degrees again, the gas bill was $120 and as far as I am concerned worth every cent. There is no way to rationalize it so I simply enjoy it several times a day.
Being in the Black Hills was a bitter-sweet experience. Being with two of the best friends in the world was heart warming. D who we overnighted with, drove K and I over back roads, flanked with emerald green grass and ponderosa pine and quaking aspen. There was one road that out one window one could see Bear Butte and out the other were those magnificant hills. It is truly sacred land.
The pool looks inviting and it is back up to a good warmth. We will swim soon. I have taken hand weights out to use them. It was startling to discover my lack of buoyancy in swimming with both hands full of heavy metal. I fear I would be sadly lacking in any ability of life-guarding, even if I am the better swimmer of the two of us. He Who Must Be Obeyed has a shoulder problem and his legs appear useless in water. They are good to look at though and always have been.
We were on the road from 7:30 A.M. until 7:00 P.M yesterday. It is better than it sounds as we drove east from the Black Hills to Omaha and changed time zones. Even so, it is a long time. We timed eating on the road and skipped lunch, so we could stop at Elk Point, SD, at Edgar's and drank large chocolate malts on the last leg home.
The pool cover is off, the water is probably 90 degrees again, the gas bill was $120 and as far as I am concerned worth every cent. There is no way to rationalize it so I simply enjoy it several times a day.
Being in the Black Hills was a bitter-sweet experience. Being with two of the best friends in the world was heart warming. D who we overnighted with, drove K and I over back roads, flanked with emerald green grass and ponderosa pine and quaking aspen. There was one road that out one window one could see Bear Butte and out the other were those magnificant hills. It is truly sacred land.
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