Hawaiian Wedding

The fourth of our six granddaughters married her best friend in Hawaii late this summer. They are a beautiful couple.

It was thrilling to see the photos this afternoon.

We also have six grandsons. None married as of yet; four of them are in college.

Supercell over Cave Hills

I continue to be amazed by the Internet. Browsing around Google Earth Images I found this Supercell photo by Chris Siewert. One can type in a location and if there are photos that someone has uploaded, there you are...I was transported home once more. I was amazed by the cloud over my grandparent's homestead, 14 KM from Redig, SD, it says. I would recognize that horizon even if I only saw a small segment of it. Many thanks to Chris Siewert for the sight.

A Marcus Borg Story

Marcus Borg spoke in Omaha this past spring. A friend loaned me a CD she purchased at the Christ Community Church where he conducted a workshop. Of course I know he is controversial. His sermon was "Being Christian in a Time of Christian Change." The following is a story he tells:

"One of my favorite stories concerns a young married couple who had a three year old daughter and the mom was about to give birth to the second child. The little three year old girl was really excited about having a new baby brother or sister, and when the new baby got home, the three-year old girl was absolutely insistent that she be permitted to be in the baby's room with the baby alone with the door shut. The parents were a little bit nervous about this, and then they remembered that they had an intercom system. So they let the little girl go into the room; the door was shut; they ran to the intercom, and then they heard the little girl say to the baby, "Tell me about God. I've almost forgotten." I think it's a haunting story because it suggests not only that we come from God, but that we have a memory of that. And that the process of growing up, being socialized, learning language, all of that, is to a large extent, a process of forgetting."

2 Timothy 3:1-9 Godlessness You must understand this, that in the last days distressing times will come. For people will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, inhuman, implacable, slanderers, profligates, brutes, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, holding to the outward form of godliness but denying its power. Avoid them! For among them are those who make their way into households and captivate silly women, overwhelmed by their sins and swayed by all kinds of desires, who are always being instructed and can never arrive at a knowledge of the truth. As Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so these people, of corrupt mind and counterfeit faith, also oppose the truth. But they will not make much progress, because, as in the case of those two men, their folly will become plain to everyone.

National Geographic Magazine provides desktop wallpaper. There are truly beautiful photos to choose from. It appears that I will have to resort to other people's autumn photos for my fall colors. I am still hoping the back yard pear tree will develop its usual display.

Today was one of those bright but crisp sunny calm days that calls for a person to be outside even if they have to invent a purpose...other than reading in the hammock with a blanket. I moved some rocks, sacked up some tomatoes and flowers that will surely freeze in a few days, and and rolled up a couple of hoses. Working in my back yard is one of life's pleasures. This afternoon was especially good.

By the time He Who Must Be Obeyed came home from a day of cleaning carpets I was ready to share the left over meatloaf, acorn squash, and baked potatoes from last night with him. Should a 74 year old man be cleaning carpets? Now he thinks he should do a couple of our own rooms. I don't think so. But he is filling up Rug Doctor as I speak so what can I say.

Ordination

An Ordination is an amazing event. Our Vicar Jan is now a Pastor and we are a joy filled congregation. Our Nebraska Bishop delivered the sermon and conducted the ceremony. He is a man with a soft, warm, compassionate voice; he lives in grace and grace is what he bestows in the name of Jesus the Christ.

He Who Must Be Obeyed and I picked up a friend, who joined Holy Cross the same summer we became members. Events are made all the more memorable when they are shared. The church was filled with joy and joyful people. We missed the ordination of a great niece and are saddened for not being there.

My thoughts went to ordinations past and ones to come. At this moment we have a dear friend in my email folders as "Sara from Senegal." She spent a couple of years there in the Peace Corps and is now at Pacific Lutheran Seminary. She already pastors me by email.

A beloved cousin, Pastor HMS was ordained in my home town. My mother purchased his first stole. He wore it delivering her memorial service in the Cave Hills Lutheran Church. I thought of him, and her last night from my vigil seat at the ordination service.

One of my dear, dear friend's son's is a Catholic Priest. His ordination was unforgettable, drawing tears of holy wonder and thanksgiving. He studied at the Vatican and the Cardinal Red was an impressive sight as he took his vows during his ordination in Omaha.

Our red ecclesiastical paraments are only used at Pentecost and Reformation Sunday; and they were used last night. The attending pastor's stoles were red over their white albs. It was beautiful. Red for this Nebraska transplant does not remind me of football. It reminds me of my most holy spiritual beginnings.

Long Shadows

The late October sun casts long shadows in the back yard. The breeze is holding its breath and the trees reflected in the water are prettier than the real deal. When, I wonder, will the pear leaves turn their enchanting red, burgundy and gold?

Frogs on Watch

If you have watched CSPAN II and weekends of Book TV, you know that it leans to the left during normal viewing hours. This morning at 7 A.M. Central time, I watched an hour with three panelists that recommended books for college students to read. Probably to give them some perspective in light of what they are experiencing in their college classrooms today.

The event was hosted by the Young America's Foundation. The publishing houses of Regnery, Encounter Books, and the author, Wynton Hall, who wrote "The Right Words: Great Republican Speeches That Shaped History" made up the panel. All concerned conservatives apparently.

Nothing pleases me more than hearing words that confirm my own ideas, habits, ways of living. To be told to make margin notes in books, keeping about five books going at one time is a perfectly fine, and if a book you start isn't interesting, quit reading it; advice a bit horrifying to an old librarian. Thus, how happy I am to be given permission to do what I have been doing for years.

The list of books they recommended for college students to read is good advice for me. When asked by a student, "what should I start with?" this is what was suggested:

"The Conscience of a Conservative" by Barry Goldwater
I found a strange thing as I looked this up on the web. Amazon's price was $250.00 to $8.94. The customer reviews at Amazon are interesting. There are at least three free hits on the web that give it in its entirety. I include only one from Heritage.

"Witness" by Whittaker Chambers. Again the reviews of readers at this Amazon site are interesting. Having a great-grandmother that voiced her strong opinion in Butte, Montana, might be reason enough for me to read it. It takes the reader from 1920's to the 1950's.

"A Conflict of Visions: Ideological Origins of Political Struggles" by Thomas Sowell. Quoting one reviewer in part, "It is unfortunate that Dr. Sowell's reputation as a conservative will probably keep many people who consider themselves liberals from reading this book. They would profit by understanding the perspective of those people with whom they are in an eternal debate... They (conservatives) might be quite surprised to find that Dr. Sowell is very non-judgmental in this book and does not side with either vision."

"What is So Great About Christianity" Dinesh D'Souza. Once again quoting one of the Amazon reviewers: "He accomplishes what the purpose of the book is meant to do, show the sheer folly of the over-the-Top rhetoric of Harris, Dawkins, and Hitchens." The link to D'Souza is from LexisNexis News.

Prophetic Radio

Yesterday as I got ready to spend some time with seven former co-workers, I curled and halfheartedly listened to a program on elders and falling on National Public Radio. We fall because we and our homes are old, we fall because of our poor vision, our poor balance, and the hazards of our housekeeping.

Our hostess had a newly remodeled kitchen and we gathered to laugh around the table. I wasn't laughing a whole lot, as just prior to sitting down for lunch, I misjudged a step and fell. Falling at my age is startling to say the least, and it seemed to be as equally amazing to the observers.

Being on the floor is a familiar place for me. Cleaning can do that to you, as can just about everything about life. Sometimes I get down just to practice getting up again. So yesterday, I had an impromptu opportunity to practice getting up once again.

Just a note of personal observation, we old folks seem to be falling for a lot of reasons, we fall for scammers, we fall for pleas for cash, we fall for telemarketers, we fall for the lies we are told, we fall for things we would never have fallen for a couple of decades ago. Maybe a fall or two will sharpen up my brains a little; as well as my ability to get up and take another try at life.

Husker Maniacs

We went for haircuts Saturday afternoon in the middle of the third quarter of the football game in Lincoln. As I settled into the chair, I asked my beautician how she was. "I am depressed, very sad and kind of angry," she said. I didn't make the connection to the game until too late. I should have gotten up and said I would come back another day...but then He Who Must Be Obeyed was in the next chair telling his person not to mess up his comb over.

"I just want the edges trimmed," I told V. She probably didn't hear me nor did she care. Transparency is the hazard we older INFP's deal with. I haven't learned how to navigate those waters yet and I spend more time than I like with the results of it.

She handed me back my glasses as she whisked the last of the clippings down my shirt; in her depression, she not only trimmed the edges, she nearly scalped me. I am not even a football fan, geeky me, in this society of depressed Nebraskans who are bemoaning the team, the coaches and the administrators who profiteer from all of it.

It will take me six weeks to get over this last game. V. will never see my white head again. I have had very bad luck with hair cutters. The last one scammed me out of several hundred dollars, the last time I saw her was as she left my living room with a check for $250 for her latest emergency. She was going to pay me back the next day.

I am a darned fool and maybe I will let my hair grow and wear it in nice bun like my own Mummu did.

Mindful of Sweet White Sheets

"Economists are now studying attention – and the religious are studying mindfulness. Mindfulness keeps us focused and attentive to an object, event or series of thoughts of our own choosing. The work of mindfulness requires calibration because the demands upon our attention are numerous." Father Gawain

Mindfulness gets me nowhere on a web search. Only one hit in a search in the ELCA site, that being hidden away in a list of New Theological Directions. "Jesus' emphasis on eschatology is minimal, hence his devotion to the godly life now; Paul's mindfulness of the end of all time is greater. Jesus' teachings on church-as-institution are minimal; Paul's are necessarily greater."

Last night we made our bed with the bedding right off of the clothes lines. The smell of line dried sheets is right up there with the smell of my mother's homemade bread. I have helped her take frozen sheets from the clothes line, as hard as boards, and hung them on a temporary line in the living room to finish drying. That aroma penetrated the whole house.

We were mindful of our blessings as we settled down for rest after a day's labor. The bright whiteness of the bedding, the wonderful ozone aroma, and the luxury of our new mattress and box spring were about the best that this world has to offer.

How to Make a Grapevine Wreath

Today I had to recover the two, nearly three lines of the clothesline. I didn't know what I was getting into when I coaxed the grapes there by pinning the little tender shoots to the wire with a clothes pin. Stuff that one day seems like a good idea can turn on a person.

Today undoing the mess took a lot of pulling and cutting with both my small trimmer and the longer handled one. Once more I can hang all my sheets, devot, and pillow cases on the lines at one time; they are finally wiped clean of grape and city grime.

After cutting all the leaves off, I pushed all of the longer vines into the swimming pool to soften up a little. Then He Who Must Be Obeyed wound them up like he used to wind up barbed wire. It is 'over the top and to one side and then over the top and to the other side. All ends get tucked in and up and over.' I will show you the process and the finished work.

The Hardest Knot

Before we moved away from our three summers/two winters life in Nemo, South Dakota, Frank Troxell tied this knot and gave it to us. It has hung on our back porch wall for almost 40 years. Frank Troxell was a story teller and as he rented a former Homestake house to us, he would come over often to check the house, drink coffee and tell me wonderful stories. I had a blatant love for him. He must have been in his late 70's or even 80's then. I a very lonely little mother with a brood of five in this community of less than 45 colorful folks.

When I Googled Frank's name, I got three hits, each one with fond memories of that little historic community. He had purchased the entire town in 1946, had rebuilt it in to a working Guest Ranch, complete with cattle, horses, a small general store and post office. I worked in the cafe during hunting seasons and helped with the cabins in the summers. This link will take you to a short history of Nemo.

After Homestake moved its milling operation to Spearfish in 1940, Nemo was virtually a ghost town until a Martin cattle rancher brought new life to the dying town.

Frank Troxell bought the town in 1946 and his dream of Black Hills dude ranch became a reality. Naming the resort for their 4 T brand, the Troxells set to work restoring the aging timber camp buildings. Homestake's office building became a western-themed restaurant; vacant homes and the old meat market were remodeled into lodges and cabins; the old Hotel Annex became home to Troxell family members.

Hollywood discovered Nemo in the 1950s. Western film makers shot location scenes at the 4 T, utilizing as authentic props the antique stage coach and chuck wagon still on display at the site. From Deadwood Magazine.

Life there was like living in a movie set, with old time barn dances down the road, ropes for the children to pull, tolling the beginning of school classes and church service.

Younger and Wiser

Wise souls are the ones we seek out when out life spirals out of control. I find them everywhere; usually in the most unexpected places. Sometimes by chance, sometimes by a little searching, sometimes face to face; more often by reading. Where would we readers be if we could no longer pick up a book or web hop?

The anger welled up in my throat again this morning. I found a piece of good advice from SIMPLICITY, the link to the right of this. Good advice is good. Thank you J.M.

This is the last paragraph from his THE WORST THING ABOUT THINKING THE WORST IN OTHERS: "The best route is to avoid situations of thinking ill of others by enacting exemplar behaviors yourself. You are likely to be in a better position as you are in a better mood and more resilient to adopting negative behavior -- thus affecting your surrounds with the positive energy necessary to do amazing things in this world."

And this is what I grew up with: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." I am so thankful for parents that set this before me, not that I can live up to it. Perhaps the striving for it is the hope one needs.

Crazy Horse

According to the Black Hills News Bureau "South Dakota's 18th annual Native American Day celebration yesterday at Crazy Horse Memorial featured a traveling high-tech classroom and opportunities to experience Native culture." The SD Legislature established the holiday in 1989.

He Who Must Be Obeyed knew Korczak Ziolkowski, as he loaded dynamite into his pick up for him; the dynamite in the back, the blasting caps and primeacord, to set it off, in the glove box in the cab.

During his School Of Mines and Technology days, he worked at a variety of jobs, as he was one of the students 'working their way through college.' One of his jobs was for a specialty building supply company. J.S. Kibben, the owner, was blind, and HWMBO was at times Mr. Kibben's right hand, so to speak. One of his tasks was to off load dynamite from semi tractor-trailer trucks into the dynamite magazine at a quarry, north of town. When colorful Ziolkowski came to Rapid City with a fist full of five dollar bills for dynamite to blast rock off his mountain, it was HWMBO who loaded his pickup.

"Sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski started carving Crazy Horse Memorial in 1948. His wife, Ruth, and seven members of their family have continued the work since his death in 1982. His tomb is near the foot of the mountain carving.

Potlatch

Today I celebrate a sort of potlatch alone. Once one of my fellow library science students did a "Pathfinder" on the potlatch. That semester in 1974, each of us created four or five of them; this is how it went: We had to find every single reference to the subject that we chose and our paper was not the information we found, it was the bibliographic sources we found in the University library.

Potlatch is a Canadian word from Nootka. According to one definition it is the "ultimate manifestation of the principle that it is more blessed to give than to receive...Potlatches were part of the way of life of many of the Indians of the northern Pacific coast of North America. Traditional gifts included weapons, slaves, furs, and blankets. Some reports say that a particularly ostentatious host might burn the blankets that guests weren't able to take. The Canadian government banned potlatches in 1884, but they continued anyhow, becoming fully legal again in 1951.

So today I am in a give-away mode. I will never know the recipients; I will know however, that someone will stay a little warmer this winter because of my clean out and my give away. However, I will not burn down the place because I didn't give it all away. That will be the great and final potlatch, and we will know it is over "when the fat lady sings."