Making Things

I have decided that when I never make any thing, I feel useless and stagnant. It seems as though my entire life is devoted to cleaning things that other people have made. Just think about it. A few days ago I made some whole wheat bread. I discovered that I could use a bread machine to mix up the dough and then I could roll it out flat and make a facsimile of my grandmother's Finnish flat bread. She used to bake hers on the floor of the old wood/coal stove so mine never replicates hers in either taste nor texture. It is barely o.k.

But making something, doesn't mean food. I mean objects out of cloth or wood, even paper would count. I have always wanted to make stepping stones from concrete, never have. Or carve a rock. I am not much good with tools as I have so little hand strength. So my life is lived away by cleaning the things that other people make.

I am certain that I broke a bone in my hand a couple of days ago; I was cleaning as usual. As I was pushing a couch off of a rug I heard a sharp snap in my right hand and ever since have experienced some swelling, discoloration, and pain. It hasn't affected the use of my fingers for which I am thankful. If I get careless, I am reminded that everything isn't quite right in my hand.

It is probably a miracle that we don't break bones in our hands more often, considering how much we do with them. Obviously I am not going to be making anything of consequence anytime soon.

Cave Hills Lutheran Church

A cousin's friend sent this photo the other day. They had spent some time in the Cave Hills and shared some photos of this hallowed ground.

The organist who played the little pump organ just celebrated her 95th birthday at the senior center. Tyyne's family is now planning the party for her 100th.

The church was officially closed a few years ago. The last service I attended there was a memorial service for my mother officiated by a cousin who she was so proud of.

In the cemetery to the left of the church lies four of my grandparents, my dad, my brothers, aunts, uncles, a cousin, and most all of the Finnish speaking neighbors of a time gone by. Tyyne's parents donated the land, the neighbors collected the money and helped build the church. Her father, killed in a tragic accident during those homestead days, was the first person buried on the land he gave, and with the help of loving neighbors, her mother raised five little babies alone and farmed the land.

The two Bryces and I sat on the church steps one balmy autumn evening and watched the stars take a whirl for a couple of hours and enjoyed a couple of shooting stars.

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might
Get the wish I wish tonight.

Mercy Me, A Maytag

To quote a grandson: "YES i am actually washing clothes in it. it works Great, about 6 min with the suds, 6 min rinse, and then run it through the rollers. funny how something made 78 years ago is faster than today's units. the only downside is no TV time between loads it requires your full attention. "

Another Undecided Voter Decides

My son, the writer of "Abandon the GOP" to the right of this has finally written again. He keeps his dad, Who Must Be Obeyed, on edge with his politics. I had to hold my own breath reading his last post.

Another Friday

This week has been enjoyable. The Harvest Moon has been noticed and enjoyed as we swim again. I wonder if our perfect days are simply a short reprieve before fall lowers the temperatures permanently and we celebrate the autumnal equinox in a couple of days. I saw the first of the falling maple leaves on the driveway this morning. If I look closely across the city, I see a few yellow leaves.

I am learning to use a new computer on which I can access the Internet through a wireless connection. To tell the truth it made me happy to be able to configure that myself. I did have to go out for a mouse, as my clumsy arthritic fingers were like using clothes pins on the device under the keyboard. It used to be called a roller ball but now it is an unmanageable little flat disc. This machine is fast. Do people still call their computers a machine?

If I was on the other computer, I would show you what a grandson is washing clothes with. He has a 1930's washing machine that he bought for the motor...and his automatic washer shorted out. I recieved a few photos from him and it looks like something my mother and I used in the '40's. I was too small in the 30's to be of any help and would have probably run my short little arms into the wringer. He said there was no time to watch television between the washing, wringing, rinsing, wringing and whatever he does to dry them. There wasn't much time for anything in those olden days but trying to keep children alive and fed.

Like father like son. His dad, our son, was inventing welders in the third grade by finding an old cut off power cord, plugging it in and then putting the two bare wires together. It was a welder all right! I just about had a coronary when I discovered him. A mother could easily kill a boy's curiosity trying to raise them to adulthood, or even getting them to the sixth grade. I must not have yelled too loudly, for his curiosity never diminished and he can make or fix just about anything made of mineral. He is pretty good with animals and vegetables also. He has people under his spell as well.

Roald Dahl Day in Cardiff

In May of 1996 my high school friend, Carol, and I accompanied a choir tour group of college people to the United Kingdom. One of our stops was Cardiff, Wales. She and I hiked over to the Norwegian Sailor's Church founded in 1868 to serve the thousands of Norwegian sailors that were employed in the Norwegian merchant fleet.

It was a place for sailors, where they could read newspapers and magazines from home, where they could relax and chat with friends. The church's exterior was corrugated steel and had been constructed in Norway, dismantled, shipped to Cardiff and reassembled there.

Without maintenance the building fell into dis-repair and was vandalized. In 1987 the Church was carefully dismantled by the Norwegian Church Preservation Trust and re-opened in 1992.

Today, on the 13th of September, 1916, Roald Dahl was born of Norwegian parents in Cardiff. His family worshipped at the Norwegian Church and he and his sisters were christened here. To honor him a party is held for children within the church every September.

From the Writer's Almanac today. " He was sent off to private boarding schools as a kid, which he hated except for the chocolates, Cadbury chocolates. The Cadbury chocolate company had chosen his school as a focus group for new candies they were developing. Every so often, a plain gray cardboard box was issued to each child, filled with 11 chocolate bars. It was the children's task to rate the candy, and Dahl took his job very seriously. About one of the sample candy bars, he wrote, "Too subtle for the common palate." He later said that the experience got him thinking about candy as something manufactured in a factory, and he spent a lot of time imagining what a candy factory might be like. Today, he's best known for his children's book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

Roald Dahl also wrote James and the Giant Peach. In the olden days when I worked as an elementary librarian, I read it to a group of third graders during a few minutes of their library time. Yes, I had heard that a person should never read a book to children cold. A section of it struck me so funny I got the giggles and just about fell off of my tiny little chair. Soon the children started to laugh and would have fallen off their tiny little chairs had they had them.

Canning Grape Jelly

I woke up to noise and chaos. It was the kind of chaos that happens when a person is about to embark on a project. During this project I am the helping hand, never in charge of anything but stirring and clean-up. Everything was ready, the sterilizing, the measuring, the utensils laid out as if for surgery, the beautiful purple mixtures in two tall heavy bottomed kettles ready for boiling.

As I stirred the boiling mixtures, I wondered if my grandmother had good help. It would never have come from my sheep ranching grandpa, but as long as they were on the homestead she had sisters and children. The last beloved child was in his teens, and would have been great help, when they sold and moved to town only a couple of years before my grandpa died of TB. Her jelly was wild plum and buffalo berry, the reluctant to jell chokecherry was made into syrup.

Helping is good as stirring stirs up such good memories of smells better than back yard concord grapes. A mouse click on the picture might surprise you.

Two Weeks of Late Night TV

My goodness gracious. We were mesmerized and entertained by the extravaganza in Denver with the democrats a couple of weeks ago and this week we lost sleep with folks in St. Paul, Minnesota. About the time I thought that nothing could ever beat the theatrics at the Bronco Stadium, the Grecian columns from some theater supply house, the fireworks and the promises; then came that dynamo from Wasilla, Alaska who woke up the republicans, young and old. Maybe woke up or shook up more than the conservatives. We will see.

I didn't have anyone to "talk" to about it. "I am listening" was my standard answer even during the commercials; which were almost non-existent on PBS and C-Span. Even I, who usually dismiss such speech making as repetitive and not terribly interesting, was quite moved by a lot of it. I have a couple of cousins that would have been great fun to visit with these past days.

Did you too, enjoy the humor, the sincerity, the promises, the contrasting of personalities and life experiences, all the children with their imperfections, the flummoxed journalists who were vilified by the VP candidate who was one herself by college degree. What was not to like and enjoy? Even the late night hosts had some funny new material. No all the snow is not in Alaska...a lot of it was in the audience in St. Paul.

Wasn't it fun. I am glad it is over though, now we can get some sleep before midnight again.