FinnFest

The week in Astoria was the best. Seven days with my aunt's family in that mossy northwest was nirvana, the ideal condition of rest, harmony, stability, and joy. Six women spending three days together without men around created the type of bonding that might happen to nuns on a holiday. When the men started joining the group the dynamics immediately changed. They cooked and we ate.

FinnFest 2006 reinforced the love of my heritage. I loved the familiar food, the humor, the varied music, and being able to listen to published papers on the culture. A cousin and I got carried away with yoiking and she yoiked a beautiful blessing for our Cave Hills dinner in Astoria on Saturday. Mother and I were yoiked in Finland although we didn't know what to call it then. We were mesmerized by it and knew it was other-worldly. The dinner yoik was equally enchanting.

For Craig

This is just for Craig. I found it on the South Dakota Magazine link and they linked it from The Black Table. There is a nice photo of the bird there. It isn't me talking about the boyfriend so those of you that are my relatives can calm down. I suppose you are wondering about this Craig guy. He is a Civil Engineer I chatted up on a flight from Portland to Salt Lake City, who wants to hunt pheasants.

#1. The State Bird = Good Huntin'.
We have the ring-necked pheasant, an import from China. And we like to blow the crap out of it. About 150,000 hunters annually shoot up about 1.3 million pheasant. Wow, that's nearly double our human population!
My dad, rightly, likes to point out that hunting brings loads of tourist dollars to the state, but all those guns can be a bit disconcerting. My boyfriend recently took his first trip to Sodak, as we sometimes call it. A New York native, he found the clutches of hunters with rifles blasting away just feet from the highways more than a little nerve-wracking. He also was a bit wary of the fellows waving around guns in both hands at the local Wal-Mart as they showed off their wares. And darned if they didn't have a better ammo selection than they did paper towels. Michael Moore would not be pleased.

Something New

"Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new. "

The above was written in regard to Paul in Acts 17. "Some said, "What does this babbler want to say?" It goes on in restaurants all over Omaha by tables full of ladies who lunch. Once a month I am one of them, getting together with five to six of the women who worked together in the Media office at Westside High School between the 70's until today. We are all anxious to hear something new, the latest literature, movie, school or family scuttlebutt.

It happens in homes and on cable news channels and the network nightly news programs. We all tune in to see what the babbler has to say. Some think it could change over time as more and more people check out the blogging babblers.

Recovery Agent

This morning a man with the words "Recovery Agent" on his shirt knocked on our door. He was looking for one of our two new neighbors next door. I sort of wish I hadn't Googled 'recovery agent,' as the hits were not exactly what a middle class, quiet, old neighbor lady expects. Jeepers, even the Interpol was mentioned in one of the links, as well as bounty hunters.

He Who Must Be Obeyed, my own bounty hunter, got $20 in 1955 for a couple of coyote ears. The rest of the coyote rotted in the car trunk, rendering the car useless and had to be gotten rid of. Today's bounty hunters might be after coyotes of a different sort, those who carry other folks in the trunks of their cars. I believe they make more than $20 for a find.

Perhaps this Recovery Agent was after absconded bail bond money. I do love a mystery but prefer them in books and not in the house next door.

Doing What You Shouldn't

Happiness happens. This past week a former student of mine wrote a note in response to mine. I googled myself, which is embarrassing, but was a good thing actually. I found a hit on a former student's site. A note sent was a note reciprocated. God's Blessings Mark!

I prepare for seven overnight house guests. Beloved family members warm these old parent's hearts. I try to pack for the FinnFest in Astoria. I clean house and yard. I hem shirts and pants. We went to Saturday Services in 100 degree heat last night.

Doing what you shouldn't is fooling around on the computer right now. Fooling around is what I do best.

A Psalm of Gratitude

1. I sing a song of thanksgiving to the Lord. What have I done to deserve all this abundant goodness?

2. The Lord God created for me a beautiful prairie homeland in which I grew to womanhood. The buttes and pastures delighted my eye. The Meadowlark lifts my heart with the memory of its trill. The smell of summer showers linger in my nostrils forever. I praise the Lord my God for my homeland.

3. The Lord God created for me a majestic land in which to raise my children. The sacred Paha Sapa sheltered us from every storm. The trout streams filled my children with glee. The tender horses in pastures were wonderful to behold. Bluebirds made nests and raised young by my door. Our souls were nurtured and we sang praises to the Lord our God.

4. The Lord God created for me a great city in which to work. Work was plentiful and held rewards unimagineable. The streets were paved for my ease in travel and the Lord brought me safely home each night. For the pleasure of work I shout praises to the Lord.

5. The Lord God created rest and peace for my old age. He fills my life with contentment and joy. He places me in the arms of loving friends and shines his light on me through their eyes. I praise the Lord God for each of them.

6. For a good life with a good husband, I sing and shout praise to the Lord my God. The house of the Lord will be filled with my song and joy forever. Amen.

No Control Snarky

When I can't really do anything about anything, I start getting snarky. I just downed a glass of blackberry merlot and let stuff happen today.

This afternoon He Who Must Be Obeyed crashed for a couple of hours, the guests went to Nebraska Furniture Mart, and I mowed my yard, front and back and hit the pool to discover the darned thing needed vacuuming. Believe me vacuuming a pool is easier than mowing. The water was 92 degrees and I couldn't tell which was hotter, the water or the air. It felt darned good anyway.

Watching the Swimmers

A grandson took this photo last week. The pool was full of swimmers watching them with equal amazement. The parliment has flown the coop, so to speak.

He Who Must Be Obeyed made a two day trip to Rapid City. He left Omaha on Friday, visited G. and S. in a campground, bought rock lamps in Keystone, payed his respects to the Sacrison dinosaurs at the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, Inc, spent the night in the Last Chance Motel in Hill City, completed his tasks in Rapid City and was home Saturday night before dark.

I have nightmares about stopping at the Interstate Rest Stops and as I go in to clean them, HWMBO dissappears, leaving the car where it was parked. Having dreams about cleaning isn't as alarming as losing my antagonist. I use that word carefully. He thinks he is the protagonist, but he is wrong, I am.

Good Morning!

I don't know if these guys are going to bed or trying to wake up. They sat through eight flashes and then like phantoms were gone. Silently and in unison they lifted off and settled in the next tree.

Owls, Owls, Owls

I should have put one more 'Owls' in my title. As He Who Must Be Obeyed and I were having our evening swim, we detected some soft fluttering in a pine tree near the pool. There in the branches were four small owls just spreading their wings for the first time. This is the first time we have noticed them, anyway.

They seemed to have no fear of us and I walked right under them before I came into the house. One opened its eyes and blinked at me a couple of times before it nodded off again.

Owls! How fun! I hope their mama gets the moles that are burrowing around under the pear tree. We have our own little ecosystem right out the back door.

Transylvania: farmers used to scare away Owls by walking round their fields naked. We are not going to be scaring the owls away soon.

Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary

A couple of weeks ago He Who Must Be Obeyed took me along with him on a trip to the Black Hills. On our way home we caved in to the tourist 'thing' and went for a two hour tour of the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary. It was truly horse heaven.

This lonely mare is rejected by the stallion and his herd of mares in the background. Every time she comes a little too close to them, he runs her off. Even then she doggedly continues to follow them, grazing on the periphery.
Here are a group of newcomers to the ranch, some Spanish Mustang decendants and their foals. Their coloring is unique and they have a black mane and tail connected by a stripe down their backs.

This was a wonderful time of the year; nearly every mare had a very young foal.

FinnFest 2006

I read that procrastination is a good thing on Maeda's Blog Simplicity. It can make for more stress than a person can endure, sometimes. When one completes one of those lines on the TO DO list, the relief creates enough endorpines to make it worth the waiting.

I registered for FinnFest2006 yesterday. The plane tickets are purchased, the lists of events for four days is stapled together, and I am set to go. It is during the last week in July. As I look over the Cultural Programming
Series, I wonder how I can possibly take it all in. Every topic interests me.

"Finns, Saamis, and Laestadians: Delving into our Past." Those Laestadians have a way of edging into our history one way or another. My mother visited the Saamis (Lapps) in Finnish, near lake Inari, while I eyed the raindeer ambling down the street too near for comfort, about arm's length it seemed.

Even Chihuly, who put blown glass orbs in a Finnish river with Finnish glass blowers has a spot with the films.

Not only will the Helsinki Police Choir sing but I see they will also have a panel discussion comparing Police Work in Finland and the USA. After nearly a lifetime of hearing about it, I will hear the kantele played.

There wil be all of this and added to it will be the opportunity to spend a week with my only remaining aunt,my mother's youngest sister and her family.

New Socks and Old Friends

New socks are not always predictable. I am a little too sock fussy; no seams, not too thick, plain with no foo-foo. He Who Must Be Obeyed surprised me with a whole bunch of new socks in black, white and navy blue. They are perfect. I am amazed, as he is not much for either surprises or presents. I was pleased with the socks and his thoughtfulness.

When I was a young(ish) woman and I used the term 'old friends' it meant friends my own age that I have had since I was a school kid. Now that term has taken on several meanings. It might be new acquaintances my own age, and they might be old acquaintences the same age as I am, or it could be people I know older than myself by ten years. You just can't tell exactly what an old friend is anymore.

This past weekend we went to Wichita to a graduation party for two grandchildren. The party was perfection. The outdoor graduation was comfortable, the gift opening and card reading was touching. We have a nurse who will work in Pediatric Intensive Care. That is serious nursing duty. The high school grad is like the rest of us trying to sort life out. For some of us it takes longer than for those who know right off what life is all about and how they fit into the big picture.

I am still church conflicted, pain challenged, and startled that I have been wrong more than right all along. I can't figure it all out but I have discovered what I thought was right, wasn't. It felt better thinking I was right though, than knowing that I wasn't.

Another truth came to me on our drive to Wichita. We have to stop and walk around after a few hours on the road and we pulled off the highway about a block and walked through a "flea market" in a small Kansas town. I have nothing to complain about. I should be thankful for lumpy socks. This handfull of folks with their caged animals and small assorted nic-naks on tables were so poor, that my heart went out to them. Both of us felt bad that we didn't peel off a few bills for each of them and tell them to keep their bunnies, chickens, doves, kittens, and guinea pigs.

I don't know why it is that in the middle of a friendly conversatin about how to raise doves, one feels awkward about giving poor people money. It somehow seemed rude to offer money without taking the little critter being sold. Even poor people have lots of pride. They are friendly to a fault.

I could have sat in the dirt with any of them and made a friend. It was obvious that a little dirt did not put any of them off. You have to carry a dove around a long time to tame it. You only put it down if you have to go out of the house "for one thing or the other." No mention of going out to school or work, however. I can get judgemental a bit too quickly.

Perhaps the need for friendship is as immediate as the need for money. I just hate it when I think about the money I didn't hand out. We could have turned the animals loose maybe. One sweet woman in her thirties or forties handed me a little kitten, so sick it was almost limp. It is free she said. I bet there was a lot of undiagnosed illness among that little group near the 4H barns with their cages and tables. There was also a lot of friendship between the cages of crowing roosters and pregnant bunnies.

Bedtime Stories

I don't really have trouble sleeping at night and during the past two months find myself falling asleep during the day. I don't know what to make of that.

AA battery businesses depend on people like me who keep their ancient Sony Walkman powered up in the middle of the night...I don't bother my room mate with the head set; but you are correct in thinking he finds it isolating. It is. But it makes for diverse (mis)information and great bedtime stories, classical music as well, and even a local NBC affiliate TV station with those infernal advertisments. I find the Catholics more to my liking than the other choice. Some nights it is all annoying.

Last night it was an old rerun of John Lear on "Coast to Coast."

"Publicized space missions such as the Shuttle are actually a cover-up for what is really going on, added Lear. Also kept from the public, is the fact that there is life similar to ours on most of the planets in our solar system, he declared. For instance, Mars has a population of 660 million (mostly underground) and Venus is actually "green and beautiful." Further, the sky is blue on both Mars and our Moon, Lear said."

When I was a kid I enjoyed the likes of Hansel and Gretel, a fairy tale, no matter how fantastic, is simply to entertain and be enjoyed. Even the gory stuff and there was plenty of that in Hans Christian Anderson. John Lear had a theory about missing people, God, our souls, and animal mutilation. It was on par with pitching a witch into the oven.

A person has to be a lunatic to even listen to that stuff; or else you love a good bedtime story.

To Know Thyself

"Know Thyself." This famous Greek maxim is attributed to any number of ancient Greek philosophers, including the great Socrates.

The quest for the meaning of life is foremost in one's mind, if one cares a snap for it; the second and more valuable is, "Search others for their virtues, thyself for thy vices." -- Benjamin Franklin. That is almost too exhausting for words.

Self examination is painful and incomplete. Forty days of Lent are too short for it. Embarrassing oneself helps a little bit for a short time, as does humiliation which lasts longer. Being told outright how pathetic you are keeps a person humble, but unfortunately that old shield of defense always seems to be right there. Too bad it can't be dropped as easily as it can be picked up.

Old Benjamin had it right. I don't think he wrote a self help book to go with his pointed little maxim. All I recall from his autobiography, which seems to be a self-help book for life, is not to sleep your life away.

It isn't easy to listen to criticism and think about your critic's virtues.

Why Write?

I have been asked not to write. Told I muddied the water of understanding.

Why then would one continue to do so to the consternation of people that matter?

Why indeed? It was in the Henri Nouwen Daily Meditation for today that says it precisely. When I was asked, could I say it? No...but this is why:

Writing to Save the Day

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.

The Savages

My own history/geography books in school had references to the SAVAGES. They scared the bejeebers out of me and I hoped I would never meet one. Like Pogo says, "We have met the enemy and he is us." Now I meet them every day and they are indeed us.

He Who Must Be Obeyed was home Sunday in time for lunch. Monday he packed again and was gone this morning early. I am certain that I am experiencing a prodigious amount of neurosis. I had one whopping headache the whole while he was home. How crazy is that, anyway? Maybe I got a little too comfortable being in charge. I think I have some control issues. I am not a headachy person. While talking to him on the phone, he mentioned that perhaps he gives me a headache. I told him we better hang up before I gave him one.

Where did he go? To the Black Hills to make life easier for our daughter; he bought her a dishwasher and will do her bidding. "Bless his heart. He is a good soul," my friend says. He is that.

Intricate Lace

There is more to life than "Book TV" on CSPAN II. It is, however, a nice distraction from the news, while being news of a sort. Old news though is sometimes like yesterday's newspapers. Early Saturday morning a former governor of Oklahoma, Frank Keating, was reading his book, "Theodore" (Roosevelt) to a group of children in Politics and Prose Bookstore in Washington D.C. I was captivated. I had an interesting conversation last night about that book store with a good friend. Her brother took an active part in the book review group that met there. There it is again; life looping around, weaving an intricate lace through experiences.

I see that Megatrends 2010 is going to be discussed this morning. I am probably wrong about yesterday's newspapers.

He Who Must Be Obeyed is dropping in for a vist on his way to the Black Hills. He reminds me of "The Accidental Tourist." He is something of an accidental visitor, perhaps. Unfortunately, I am no leading lady...or does it just seem that way? That leading lady went on to be president. I am not all that confident about the facts in Wikipedia, if she does have an IQ of 140 she has nothing over on HWMBO.

Tenth Day

He Who Must Be Obeyed is still on a mission. "Doing God's Work" he calls it. Apparently he is good at it and can scrub, paint, plumb, and shop for whatever is needed. Cars are being repaired, rooms are painted, carpets cleaned, beds and bedding have been purchased and made up. Kitchen walls and cabinets have been scrubbed and furnished with needed cooking equipment. Vehicles have been repaired. Meetings with Social Services and mental evaluators have been attended. There is more to be accomplished.

HWMBO is a doer. Not much of a talker, though. The phone calls have been short and terse with his exhaustion. His recipient's have been cheerful, helpful and appreciative.

Cultural Hatred

Do you ever really think about hatred? I had an 84 minute phone call from a son Friday night saying he read a lot of 'hate between the lines of my email' to the family. I was floored and very, very disturbed about the accusation. Apparently that is how I come across in my email.

As I think about hatred in our society I think that word is flung about as loosely as is the word "love." I looked up "hatred in our culture" on Google and got 12,800,000 hits. There is a lot of hate talk, hate blogs, and obviously hate.

The first 20 hits are very interesting. Don Closson in Culture Wars states that "Americans are highly polarized when it comes to issues of morality and social norms." He states "Unfortunately, in the eyes of the secular world Christians are often seen as angry, intolerant people. At school board meetings, outside abortion clinics, even at the funeral of a homosexual who was murdered because of his lifestyle, Christians are there to angrily condemn sin and it perpetrators...Although understandable, I don't believe that we are called as Christians to respond to the culture war in anger, especially anger directed at people.

In the New Testament, Paul condemns "hatred" and "fits of rage" immediately before listing the spiritual fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."

Closson has some good advice concerning 'righteous indignation.' I didn't react very well when I followed up the disturbing phone call three days later to ask about it again. When I learned my indignant son had been drinking when I was jammed up about my hatred, the feelings of my own righteous indignation welled up in my throat.

If I am not careful, with one foot in hell, I am going to completely slide over the edge.