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.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, April 17, 2006
The Death of a Pastor
The death of Pastor Jack Hill makes me more lonesome than ever. He was such a part of my parent's lives that he seemed more like a family member. My dad climbed the buttes and rimrocks of the Cave Hills with him and another friend, Ted Seppala. They carried sticks, binoculars and cameras.
I wonder what their conversations were about. Surely they commented about the Indian Dance Ring to the SE of McKinsey Butte, and how the Indians caught eagles in their rock traps baited with a live rabbit; actually it was catch and release for them as all they wanted were a few good feathers; did they remark about the ancient and more modern petroglyphs on the sandstone walls? I wonder if there was any 'God' talk? They were men of deep faith, all three of them. They loved the out of doors and the high plains.
He was my mother's confidant and spiritual advisor. He helped her bear the sad realities of life. He wrote me wonderful letters regarding the book on my dad and just this past month about the 'Sisu' book. He complimented me on some of my poetry. His life was cut too short.
He was a wonderful preacher, writer, pastor, encourager, friend. I was blessed just to have known Pastor Jack Hill, and my parents were blessed to be able to call him their pastor, their friend.
I wonder what their conversations were about. Surely they commented about the Indian Dance Ring to the SE of McKinsey Butte, and how the Indians caught eagles in their rock traps baited with a live rabbit; actually it was catch and release for them as all they wanted were a few good feathers; did they remark about the ancient and more modern petroglyphs on the sandstone walls? I wonder if there was any 'God' talk? They were men of deep faith, all three of them. They loved the out of doors and the high plains.
He was my mother's confidant and spiritual advisor. He helped her bear the sad realities of life. He wrote me wonderful letters regarding the book on my dad and just this past month about the 'Sisu' book. He complimented me on some of my poetry. His life was cut too short.
He was a wonderful preacher, writer, pastor, encourager, friend. I was blessed just to have known Pastor Jack Hill, and my parents were blessed to be able to call him their pastor, their friend.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Maundy Thursday at Holy Cross
Holy Thursday at Holy Cross was a first person observation of the Last Supper. "Remember When..." P. Jim was eloquent, he sang, his wife sat beside us, his teen aged boys were friendly. M. picked me up and was weepy on the way home. Because the soloist moved us to tears, because it took us so long to make the change. Because we are so thankful to have a shepherding pastor again. She has made the move and we will after Easter.
How strange it is to go to both churches. I went to the noon service at St. Tim's and helped clear communion and "made the house" for tonight. Making the house isn't what you might think. It is setting up the chalace with the corporal, the burse and all of that on the altar. It isn't as easy as you might think.
K. is experimenting makeing bread for communion. She thought it was too crumby this noon. She is going to have her confirmatin guide group of girls learn to do it next year as thier service project. That is a lot of bread baking on a weekly basis. Because of the loaves the Priest Host is no longer used.
I love church talk. Full and complete Liturgy is a relief after leaning toward being neither fish nor fowl. Maybe going to two churches is neither fish nor fowl. Going twice today can't be as sinful as wanting to tell Pastor F. that Henri Nouwen is dead. How can you quote someone like they were still alive when they are not? I get an Henri Nouwen daily devotion. I keep him alive by reading him, not by pretending he is still alive.
It is the devil in the darned details again. I always have one foot in hell.
How strange it is to go to both churches. I went to the noon service at St. Tim's and helped clear communion and "made the house" for tonight. Making the house isn't what you might think. It is setting up the chalace with the corporal, the burse and all of that on the altar. It isn't as easy as you might think.
K. is experimenting makeing bread for communion. She thought it was too crumby this noon. She is going to have her confirmatin guide group of girls learn to do it next year as thier service project. That is a lot of bread baking on a weekly basis. Because of the loaves the Priest Host is no longer used.
I love church talk. Full and complete Liturgy is a relief after leaning toward being neither fish nor fowl. Maybe going to two churches is neither fish nor fowl. Going twice today can't be as sinful as wanting to tell Pastor F. that Henri Nouwen is dead. How can you quote someone like they were still alive when they are not? I get an Henri Nouwen daily devotion. I keep him alive by reading him, not by pretending he is still alive.
It is the devil in the darned details again. I always have one foot in hell.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
The Givers and the Takers
My sons make comments regarding how Jesus-like their dad is. He certainly isn't afraid to take on the problems of the underclass in our family. People that suffer mental illness and brain damage cannot or will not work; that leads to desperate situations in families in of lower economic situations.
Desperate situations are gut wrenching. Without resources people's children are removed, they live in poverty, filth, and hopelessness. Can life be made better for a dear niece that has suffered so much in her 50 years? Her parents were killed in a New Year's Eve car wreck. Three young drunks hit them head on and lay in the morgue with them that night all waiting for someone to come identify them. A baby under two years old in a coma in the hospital for three months with no parents, no siblings, only uncles, aunts, and cousins; all of them busy with their own cares and concerns. It is so easy to turn aside and forget; it is so easy to forget.
He Who Must Be Obeyed has a challenge this week. He will wade through the piles of dirty clothes and take them to the laundry. He will scrub toilets and wash dishes; he will lay out plans for a better future and make demands that will fall on angry and unhearing ears. He will spend time with social service people and try to help sort out the demands of Family Court judgements. It is indeed a Holy Week, one of great 'com' passion and one of difficult choices. And he will make a difference.
Desperate situations are gut wrenching. Without resources people's children are removed, they live in poverty, filth, and hopelessness. Can life be made better for a dear niece that has suffered so much in her 50 years? Her parents were killed in a New Year's Eve car wreck. Three young drunks hit them head on and lay in the morgue with them that night all waiting for someone to come identify them. A baby under two years old in a coma in the hospital for three months with no parents, no siblings, only uncles, aunts, and cousins; all of them busy with their own cares and concerns. It is so easy to turn aside and forget; it is so easy to forget.
He Who Must Be Obeyed has a challenge this week. He will wade through the piles of dirty clothes and take them to the laundry. He will scrub toilets and wash dishes; he will lay out plans for a better future and make demands that will fall on angry and unhearing ears. He will spend time with social service people and try to help sort out the demands of Family Court judgements. It is indeed a Holy Week, one of great 'com' passion and one of difficult choices. And he will make a difference.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
It's the Ladder Thing Again
He Who Must Be Obeyed is working on the pool. A few minutes ago the ladder slipped on the deep end and a bucket of wet cement, the ladder and you know who all landed on the bottom. That is nine and a half foot in the deepest spot. When I got out the door and looked over the edge of the precipice there he was akimbo on the bottom surrounded by spilled cement, the ladder, and himself a bit dazed.
No complaining, no comments, just dogged determination to finish the bottom of the pool before we get the tornado tomorrow morning. Omaha is an exciting place weather-wise in the spring.
I am mowing with my little reel push-mower. Not all at once of course, just a few rounds at a time and time to breathe in between. If I can get ahead of the grass and stay that way, I might be able to do this again. I love my quiet little old fashioned mower. A prerequisite is a clean lawn, every little twig gets caught in the spinning blades and stops me in my tracks. Bending to pick up things and pushing this great invention back and forth takes me back to my teen years in the early 50's when I mowed my parents yard in Buffalo, SD.
No complaining, no comments, just dogged determination to finish the bottom of the pool before we get the tornado tomorrow morning. Omaha is an exciting place weather-wise in the spring.
I am mowing with my little reel push-mower. Not all at once of course, just a few rounds at a time and time to breathe in between. If I can get ahead of the grass and stay that way, I might be able to do this again. I love my quiet little old fashioned mower. A prerequisite is a clean lawn, every little twig gets caught in the spinning blades and stops me in my tracks. Bending to pick up things and pushing this great invention back and forth takes me back to my teen years in the early 50's when I mowed my parents yard in Buffalo, SD.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
April Fool
April 1st was always great fun in this house. My four sons were always dependable tricksters. Today the joke is on us again. But it isn't funny.
He Who Must BE Obeyed and his family have been trying to solve a gritty problem for a niece, now 50, who was orphaned at 18 months when her parents were killed in a grizly auto accident.
She is in a desperate situation and needs some help. Money, time, distance, and the court system are all at issue and everyone is either too old, too poor, or too busy to do anything. Yesterday it was all figured out and today someone might just as well have shouted "April Fool!"
He Who Must BE Obeyed and his family have been trying to solve a gritty problem for a niece, now 50, who was orphaned at 18 months when her parents were killed in a grizly auto accident.
She is in a desperate situation and needs some help. Money, time, distance, and the court system are all at issue and everyone is either too old, too poor, or too busy to do anything. Yesterday it was all figured out and today someone might just as well have shouted "April Fool!"
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Necessary Procrastination
Prof. John Maeda at the MIT Media Lab writes a profound INFP explaination for "Necessary Procrastination" on March 29, 2006. Of course I am just guessing about the INFP part. I have a link to his blog at the right, Simplicity.
He states: "The more you overcommit, the more that procrastination becomes intolerably expensive to engage..yet it is when procrastination becomes exceedingly costly to do, it is then that extreme (underlined) creativity emerges. "Necessary procrastination" is a prime factor in the creative process."
All of this time I had great guilt when I spend time thinking instead of doing. Prof. Maeda is absolutely correct in the profundity of those radical new thoughts coming at you from out of the blue.
The work ethic I grew up with, our USA educational style of teaching and learning, and living with an engineer, Libra born even, can make a person such as myself feel very out of sync with the world. Marcus Borg had something to to say about the lonliness aspect of it also.
I don't know how in the world I can live in a marriage, in a family, or in our society when it is extremely difficult to figure out the small bug that I am. Understanding the way others see the big picture nearly does me in.
He states: "The more you overcommit, the more that procrastination becomes intolerably expensive to engage..yet it is when procrastination becomes exceedingly costly to do, it is then that extreme (underlined) creativity emerges. "Necessary procrastination" is a prime factor in the creative process."
All of this time I had great guilt when I spend time thinking instead of doing. Prof. Maeda is absolutely correct in the profundity of those radical new thoughts coming at you from out of the blue.
The work ethic I grew up with, our USA educational style of teaching and learning, and living with an engineer, Libra born even, can make a person such as myself feel very out of sync with the world. Marcus Borg had something to to say about the lonliness aspect of it also.
I don't know how in the world I can live in a marriage, in a family, or in our society when it is extremely difficult to figure out the small bug that I am. Understanding the way others see the big picture nearly does me in.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
The Diamond Ring
That Eclipse was beautiful and unusual. To see the ring of pearls around it twice and the diamond ring event twice was amazing. The temperatures went down a little over 20 degrees through the totality. The corona was great to see.
It was a joy to hear the crowd, filled with the children of the Turkish city, cheer in totality. They were filming this in a 2000 year old Roman ampitheater. It was even unforgettable streaming live on the Internet.
It was a joy to hear the crowd, filled with the children of the Turkish city, cheer in totality. They were filming this in a 2000 year old Roman ampitheater. It was even unforgettable streaming live on the Internet.
Turkey Eclipse
This is a awful/wonderful time in history. It is amazing what is possible. As you know I am a middle of the night AM radio listener on occasion. It was good to be wakeful tonight. I was directed to a site to watch a webcam live from Turkey waiting for the total eclipse. I suppose it will be rerun and you can see it all later also.
Actually I was awakened by David Icke's strange ranting on the Illuminati. Wikipedia doesn't paint a pretty picture of him. It was, however, very good to be pointed to the site in Turkey. Maybe I will quit eating Splenda if it scrambles my brain waves.
The last total eclips was in 2003. The announcers are explaining the phenomena in front of some ancient hunks of ornate cement from old buildings. Science guys par-excellance with a variety of telescopes, an H Alpha that shows the sun spots and the moon's shadow. The Corona camera projects a very beautiful image. It is getting very dark there. Coronal mass ejections live are dynamic in time lapse. It disturbes our earth in communications and now NASA is showing the aurora resulting from it.
To see the Earth's image from space with the beginning of the slice of black caused by the eclipse slicing Africa, going through Turkey, and ending in Russia somewhere is almost more than I can believe. Twenty-five percent of the sun is now covered. A huge crowd is watching this from a collesium. I am such a bumpkin that listening and watching this even live is almost more than my little brain can take in.
The Ghana guys have seen totality. And we will see it in Turkey in 20 minutes.
I am thankful that He Who Must Be Obeyed got the best computer he could afford a few years ago! And I am thankful to be alive today! Holy-Moly!
Actually I was awakened by David Icke's strange ranting on the Illuminati. Wikipedia doesn't paint a pretty picture of him. It was, however, very good to be pointed to the site in Turkey. Maybe I will quit eating Splenda if it scrambles my brain waves.
The last total eclips was in 2003. The announcers are explaining the phenomena in front of some ancient hunks of ornate cement from old buildings. Science guys par-excellance with a variety of telescopes, an H Alpha that shows the sun spots and the moon's shadow. The Corona camera projects a very beautiful image. It is getting very dark there. Coronal mass ejections live are dynamic in time lapse. It disturbes our earth in communications and now NASA is showing the aurora resulting from it.
To see the Earth's image from space with the beginning of the slice of black caused by the eclipse slicing Africa, going through Turkey, and ending in Russia somewhere is almost more than I can believe. Twenty-five percent of the sun is now covered. A huge crowd is watching this from a collesium. I am such a bumpkin that listening and watching this even live is almost more than my little brain can take in.
The Ghana guys have seen totality. And we will see it in Turkey in 20 minutes.
I am thankful that He Who Must Be Obeyed got the best computer he could afford a few years ago! And I am thankful to be alive today! Holy-Moly!
Monday, March 27, 2006
Forever is a Long, Long Time
It does seem like forever since I have visited and written. For almost a year I have been living in the past. That is what writing history gets you. Life a hundred years ago wasn't exactly 'the good old days' some people talk about. I am certainly ready to put all of that behind me and get on with it.
The past weeks I have only caught little bits and pieces of news, short minutes of curious and intriguing BOOKTV authors talking about the God Meme and dangerous professors, seen the throngs of people resisting the Senate Hearings on immigration but not the hearing itself. Life as it is for me at the moment, I never get all of anything. A true half-wit. I felt the same way when I was in college with six kids in the house.
The book "Cave Hills Finns: They Had Sisu!" is done. After a flurry of mailings it has gone into a second printing. Second printings are good. I should have had a recall on the first one. It had so many errors, typos, and slip-slides that I am completely humiliated by it. The second one will be much cleaner. Not, perfect. No.
He Who Must BE Obeyed was gone eleven days recently doing what he calls "God's Work." I was home feeling giddily independent. Growing up an only child, I love to be alone. It was a win/win for everyone concerned and I can look forward to more of the same every three weeks. It is pure bliss.
The past weeks I have only caught little bits and pieces of news, short minutes of curious and intriguing BOOKTV authors talking about the God Meme and dangerous professors, seen the throngs of people resisting the Senate Hearings on immigration but not the hearing itself. Life as it is for me at the moment, I never get all of anything. A true half-wit. I felt the same way when I was in college with six kids in the house.
The book "Cave Hills Finns: They Had Sisu!" is done. After a flurry of mailings it has gone into a second printing. Second printings are good. I should have had a recall on the first one. It had so many errors, typos, and slip-slides that I am completely humiliated by it. The second one will be much cleaner. Not, perfect. No.
He Who Must BE Obeyed was gone eleven days recently doing what he calls "God's Work." I was home feeling giddily independent. Growing up an only child, I love to be alone. It was a win/win for everyone concerned and I can look forward to more of the same every three weeks. It is pure bliss.
Friday, February 24, 2006
A Sad Day
In 18 minutes the funeral for a grandson of a dear friend and cousin will begin. It is sad indeed. I am grateful for one very large thing; governors in South Dakota and Wisconsin have signed laws restricting the hateful picketing at the funerals of Iraq soldiers. Small solace, albeit very important.
The funeral will be officiated by another cousin. Life and death become such a tangled web.
This young father didn't die in Iraq; but he did spend a good deal of time there seeking and dismantling land mines. He leaves three little children fatherless and a host of distraught relatives. "Burial with military honors in the Black Hills National Cemetery."
His death could have brought out the sleazy Topeka families with their hate signs and slogans; I see by the news that they are busy in Minnesota. They did their dirty deed in South Dakota long enough. WE BLOG addresses the issue of free speech this morning. I am not, however, painting this with a wide brush. There are fine people in Kansas and I love them a lot. Some, however, are horrid.
The funeral will be officiated by another cousin. Life and death become such a tangled web.
This young father didn't die in Iraq; but he did spend a good deal of time there seeking and dismantling land mines. He leaves three little children fatherless and a host of distraught relatives. "Burial with military honors in the Black Hills National Cemetery."
His death could have brought out the sleazy Topeka families with their hate signs and slogans; I see by the news that they are busy in Minnesota. They did their dirty deed in South Dakota long enough. WE BLOG addresses the issue of free speech this morning. I am not, however, painting this with a wide brush. There are fine people in Kansas and I love them a lot. Some, however, are horrid.
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Devil is in the Details
"Even the grandest project depends on the success of the smallest components. This version of the proverb often implies that the details might cause failure. A more positive version is "God is in the details," a saying often attributed to the archetect Le Corbusier." He was a 20th Century French city planner known for designing buildings with unusual curves and unconventional shapes." Gurunet and Bartleby.com my, ever there, sources of information.
The book is an embarrassment. It would be easy blame it on those tempting templates in MS Word. The blame is entirely mine, for looking for an easy way, and not reading manuals. The hiccups and errors in the final printing are irritating. I need to get over it. Iimperfections get in the way of the viewer or reader. The last thing a person would do is purposely annoy a reader.
The book annoys me, like a baby, so sweet after a bath and two hours later it needs changing.
Drat.
The book is an embarrassment. It would be easy blame it on those tempting templates in MS Word. The blame is entirely mine, for looking for an easy way, and not reading manuals. The hiccups and errors in the final printing are irritating. I need to get over it. Iimperfections get in the way of the viewer or reader. The last thing a person would do is purposely annoy a reader.
The book annoys me, like a baby, so sweet after a bath and two hours later it needs changing.
Drat.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Miracles Still Happen
The book has gone to print. It feel like sending a child off to grow up and become a person. Books, like children reflect thier author-parents. They can embarrass you half to death, give you some pleasure, do things you are proud of, or make you wish you didn't have your name written all over them.
It is a scary thing, this book thing. Writing to market would send me right over the edge. Vanity press is very safe. Expensive, but safe.
What I have done for for nine months is gestation. Have I given birth to a beauty or a beast? I have prayed to God every day before starting that I can give honor to my heritage; and to the people and place I try to put into print. I pray that I can stay awake, that my computer keeps working and that I can endure the pain. The stuff of consequence.
Iit is a miracle. It is done. He Who Must Be Obeyed has read proof pages, made good suggestions, a dozen phone calls, cooked for and fed me, and put me to bed. Even though I resisted a lot of it, and called it "loud, pushy behavior," and I made noises back; I couldn't have finished without it.
This morning I woke up, too early, to hear him talking on the phone about school sections determined by the Homestead Act. My source was correct. That is what I mean about the baby. When you are footnoting names like Mykkanen, with an umlaut, you can't rely on your spell checker.
Like babies, books are miracles.
It is a scary thing, this book thing. Writing to market would send me right over the edge. Vanity press is very safe. Expensive, but safe.
What I have done for for nine months is gestation. Have I given birth to a beauty or a beast? I have prayed to God every day before starting that I can give honor to my heritage; and to the people and place I try to put into print. I pray that I can stay awake, that my computer keeps working and that I can endure the pain. The stuff of consequence.
Iit is a miracle. It is done. He Who Must Be Obeyed has read proof pages, made good suggestions, a dozen phone calls, cooked for and fed me, and put me to bed. Even though I resisted a lot of it, and called it "loud, pushy behavior," and I made noises back; I couldn't have finished without it.
This morning I woke up, too early, to hear him talking on the phone about school sections determined by the Homestead Act. My source was correct. That is what I mean about the baby. When you are footnoting names like Mykkanen, with an umlaut, you can't rely on your spell checker.
Like babies, books are miracles.
Tomorrow: to the Printer
After three or four very long days, I anticipate a tomorrow of minor correction instead of writing and scanning. Only the deadly proof reading left on the last half of nearly one hundred-fifty pages of family story and old photos.
It is a deadly business, this writing, and I am not likely to take on another project such as this. Don't get me wrong. I like what I am doing, actually I enjoy it. A lot. But the deadlines are as deadly as they were in the real world. Why a deadline? You know we ancients are the world's best coupon clippers! This one is saving me nearly a helf-K. That is enought to deal in deadlines.
Retirement is not the real world. It is that twilight where a person relives the past, even before they were born. I told He Who Must Be Obeyed that it would be more fun to write script for shows like House, Gray's Anatomy, or Judging Amy. Whatever happened to Judging Amy?
There you have it, script writing would be dealing in deadlines. I guess I will enjoy the twilight zone
It is a deadly business, this writing, and I am not likely to take on another project such as this. Don't get me wrong. I like what I am doing, actually I enjoy it. A lot. But the deadlines are as deadly as they were in the real world. Why a deadline? You know we ancients are the world's best coupon clippers! This one is saving me nearly a helf-K. That is enought to deal in deadlines.
Retirement is not the real world. It is that twilight where a person relives the past, even before they were born. I told He Who Must Be Obeyed that it would be more fun to write script for shows like House, Gray's Anatomy, or Judging Amy. Whatever happened to Judging Amy?
There you have it, script writing would be dealing in deadlines. I guess I will enjoy the twilight zone
Friday, February 03, 2006
A Pain in the Patoot
I have sat in front of this monitor until I am cross-eyed.
Any of you that have written a book or two, know what I mean by it being a painful endeavor. The first one I attempted to write, edit, do the layout, and go through the agonizing Library of Congress Copyrighting ordeal, just about did me in. Actually, I ended up in the hospital for back surgery when I was done with it.
Today reminds me of that.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is proof reading for me; and cracking the whip at every page turn, I might add. He has me on a deadline that I cannot meet; all to save a few hundred dollars. I don't think it is worth it. I still have material to locate, Finnish letters to get translated into English, and more photos to scan, push around in Adobe Elements and then push around into a pleasing page layout. Researching a little corner of the earth and the events of a hundred years ago doesn't exactly drop into a person's lap.
To tell the truth, I am darned sick of the whole business right now.
Any of you that have written a book or two, know what I mean by it being a painful endeavor. The first one I attempted to write, edit, do the layout, and go through the agonizing Library of Congress Copyrighting ordeal, just about did me in. Actually, I ended up in the hospital for back surgery when I was done with it.
Today reminds me of that.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is proof reading for me; and cracking the whip at every page turn, I might add. He has me on a deadline that I cannot meet; all to save a few hundred dollars. I don't think it is worth it. I still have material to locate, Finnish letters to get translated into English, and more photos to scan, push around in Adobe Elements and then push around into a pleasing page layout. Researching a little corner of the earth and the events of a hundred years ago doesn't exactly drop into a person's lap.
To tell the truth, I am darned sick of the whole business right now.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Hokshila Waste
He Who Must Be Obeyed is working on his ancestral Norwegian Cowboy history again. Over the past few months he has corresponded with a man who has the most beautiful Palmer Method Penmanship I have seen since my own father's. Carl's hand is larger and looser than my dad's. Just looking at it I would think he was an open friendly guy with a heart for people and his surroundings.
He writes a beautiful letter. Not only is it lovely to look at but it is full of information and knowledge. I Googled him and sure enough he is on the Web. He is from Sitting Bull's tribe. My family and I lived on the reservation that he was born on, the Standing Rock at Fort Yates, ND, for three months many years ago when the children were small and two of them attended the Government Indian School there.
Today we ordered a book that his grandmother wrote called "With My Own Eyes: A Lakota Woman Tells Her People's History." I can hardly wait to read it. I just have to think he lives up to his Lakota name, "Good Boy."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
