Kurt Vonnegut used the chorus "So it goes" every time a passage deals with death, dying or mortality, as a transitional phrase to another subject, as a reminder, and as comic relief. It is also used to explain the unexplained. There are 106 "so it goes" anecdotes laced throughout the story. (Slaughterhouse-Five)
This morning it all started with a blogger writing of the Zen of Picking Berries. Another of those in your blood things passed down by Finnish grandmothers, perhaps. We northwestern South Dakota berry pickers didn't have to stand in swamps to pick cloud berries, we stood in prairie creek bottoms, swatting our own brand of mosquitoes, jumping rattlesnakes, and eying poison ivy to fill our buckets with June berries, wild plum, chokecherry and later in the summer or early fall the buffalo berries that sweetened with the first frost. I can easily understand the zen of it.
Kurt Vonnegut wasn't the only author that intrigued me; when I read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," it was neither the mushroom experiment nor the repair of motorcycles that intrigued me, it was Pirsig's exploration of the meaning of the concept, "quality." He explored the term by assigning his Montana State University students the task of defining the word. Then he said it cannot be defined because it empirically precedes any intellectual construction and it (Quality or value)is the knife-edge of experience known to all. This is all out of wikipedia, and we don't know what that is worth. It fills space and so it goes.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Paralyzed by Hate Mail
Some letters should never be mailed. Our bi-polar daughter sent He Who Must Be Obeyed a 16 page letter detailing my parenting faults. A lot of hate for me was spewed out in it. Apparently she spent days on it as it was dated on various pages. "You sure picked a winner!" she told him.
She and her daughter agree on one thing; I am a mean, selfish, hateful woman. My working was among my wrongs. Apparently both of them would love to drum me right out of the family.
Have you, dear reader, ever experienced real hatred? It is difficult to get through day to day knowing that if you were not alive, it would make some people happy. I wonder if every person experiences this? If they do, I have never been told about it; if they don't, that must make me as horrible as the letters indicate. Am I the only hated person on the earth?
I wonder if I am being delusional and my perception is skewed. I was told to 'forget it.' Some insults are seared into ones brain and are not easily forgotten. I see that HWMBO burned the letter in a trash can. I dove in for the scraps of it this morning reading through and around the scorched and blackened uneven edges of the few pages that were left. I just wanted to see if what I had read a few days ago was real or my imagination. It was real. It was damning. How dare I set foot in church, sinner that I am, I was told by both of them.
She and her daughter agree on one thing; I am a mean, selfish, hateful woman. My working was among my wrongs. Apparently both of them would love to drum me right out of the family.
Have you, dear reader, ever experienced real hatred? It is difficult to get through day to day knowing that if you were not alive, it would make some people happy. I wonder if every person experiences this? If they do, I have never been told about it; if they don't, that must make me as horrible as the letters indicate. Am I the only hated person on the earth?
I wonder if I am being delusional and my perception is skewed. I was told to 'forget it.' Some insults are seared into ones brain and are not easily forgotten. I see that HWMBO burned the letter in a trash can. I dove in for the scraps of it this morning reading through and around the scorched and blackened uneven edges of the few pages that were left. I just wanted to see if what I had read a few days ago was real or my imagination. It was real. It was damning. How dare I set foot in church, sinner that I am, I was told by both of them.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Finnish Grandmothers
If it is in the Scientific American, must it be true? The article is "What Finnish Grandmothers Reveal about Human Evolution."
"The 33-year-old Finnish biologist, aided by genealogists, has pored through centuries-old tomes (and microfiche) for birth, marriage and death records, which ended up providing glimpses of evolution at work in humanity's recent ancestors. Among them: that male twins disrupt the mating potential of their female siblings by prenatally rendering them more masculine; mothers of sons die sooner than those of daughters, because rearing the former takes a greater toll; and grandmothers are important to the survival of grandchildren. "I'm trying to understand human reproductive behavior from an evolutionary perspective," Lummaa says."
"The evolutionary biologist has also used this historical data set to ponder the conundrum of grandmothers. That is, why human women often live long after they are able to reproduce (on average around the age of 50), unlike almost all other animals. "If your ultimate purpose in life was to create as many offspring as possible or pass off as many genes," Lummaa says, "it's kind of strange that human women stop halfway."..."That suggests that perhaps one reason why women do carry on living is because they are able to help."
Me here again: What an irony to have sons, destroy your immune system, die sooner; but not before you help, or raise, the grandchildren. It is interesting that Lumma theorizes that it is the testosterone flooding the womb to make boys that destroys ones immune system. The article was interesting.
Lummaa has now turned her attention to the effect of grandfathers on grandchildren. If grandmothers improve survival odds, what do elderly males contribute? "If anything there's a negative effect," she says. This could be because of the cultural tradition of catering to men, particularly old men. "Maybe if you had an old grandpa, he was eating your food," she speculates.
"The 33-year-old Finnish biologist, aided by genealogists, has pored through centuries-old tomes (and microfiche) for birth, marriage and death records, which ended up providing glimpses of evolution at work in humanity's recent ancestors. Among them: that male twins disrupt the mating potential of their female siblings by prenatally rendering them more masculine; mothers of sons die sooner than those of daughters, because rearing the former takes a greater toll; and grandmothers are important to the survival of grandchildren. "I'm trying to understand human reproductive behavior from an evolutionary perspective," Lummaa says."
"The evolutionary biologist has also used this historical data set to ponder the conundrum of grandmothers. That is, why human women often live long after they are able to reproduce (on average around the age of 50), unlike almost all other animals. "If your ultimate purpose in life was to create as many offspring as possible or pass off as many genes," Lummaa says, "it's kind of strange that human women stop halfway."..."That suggests that perhaps one reason why women do carry on living is because they are able to help."
Me here again: What an irony to have sons, destroy your immune system, die sooner; but not before you help, or raise, the grandchildren. It is interesting that Lumma theorizes that it is the testosterone flooding the womb to make boys that destroys ones immune system. The article was interesting.
Lummaa has now turned her attention to the effect of grandfathers on grandchildren. If grandmothers improve survival odds, what do elderly males contribute? "If anything there's a negative effect," she says. This could be because of the cultural tradition of catering to men, particularly old men. "Maybe if you had an old grandpa, he was eating your food," she speculates.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Pitchfork Fondue
This cowboy cookout served almost a hundred folks that came to the High Plains to join the family that celebrates together every other year. This rowdy bunch of Vikings stirs the souls of those of us that were brave enough to marry into the tribe. The story of their 1857 immigrants is what Western Epics are made of.
"The Norsemen, also known as Vikings, ravaged the coasts of northwest Europe from the 8th to the 11th century and were ruled by local chieftains. Olav II Haraldsson became the first effective king of all Norway in 1015 and began converting the Norwegians to Christianity. As a teenager he was given ships and men by his father to "go Viking".
Even if King Olav II brought Christianity into Norway because the Viking tribal control made it easy for him; this particular tribe brings Jack Daniel to the council fire. It seems one can control a Norse tribe, but not much. He Who Must Be Obeyed knew exactly what it meant to "go Viking."
The photos are those of a couple who were there and took the pictures to prove it. Thank you to K.B.H. and N.C. I wish I had been with you longer.
"The Norsemen, also known as Vikings, ravaged the coasts of northwest Europe from the 8th to the 11th century and were ruled by local chieftains. Olav II Haraldsson became the first effective king of all Norway in 1015 and began converting the Norwegians to Christianity. As a teenager he was given ships and men by his father to "go Viking".
Even if King Olav II brought Christianity into Norway because the Viking tribal control made it easy for him; this particular tribe brings Jack Daniel to the council fire. It seems one can control a Norse tribe, but not much. He Who Must Be Obeyed knew exactly what it meant to "go Viking."
The photos are those of a couple who were there and took the pictures to prove it. Thank you to K.B.H. and N.C. I wish I had been with you longer.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Family Reunions
Finns and Norwegians have different ways of celebrating families. Oh, we Finns are so solemn and serious. Our reunion started with coffee and pulla, then church and communion. We filled the little rural church front to back and we were so grateful to gather this way. The ladies of the church prepared our meal. In a new community center couples married over 50 years were recognized, door prizes were drawn, and the Finnish dance music began. We bonded with long lost cousins not seen for three years.
An aunt and cousin took me to my hometown for a couple days of blissful amazement. One highlight was spending some time with a bone hunter cousin who showed us his latest triceratops find. He was the finder of the T-Rex Stan in the Hell Creek formation in the Cave Hills, Harding County, South Dakota. You can check it out in Hill City, SD at the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, Inc.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Minnesota Lakes
Going to our friend's MN cabin for a few days was a dream you want to last longer. K.C. had undergone her first chemo treatment, had to get a son to a swim camp at the U, and couldn't predict how she would feel. Tutu was with us but was up front about driving 40 mph if she had to. I was a decrepit back up; but I was pleased to be chosen and did do a bit of back up driving on our way home, until the dark of night blurred my aging vision. We spent the first night with P's 91 year old mother in the city. It was love at first sight, just like it was with E.S., our friend in a chariot ie. wheelchair. Sunday morning we went to Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. Both K and Tutu wept through the service. K's friends were there from 20 years ago. K was with her tribe. The Crucifer carried in the Cross, hands properly gripping the pole which was pressed into his forehead with such devotion that I too could have wept for the beauty of it. Liturgical, with a Cantor; it was such sweet reverance. Later we would stop to see the Chisago Lutheran Church, built by Swedes in 1802 which was breathtaking in its restoration.
The cabin was restful and restorative. We were not without our medical alarms, however. K had a blood draw which indicated a danagerous white count drop and a need for antibiotics. Her Omaha doctor's office called immediately after the faxed results. Tutu lept upon a flopping sunfish on the dock and got stabbed in the thumb with a fin. When it redlined we took her to emergency, coming home in the dark of night, with the big dipper shining its welcome back.
Tutu sang Bengali songs to us and tried to teach me one of religion making life smooth. A neighbor gave us a pontoon ride around one end of the lake where I made a photo of the old church we looked at.I am going to try put some of the photos on Flickr, there is a nice one of the old Swedish church and the interior of the cabin.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Waiting for Midsummer
Juhannus is celebrated on the Saturday between the 20th and the 26th of June. It is the Feast of St. John the Baptist on the church calendar but we called it Juhannus and it brought every Finn, spouse, and friend, tick and mosquito, into Casper's Gulch for a picnic, homemade ice-cream, games and competitions, and my Grandpa Tuovinen auctioned off the fancy work for the Ladies Aid of the Cave Hills Lutheran Church.
Other folks came as well, and it surprised me that my hero, Frankie Clark, told me that he came as a kid with his parents from Buffalo. They were English Papists, but they must have enjoyed the congeniality, or maybe watching the Finns loosen up a little and have some fun. Anyway, he said they came every year; it made me happy to know that.
Later when I was in my 40's, my mother and I enjoyed the bonfires and dancing in Finland on Juhannus. The next day we arrived at our paternal Finnish relatives who had asked all of the clan over to see the American Cousins! After the greetings, meeting and feasting, Seppo took out his accordian and all the women danced together in the livingroom. I wanted to Polka with Seppo, but he was the music so that was out. The torte was so tall and so wonderful I have never forgotten it, and the old women dancing was a sight to behold.
When the women wore out their hips and knees, Seppo put the accordian down and took me for a motorboat ride.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Deep Underground Science and Engineering Laboratory
"Underground science is a hot field. Physicists use deep labs to shield experiments from cosmic radiation. A “neutrino detector” that operated underground at Homestake for 30 years won a Nobel Prize for researcher Ray Davis. Deep labs in Russia, Italy and Japan have yielded results that are forcing theorists to change their view of how the universe works." From the Rapid City Journal, June 4, 2007
A little exploration, not for gold, but on the web, brought me the realization that Homestake Gold Mine, the stepping stone, or drop off into the abyss, of my forefathers, is in direct competition with an iron mine near Ely, MN. But it isn't Finn vs. Finn this time. It is state vs. state and Colorado and WA are also in the final four compteting for a National Science Foundation decision. The state that gets the tap is in for a huge grant, many jobs and lots of publicity world-wide.
Sometime soon -- maybe this month -- the National Science Foundation will announce a site for the proposed Deep Underground Science and Engineering Laboratory. The NSF envisions a DUSEL that would also host geologists, seismologists, biologists and even experts in national security.
I discovered the Ely, MN Soudan connection in the news article. There are interesting photos of all sites on Bill Harlan's blog.
A geological engineering son's first job out of the SD School of Mines and Technology was working for Homestake doing surface exploration for gold in the Northern Black Hills. He once told me if you buy land there, be aware that you could have a gold mine for a neighbor. Then gold dropped to $42 an ounce and the big companies lost interest, even Barrick out of Canada, who bought the Homestake called it quits.
I once had dreams of living in Lead. There is a Hearst Additon of new homes, named for the Newspaper family that owned Homestake and much of the town of Lead.
In October 1877, George Hearst arrived in Deadwood to view the "New El Dorado" with his own eyes. His initial stay in Deadwood only lasted 40 days, but the impact of his visit would reverberate through the Hills for more than a century. In early November 1877, Hearst wrote back to his partners in San Francisco, describing the vein of gold ore on the Homestake claim as being 30 feet wide, 1,500 feet long, and at least 100 feet deep. He estimated that 60-70% of the assayed gold in the ore could be easily reclaimed with the correct equipment. He then recommended that 100 stamps be brought to the Homestake, stating that it would take at least 25 years to do the job. Hearst continued, telling his partners that many of the claims immediately north of the Homestake were almost as rich.
When Homestake discontinued operation, housing was available and inexpensive. But that is no more, the wealthy from both coasts have discovered the charming pristine Black Hills and land prices have shot up; not with the lure of gold or neutrinos, but perhaps Kevin Costner and his brother had something to do with it; or the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. It has been said that HBO's "Deadwood" has had some kind of impact on the viewing public leading to a new source of tourist visitors to the Black Hills.
Blessed are the folks that had the sense to hold on to the land they once acquired in the Black Hills. Unfortunately, when we left in the late '60's we sold everything we once had. Drat.
A little exploration, not for gold, but on the web, brought me the realization that Homestake Gold Mine, the stepping stone, or drop off into the abyss, of my forefathers, is in direct competition with an iron mine near Ely, MN. But it isn't Finn vs. Finn this time. It is state vs. state and Colorado and WA are also in the final four compteting for a National Science Foundation decision. The state that gets the tap is in for a huge grant, many jobs and lots of publicity world-wide.
Sometime soon -- maybe this month -- the National Science Foundation will announce a site for the proposed Deep Underground Science and Engineering Laboratory. The NSF envisions a DUSEL that would also host geologists, seismologists, biologists and even experts in national security.
I discovered the Ely, MN Soudan connection in the news article. There are interesting photos of all sites on Bill Harlan's blog.
A geological engineering son's first job out of the SD School of Mines and Technology was working for Homestake doing surface exploration for gold in the Northern Black Hills. He once told me if you buy land there, be aware that you could have a gold mine for a neighbor. Then gold dropped to $42 an ounce and the big companies lost interest, even Barrick out of Canada, who bought the Homestake called it quits.
I once had dreams of living in Lead. There is a Hearst Additon of new homes, named for the Newspaper family that owned Homestake and much of the town of Lead.
In October 1877, George Hearst arrived in Deadwood to view the "New El Dorado" with his own eyes. His initial stay in Deadwood only lasted 40 days, but the impact of his visit would reverberate through the Hills for more than a century. In early November 1877, Hearst wrote back to his partners in San Francisco, describing the vein of gold ore on the Homestake claim as being 30 feet wide, 1,500 feet long, and at least 100 feet deep. He estimated that 60-70% of the assayed gold in the ore could be easily reclaimed with the correct equipment. He then recommended that 100 stamps be brought to the Homestake, stating that it would take at least 25 years to do the job. Hearst continued, telling his partners that many of the claims immediately north of the Homestake were almost as rich.
When Homestake discontinued operation, housing was available and inexpensive. But that is no more, the wealthy from both coasts have discovered the charming pristine Black Hills and land prices have shot up; not with the lure of gold or neutrinos, but perhaps Kevin Costner and his brother had something to do with it; or the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. It has been said that HBO's "Deadwood" has had some kind of impact on the viewing public leading to a new source of tourist visitors to the Black Hills.
Blessed are the folks that had the sense to hold on to the land they once acquired in the Black Hills. Unfortunately, when we left in the late '60's we sold everything we once had. Drat.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Taking Time for Thought
Mark Twain's War Prayer from a blog called The Glyphians.
I realize that 14 minutes is a bit of a sit for the average American, accustomed to having thier attention span programmed to seven minutes by the commercial break on television of our past; but this short film is amazingly produced and worth the time to listen to this little homily with two sound tracks.
I realize that 14 minutes is a bit of a sit for the average American, accustomed to having thier attention span programmed to seven minutes by the commercial break on television of our past; but this short film is amazingly produced and worth the time to listen to this little homily with two sound tracks.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Genesis and Dark Skies
14: And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years:
15: And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth: and it was so.
16: And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also.
Instead of walking out of doors at night for a sky check, today we have to rely on the Hubble, or artists, to show us what we are missing. How long has it been since you were able to actually count on seeing anything up there other than contrails, aeroplanes approaching the landing strips at your local terminal, or a planet or two trying valiently to beam its light to our good earth?
I am not the environmentalist that my mother was, but I do recycle and plant trees; however, there is one group that I admire and they don't get enough attention in our culture that is too busy at night with thier own pleasures to even think about the Milky Way. This is the International Dark Sky Association.
Their number one goal is to "Stop the adverse effects of light pollution on dark skies."
One of the last times I literally saw stars was on the steps of a rural church (Lat: 45.7729645 Lon: -103.5583496). He Who Must Be Obeyed, a son named after him, and I sat in the warm night facing west for a couple of hours and watched the Milky Way approach over the McKinsey Butte and sail west while a shooting star or two enchanted us. It is rated a 7 on a dark sky chart I found. One of the darkest spots in the midwest. If people knew what a show we had on those wooden steps, we wouldn't have had room to sit.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Memorial Weekend
"Finnish artists Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen collected the pet peeves and angst-ridden pleas of people of Helsinki and composed a choral work around the list of complaints. Music composed by Esko Grundstrom. This is from the expatraveler, another blogspot blogger.
We really love our country, even so much that we can complain about it to the point one would think we actually disliked it. The Helsinki choir could have been singing about America, except about turning our forests to toilet paper.
They even sigh (while singing) about outsourcing. I am surprised our own major thinkers haven't outsourced the elderly to be cared for in a foreign land. It might be worth the trip for everyone concerned.
We really love our country, even so much that we can complain about it to the point one would think we actually disliked it. The Helsinki choir could have been singing about America, except about turning our forests to toilet paper.
They even sigh (while singing) about outsourcing. I am surprised our own major thinkers haven't outsourced the elderly to be cared for in a foreign land. It might be worth the trip for everyone concerned.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Not Alone in the Dog House
He Who Must Be Obeyed came home two days before he told me he would. I had left some things undone downstairs; while I cleaned the garret bedroom and removed the water marks from the carpet up there from the roof leaks during our seven inch rain a while back. I love to clean house.
It is nice to have him back in the dog house with me, even if he was growling and snapping when he left. I worked off all the stress upstairs and his soft snoring will be a pleasant lullaby again.
I read a lot of Henri Nouwen and a couple of other spiritual thinkers, too. It is nice to have those guys to fall back on when I can't think straight myself. Is change all that good, if you think you are on the right track in spite of being growled at by bigger and noisier dogs?
It is nice to have him back in the dog house with me, even if he was growling and snapping when he left. I worked off all the stress upstairs and his soft snoring will be a pleasant lullaby again.
I read a lot of Henri Nouwen and a couple of other spiritual thinkers, too. It is nice to have those guys to fall back on when I can't think straight myself. Is change all that good, if you think you are on the right track in spite of being growled at by bigger and noisier dogs?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
In the Dog House Again
It would be good to get things right once in a while. Apparently, I am so mean and selfish that neither He Who Must Be Obeyed, nor this daughter/granddaughter can stand anymore of it. They are both taking a break from me.
It is my 'Christianly love'(sic) that irks them and is the reason that she won't go to church and probably the reason that he does. " You can be a very mean woman sometimes." "Sometimes you just amaze me with your Christianly love. Another reason not to go to church." It was put so pointedly within the two page diatribe.
You know the lemons thing; while they are taking a break from me; I will use the opportunity to clean the garret, take care of some correspondence, and start a long put off project. I have wanted to enlarge and develop some of my dad's black and white negatives from the 1930's and '40's and maybe this will be the opportunity to spend some time on it. When an artist takes photographs they don't need much cropping.
It is my 'Christianly love'(sic) that irks them and is the reason that she won't go to church and probably the reason that he does. " You can be a very mean woman sometimes." "Sometimes you just amaze me with your Christianly love. Another reason not to go to church." It was put so pointedly within the two page diatribe.
You know the lemons thing; while they are taking a break from me; I will use the opportunity to clean the garret, take care of some correspondence, and start a long put off project. I have wanted to enlarge and develop some of my dad's black and white negatives from the 1930's and '40's and maybe this will be the opportunity to spend some time on it. When an artist takes photographs they don't need much cropping.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Sharptail Grouse
Today I discovered a fascinating description of photographing and audio taping the mating ritual of the sharptail grouse in its lek, a new word for me. "The lek is generally circular with a diameter of about 30 feet in which each bird claims a certain space for his display and confronts any other bird that enters into that space. (Dick Kettlewell/Journal staff)" By clicking on "Kettlewell" you can shut your eyes and be there yourself! By clicking on the words "sharptail grouse" you will go to the article and see a Kettlewell photo of one with his 'arms' akimbo.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Speak Finnish in Three Minutes
A person could read this list in Finnish in less than three minutes; but "Speak Finnish in Three Minutes!" is another of the Finns elaborate jokes, in the Helsingin Sanomat International. I would love to learn Finnish in three years, if I could.
I have seen this before, but this morning I got it from Dave in Soumi, a research meteorologist in Finland. He writes an interesting blog about his adventures in Finland. I am going to check out all of his links in time.
So we swim. It is good for the soul and probably good for everything that ails me. I am no athlete, I can't even walk a straight line, ever. "Look where you are going," He Who Must Be Obeyed tells me.
I have seen this before, but this morning I got it from Dave in Soumi, a research meteorologist in Finland. He writes an interesting blog about his adventures in Finland. I am going to check out all of his links in time.
So we swim. It is good for the soul and probably good for everything that ails me. I am no athlete, I can't even walk a straight line, ever. "Look where you are going," He Who Must Be Obeyed tells me.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Mother's Day
I used to think Mother's Day felt like a lot of work. He Who Must Be Obeyed did a lot of helping or maybe it was me helping and him doing it. Anyway for several years we set the table for four generations of women, and the men in our lives. Today I can see the blessing that it was and I cherish the memory of all of us seated after church, white table cloth, best silverware.."Be present at our table Lord, be here and everywhere adored. These mercies bless and grant that we may feast in Paradise with Thee."
On this Mother's Day I think of the women that mothered me over the years, starting in January, 1935, on the kitchen table in a small homestead ranch house. The doctor got there from Buffalo, 12 miles away. I love looking at the photographs of me as a baby in my great grandmother's arms, in my grandmother's arms, in my aunties arms, and in the arms of my mother and father. How blessed is the child who is loved.
My own mother, grandmother, my aunties, and my great aunties were all women I greatly admire and love; women of great depth, large hearts, room for everyone, ever ready to take me howm with them for a stay; always willing to help one another, they loved the extended family, and held huge picnics get togethers.
I remember one time at my Aunt Lillie's when the entire clan gathered. It seemed there were hundreds of us, and maybe there were. Old aunts and uncles, little cousins, and babies in arms, two of them my own. Those dear, dear mothers in my family with the wonderful men in their lives. Men who smelled of homemade soap and pipe tobacco.
I thank God for them, every one. But most especially, I thank God for my own mother, outspoken, demanding when I was small; she saw to it that I knew how to pray, to clean house and iron clothes, and in her age softened to the point that I almost didn't recognize her. It is a happy feeling to be a mother.
On this Mother's Day I think of the women that mothered me over the years, starting in January, 1935, on the kitchen table in a small homestead ranch house. The doctor got there from Buffalo, 12 miles away. I love looking at the photographs of me as a baby in my great grandmother's arms, in my grandmother's arms, in my aunties arms, and in the arms of my mother and father. How blessed is the child who is loved.
My own mother, grandmother, my aunties, and my great aunties were all women I greatly admire and love; women of great depth, large hearts, room for everyone, ever ready to take me howm with them for a stay; always willing to help one another, they loved the extended family, and held huge picnics get togethers.
I remember one time at my Aunt Lillie's when the entire clan gathered. It seemed there were hundreds of us, and maybe there were. Old aunts and uncles, little cousins, and babies in arms, two of them my own. Those dear, dear mothers in my family with the wonderful men in their lives. Men who smelled of homemade soap and pipe tobacco.
I thank God for them, every one. But most especially, I thank God for my own mother, outspoken, demanding when I was small; she saw to it that I knew how to pray, to clean house and iron clothes, and in her age softened to the point that I almost didn't recognize her. It is a happy feeling to be a mother.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Quasars and Gideon Bibles
image credit: NASA/ESA/ESO/Wolfram Freudling et al. (STECF) The image above was the Nasa: 2007-04-19 Image of the day. It is an artist's impression showing a primordial quasar surrounded by sheets of gas, dust, stars and early star clusters. Stars are born, creating emmissions of very specific colors of the element iron and die within the first few hundred million years of the universe. So what did the first quasars look like? The nearest are now known to be supermassive black holes in the center of galaxies.
This beautiful universe, our beautiful galaxie, our beautiful blue marble; we are blessed by beauty in every direction we look. Just because we appreciate the earth do you think we need Gore's global warming book in the night stand instead of the Gideon Bible? It was one of Drudge's headlines today. Would that tempt a thief?
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Bursting with Intolerable Pride
South Dakota Magazine | Filed by Bernie Hunhoff at 1:19 pm South Dakota Magazine | Filed by Bernie Hunhoff at 1:19 pm April 18, 2007
Our May/June issue of South Dakota Magazine has a big spread on the Finnish people who immigrated to the Black Hills and worked at Homestake Gold Mine. A big group of them decided to leave Homestake and take their chances as homesteaders in Harding County.
One of the Finns, Axel Sacrison, became a self-taught artist. His daughter, Willo Boe of Omaha, Neb., collected his stories, photographs and many of his paintings and put them in a big book that tells an immigrant story unique to South Dakota.
If you follow the link you will see the rest of the story with a picture of a painting. When I first read it, "I was totally embarrassed about my own happiness and had to work hard to calm down myself!" I copped this from a Finnish blogger who has the same quality of self-deprecation that comes with our genetics.
A few days ago I googled 'Finnish self-deprecation' and got 18,000 hits. Obviously the whole world knows about it. He Who Must Be Obeyed gets annoyed by it and doesn't understand it...but Norwegians don't show any problems with this character flaw.
Well, enough of this. The magazine came today. The article takes my breath away. How am I ever going to calm myself down? To further quote Matti Pitkanen, "It is very difficult for us... to tolerate the feeling that one of us, just one of these ordinary Finnish people, might possibly have done something that might possibly distinguish him or her among other Finns some day." I know just how my dad would have felt had he still been alive today. We are bursting with pride and can hardly tolerate the feeling.
Our May/June issue of South Dakota Magazine has a big spread on the Finnish people who immigrated to the Black Hills and worked at Homestake Gold Mine. A big group of them decided to leave Homestake and take their chances as homesteaders in Harding County.
One of the Finns, Axel Sacrison, became a self-taught artist. His daughter, Willo Boe of Omaha, Neb., collected his stories, photographs and many of his paintings and put them in a big book that tells an immigrant story unique to South Dakota.
If you follow the link you will see the rest of the story with a picture of a painting. When I first read it, "I was totally embarrassed about my own happiness and had to work hard to calm down myself!" I copped this from a Finnish blogger who has the same quality of self-deprecation that comes with our genetics.
A few days ago I googled 'Finnish self-deprecation' and got 18,000 hits. Obviously the whole world knows about it. He Who Must Be Obeyed gets annoyed by it and doesn't understand it...but Norwegians don't show any problems with this character flaw.
Well, enough of this. The magazine came today. The article takes my breath away. How am I ever going to calm myself down? To further quote Matti Pitkanen, "It is very difficult for us... to tolerate the feeling that one of us, just one of these ordinary Finnish people, might possibly have done something that might possibly distinguish him or her among other Finns some day." I know just how my dad would have felt had he still been alive today. We are bursting with pride and can hardly tolerate the feeling.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Thinking Outside the Box
When things close in, become difficult, it is far better to think about others. I have some very dear 'others' who have or are facing grim health situations. Better by far to give my knees a workout, metaphorically, in prayer for them, than to whine about my own pitiful self. My friends are people of immense inner resources.
First a cousin informed me he had cancer, the same type that my father did; that rocked me to the core. Saturday night after church a young friend told about how God caught her up in the kindness of others when she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few days ago. People called her out of the blue...even Tutu called. Tutu, who is our India/American citizen, celebrating the American Dream coming true, offered to stay with her during the treatments. Family and life has to go on during the healing. Now the 'caregiver' has great need of a caregiver.
And I think of our sweet beloved Jewish friend, written up in the Jewish Press in Omaha in a story called "Silent Exodus:..." her story reads in part:
"On Aug. 8, 1962, Helene Avigdor was 13 years old. She lived with her parents, an older sister and a younger brother in Cairo, Egypt. “I came home that day and I saw the luggage by the door,” she explained. “My father kept us in the dark, and until that moment, I didn’t know we were leaving Egypt.”
Speaking to his family in French, their primary language, Maurice Avigdor cautioned his children, “Don’t tell anyone we are going!”
Since the founding of Israel, pressure mounted on Jews through the Middle East. The Avigdors, a Sephardic family, experienced a great deal of prejudice, Helene explained, “My father told me that on a number of occasions when the doorman of their four-story apartment saw him coming, he would turn off the power in the lobby, forcing my dad to walk up the four flights.”
That was not the only discrimination he faced. Her father, who spoke seven languages and had a good job working for an Italian import/export company, stated he had been stopped often on the street. There had been a number of times when, without cause, he was stopped, questioned by authorities, and occasionally arrested. He knew of others that were roughed up.
“When we left, we took only what we could fit in a suitcase,” Helene commented. At their arrival in America on April 18, 1963, Helene was 13, her mother, 45 and her father, 55. While Helene was multi-lingual, at the time speaking Arabic, French (her first language), Spanish, and some Hebrew, she and her family spoke no English."
This wonderful friend also took on the battle of breast cancer and after the rigors of the treatment has been cancer free for four years...and sadly, she suffers occasional prejudice here in our land of the 'free.'
All of these people I love so dearly, including He Who Must Be Obeyed, have looked cancer in the eye and never faltered during their challenge; becoming people of even greater compassion than before.
First a cousin informed me he had cancer, the same type that my father did; that rocked me to the core. Saturday night after church a young friend told about how God caught her up in the kindness of others when she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few days ago. People called her out of the blue...even Tutu called. Tutu, who is our India/American citizen, celebrating the American Dream coming true, offered to stay with her during the treatments. Family and life has to go on during the healing. Now the 'caregiver' has great need of a caregiver.
And I think of our sweet beloved Jewish friend, written up in the Jewish Press in Omaha in a story called "Silent Exodus:..." her story reads in part:
"On Aug. 8, 1962, Helene Avigdor was 13 years old. She lived with her parents, an older sister and a younger brother in Cairo, Egypt. “I came home that day and I saw the luggage by the door,” she explained. “My father kept us in the dark, and until that moment, I didn’t know we were leaving Egypt.”
Speaking to his family in French, their primary language, Maurice Avigdor cautioned his children, “Don’t tell anyone we are going!”
Since the founding of Israel, pressure mounted on Jews through the Middle East. The Avigdors, a Sephardic family, experienced a great deal of prejudice, Helene explained, “My father told me that on a number of occasions when the doorman of their four-story apartment saw him coming, he would turn off the power in the lobby, forcing my dad to walk up the four flights.”
That was not the only discrimination he faced. Her father, who spoke seven languages and had a good job working for an Italian import/export company, stated he had been stopped often on the street. There had been a number of times when, without cause, he was stopped, questioned by authorities, and occasionally arrested. He knew of others that were roughed up.
“When we left, we took only what we could fit in a suitcase,” Helene commented. At their arrival in America on April 18, 1963, Helene was 13, her mother, 45 and her father, 55. While Helene was multi-lingual, at the time speaking Arabic, French (her first language), Spanish, and some Hebrew, she and her family spoke no English."
This wonderful friend also took on the battle of breast cancer and after the rigors of the treatment has been cancer free for four years...and sadly, she suffers occasional prejudice here in our land of the 'free.'
All of these people I love so dearly, including He Who Must Be Obeyed, have looked cancer in the eye and never faltered during their challenge; becoming people of even greater compassion than before.
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