Last

You can't change the past, but you can change how you respond to it.

Sounds rather profound.  It wasn't meant to be, but it's so true.  As I work with family histories I find stories we wish to remember and cherish, and ones we wish hadn't happened and would give just about anything to undo them.  But we can't!  Even as we try to forget those nightmares, they remain a part of us, either as a reoccurring pain or the basis for a better future.

The past is long, billions of years; the future is also long, maybe more billions of years.  My personal past is more like 80 years and my future far less than that.  The present is the shortest; one moment it's the future and the next it's the past.  The present is what we experience.  It's now.  Even as I write this, the word that I just wrote in the moment that I wrote it can never happen again.  It's the last time that moment will happen.  That's where the title "Last" was born.

A year and a half ago, I celebrated my 80th birthday for the last, and only, time.  About three years ago was the last time I talked to Ken, Gail's brother, and his wife Sally.  They both died this year.  The same is true for Tina's mother.  More recently, last week, a long time friend breathed his last.  It's hard to accept the reality that I will never again talk to any of these dear people again earth.

It may be the last, but it's not the end.  It's been said before, probably many times in many different ways, when one door closes another opens, or when something ends something else begins.  Hence, I will live today and each day as if it's your last time to connect to others.  Happy Holiday Season!!

What Was I Thinking

 I'm sitting in my "grandpa's recliner" with a cup of hot chocolate next to me.  Within reach are an iPad for trite activities, and the tools and supplies for crocheting.  Yesterday we gave the year's collection of crocheted beanies to the Christmas box people who will give them out to families in a couple weeks.  In exchange they gave me another bag of yarn, about 13 balls, nice stuff.

The sun is roaring through the sky today, a rarity in Oregon Decembers, while the rain awaits its turn to return in a couple days.  Early morning texts from around the country indicated temperatures at zero in South Dakota, 23 near Flagstaff and a foot of snow in the lake area.  Oregon's temperatures slipped to near freezing locally yesterday for the first time this fall but should remain well above freezing for the foreseeable future, a far cry from the December temperatures at our former homes in Alaska and North Dakota.

I did a short walk-around this morning as I knew that in a cool day with no scheduled events I would be using my recliner much of the day: writing, reading, designing and crocheting.  I do this in part to celebrate that I can still do this and do it comfortably.  I'm also excited to acknowledge that my childhood dream of becoming handsome may be coming to fruition.  Well, at least at 81 years old my hair is still brown, not gray.

One of the joys of a walk-around is just simply enjoying the beauty of nature.  Another joy is to foster ideas for blogging, or journaling.  A joy of being 81 is that when I have those thoughts again, they will seem to be new, creative and never experienced before.  So somewhere wherever this morning's idea for a blog is tucked in a corner waiting for me to discover again, meanwhile I'm going to grab the crochet hook and create a beanie.  Or maybe a Christmas ornament.

[Sip of warm chocolate]

[Help Gail align and sew the back to the front of a small quilt]

[Sip of not very warm chocolate]

Family

 The core was three sisters and a baby brother, although the baby brother is no longer a baby - born about the same time we got married which was 56 years ago.  And the sisters are eligible to collect social security.  All gathered together to remember dad whose chair is permanently empty.

Each has two children, five daughters and three sons, all eligible for marrying.  One has married but she lives on the East Coast and didn't join the family for this service.  She was with them five months ago when they celebrated their grandmother's life.  Add several aunts and uncles and a handful of cousins and you have a couple dozen sharing the bathroom and vying for a seat at one of the small conversations.

"What was the third girl's name?  There was Fran and Betty and ...?"  I pull up an app on my phone and declared cautiously, "Eva," allowing for some refute.  "Ah, yes, Eva, and brother Conrad."  Another family of three girls and one brother, but two generations earlier, grandpa's half-siblings.

A nearly thirty-year old sheet of paper listing the birthdays of descendants of grandma and grandpa in my family tree data base lies on the table amid the cousins.  Questions continue to rise: "Who's the oldest cousin?"  Less seriously "Who was twelfth?"  I grab my iPad and put a family tree on the screen.  It slowly and quietly moves around the table everyone looking for their name and how it fits into the bigger picture.  Later there a hint that an updated list would be interesting and helpful.  As an advocate of family histories and research, I have self-appointed myself to pursue this task, especially since I have most of the data.  It's taking a couple days to put together the 200 names with birthdays and send drafts to the families for proofreading.  Some responded immediately; others will come later.

Myths about families tell how families bring their differences to the fore around the Thanksgiving dinner.  This group qualifies as a Thanksgiving dinner but the differences stayed quietly in the background, each respecting the other's ideas and thoughts, possibly because Dad isn't there.

Group activities, spontaneous and unplanned, were the traditional gelato tasting "what's in that sample" and some not-so-solitaire solitaire card games.  Those were secondary to continuous multiple conversations and eating.  Freshly baked sweet rolls generated some debate as to if they were called caramel rolls or cinnamon rolls.  No consensus was arrived at.  Pizzas filled the stomaches in the evening as slowly groups headed home or the airport.

Oh, yes, there was the memorial service, the reason for the gathering - simple and meaningful with bagpipes and remembrances.  The service will hold the record for the most mentions of horses in any such service - Dad was a lover of horses.  He was also very determined to bounce back from challenges which he passed on to the family.  And the family will bounce back.

Stuff

Stuff.  There's stuff everywhere.  Maybe not so much in your life, but then again maybe yes.  Even as a retired being with little to no interest in things, I find myself dealing with stuff much of the day.  What do I mean by 'stuff'?  Really basic daily items fit the category: dishes, pots and pans, food; soap, towels, hair brush and tooth brush; vacuum, broom, dust cloth; and on and on and on.

Then there's the routine for me that may not be the routine for others: raking leaves, pruning trees, watering pots, tools, feeding the dog, watering the humming birds.  There's also getting the mail, burning the rubbish, getting firewood for the stove, picking up the magazines, fluffing the pillows, charging the computers, putting in the hearing aids and false teeth.  As a hobby there's crocheting with boxes of donated yarn, making boxes from salvaged lumber, disposing of the wooden scraps and shavings.  Other than the moments when I'm writing, such as this blog, reading, taking a walk; I'm dealing with stuff.

I am the creator of my own stuff.  It's not the fault of someone else.  I could eat out, do more reading and writing - but even that requires a medium such as a book, tablet or computer, maybe a pencil and paper.  By my nature, I use stuff: working with wood or yarn, caring for animals, and cooking which creates dirty dishes and the movement of food, caring for the house and yard.  Regardless of the motivation for stuff, when you intentionally think about what we do throughout the day, we move a lot of stuff around.

There are exceptions to the routine.  For example, recently we visited with a widow to get some wood - 'stuff' - that her husband had stored in the barn.  It was a good sized barn and it was full of stuff.  We loaded the pickup with lumber and barely made a dent in the pile in the barn.  Much of what filled the barn - we didn't venture into the garage which was equally large and equally full of stuff - are similar to what we have gathered in our barn.  However, he seemed to have double and triple of each item we had, and many types of stuff we didn't have.

Stuff continues to amaze me.  I've come to the stage in life when I would rather give the stuff to someone else than gather more stuff thinking that some day I might need it.  Where is your "stuff" attitude?  How much and how little can we or should we live with or without?  While this earthly body requires stuff, I would like to think that all I really need is a hug.

November Continues

Probably during my college was I not so aware of the weather - except for the blizzard of March '66.  But since then, after moving to Alaska, getting married and then relocating in Oregon, the weather is a significant part of my routine.

The ice cream bucket sitting in the grass out the front door has about three inches of rain.  Yes, we have had a great rain the past two or three days.  Today the sun is beaming brightly and the forecast says that should be the case over the weekend.  I'm watching for a day suitable for burning the trimmings and brush from the winds this past week.  Maybe Sunday; today the pile is still rather damp and there may be wind later today.

By this time of the year in North Dakota and Alaska, two of my past residences, frost would had bit the tomatoes and snow may have covered the ground.  Family in both locations indicate that it's true this year as well.  What an amazing ball we live on!  There's a great range of environments, dry to wet, hot to cold; but humans and animals have adapted to most of these extremes.  Currently we live in a moderate environment with some cool and warm, some dry times and some wet times, resulting in some version of greenery everywhere almost all year round.  Another couple weeks and a few breezes and the colorful trees will be bare while the evergreens will continue to be ever so green.

I didn't write for a couple days.  The activities of those days weren't very intriguing for blogging.  Doctor appointments: the eye is healing as hoped for and the tooth implant is ready for its cap.  See, I said it was not very intriguing.  There was a college volleyball game.  The team we cheer for has won only one game this season, but the statistics don't tell the entire story.  Last evening they went ot five sets and just slipped behind in the fifth set.  Some of our favorite players have some fabulous statistics.  I guess it's their off season.

Tomorrow there's the first home college basketball game for the ladies and the last volleyball game.  We will cheer for both.  There's also a fundraiser bazaar by the ladies of Peedee.  It'll be a great place for gifts or inspiration for gifts for Christmas gifts.

The weather I see outside suggests that I should be mowing or trimming or raking leaves instead of writing a blog.  So...

November is Here

By the numbers November is Oregon's rainiest month, and so far it's living up to the numbers.  Fortunately for the cross-country runners yesterday afternoon provided a sunspot.  Forecasters hinted that today might have some sun.  For the most part they were wrong.  I had thought about doing a backyard burn but about mid-morning it just felt like a wet day.  By noon it was definitely raining and by evening the rain gauge was showing a significant collection.  So the burn will be another day.  And I didn't get my steps or exercise in for today.

So we stayed inside and cut up the jack-o-lanterns, stewed the pumpkin pieces, mashed, bagged and froze the pumpkin pulp, ready for a Thanksgiving pie.  We also threw together some bread dough to bake some buns and sweet rolls, sort of a precursor for the potlucks at church.  We did good.  They went well with the evening ice cream.

Being a good day to stay inside, I worked on the writing of my conversations with my ancestors.  I tried AI for the first time.  I thought it might serve as a proofreader and editor.  I was not impressed; it mostly wanted to add questionable commas.  I also wanted to discover and correct why the Excel on Gail's computer won't save or print.  If you're reading this and think you know the reason, type me a comment.  I'm open to any wild idea.  I've tried everything I can think of including an extensive conversation with an IT pro.  Consequently something I try to avoid raised its ugly head - frustration.

At moments like this I wish I lived a couple centuries ago with my favorite horse and dog in the mountains of Western America.  I quickly realize how unrealistic that thought is and how nice it is to have a dry warm place to sleep and eat a tasty meal.  I realize that being eighty huddled under a Douglas Fir in the Cascades is not a comfortable place to be even if it's far from a frustrating computer app that goes in circles.  I regrouped, took a deep breath, and will sleep on the problem hoping for an inspiration and a solution.  Besides, there was no Internet under the Douglas Fir 200 years ago and I wouldn't have been able to write this.  So I'm just to glad to be where I am.

The forecasters are affirming that this first week of November will validate historic statistics and I will continue to work on writing and seeking computer solutions in the dry house.  I will also look out the window and acknowledge that with every raindrop a beautiful tree is flourishing,  Thank you God and Mother Nature.

Closure

 I like closure.  I like completely a task, finishing a project, getting the last dish in the dishwasher and pushing start, getting permission to start something new, checking it off the 'to do' list.  Today we had some closure, the final cross-country meet for this fall.  Well, the final meet for us; the season isn't over yet, but the students that we are following and cheering for are done running within driving distance.  Kelsey will run in the state meet south of Eugene later.

Today Anya ran.  We call her a granddaughter.  It was somewhat of a climax to the season, a meet to allow the best of the best in middle high and grade school to run one last time with peers in the state and even some from outside the state.  We had no idea what this run was about until we got there.  Would there be many races?  Would there be a few or many runners?

We were surprised to see cars parked three blocks from the race, which was at the Western Oregon University track.  This had to be an illusion, there will be parking, hopefully.  But there wasn't any.  I left Gail off close to the track and found a spot on the far side of campus.  We discovered during the race and after viewing the results that there were six races with more than a thousand runners and probably hundreds of schools and running clubs.  The atmosphere emulated a carnival, tents, canopies, souvenirs (mostly T-shirts), kids running and throwing balls, parents, coaches, grandparents and lots of noise and cheering.

We focused on Anya's race - 3,000-meter middle high champs.  The results showed that her race had just over three-hundred runners and she came in 215th.  Her time was a bit slower than some other races where there were maybe about 50 runners, but her placement was about where one would expect her.  I'm always very proud of her and I'm so eager to follow her running career.  

But I also have the greatest of respect for the last runner to cross the finish line often minutes after the runner who was second to last.  The determination, the drive, the endurance to finish what she started no matter how far from the winner she may be, it demonstrates a strong character.  This individual is my hero.

I stand and applaud all the runners.  I wish you well and as you finish this season and bring it to a closure, I look forward to a new season of the next set of runners next fall.  The best to you.

It's November

 It's November and the first thing that happens in November is our daughter's birthday.  And this year was a milestone, or a milepost if you're driving the Alaska Highway, because her original birthdate was 50 years ago.  What's that make me?  I was 31 when she was born.  I guess it makes me old.

There a heap of clichés about being old:  age is just a number, older than dirt, over the hill, you're as old as you feel, you're not getting older-you're getting better, seventy is the new 50.  Having passed the octogenarian mark I have made some observations, and let me tell you that age is not just a number.  In short, movements of my body are notably slower, and you don't need to be a rocket scientist to note the change of speed.  Often the slower moving senior feels muscles and joints than faster moving juniors don't even know that they exist.  I don't know if there's a cliché about being glad to see the sunrise in the morning, but I definitely love seeing the sunrise each morning.  I love waking up alive.

One of my daily goals is to move, not just sit or lie around.  Modern technology, specifically my iPhone, counts my steps and my goal is 5000 steps a day.  Rather arbitrary but realistic.  That's not the 10,000 recommended by the medical community -  I think that what they say - but on a average busy day it's about what I accomplish.  On a busy above-average day I might reach 7,000-8,000 but on those days I am painfully exhausted.

Less predictable than a birthday on November 1, is the Oregon rain.  It may not be predictable but it is  reliable and today was a rainy one.  At least early in the day it was rainy.  As the sun peeked through mid-afternoon I grabbed my iPhone, my jacket, my rain hat and my walking stick and headed out.  It's hard to walk fast today, the fall colors kept calling for me to slow down and look more closely at the beauty.  As I was rounding the loop, coming up the hill toward the house, I spied a bush that was just a gorgeous purple, or sometime close to that - I have visual color deficiency, not completely color blind.  I was impressed.  I probably said something like "God, you out did yourself.  Thank you."

If I were to chronicle the changes throughout the cycle of a year, this would be the time to include the fantastic changes that vegetation make as the weather cools.  The leaves on trees change colors, each in their own time, and then fall to the ground.  The chestnut is slow, the walnuts are almost bare.  The ash and alder are ahead of the oaks and the maples are somewhere in between.  The laurels ignore the rules and stay green year-round.  The lilacs and magnolias have more leaves the ground than on the branches.  Each to their own.

Now the sun has set and I say to myself, I'm so glad that I can go to bed and sleep well.  Good night.

Never Say Never or Always

Two years ago - where does time go? - I wrote in this blog that I would write more consistently.  Check it out!  Either I lied or I failed by breaking my word.  I probably got distracted or busy.  Or I simply move slowly.  Procrastinating's another option.  I have been writing what might be considered a book these past years.  It has to do with the story of my family, a bit of history of our family, if you will.  

I've put together a family genealogy, you know, one with names, and dates, and places - pretty boring stuff.  Reading it is like reading a phone book - for those of you who remember what a phone book is.  Actually I printed and bond that writing.  Then I started something that's like a conversation between me and my dad, and several grandfathers.  That's been much more fun.  You would think that I'm talking with ghosts since they have all passed, but it's more like talking to them if they were alive.  It's fun to hear their answers to my questions.  I'm sure I will reference this writing from time to time.

Summers are dedicated to working outside and in the yard.  And exercise.  Only last week did I return to trying to finish this writing as the rains and cooler weather moved in.  And I did finish the story if you can imagine finding a place to stop a conversation about hundreds of years of experiences and stories.  Next is to proofread and edit it.  Maybe I'll try some AI; it's the in thing these days.

I will attempt to fulfill my declaration of two years ago.  I will return to writing in this blog.  You will become exposed to the quiet life of a retired introvert.  There can't be much more boring than that.  However, being the grandparents of active young folks there's always something happening.

There are five grandkids.  The two older ones, sisters, are beyond college age.  One will be a mother in about a month.  The other lives with us and exploring what the future may deliver.  Two brothers are transitioning into college, one this year and one next year.  The fifth is a lad moving through middle-high school.  

We enjoy following them through their studies and sports.  Last spring the brothers were part of a winning soccer team which didn't maintain the energy to finish well during the post-season tournament.  They also ran cross-country which gave us an opportunity to meet some of their running friends.  This fall had us attending cross-county meets sometimes several times a week.  We were able to attend only one meet with our high school senior grandson.  

But ... there was one of their classmates who is attending college nearby and we went to her meets.  Going from high school to college she's doing awesome even though not number one.  And ... an psuedo-granddaughter just entering junior high decided to run cross-country.  She's doing fine for her first season and the meets are all close so we attend all of them.  And ... the daughter of a friend who is running as a senior in a local high school is winning her meets; we can't miss that.  At one meet as we talked with another spectator about our following all these runners we were referred to as professional spectators.

The leaves are turning colors and falling, the rains are coming and the temperatures are moderate so I will work on continuing to be retired and to write.  See you around.

It's time - again

A couple months ago I had an idea.  I've been researching and consolidating data and information about our ancestors, our families' history and the times andplaces in which they lived for several decades now.  I remember making lists of names and dates of my mother's cousins - she had over a hundred first cousins - while still in Alaska - that would be before 1992.  Since then I have found more time to research and consolidate through writing, there is so much more information available in websites online, and my interest is spiked through travel, visiting places which are a part of our history and interacting with others who research and write family histories.

Putting together a book I have found to be a daunting challenge, a challenge I enjoy so much, but I need to find another way of way of expressing my joys and findings, a way that may not require as much uniformity but can be more scattered and spontaneous.  The idea was daily essays.

I chose to share the daily writings on October first, the first day of a water year, a year that reaches from the first of October to the end of September, a year that defining the collection and recording of information about water such as a streamflow and rain.  This is the year that I worked with while I was an employee of the US Geological Survey-Water Resources Division.

So I wrote several essays in preparation of October first.  My idea was taking shape.  And then it happened.  October first came and went and the essays stayed on my computer.  The idea slipped and needed new energy and probable modification.  Now it's a week into November and I'm taking the advice of an author, Julia Cameron, who says (paraphrased), "Just write."

Sheinelle Jones of the Today morning show on NBC ran the New York marathon this past weekend.  She said that it's didn't feel like a reality until she announced on the air that she was going to run the marathon.  This is my announcement that I will make routine entries in this blog.  I don't plan to win the marathon, only complete it.  Please bear with me and check in periodically.

Here's what I wrote for my intended ideal first day:

Water Year - One – A Yearly Start 

The start of each year is arbitrary, and pontiffs of the calendar know that. Ask anyone, especially of European descent; they will say: “The year starts on January first.” Of course, if one revisits and analyzes the names of the months of the European calendar, you will note that September, October, November and December imply a seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth month which goes on to imply that March is the first month of the year.  Really?

In the realm of finance one might note that January first, October first or July first each could be the beginning of a financial year. The US government needs to get its budget complete by October first, more or less. At the US Geological Survey we had to close the books on June 30th. I have to pay my taxes based on financial activities by the end of December 31st. 

When asked how much rain you got in a year the answer is typically given from October to September. This is typically the water year. What was the highest stage of the river this year? A hydrologist would answer as if the year started on October first and ended a year later. 

 Now determining the end of the year is much simpler; it’s when the sun and earth align the same as when that year started. Another way of saying that is that the year is complete when the earth makes a complete revolution around the sun. So the end of a year is dependent on the beginning. Astronomically the year is a bit more that 365 earth days, each day being represented by a sunrise and sunset. If one were observing the rotations of the earth from the North Star, or any other star for that matter, one would count about 366¼ rotations. It’s complex, even more complex than what has been eluded to here, but as humans we have no control over how often the earth rotates before if returns to the same position relative to the sun. 

 So be it. 

 That leaves the question as to when one might start a new habitat or activity. Actually the answer is any time, it’s arbitrary. There is a preponderance to start new year resolutions on January first. I thought I would attempt to start this blog consistent with the water year: October first. Being that it’s well into October, I can safely say that I did not succeed with that intention. 

There is no great urgency or requirement for me to start a blog at this point is life. Mostly it’s my urgency; it’s my desire to record my thoughts. And to share them on the basis that someone may actually be interested, like how long a year is from the point of view of an earth-bound human or a star-bound alien, or when humans have arbitrarily determined when a year should start and end, or when the laws of the universe define when the year is complete. 

As a retired mathematician, toymaker, college-instructor I’m working very hard to be that – retired.  I try to not make a list of things to do; this blog idea be counter to that objective. Most days are filled with a morning routine and a step out the front door at which time a list of things-to-do creates itself. I will use the same approach to topics for this blog. Today you were exposed to the start of a new year, a new habit and an explanation of measuring a year.

Join me.  Just write.  Just enjoy.

The Finale is Just the Beginning

I would say "we're home" except as they say "home is where the heart is" and we've been home these past two months even though we were in different places.  More accurately, and probably philosophically more pragmatic, we're back where the grass needs to be mowed and the weeds pulled.  And there are dozens of appointments and engagements to be met.

In short, this was trip was everything we hoped for and more.  Our visits were uplifting and inspiring, filling our hearts and minds with wealth.  We drove just short of 15,000 miles, visited with about 150 individuals not including clerks, cashiers and other service oriented persons, and passed through 39 states in sixty-one days..  Regrettably we missed many friends and family for a variety of reasons such as we've seen them recently, we see them routinely, we will see them in the near future, we ran out of time or energy, we didn't make adequate contact, or our timing was off as the persons we were to visit were out of town.

The weather varied from a couple days in the 90's in Arizona and many other days when the morning temperatures dipped below freezing.  Fortunately the heater in the van worked well once we figured out how to use it we were quite comfortable.  There was a bit of rain but mostly storm clouds and almost constant wind.

Now we are mowing, gardening, quilting and crocheting, reconnecting with tasks and friends in Oregon and looking forward to the next adventure which probably won't involve so much driving.  New energy levels require new tasks.  We'll wait and see what's next.  For now blogging is on hiatus.

PS - There's an awesome camper van, aka coverage wagon, available for purchase.  It's comfortable, quite carefree and great for a traveling couple.

 

It's Time

It's time!

Yes, it's time that we express our appreciation to everyone and for everyone that is making this adventure so meaningful.  As we approach the final days of this moment in time, we feel this overwhelming gratitude to all who made it possible.

There's no one in particular to whom we owe the greatest gratitude so the order with which we write this is random.

There are those whom we see on our security camera as they come to check on the house and water the plants.  These folks make us feel secure about what earthly possessions we left behind.  Thank you.  We look forward to returning to the beginning and end of this adventure.

One of the reasons for this trip, the initial and primary reason, is to visit family and friends.  That we have done, unfortunately not everyone we call friend or family have seen us.  Those whom we have seen so far have gone beyond any of our fondest expectations in making us feel welcome and in sharing with us this snapshot in time.  We know that there are those whom we will never see again.  There are those whom we have not seen for a long time, those whom we see routinely, and those whom we had never seen before this trip.  There has been and will be a great deal of reflection on each and every person we have encountered on this trip.  Thank you for taking a moment in time to share your lives with us.

Certainly we wish to thank all of you at home who have stepped up to the plate to take on the tasks we would normally do around the community.  We know that these tasks will be cared for long into the future.  Thank you.

And we need to thank Charlie, our four-legged companion, who keeps us on our toes and brings us smiles with his enthusiasm, energy and playful quirks.  Charlie, you will certainly be happy to be home with the leash to be replaced with unfettered acreage for romping.

 

Montana

Alas!  The scenery is becoming more Denvy-like, or at least the scenery is the type with which Denvy really feels comfortable.  There are vast open spaces, mountains that dominate the horizon with white, and black, and blue, brown and green, and rivers that run clear and wide, streams that bounce down the mountains deep in narrow gouges, clouds that sparkling white among the blue and others that loom dark with rain, lakes that reflect the vanishing horizon or ripple white with random wind tossed waves, and broad farmed valleys with mountains on each side.

 

I don’t know where or when the seed for that attraction happened, I just know it’s in my being.

 

And there’s lots of this scenery, which you know if you’ve ever crossed Montana from side to side.  We entered Montana from the south near Billings and overnighted in Bozeman.  Apparently WalMart in Bozeman is popular, needed and well used.  It had it’s own section for campers.  There were many RV’s in the apparent designated corner.

 

Out of Bozeman we drove to the south edge of Whitefish or the north edge of Kalispell (your choice) to visit nephew Rory Cameron and his wife Tricia.  They moved to this acreage from southern California several years ago.  She does legal work from her home computer and he expresses this love of the outdoors, nature and animals with his horses, his manicured garden and construction projects.  One son graduated from high school last year and the other will graduate in June.  Both were off doing their thing so we didn't see them.

 

After a brief 15-minute drive south, still between Whitefish and Kalispell, we supped a stew and sourdough bread with great-nephew Peter (son of Bill and Cherie), his wife Sarah (also the cook) and their two elementary school daughters.  I had a great deal of fun with the girls as they were eager to share their newfound activity of crocheting.  They had learned to chain and so they were creating long chains.  Someday they will learn from their mother how to crochet and double crochet and turn and increase and maybe even a magic circle.  I hope to follow their progress.  Oh, by the way, this is a family of serious hikers which works well with Glacier National Park and many mountain trails just minutes away.

 

Really Good Old High School Friends

Ree, Tim, Melodie, Al

 

We're now a full eight weeks into this experiment, this trek, this adventure, this road trip.  As expected we're starting to feel the urge to get back to the home pastures.  But there's more to do and we will do it before the lawn gets mowed at home.

This may be a bit out of chronological order but here is the latest.  It’s a long haul between the last visit and the next so we split this drive into two shorter jaunts allowing a bit of time for napping, checking emails, getting some paperwork done and writing two entries into the blog.

 

Our hope Monday morning as we left Rapid City was to see the Custer State Park bison.  We swooped south, followed the “backest” of back road and only saw one by the road and four or five up a ravine in the distance.  We’ll settle for a prairie dog town, a scattering of deer, some prone horned antelope, a singleton wild turkey and lots of rocks that camouflaged as wannabe wildlife.  Despite the lack of bison the drive was so much like home.

 

Late midday we arrived at the home of a dear high school friend of mine, Tim, and his sweet wife, Ree.  Even though we’ve driven by Belle Fourche a time or two before, times that were rushed for one reason or another, this was the first visit in this home after about 50 years since we saw them in the earlier home in Hebron.  Ree is a music major and has three keyboard instruments – an upright piano, a harpsichord, and a “new one on me,” a butterfly grand.  It’s smaller than a baby grand; it’s symmetric with two covers that open for louder sounds on both sides making it look like a butterfly.  Who would have known?

 

I needed to call ahead to another classmate (Melodie) adjusting the next day’s schedule who was a good friend of Tim’s but had not seen or heard from Tim since graduation.  I put the phone on the table with the speaker on and told them who was on the phone.  What a delight it was to hear them reconnect after 60 years.  This will be a highlight in this trip.

 

We drove three hours, one hour from Melodie and Al’s home, and found a parking spot with our favorite truckers and fellow RVers in a WalMart lot in Sheridan, Wyoming.  Melodie was a classmate in high school.  I remember Tim’s father taking him, myself and Melodie to see a movie in the neighboring town when we were in high school.  It was El Cid.  Melodie went on to college and married Al whom she met there.  She continues to teach as a substitute while Al who operates a radio station has recently purchased an old vacated Ben Franklin store which they are remodeling to house a half dozen boutiques.  Their dream is to revitalize the old downtown of Hardin, Montana.

We swung back a few miles from Hardin to tour the Little Big Horn Battlefield, a National Park.  We love our old-person free National Park passes!  This park was very nicely laid out and displayed with headstones scattered throughout the hillsides where soldiers and warriors died. It was a major clash of cultures and so many young men on both sides died.

 

Now we are soaking in the sun after several more hours of driving, parked in our favorite chain of camp sites – WalMart.

 

South Dakota

 

Today, among other things, was a day of clouds.  The morning was routine, overcast and blah.  Midday was sunny and quite pleasant.  We spent early afternoon with friends and as we were about to leave we could hear heavy rain which included a few moments of hail.  

 

And then it started.  

 

As we drove west out of South Dakota, the clouds to the north were dark as night.  To the southwest big fluffy white ones were set off by a dark backdrop of  threatening clouds.  We were headed northwest and it looked bright.

 

The drive was some two hundred miles and the conditions changed by the moment.  The road tended to the west and the southwest clouds slipped behind us.  Then to the northwest and the west the skies darkened as the northern ones had a dash of white amid the appearance of rain; it was snow.  Minutes became hours and the road turned wet but our windshield remained dry.  Over the next ridge the edges of the road were white; possibly hail or snow.  Now the threatening clouds cautiously slipped behind us while others grew in the north, then the south, and even in the west.  Whenever we drove directly toward clouds, the route changed and we skirted between the showers.  Still no need for wipers.  However, Gail was constantly taking pictures as the clouds morphed in color, shape, tone, height, and threatening appearance.  It rained the entire evening and we enjoyed the displays without hardly a drip on the windows.

--------------

Sunday started with a quick breakfast in a café with my lifelong friend John.  Our parents were friends and we were born months apart so we probably played with each other in our cribs.  We attended six years of grade school together and after six years apart as his father followed his teaching career we landed in the same college.  While his career followed time in Viet Nam and teaching, he now gathers plant and soil samples for a ranching experiment for NDSU; going strong at 77 he is.

 

After a four-hour drive from Dickinson along the North/South Dakota border we spent a couple hours on the ranch/farm of the Scarboroughs.  Mrs. Pam Scarborough was my 51-year old niece who died just three months ago.  This day was pleasant allowing us an opportunity to chat outside on the deck while throwing the ball for our dogs  Their two-year old golden lab likes to fetch as much as Charlie.  Charlie also enjoyed the freedom of the open fields, the cattle and a peer who could match his athletic abilities.  Pam’s sister Sharla came by for Mother’s Day along with three of her five children, so there were a total of six great nephews and nieces roaming the yard and sharing stories about school and stuff.

 

After another three-hour drive we shared our evening meal with Samantha, an adopted daughter of Gail’s brother Stuart.  Sam is a traveling nurse and is just about to complete her contract in Rapid City.  She shared many stories about her nursing here and there but also threw in a few about raising a post-secondary school son back in Florida.  It sometimes seems like a miracle that we get through raising our families.

 

Overnight was in another WalMart in Rapid City.

Ken, Joyce, Jim, Jane, Denvy, Darlys

While there have been numerous surprises or unexpected events on this journey, last evening was notable.  We expected to park in some vacant lot in Hebron last night, however, we received an unexpected phone call inviting us to stay in this lady’s mother’s yard, a farm yard.  The lady, Kerry, was a student when I worked at the University of Jamestown, actually she worked for me, and we discovered not only that we came from the same home town but that we were remotely related.  Now she’s the town banker.  

 

Her mother, Pam, was a classmate in Hebron but about six years younger than I.  After we identified ourselves and plugged in the covered wagon, they asked if we wanted to see her quilting.  This was unbelievable.  Her entire basement was filled with shelves of fabrics, and boxes of fabrics, and a couple sewing machines.  Her main floor had quilts of all sizes hanging and lying around; the patterns and colors were quite varied.  Apparently she has done shows and exhibits with as many as a hundred quilts.  The tour was like going through a museum. (We forgot to take pictures.)

 

This morning we met for brunch with some high school classmates who lived in the area (Jane, Joyce, Jim, Darlys and Ken).  I’ve been to school reunions before but like so many times during this trek, the conversations became quite detailed and reached into the depths of our lives.  There were stories of being discipled in school, working the first cafeteria, after school activities; stories of first jobs and starting families as well as those about classmates who are no longer with us.  We reviewed old pictures and discussed where we sat in the classroom.  Some of us even remembered that we sat alphabetically our senior year.

 

Finally we took a picture with the six of us who came together and quickly reminisced the classmates who weren’t with us, about 11 out of 30.  Our hugs had the underlining theme that this may be the last time we share stories and hugs.  The official 60^th class reunion is this summer but this was a gift from these five to meet us during our time passing through.  This trip is so important to all of us.

Bismarck

Deona, Payton's future business, Steve

Polly retold her story about her uncle and newlywed bride who were mauled by a bear when they were hiking in Alaska.  Gail related again her story of picking up a couple in Alaska who were mauled by a bear and the man was too tall (long) to fit in the ambulance.  We first shared these stories 26 years ago while Polly and I worked for Jamestown College, now the University of Jamestown, as we sat at a Homecoming banquet.  The small world connection was that these were the same persons.  Polly was director of development those years ago; today she is the university president.

 

We talked candidly as friends do and she shared that the worst day of life was when she had to decide what to do regarding COVID.  She said she knew that if she closed the college staff and facility would have to be laid off.  She couldn’t bear that thought and chose to rearrange the college and keep it going.  She cited only one case of serious illness.  She truly loves her students, faculty and staff.

 

We had been invited by the assistant development director (she has other titles also) to breakfast that morning at the college cafeteria.  In line waiting for an omelet we met a coworker (coach) from those 26-plus years ago.  We chatted, exchanged stories and went our ways.  

 

We were a bit early for our meeting with our granddaughter Payton so we stopped at the RV shop to ask a question which they couldn’t resolve.  They discovered that the mystery motor was a fan under Gail’s chair but couldn’t find a way to turn it off.  I checked the iPad manual and learned there’s a switch which was accidentally bumped on.  We switched it off and the purring and draining of the battery quit.

 

We finished using up the extra hour at my brother George’s where we would spend the night.

 

We met Payton at the Cracker Barrel where we got an earful from a young lady trying to make her way in life.  She surprised us with the news that she was going to buy a one-person nutritional drink shop in downtown Mandan.  It’s called Impact Nutrition.  We stopped by the next evening, took some pictures and recognized that it was a very neat clean establishment.  We wish her well.

 

After an evening with George and Karen, and a warm overnight in the covered wagon, we shared breakfast with Payton’s sister Deona, whose birthday is today (May 6).  We had the same young waitress as the day before and enjoyed some bantering back and forth including the acquired taste for grits which Deona had never tasted.  It was unanimous that none of us had acquired the taste for grits.  Deona has a new puppy, still works for Starbucks and is looking for an opportunity to move on to another location, possibly with her boyfriend to Virginia.  Grandma and grandpa are a bit cautious about this decision, but it’s not ours to make.

 

The afternoon was spent with a Hebron graduate who is a distant relative and who manages the Hebron Historical Society site on Facebook.  It was an informative conversation getting both information about the big picture of the family and specific details.  The evening was spent sharing a meal at the Pizza Ranch with George’s son Glendon and family.

Austin, Glendon, Penny, George, Sheldon, Karen

The Alms

Brad, David (inset), Judy, Gail, Norma, Brad (again), Becky, Gail (again), Steve

Brad walked in with a small stuffed toy, a horse.  “Ellen made this for me.  When I knew I was meeting you today, I got it out to bring along.”  The Ellen Brad was referring to is Gail’s mother.  Gail remembers helping her mother make these stuffed animals, mainly stuffing them, this one given to Brad probably when he was quite young and his father died.  This particular horse was a patterned corduroy with a large white fluffy mane and tail.

 

We are exhausted this evening as we pull into the campus of the University of Jamestown.  I quipped, “I don’t know why I’m so exhausted this evening.”  

 

“Sure you do,” replied Gail.  “We just spent the afternoon reminiscing and philosophizing non-stop with six exuberant former classmates and neighbors of mine.”

 

The two families of Alm cousins lived about a couple miles from Gail’s family farm.  Today we were at the home of Norma Alm who married Gail’s classmate David Warrey.  Judy is Norma’s sister.  

 

The other family was represented by Steve, Becky and Brad.  They have one other sister Nancy who is in Oregon visiting her daughter, her husband and their son.  Both parents work at WOU.

 

Norma and David served coffee and lemonade, and banana bread, nuts, fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies and a coffee cake made just for us from a recipe given to them by Ellen.

 

Get the picture?  There was a lot to talk about regarding the mixing and mingling of stories.  Becky commented once that I looked a bit glazed over with all the stories with which I had no connection.  Actually I loved them especially at the end of the visit when Becky said I get the award for patiently listening.

 

David did show me his collection of sports and military memorabilia and other antique collectibles.  As I stepped into the room I was completely reminded of the collection of sports memorabilia that Al Kvidt has that we saw last week.

 

In contrast to so many previous days, the sun is bright and warm and the wind is almost calm.  It’s a fantastic evening as we drift off to sleep.

 

Fargo - North Dakota

Karl - Beth - Mary

The wind has died down, the temperature has crept up a bit, the skies are overcast but there’s not rain and the forecast is for continued important reaching into the 70’s but the end of the week.  There’s hope for the farmers to get into the fields and plant their corps.  In the Red River Valley of North Dakota there’s very little drainage because the countryside is essentially flat vying with a calm ocean surface for flattest place on earth, so we have to wait for the moist to soak into the ground.

The day is calm.  Mary fixed us a scrambled egg and gooey sweet roll breakfast after which we watched more game shows on TV as we crocheted and did needlepoint  and chatted about life and death.  Mary’s husband, my brother, died last September.  Midday we grabbed a few groceries and visited with Beth Moore, a Cameron but ironically a second cousin to Gail by the McLean side of the family.  She has lived well with MS most of her life, now in a assistant living facility.  She served us snickerdoodles and brownies and thought we were lying when we said we didn’t drink coffee.

Evening was spent over a lasagna, salad and sponge cake with a strawberry whipped cream topping, conversation and a bit of a game show on TV.  It’s hard to think that my baby brother David is no longer with us.  Mary however seems to be doing well.  Her son Karl was here for the evening and shared stories about his work as a electrician, continuing to remodel portions of his house and his new trees that he will plant this week.

This morning we’re off to Casselton to visit a collection of Gail’s high school classmates and do some basic household chores in the covered wagon.  Yes, house cleaning doesn’t end just because you’re away from home but still in a mobile home.  The wind is very mild, the temperatures are pleasant and the skies are blue.  It's another great day.  Hopefully this will lead to the farmers getting into the fields.

Weekend

Maureen and Jim - Avis and Gary //  Christy and Cam

"Would you like to go to a local high school presentation of the 'Sound of Music'?"  

"Sure," we said, after all it was 1966 when my sisters invited me to the movie on May 7.  That's almost exactly 56 years ago.  My sisters were a freshman and a sophomore in college where I was a senior.  They each had a date and suggested I do the same.  I invited Gail.  Eventually we all married our dates.  The one making the invitation was my sister and her husband, Avis and Gary in Volga, South Dakota.

There's more to this story.  We drove to the high school and found a note on the door stating that the performance was cancelled because there was illness among the cast.  We repeated the process the next night and the note read "Postponed until May 20 and 21."  No "Sound of Music" this week for us.  Instead we spread out a jigsaw puzzle on the dining table.

Enroute to Volga, near Brookings, South Dakota, we drove through fog and rain.  Gail awoke from a short nap and said that things looked worse.  My reply was "You missed the bad stuff.  I won't have been able to see that car in front of us just moments ago."  Today the local news is with regard to local flooding.  Last week the news was about the snow storm that has a small town in northwest North Dakota with no power for about two weeks.  And yes, we have seen snow in the shadows along the roads - in North Dakota in May.

Just miles before reaching Brookings there is the town of Clear Lake.  My records indicate that our daughter Becky's grandmother's headstone is there.  The Internet identified her block, lot and site, but without a map that would be useless.  Fortunately as we rounded the corner into the cemetery there was a map and within moments we found her headstone (Nona), her father's headstone (Becky's great-grandfather) and Nona's brother.  Another check-off the bucket list.

Now we're in West Fargo with our sister-in-law Mary after a Italian meal at Olive Garden with Gail's niece Christy and her daughter Cam.  They live near Ayr, the motherlode of the Cameron family, and were able to fill us in on all the local events.  They had brought with themselves a picture album of last year's Cameron reunion on the farm.