NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

Every year at this time, I reluctantly and disconcertingly think about New Year's Resolutions that I never keep. For, who's list does not include something to do with food? Either we are going on an out-and-out diet, eating only certain foods over others, getting more exercise or in some way or another, losing weight. And just like my Lenten resolutions growing up Catholic, I seldom made it to the "finish line," especially if it involved giving up candy! SO, this year, I am making a new kind of resolution list that I think I can stick to, and one which will, I hope, be a WIN-WIN, reasonable and even enjoyable. Here is my list, not necessarily in order of importance. What's on your list this year?

1. Go out some nights and look up in wonder at the sky.
2. Go for more walks in the woods.
3. Plant a tree
4. Smile more, especially at people who look as unhappy as I sometimes feel.
5. Make new recipes
6. Buy and cook more locally grown food.
7. Drink tea in the afternoon.
8. Keep the bird-feeders full.
9. Write more letters to my grandchildren
10. Be silly more/ laugh more.
11. Sing more, even if people are around.
12. Have some quiet, meditative time each day.
13. Make more nutritious home-made soups.
14. Spend more time at book stores and libraries.
15. Think of three things each day to be grateful for....

Elves at Christmas

Recently we went to visit our grandchildren and while there,  experienced the joy and excitement the days before Christmas bring. I remember these days as a child, and can still recall the butterflies in my stomach as Santa's visit drew closer.
Today, our grandchildren, in the days before Christmas, enjoy the fun and antics of two special elves who showed up just after Thanksgiving, and have delighted the children with their nightly activities. It is the magic of the North Pole snowflakes sprinkled on themselves each evening which makes them come alive, go on nightly adventures, cause mischief throughout the house and hide for the "grands" to find them in the morning. Some work for the parents, but great delight for the kids!
Elves which first came to be known in Germanic and Scandinavian folklore continue to be mysterious with wonderful supernatural powers. They do lots of good things as well as cause mischief! One thing I like about elves is that they love nature, and dwell in forests, wooded areas and leaf-filled trees. Even Santa's elves are said to head south after Christmas to live in the warm, southern forests until they are called back by Santa to the North Pole. They love the springtime when they celebrate the first blooms and enjoy swimming in lakes and running rivers. Elves have exceptional endurance and as they grow older (some live to be 1,000 yrs.), they become stronger and wiser. (Nice!)
Are elves real? Well now, I don't know. Is Santa real? I put these two questions in the same category. And, all you have to do to answer the Santa question is read the book, "Is There A Santa Claus;" the story of eight year old, Virginia O'Hanlon, who was beginning to doubt, and wrote to the New York Times for the answer. If you do not know the New York Times's answer, it is a book worth finding and reading!
It seems to me that elves can be like angels (do you believe in angels?) in our lives; that we, ourselves, can be elves and angels in each other's lives; not just at Christmas time, but all year long.

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

It's that wonderful time of year again, and I am walking down memory lane with all these pictures now displayed on my refrigerator. I love to think about my own Christmases as a child at this time of year; always happy and exciting with my six brothers and sisters in Cincinnati, Ohio. My memories include the time when I was very little, and both my  brothers and I were in the hospital through Christmas with Scarlet Fever, and how Mom and Dad had Christmas for us after we were home, presents, trimmed tree and all. I remember putting out food for Santa's reindeer, the Jingle Bells that my parents rang late at night to suggest that Santa was near and all children should be asleep in their beds. On Christmas morning, I remember all of us waiting impatiently for Mother and Dad to get up so that we could go in line from youngest to oldest down the steps singing Jingle Bells into the Living Room to see what Santa had brought. I remember the year that we all got bikes; the year that we all got ice skates; the year that the girls all got beautiful dolls. I remember the only year that we were allowed to open our gifts on Christmas Eve because my mother was about to deliver our youngest sister, Christine Helen, who came on Christmas morning. Always exciting "stuff" going on at our house on Forest Hill Drive! Most Christmases, our large family of children put on Christmas plays for us, put together, costumes and all, after they had eaten, and while the adults enjoyed their Christmas dinner.  My memories also include the fun and traditions of my own family and the joy my husband Mike and I had watching our own two little girls open their presents from Santa. One Christmas in Colorado was particularly memorable with a snowstorm that would not allow anyone out of their driveway. We had great friends there, and all Christmas Day we had parties on our front porches all up and down the street, some people getting around on skies. One Christmas we went to New Orleans, where my sister lived. That year we enjoyed the sunshine of the south, and the interesting traditions of the people of New Orleans including burning wood-built structures to burn and light the path of Pere Noel along the Mississippi River. As you can see from the pictures above, we have had many Christmases with our large, extended families which is the best gift of all; to be with, and celebrate this special time with the ones you love the most. One of my fondest thoughts for this season came one year via a poem written by a good friend, then in her 80ies and I will add it here. It is called, "WINTER GARDEN"

WINTER GARDEN

Yes we can have roses in December

Someone has said (I can't remember who?)

Because God gave us memories,

And it is true

Kaleidoscopic pictures turn

Behind closed eyelids, sunsets burn

Of many summers gone.

And tawny woods of autumns sped

Still swirl the leaves inside my head,

Still make my eyes and nostrils sting

With perfume of burnt offering.

The vernal fires of greening trees

Ignite the songs of chickadees,

And lo! The robins and the cardinals come!

No longer, nature stricken dumb

In crystal caves of ice and snow

Indeed, the winter roes grow!

In hearts like mine that are contrary

The monarchs fly in January!

And all bright loves and friendships shine

That once were ever yours and mine.

SARA BUSH

Wise Women

Friday night in downtown Bloomington, Illinois, I had the entertaining privilege of being one of the three wise women in the living window display at Cross Roads, a Fair-Trade Shop where I volunteer, and am on the Board of Directors. I love the humor in a piece that was sent to me long ago that says, if the three wise kings who came to the manager had been women, they would have asked for directions, gotten there on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stall and would have brought practical gifts. So what is this thing called wisdom, and how do we get it. Well, the most wise person I have known in my life is my father and so I will try to describe what I think wisdom looks like modeled after him. First comes humility. My dad was a very humble guy, often in the lime-light because of his brilliance, but never wanting the lights to shine on him. He was willing to impart his knowledge to all who needed it, but only saw himself as a fellow-traveler with his own flaws. He was never one who knew everything or thought he had all the answers. Secondly, I will mention "listening." My dad was a great listener; he did not take sides nor did he judge you for your thoughts or actions. Mistakes were for learning, and the gathering of wisdom. Dad listened to everyone from the tallest to the smallest; from the judge in a courtroom to my four year old daughter showing the same amount of interest. He was  singularly focused and made everyone think that what they were saying was the most important thing, and at the moment, it was. Dad knew that there were things to be learned from "important" people with money as well as those who were poor and without power. He knew that he could learn from children as well as adults. My dad listened to the stories of the kitchen help, the waiters, the sales-clerks, the maids, the garbage men as well as teachers, professors, professionals and CEOs. And in his encouragement of these people, he came to understand life better. He had many different perspectives that contributed to his growing wisdom. Next, I will mention, "suffering." My dad was a deep thinker, and was often pained by the unfairness of life he saw all around him, and often did things to help make people's lives better. So, my dad was keenly aware of the suffering of others, but my Dad suffered also with his own demons and problems , and through that suffering, came to appreciate himself, and all human being as flawed but worthy....most often doing the best that we could each day. There are many qualities that contributed to my Dad's wisdom but the final one I wish to mention is Love. Dad demonstrated his love in the many behaviors of his everyday life. When a poor "off-the-street" man came to see my father at his prestigious law-firm, my Dad welcomed him as he would any client, listened to him, and then took on his cause of saving an Alcoholic Drop-In Center in Cincinnati, Ohio. When the good people of a neighborhood in Cincinnati would not allow a six-person home for mentally challenged adults to be in their midst, Dad took the case to the Ohio Supreme Court and won. The House was named "The Conlan House" after my Dad who found this out minutes before he died. He would not have cared about this honor as much as he cared about the people who could now live there. No problem was too big or small for my Dad, and there were so many times that he helped his seven children, and showed his love to them. I remember one Thursday afternoon at Marquette University in Milwaukee (a long trek from Cincinnati) where my sister was entered into an elocution contest. Right before Maureen spoke, my Dad walked in the room having flown by airplane to hear her speech. Now that is Love! I would like to think that, as I age, I am also learning and gathering wisdom. I am lucky. I had a wonderful role model who gave me some of the tools I needed. I don't always act wise, but I am always striving for the wise approach to my life which my Dad taught me through living his own life.

THANKSGIVING

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and before I sat down to eat turkey and all the trimmings, I intended to write on my Blog the things that I am grateful for in my life. There are, of course,  family and friends etc. but there are many more things in my everyday life that I am so thankful for, like the lovely sun that is pouring through the window this morning as I write this! And humor; God, what would we do without humor in our lives? Perhaps this is one of the greatest gifts man has given to himself and to each other. I could not live without it, and the people who have given me the greatest joy in life are also the most funny. So, to them, especially today, when I am thankful for my many blessings, I say thank you to them; those who are still here and those who are gone. So, once again, as I do each year, I will make my list of what I am most thankful for today...this moment; this day in 2011. I will include the sunshine I spoke of earlier, and also good friends, especially those who make me laugh, or laugh with me. I will also include good books that have kept me interested when I am bored to tears, and yes, beauty....beauty all around, especially the beauty I see everywhere in nature.Yesterday, after a large Thanksgiving meal at the farmhouse of my husband's grandparents that is still in the family, I took a long walk down the country road, and around the two lakes  there, and then sat on a bench in the sun as it shimmered over the water. A small piece of heaven for me, and a small piece of peace. I would be remiss if I did not say this year that I am also grateful for the wisdom I gather from the books I read, and the peace that comes from reading about those who have come before me, and struggled with the same issues and questions that I have. Their wisdom and words often bring comfort. And last, but not least, I must tell you that I am grateful for cinnamon rolls that have been a tradition on holidays for a very long time in our family. Slathered with butter, they melt in your mouth on a cool Thanksgiving morning with the fire in the fire place, the blanket covering your legs and that good book in your hand ready to read. So many wonderful "little" things to be thankful for; so little time.

A Dreary Sunday Turn-Around

I don't do well on overcast, dreary days. I always thought that I was immune to such "nonsense" that lack of sun can affect your mood or disposition. I always thought that I was "bigger" than that; who gives in to such a thing??? Not me. Well, then again, yes me. Today was just such a day in central Illinois. And, yes, I did read about the snow storm covering the east coast, but never mind that; I am here under a windy, blustery, cold, overcast rainy day, and right after lunch, and up until 2:30, I was under the covers hoping the day would just go away. But then, I had one ace in my pocket, if I could motivate and muster the energy to get up and out the door to attend an afternoon concert on the campus of Illinois Westley University which was titled, "Love Songs Over All the Earth...Unifying Humanity through Music, Poetry and Art. Well, I got myself there and oh, the joy of it all!
The program talked about the extraordinary powers of music to calm;to shape emotions; to perswade our minds and hearts to beauty's end. When we add the universal and supremely powerful emotions of Love to the extraordinary persuasive power of Music, we have a potent mix to which virtually everyone can respond.
Songs of love were played by the most wonderful violinist I have ever heard, with piano accompaniment, while different masterpieces by famous artists were featured from overhead projector. Along with this, there was a vocalist and poetry readings, all with the theme of love.  Love drew me in; the music soothed my soul and the day turned out well.

Halloween Costumes

                       Doll made by my sister Maureen (all recycled items)

An advertisement in my newspaper this morning invited people to come to the Ag. Coop Exchange to learn 101 tips for sewing. Oh how I could have used this when my children were little, especially when it was close to Halloween. I am one of seven children and Halloween was one of our favorite days of the year! All that candy!!! We also had a mother who was a good seamstress, very artistic and imaginative. She could whip up a costume, with the help of her children,  in a heartbeat, and did every year for each of us. Back then, there were no ready-made costume stores; you had to create your own if you were to be seen  in your neighborhood on "All Hallows Eve," pillow-case in hand, going door to door for treats.Around this time every year, my brothers and sisters would sit at the table over dinner and discuss what they were going to be on this frightful night in our young lives. My mother's sharp attention would help to steer the conversation towards something she (we) could either sew up, or create. It was usually my brother John who had the wildest ideas, and often Mother had to discourage him from wanting to be a donkey or a horse, i.e. Then, when we were ready, the Conlan kids would go out en mass, the oldest looking after the youngest, always taking her hand. This would have been my sister Chris. We would go as ghosts, witches, cowboys (cowgirls, my favorite), princesses, exotic, scary creatures, goblins, T.V. characters or cartoons all of which Mother helped to create. Back home with our stash, we would spread out our "loot" across the living room rug trading back and forth for the kinds of candy we liked the best. I always had to watch my two brothers very carefully during this period of exchange. For me, as a kid, Halloween was the best! But as an adult, and mother of two, it was the worst! I was clearly not my mother; I neither sewed nor had her keen imagination and artistic touch. And, even then, there were no Costume stores from which to simply buy an outfit. So, off my children went, year after year, in something created and put together by us...whatever we could come up with at the time, and though I was not my mother, we did not do too badly, even though the weeks before almost gave me hives. The thing we could always count on, however, was that no other kid had their costume; it was a unique creation and one of a kind. Somehow, even with all the angst, I think it was better.
As you can see above, my sister inherited my Mother's artistic talent. Wouldn't this make a great costume???

LETTERS, A LOST HISTORY

One of the yearly traditions at my private girls' school was to write a letter to my parents each year at Christmas time, thanking them for all the things I appreciated about them. The devoted Sisters of Notre Dame de Mure would have us practice writing these letters in our best cursive handwriting until they were satisfied that the letter looked beautiful, neat and readable. Only then were we allowed to pen the final copy in ink. These were treasures (from five daughters) my mom and dad savored for years, and I found many of them after Mother and Dad were gone.
Ah, the joy of receiving a real letter these days; going to the mailbox and taking out an actual
 hand-written note from a sister, brother or a friend. 
One historic correspondences of the past were the letters sent between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams who wrote to each other over the years often disagreeing with each other bitterly, but who, through these letter, became fast friends by the end of their lives, both dying on the same day. It was these letters that made them friends. If you read these letters, you will see the historical significance contained in these communications where we are able to see into the minds of these famous men who created and shaped the nation. They depict the human side of history, expressing how these men thought and felt. Letters of the past are one of the major research tools used by schorlars to know famous people of the past, and we have much to learn by reading what they thought and felt.
But today...who writes letter today? When I was in Africa for two years with the Peace Corps, I wrote many letters home, not only to my Mom, Dad and Grandfather, but also to my brothers and sisters. Today, I have all those letters because my Dad, in his wisdom, had them typed and bound. They are a complete history of my time in Africa, and what a joy they are for me to read today. But, best of all, I also kept the palethra of letters sent to me by all of them, which is a two year history of their lives, and often the craziness of growing up in a large Irish Catholic family in Cincinnati, Ohio. I am now in the process of typing these letters and sending them, one per day, to my siblings and we are all laughing out loud remembering some of the histarical moments as they
transversed through high school, college, marriage, leaving home and having babies. I am including a part of one of these letters from my Dad so that you can see how much fun we are all having.
Letter from Dad: June 18, 1965
"Of course, the big event is John's wedding to Carol. Maureen (sister) arrived Thursday a.m. and I met her with Chrissy (sister). The airlines dropped her bag off in Cleveland. It arrived next day. Meantime, Maureen had to buy new dresses to wear. Again, on Thursday, Ginny (sister) had collision with Tom's (brother) car. Ginny not seriously hurt. Car demolished. Can sell for junk only. Like "our" fire,*we are grateful that Ginny wasn't hurt. No insurance on Tom's car. I arrived home about 5:30 p.m. and heard fire sirens approaching. Someone had started incinerator (my grandfather) and it had malfunctioned. It smoldered instead of burning. The whole house was smoke-filled. The same fireman arrived with the same array of equiptment. The Fire Captain admired our house decorations and then spent two hours cleaning the incinerator. The same insurance adjuster was on the phone next morning. We had house mist sprayed before company came. This all happened the night of rehersal dinner.  (Dad was referring to a recent incident that had brought the firemen to our house shortly before this time.)
How will people know of us in the future? How will our grandchildren and their children understand "our days?"More importantly, how will they know what we thought and what we felt ? They won't unless we tell them.

Putting Up Tomatoes Again

TODAY IS THE DAY THAT I WILL SPEND "PUTTING UP TOMATOES." I AM READY WITH MY JARS, LIDS, FRESH TOMATOES AND GREEN PEPPERS FROM THE FARM.  A DAY'S WORK THAT WILL LAST A WINTER. TO SEE THE WHOLE PROCESS, GO TO PREVIOUS ENTRY, "PUTTING UP TOMATOES." WHERE I SHOW PICTURES AND TALK ABOUT THE PROCESS.

Message

October 12, 2011
Good morning, and tis a beautiful morning here in centeral Illinois. Just wanted to share with you that, for some reason, the most RECENT BLOGS that I have written are not coming up first on my BLOG page. If this is also true for you, look at menu to your left to find the most recent entries. Picture above is sunset over Lake Michigan from my sister's deck where we have been privalaged to see many of these.

Harvest in Central Illinois, 2011

I love the Fall; I particularly love it at Harvest Time in central Illinois. All the farm machinery has been oiled and made ready, and now, it lumbers down country roads heading for the fields for the harvest. Cars, vans and trucks give them the "right of way" without even a toot of their horn; after all, some the these $150,000.00 combines take up the whole road! Today is a perfect Fall Day.

Plenty of sunshine, but also a slight breeze coming across the fields along with the furious dust kicking up behind the machine that is picking off 6-8 rows of corn or soybeans on each round. There is something wonderfully symmetrical about rows of corn and soybeans; the process all transversing along such perfect strait lines...music to my preordained orderly soul. Today, we have our grandchildren with us (4 & 7) and it makes me wonder what those "young eyes" must be thinking as they climb aboard this monster machinery, every bit five times their height. They do not seem to be afraid as their Dad hoists them up the steep steps and places them in the "cab" next to their Uncle Philip for a ride in the "BIG RIG."

Ben (4) is the first to ask his grandfather (Popo) where all the corn is going? "Here, there and everywhere," answers his grandfather. These crops feed the people of the world." What a simple question to jog my thoughts to the magnitude of that question and answer. We help feed the world from our tiny spot here in central Illinois. Wow! And yet, so many go unfed. Such an abundance here in the field, but such hunger here and around the world. We need to do better. Why don't we have a purpose like "no child left behind" to make sure that no child goes hungry. I'm for that; how about you?

THE JOY OF SHARED HISTORY

Two years ago I had the joy of celebrating a milestone birthday with my High School classmates, and most recently, I reunited with the Peace Corps Volunteers I spent two years with in Tanzania, East Africa. What is it about a shared history, I wondered, that connects us for life, as I walked into the room of Peace Corps Volunteers I hadn't seen in 47 years, but instantly felt close to....
The first thing that came to my mind is that we all had done something profound together, and, at times, something hard where we supported and encouraged each other. We agonized over stuff; laughed deeply together, and "held each other's hand" during tough moments. In many ways, we survived together. Like army buddies, there is a depth of feeling for each other that cannot be penetrated.
Two (although there were many) moments in my shared history come immediately to mind; one, the love and support I received from my High School classmates when a "silly" prank got me into deep water with the good nuns of Notre Dame de Namur. When we all get together, everyone still loves telling this story! We all agonized over my fate together. In Africa, I dodged several serious "bullets" with the help of my Peace Corps buddies and am still here to write about it. Life and death situations shared together certainly connects us! In Colorado during the 80ies, what connected me to my neighborhood girlfriends in Homestead Farm were the joys and traumas of growing up together, trying to become adult-like and becoming parents when all we really wanted to do was party! To this day, I know that those friends helped raise my children and I helped raise theirs.
I have moved away from each of these special groups and as I get older, it becomes harder and harder to have in my life, these kinds of extraordinary, special groups; there just isn't the time to develop the history. For this reason, I will always rejoice when in their company, and be a little sad when they are gone.

50th Peace Corps Celebration/Tanzania

On December 5, 1964, eighty P.C. volunteers met at Kennedy Airport in New York City to embark on a two year adventure in Tanganyika, East Africa. We would be the 6th Peace Corps group into Tanganyika, and we were going to teach school, most of us, for the first time in our lives, partly in the language of Swahili. We had trained for three months at Syracuse University and were now ready to go. Looking at the picture of this group in New York, sent to me by a fellow volunteer, I wonder now what each of us was thinking at that moment. Me? I was both scared and excited for this adventure to begin, having said good-bye to my Dad, Mom & six siblings who sent me off , by train, from Cincinnati, Ohio (all of us in tears.). At the time, not much was known about the "dark" continent of Africa, so my family was also scared for me to leave. But, oh well; I went anyway.
Forty-seven years later at the 50th Celebration of Peace Corps in Washington, D.C., I met this adventurous group again! Three days sped by as we looked closely at each other for signs of recognition; got names & places strait; shared memories and stories (and pictures); learned what life had brought to each of us, and laughed until the single digit hours of the morning over glasses of wine. We felt like a family again. The years just slipped away, back to the place where we all lived in Tanganyika (Tanzania) for two years both together and separately. We listened to an update of Tanzania 'today' by the former American Ambassador to Tanzania, and left Washington very proud of what we had done and what we had contributed to that Africa country.
Today, there are 125 Peace Corps volunteers in Tanzania, East Africa serving in the fields of health, Aids prevention, Environment, Engineering and Education (Tanzania has asked for many more U.S. teachers). President Obama feels that Tanzania is one of the strongest and well run countries in Africa today.
Aside from all that, personally, this was one of the most wonderful, thrilling, satisfying and fun adventures of my life.

50th Celebration Peace Corps

On this coming Thursday, September 22, 2011, I will fly to Washington, D.C. for the 50th celebration of the Peace Corps. In November of 1964, after joining and training for the Peace Corps, I flew to Tanzania, East Africa to teach for two years in an African boys' boarding school, called Mysengi Upper Primary School in Musoma, Tanzania right on Lake Victoria, the second largest lake in the world. It was one of the highlights of my life and to this day, it was one of the best things I ever did for myself!!! I am going to continue this entry with a "writing" I did for "The Summit," my high school in Cincinnati, Ohio, when it came out with a book called, "This I Believe." I share this with all of you in celebration of the Peace Corps of 50 years.
Entry:
I left Cincinnati by train on a snowy November morning. My family, mom, dad, two brothers and four sisters were all at Winton Train Station to see me off. Everyone was crying and my youngest sister, Chris, held me tight, not wanting to let me go. I was off to New York City to meet the Peace Corps Group I had trained with for three months at Syracuse University, and then heading to East Africa for two years. There I would teach school at Mysengi Upper Primary School, a boys' boarding school in Musoma, Tanzania, right on Lake Victoria. To the alarm of my mother, (my dad was too proud of me to be alarmed) I was off to the Dark Continent that, at this time, few people seemed to know much about. I was alarmed myself, and very scared, but I did not want to show I was feeling less brave than my family thought I was, and when I waved tearfully good-bye to them through the train window, my stomach doing flip-flops, I had no idea this would be one of the most enriching experiences of my life.
Living in a third world country, being a minority for the first time in my life, and having to communicate in Swahili taught me many things about myself, and about what is really important in life. I experienced a completely different and more simple way of living; a way of life which had never occurred to me before. As an American with a task-orientated mind-set, I was always in a hurry to get something done; to accomplish something. In Africa, the pace was much slower, the Africans taking time to be with each other, to laugh and talk together, and to help each other. They went about their lives with a joy and happiness I had never known before. One day, while I was racing to town on my bike with an important errand, my African neighbor ran out into the road waving her arms. Annoyed with delay, I almost missed her beautiful gift to me. Mrs. Mbaya stood in my path and sang Happy Birthday to me in perfect English. She had been practicing for weeks, and this was her present to me on my birthday. She knew no other English.
Over two years time, I came to love the African people and all the ways they had of living more simply on the earth. The school children taught me how to plant a vegetable garden (this city girl had never done that before) and to enjoy their simple games with sticks and stones they found all around them. They loved to sing, and showed me the joy that came from music and singing, no matter what the task. The sweet voices of the African children still ring in my heart today. I can still hear them singing. Their presents to me were always simple, like the birthday song. Sometimes it was something they had cooked or woven together like wild flowers or a small basket. One day, a knock on my door brought two African students to my porch holding an empty bird's nest for me, huge smiles on their faces that melted me more than the hot beating sun..
The African people were models of courage and endurance to me. Some of our students walked ten miles or more each morning to school. This included all of the girls who could not board at the school. Most never missed a day. And when faced with danger, i.e. a giant python in our school yard one day, the Africans went towards the problem with a solution instead of running away. That day, the whole school followed behind or African headmaster with a rifle over his shoulder to hunt the python that was making its way toward the Lake.
At the time I taught school in Africa, only ten percent of male students were able to go on to high school due to a shortage of secondary teachers and facilities. The competition to go on to high school was fierce. When one day we had to miss a class due to a late breakfast, the students refused to eat unless we made up their class on Saturday. Education and learning are so important to the African children, and the opportunities for higher education are rare, even today. The African children taught me to appreciate my education more than I ever had, and to not take it for granted. I found the African people I lived and worked among to be genuinely happy people in spite of hardships. They knew how to smile, laugh, dance, tease, and joke with each other and to find happiness in simple things. What a life lesson for me! They had so much fun with my inadequate ability to speak good Swahili, and would love to tease me, but were always gracious in trying to help me speak better. Most of all, they knew how to laugh at themselves, and taught me to do the same.
What do I believe? I believe in taking some risks in life, and getting out of our comfort zones. I was afraid when I went to Africa, but I did it anyway. I remember thinking that I had a 50/50 chance of ever coming home, but the experience enriched my life more than I could ever have imagined, and I think I did some good along the way. Today, I still try to stretch myself, learn more, get out of my comfort zone now and then, and never forget the lessons I learned in Africa.

Small Town Support

In my book, "To See a Sundog," I begin with the line: "The town of Sawhill, Missouri is like a mobile that gently swings back and forth, and on most days it swings in harmony, but when one side of the mobile tips and bends, the whole town tips and bends with it." Further in the book, I talk about the help everyone gives to each other in small towns especially in times of crisis, i.e. the time one of the town's well know farmers brakes his back, and the rest of the men around Sawhill bring in his crops after their own crops are harvested. (A lot of work!) Saturday night, I had the occasion to experience this kind of small town help and support for a young man from my husband's small town of Colfax, Illinois who has cancer, without insurance, where 200 plus of the town's people came together for a fund-raising effort and raised over $15,000.00. My husband and I attended and saw just about everyone we knew in Colfax, from the youngest to oldest. Food was donated and served; a band played without cost; a bake-sale ensued (I actually baked a cherry pie), 20 donated, filled baskets were auctioned in a silent auction, and there was also a live auction of about 50 items, all donated. Everyone was having a great time, and always surprising to me (a city girl), everyone knew everyone!!! I know that small town America is not for everyone, but the interconnection of lives lived, laughed, succeeded and struggled together is one of the biggest rewards of this way of life. It has been my privilege to be part of it in a small way.

A Walk in the Woods on our Farm

We have had a whole week of Fall-like weather which has been a great relief after a very hot summer. We have been anxious to get out to our farm in the country to enjoy the lake there, and also to have a picnic and bon-fire which we especially like to do in September/October. Several years ago, my husband and his two brothers decided to put our farm of some 80 acres into conservation. In doing this, they reclaimed the lake that had dried up, created a road, and then planted some 3,000 trees! The Barclay men did all of this work themselves, and now continue to trim areas for better sunlight to trees, maintain a walking trail through the woods, and stock the lake with fish. Our family has come to love this special place in the woods, and tomorrow, we will have a gathering there for a cook-out followed by a bon-fire. The above picture shows our picnic table where we will dine. To me, there is nothing better than being out in nature.....the farm is so peaceful and perfect with only the sounds of chirping birds, rustling trees in the wind and an ocassional fish jumping in the lake. Lovely butterflies flit about, and sometimes we encounter the deer that live in our woods. William Wordworth wrote, "the world is too much with us; late and soon...Guilty and spending; we lay waste our powers...Little we see in Nature that is ours....." For me, I enjoy turning off the T.V., muting the cell phone, shutting down the computer, and going for a walk in the woods....the real peace and joy for me can be found there.

Rabbit Hash, Kentucky

How many times have we wanted to take the road less traveled; go down an unknown path or enjoy the mystery (and, or risk) of an unknown adventure? I think the human spirit craves this kind of thing, and so, without hesitation, I agreed to participate with my artist sister in an arts and crafts show in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. If you live in Cincinnati where my sister lives, you get to Rabbit Hash by crossing the Ohio River and then going south on I75 until a turnoff that brings you right along the historical Ohio River on the Kentucky side. I say historical because this river, a little upstream from Cincinnati, was one of the main crossing places for the Underground Railroad where slaves were able (where the river was low and narrow) to cross over from a slave state to a free state. If you ever get to Cincinnati, be sure to visit the inspirational Underground Railroad Museum there, downtown right on the river. But I diverse. Back to Rabbit Hash....and getting there. The winding road you are on along the river narrows to one lane after you have passed beautiful horse farms with those wonderful white wood fences, and soon you are, almost without noticing, right in the middle of Rabbit Hash, a town with one General Store (above), one place to eat, and lots of charm, history and old stuff gathered in the one large antique store. Like so many places hidden away from theInterstate Highways we travel, this place is a treasure, and a slice of America that most of us never see as we race from one place to another. I am glad now that I know about Rabbit Hash, with its charm and beauty along the Ohio River, but it makes me wonder what other places I am missing as I hurry the highways. I am fortunate to live on the edge of the country amidst so many small farm towns and communities, yet, have the conveniences of a large town. I know what is beyond our highways, and it is worth getting off the Interstate now and then to take a look, and experience the wonder, life and beauty just over the horizon left and right....

Back to Blogging

It has been way too long since my last BLOG, but I have just finished reading a Biography called, "Reading My Father," by the author's daughter, Alexandra Styron about her Dad (William Styron) who won the Pulitzer for the novel, "Sophie's Choice" in the 80ies and the writing juices began to flow in me again. I really am happiest when I am writing, and so, once again, I am committing to this BLOG on a regular basis. Not every day, but regularly! I remember starting to read "Sophie's Choice" back when I lived in Denver, and I cried all day and into the next. My husband asked me what was wrong, and I said that the book I was reading made me so sad. My husband, in his wisdom, said, "Well then, stop reading it!" I took his advice and never finished it. On the other hand, the book I just finished about the author is very, very good, and his daughter is an excellent writer in her own right. Actually, the story is as much about her own path in life, growing up with an overbearing Dad with mental illness as it is about the author himself. I have been reading lots of Biography and Autobiography and I find that I really like these books the best...the real stuff and struggles of life. I am now reading "J.D. Salinger," by Kenneth Slawenski, copyright 2010 and am so fascinated by this character that I plan to go back and reread, "Catcher in the Rye" and the Glass Family books. Salinger became such a mystery and recluse in his later adult years, but in his early years of writing, he was quite visable and fasinating. I recommend both of these books if you enjoy reading about the real lives and struggles of famous authors. Tomorrow, I want to tell you about my time with my sister in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky this summer!

Pure Joy

I always wondered what "pure joy" looked like and I think I have finally found it in this picture of my two grandchildren swimming late in the evening in Lake Michigan, close to our long-time cottage in northern Michigan. Another picture which I received in a Christmas card this year also strikes me as a picture of "pure joy." This little girl is Anabelle Tousand, granddaughter of long-time friends of ours. What could be more wonderful to see than the innocent joy found so often in children? And given what joy looks like, what does it sound like? Well, for me, it sounds like the Chicago Symphony playing its Christmas Christmas program which I attended this past holiday as a present from my daughter and her husband. When you close your eyes and just listen, it is heaven! And what does "pure joy" feel like? Well, for me, it was getting into bed the other night with crisp, clean, fitted sheets that felt so cool and lovely that I almost soared. What is "pure joy" for you?