Fall, 2010

I have to say that I love the Fall. And this year, we have had a beautiful one here in central Illinois. I can appreciate it more this year as I compare it to last year when we had rains into December that all too quickly took away the colors of this lovely season. Last year when my husband helped his brothers with the harvest (which he does every year)he came home late at night and was up early, sometimes 4:00 a.m. to get in line to empty the corn or soybeans at the grain elevators. It was a messy harvest to say the least, and the farmers around here said it was the worst in living memory. Amen. They finally finished in early December. This year, the harvest was finished in mid October and the colors are still visible today on the trees and bushes. Today, the weather is still in the 70ies and my husband is on the golf course with his two brothers. This may be the "last" of it, however, which is why I am writing about it. When it is cold, rainy and damp in the months to come, I will want to remember days like this and remind myself that they will come again. (Pictures taken at our Farm.)

Family and a Walk in the Woods

What could be more wonderful than a walk in the woods with your family? Here, my precious family is taking a rest after a crisp Fall walk through nature trails, colorful paths and along a sky-blue tranquill lake. For me, this is truly what makes life worthwhile, and joyful! Family and nature; nature and family. Two really great things life has provided me, and I am so grateful for both! And when the two come together, well then, it is just wonderful. I believe that the universe provides us these moments so that the rest of the time, when we are in the trenches with problems and worry, we can remember these days with the hope that there will be more. It has been true in my life. I must remember this.

Voting

Today, November 2, 2010, I am writing this from the Urbana, Illinois Free Library...a great place I discovered while here visiting my daughter. This is the college town of the University of Illinois with lots of thinking going on....some good; some not so good. And, downstairs today at the library, people are walking in to vote as this is a polling place, and this is the day for that. For the first time in my adult life, I am not casting a ballot. My father, who was quite active in the Democratic Party all his life would surely roll over in his grave if he knew. Around our big Irish family dining room table each night growing up, the topic of conversation would often turn to politics....usually what the Democrats were doing right vs. what the Republicans were doing wrong. I was highly influenced by this on-going dialogue, and usually vote just to the left of center. But not this year. This year I have come to view Politics like I view many other traditional institutions these days, as businesses with big money interests. We used to joke that "the boys with the most toys, win." Today, the party with the most money contributions, wins. I have lost any trust I once had in a process that does not, in my opinion, use values, honesty and reasonableness in what they represent. I don't know what the rally in Washington with John Steward accomplished, but minimally, if it pointed to how far we have come in lacking any fair-play and decency in our dialogue of differences, then it perhaps did some good. We are very far from what I think our forefathers wanted for this country to become great; they knew we had to have moral choices, American values and a way to discuss our differences with civility. When we get back to these kinds of choices, I will go to the polls again.

What is Beauty

Yesterday I attended a beautiful lunch and style show at my daughter's Fashion Boutique where she is a new manager. This Boutique is one of a kind and is called Bella Mia, located in Champaign, Illinois. The show was stunning with lovely models and rich high fashion; so delightful to look at and admire. It brought to mind some thoughts.
My mother used to say, "People will always treat you the way you look and dress...that first impressions are crutial." My mother was quite stylish in her dress and manner but I don't think this was the essence of what she wanted to convey to me. Mother meant that one should always look "put together," (not necessarily fashionable), neat, and dressed in presentable clothes that fit well. She particularly wanted me to make sure that my children looked nice when they went out with clean combed hair, washed faces and clean outfits.
"Your children will benefit from the positive affirmations they get, even from strangers (when babies) when people treat them as well as they look, and she was right....babies and children soak up positive messages like a sponge. The opposite is also true; children instantly sense when negative messages are coming their way. And like it or not, people do react positivly or negatively according to what they see.
The other message I received around the idea of beauty was from my Dad.
"Beauty is only skin deep," he would say..."the rest is up to you."
He would often suggest to his five daughters that women of great beauty in our society were at risk of never being anything else. Women especially have been highly idolized for nothing more than looking fabulous. This is a danger my father would say; the danger of not becoming anything of any worth or consequence. Of course, my father was an intellectual who highly prized education above all else, and was always promoting the value of this. I was blessed by his ferver and determination to give the same love of learning to all of his children. My mother valued this as well but, on ocassion, when the whole family was together, seven children and their offsprings, she would look around the room and say, "Aren't we all just so good looking." I was doubley blessed, I guess.

What Do Workers Have to Do With It?

Today I thought about all the people that are in place to serve me and keep my life going. How often I forget about the chain of laborers that work behind the scenes to make my life easier, and manageable. Take for example, the simple act of going to the grocery store to buy bananas. Where did these bananas come from? Who grew them? Were they paid a living wage (wherever they were) to grow them? And how did they end up in MY grocery store? How were they transported? Airplane, and then truck, train???? How many people were involved in that step? Were they paid enough money for their efforts? And who unboxed them and put them out for display after checking them to see that they were o.k. to sell? Were they paid well enough? And the checkout person, and baggers; how about them? I wonder; if I added up the total cost of getting that one bunch of bananas to me, what would it be? Today, in America, we are challenged with many problems. One of those problems is people who are not getting enough money to live well enough. There are no easy solutions, and everyone these days has a different opinion about what to do. I do not have a solution either. I just want us not to forget that many of these people are the very ones that serve us and help keep our lives going. This is not a new idea, and actually, I thought about it after reading an excerpt from a quite famous author who I now cannot remember (perhaps Yeats) who said,
"The woollen coat, for example, which covers the day-labourer, as course and rough as it may appear, is the product of the joint labour of a multitude of workmen. The shepherd, the sorter of the wool, the wool comber or carder, the dyer, the scribbler, the spinner, the weaver, the fuller, the dresser, with many others must all join different arts in order to complete even this homely production......without the assistance and co-operation of many thousands, the very meanest person in a civilized country could not be provided;, even according to what we very falsely imagine, the easy and simple manner in which he is commonly accommodated.

Chilean Miners Rescue

It is rare indeed when the world comes together to celebrate something extrodinary. I believe that many tears were shed around the globe as the last Chilean miner emerged from the tiny man-made capsule that brought him, the last of 33 miners, 700 meters underground (half mile, I think) for 68 days, to the terra firma of his homeland. There are many heros surrounding this story from the men themselves who kept each other going and shared their meger rations, to the rescuers who NEVER gave up in spite of discouraging results along the way. (It took 17 days to even locate the miners.)
What makes a HERO really? One who is not afraid to do the hard, brave thing, or do the thing that is right? Just the opposite, really. A hero is a person who IS afraid, but does the hard, brave, right thing anyway. I feel that there is such a dirth of heros in our world today. Do you feel the same? Of course, the men and women defending our country every day are heros; they are the reason we live in freedom. But who else? Sadly, I think, most potential heros of today have gone the way of big money or political advantage. Can our country survive without real, genuine heros? I don't think so. Bill Gates, and his wife Melinda are examples, I think, of what one person, persons can heroically do to make the world better. This country needs more heros like them, me included, which makes me ponder here at my desk what I might do in my very small speck of the world to be hero-like. What can I do? Hmmmmm.

Barns Continued

What in life endures, I am not sure, but as I drive down country roads and see the barns that dot the family farms, I know it is these barn weathered becons that do remain, and I am awed by their presence and captivated by their charm. They are as rooted in the earth as the farm families living near with stories to tell of those who tilled the land, and planted well the bread baskets of the world, and then perserved their crops in these barn hollowed lofts. Some stand facing the sun; others see rust colored sunsets as shadows creep up one side and down the other of their warn-weathered sides. They have outlasted the darkest storms, the heaviest winds, pelting snows, and have given refuge and safe harbor within for farm animals to grow: calfs, fouls, young kittens, and for down-and-outs, and for run-away slaves who in darker days had nowhere to go. They are housed hidden among rolling hills or stand hard upon flat, firm landscapes, while colorful paints and peelings catch your eye as you drive by. Some barns have messages to take to heart: "Jesus saves; Repent; chew mail pouch tobacco" in years gone by. How many years has each barn stood, I do not know and their future fate I can only surmise.....the year and date of their demise. But I know this for sure; they will remain and endure long after I am gone.