Our Stories

We had a wonderful time last evening watching a live production called "Civil War Voices". It was compiled from the "True stories, real words - the people and the music that shaped America". Two characters portrayed the love between a husband and wife in the letters they exchanged during the war. Their musical duets were thrilling. Another was a former slave who worked for Mrs. Jefferson Davis, and then spent several years in the White House as a close friend and worker for the Lincolns. Her book was the source of much of the dialogue, but the actress was gifted both in drama and music, and her songs were show stoppers. Yet another portrayed Joshua Chamberlain from his book about his life and the Civil War. The gifted actor looked like Chamberlain, and his music was wonderfully poignant and powerful. Another actor read from his great-great-great uncle's diary.

But it hit me this morning, that the best part of the wonderful production was that these people had left their words and stories for us. If we didn't have those letters, those diaries, those books, we would know so little of the real people involved. When we visited Gettysburg last month, I was assigned a woman who wrote a book about her experiences as a 15 year old resident of Gettysburg during the battle. And it was her accounts which made those frightful days much more real to some of us. That human connection was so precious, and it was only made possible because she had written down her story.

Now here I am writing furiously at my sometime blog. I am writing because once again we are reminded that it is our stories that will last. The stories we tell, and the stories we write, are the stories that will live. And I am happy that I have this way to leave a small legacy to my grandchildren, and their grandchildren. I wonder what future generations may read these words and wonder about life in these times, yet know a little of what it is like here and now, and what it has been like in the past. I realize that I need to write, not in the book my kids gave me, but in this blog where it may be more likely read. I will print these words and put them in that book, but they will also be "in the cloud" for my nieces and nephews and their children, for my students and their children. They will be here for YOU. And I am reminded again that I need to do this in order to share furiously the awesome love that God has overflowed to me. I give it now to YOU. And that is my story.

A Charlottesville Kind of Day

John and I frequently are amazed at our life near Charlottesville, Virginia. Living at Lake Monticello is wonderful. . . it's a mixed in every way community. Because it's only 40% retired folks, there are families and kids around. . . I can always find someone to play with!!!

But some of the most amazing things happen when we go into Charlottesville, and yesterday was a Charlottesville kind of day.

I hadn't planned to go to Charlottesville, but John had switched our phones and it was imperative I retrieve my old phones number list. . and learn a little bit about how to use the new phone. (I still didn't know quite how to hang up a phone call. lol) So I stopped and saw Mom (John's Mom), grabbed a bite of lunch, fixed the phone, talked quite a while with my favorite geek nephew about the phone and other things, and headed to my lovely hairdresser for a quick trim. As I sat waiting for Quanisha (who is the best hair dresser in Charlottesville if anyone asks), the lady next to me started talking.

The gist of her story was: "I'm dying. . there are chunks of my body missing because of my cancer. But I was raised with Don Henley, the drummer of the Eagles. I helped him write lyrics of. . oh, I think, over 20 songs. He loves poetry, you know, and writes in iambic pentameter. He offered to put my name on some of the songs, but I told him, 'Don, you are famous right now and everyone wants a piece of you. I want you to always remember that we will always have the relationship we had as children. I will never take from you like the others. Our relationship is a special friendship.' They wanted me to travel with the band, and one of the other band members pursued me, but there was too much drugs, and too much pressure. And horses are my love." And she talked of her life a hundred miles north of Charlottesville, of her love for horses,and of the mare she had that injured a tendon in Spain and dashed her chances of a gold medal in the olympics. And she poured our her affection for Mr. Henley. . and her angst over whether to try to contact him.

True? I have no reason I have no reason to believe or to doubt her. I suspect she may have been in Charlottesville to see the wonderful UVA doctors about her cancer. But if her story is true, I sincerely hope she will find Don Henley . . or that he will find her so they have a chance to say goodbyes to each other. Her name? We were at the beauty shop. I have no clue what her name is. If you saw her on the street, you'd see an ordinary looking lady, with very ordinary clothes, but a beautiful, blue-eyed smile.

When I got home, I did a quick change and we headed for Charlottesville again. John cleaned up from a fun day playing golf, and my friend, Rose, was having an art show downtown. Rose is one of my Charlottesville friends. She's the program director for a wonderful nonprofit that tests the water quality of the streams in the Rivanna River watershed by collecting and counting the bugs that live in them. (No, I didn't make that up. Nothing in today's blog is made up. . this is all a true story. . it should be a movie, I think.) She also does beautiful pen and ink drawings which she was showing at her friend's massage studio. On the first Friday of the month, Charlottesville has "First Friday" and the various venues for art hold receptions for the artists, have openings, etc. You can roam Charlottesville for a few hours just munching, drinking, and enjoying the wonderful talent of the city. (It's a Charlottesville kind of thing,) Rose is also known as "Recycling Rose". She's been featured in one of the local papers several times for her ability to avoid any type of trash. Her average trash output in a year is half a pound. If it can't be recycled, or reused, or composted. . she doesn't get it. One of her biggest horrors is Christmas (well, that part may be made up). You get what I mean. But she is among the sweetest, nicest, least trashy friends I know and I love her dearly. (In a motherly/friend sort of way.)

After enjoying Rose' company, her delicious homemade cheese and bread and hummus, and the company of some of our mutual friends, (ie: the lady in charge of the VA master naturalist program and her husband, the guy who monitors all the county trails, a medical software tester, and one who monitors erosion and sediment control in Albemarle County. . I did say it was a Charlottesville kind of day. . ) we decided to go to the public radio station and view the art which our church supports, knowing we would be seeing friends from church. And indeed we did see friends from church.

As we arrived, they were having a drawing. "Oh," says I, "Is it too late to put my name in?" Since they had just drawn several names unsuccessfully, no, it was not too late. So I scribbled my name in red ink and folded the paper once (to make it easier to grab, of course) and several names unsuccessfully called later, voila!! They drew my name! The prize? Complimentary tickets to a show at the beautiful and historic Paramount Theater. . that evening!! We had half an hour to grab a bite to eat, and get there. Fortunately, since we were in downtown Charlottesville, it was all within walking distance. Gotta love our favorite, buy it by the slice, pizza. John got the BBQ chicken and I got the whole wheat crust, pesto sauce, artichoke heart, avocado, tomato, basil, goat cheese wonder. Mmmm. I did say this was all in Charlottesville, didn't I?

We settled into our seats to watch "Civil War Voices", a wonderful live production by the Barter Theater. There was wonderful period music intertwined with excerpts from the diaries, letters and book of the characters on stage. There was an emphasis on Joshua Chamberlain, the Gettysburg hero. . and we had just a month ago spent three days at Gettysburg. Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln were movingly portrayed to the words of Elizabeth Ackley's book about them. . we met 'Father Abraham' at Gettysburg as well. It was absolutely wonderful! And free, and totally unplanned!! And we knew our friend, the Appomattox historian, whom we had invited to go downtown with us to begin with, would be utterly jealous. But as the game show hosts say, 'And that's not all. . '. I spotted a friend in the audience with her husband and stopped to say hi at intermission. It turns out their son was shot at Gettysburg. (I'll let that sink in for a minute.) He was in a 1998 reinactment, and someone did not check their gun carefully and got him in the neck! He survived, but. . .it makes a Charlottesville kind of story.

John and I just shook our heads all the way home. It was an amazing evening. Just another "Charlottesville kind of day".

PS God has been so good to us, blessing us in so many ways. That wonderful evening was just another showing off of His good Grace. It had nothing to do with any good on our part. . only wonderful blessings from HIM.

On the road again. . Hip, hip hooray!

Inertia has taken over my partner of 44 years, but I'm in Michigan with my friend, Tracy. We had a great evening at the home of the Prewetts. S'mores, pumpkin pie, birds, girls, games, and bugs. How good can it get?!?

We were talking earthquakes and so I took us to the USGS site. Didn't realize we've had 14 earthquakes since Tuesday less than 23 miles from our house. http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsus/Maps/US2/37.39.-79.-77_eqs.php Brrrr. Giving me the willies again.

Identified the screech owl call we heard outside. And the caterpillar one of the girls found. Time for bed. . nine hours and two countries today. Nighty, night.

Be still my beating heart..

"Be still my beating heart.. " No, not the sight of my beloved husband, but the violent shaking of our home set off the wild beating! At 1:51 today, a 5.9 earthquake happened with the epicenter shallow and 23 miles from us. It was really disconcerting. Cell phones are down to allow for emergency responder traffic, the local 911 is jammed, but the land lines and power seem to be fine. In fact, after checking on the neighbors and lake level, I called Mom and she wondered why her computer was shaking earlier. She's fine. But she and my neighbor had a first time experience after 87 years. Poor Dotty was really shook. And already, the normal neighborhood noises have returned. John has experienced an earthquake before in Japan and remained the calmest of us all, but we were all gathered outside.

Paul called us. . .Kaylene had felt it. . and when she saw where it was let him know that we were close to the epicenter. And, the TV news has suddenly switched from the fall of Tripoli and Mohmar Ghaddafi to a more local story. Our dams seem to be okay (whew!!) and it appears that the nuclear power plants less than 20 miles from the epicenter are okay too. . . double whew! The reactors shut down automatically.

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsww/Quakes/usc0005ild.php Info on the earthquake

Oh, and by the way, a hurricane is on the way. It's been a VERY interesting couple of months.

PS I no sooner wrote this when we had a small aftershock!!!

WALKING THE TIGHTROPE

When I was a little kid, I remember going to the circus. I was fascinated by the trapeze artist and the high wire act. The beautiful men and women in their spangled costumes would balance carefully across the shiny wire, bouncing on occasion and always nearly falling at some point to the oohs and aaahs of the audience. And soaring high overhead, with an ugly net below, would float the trapeze artists, barely hanging by their heels and catching each other after high flying somersaults. They were wonderful.

And as of my birthday last Thursday, I have become one of those high wire walkers. At the Lake Monticello Board of Directors’ meeting I was appointed to fill out the unfinished two year term of a board member who resigned just before the election. As God would have it, the meeting was on my 64^th birthday. There were some nice things said about me by the current board and I got winks from several of them as they voted. And the audience, including the broadcast crew, broke into applause.

What does that have to do with walking the high wire? Well, as a Board member, I have to remember constantly that I am only one of seven votes and that the Board sets policy, it should not micromanage. And also, I have to be very careful not to tell staff members what to do because even though I have a vote on approved budget and staffing numbers, I am not their boss. . the General Manager is their boss. As always, I need very much to remember that Lake Monticello is a small town. . one needs to be very careful to only say nice things. And I also should be very careful not to appear snooty, or changed, or less than honest because there is now a bigger microscope on what I do and say. And not that I even use hair curlers, I need to be more careful of my appearance in public my visibility has increased.

One disappointment is that as a Board member, I can no longer vote on the committee I’ve chaired for the past seven years. The good news is that we should have a full slate by the next meeting. The bad news is that even though the wonderful guys on my committee work very hard, they don’t know many of the things I’ve taken care of behind the scenes. I confess to worrying just a little. The good news is that I can attend some or all of the meetings even though I can’t vote. The bad news is that I may not be able to help homeowners with drainage problems as I have in the past. That is pending the lawyer’s opinion. . . I think.

I have to remember who I am in the Lord, and who I am NOT. It is sad, but sometimes folks act like they are more important after achieving a public office. I’ve had several people say to me, “Don’t change the way you are.” And that is indeed a tough job.

So pardon me while I pick up my balancing beam. I need to work on some budget items.

Alas. . .

Well, the votes were counted on Saturday and I did not win one of the three seats up for election. I came in fourth. It is a disappointment. And my good friend, Leighton, who has worked very hard for LMOA and was a wonderful leader on the Board of Directors from 2007 to 2010 came in behind me. . I really feel badly about that. And it raises some real concerns:

1) Did those quiet folks who want a great community and positive influences, and expressed support for us neglect to fill out their ballots?

2) Was this a raising up of the negativity that seems to be sweeping the news media? I understand even though they didn't put it in their campaign materials, these candidates talked of lowering the dues the majority of us worked hard to raise two years ago.

3) Was I wrong in not standing up and "making a stink" about violations of regulations and policies during the election? Remember my post of June 12?? "But if you feel that way, they protest, why don't you rise up and make that an issue?? Why don't you report those signs, or let the other voters know about it? Why not? And then I tell them, "I stand by my convictions. . . but I don't convict other people with them." "

But along with the disappointment are many positives and reassurances:

1) 529 homeowners, many of whom I know as quality people who are hard workers for the community, voted for me. And many of them gave me great encouragement, thanked me for running, and supported me in other ways.

2) Throughout the several weeks before the results were posted, God brought verses to mind such as Jeremiah 29:11 and especially Psalm 56:3. And I had great peace about the outcome. I know that being on the Board of Directors is not necessary to define my character, my worth, or my reputation. My value is in Jesus.

3) I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of in my campaign. Not only did I follow man's rules and regulations, most of the time I feel that I followed God's rules. And I thank Him for keeping my mouth shut some times when I wanted to blurt out the wrong things.

4) And there is still a chance that I will end up on the Board of directors.

And so life goes on. Right now I am faced with some decisions, so I value your prayer for me that I would follow God's will. And always thank you when you remember me to our Father.

The Joys of Dirt

I heard on TV lately, that some researchers hypothesize that the increase in allergies in children might possibly be due to our more sterile lifestyle in the past few years. They also postulate that children might have more food allergies because mothers and fathers are very sensitive to the POSSIBILITIES of allergies, and are thus more likely to limit the foods their children get even more than they used to.

I found all this interesting as I think back to when my own kids were small. Those of us who read Rachel Carson knew of dangers of pesticides and chemical fertilizers. I remember growing our own vegetables and some fruit and reading the Organic Gardening magazine cover to cover. I also remember being told to introduce foods slowly, but I remember Paul gumming pizza on his first birthday (He didn't get any teeth until he was 13 months old. . and they were great when they came in!). I never used pesticides. . Paul still remembers picking potato bugs off the plants for a penny apiece. The apples went to the cider mill worms and all because the extra protein was a small price to pay to avoid Alar. We even got our beef from our neighbors. . also great fans of organic gardening practices. If I could have gotten organic chicken, I would have. And we were quite happy to use our well water and have flouride treatments at the dentist' office.

My kids played in the dirt in the garden (I did fence the cats out of the tractor tire sand box). I treasure a picture I have of Laura and Paul just brown from head to toe after a busy day playing "Land of the Lost" in the corn patch. I'd bring the trucks and graders down, and they'd play in the corn where it was shadier while I picked beans, or pulled weeds, or did whatever else was necessary. I also love the picture I have of Abram playing with his Dad's old trucks (the same ones, I might add) and covered head to toe in dirt as well.

Of course, all this discussion of dirt causes me to look at my house. Gulp. Time to vacuum and dust again. And the pile of laundry isn't getting any smaller. Thank heavens John has given attention to the dishes. We complain about getting dirty, yet the truth is, you can't have clean without getting into the dirt to get it out. And dirt is all around us. The best dirt is called soil, but it's on the ground, in the air, and in the water. We have to give it attention at times.

All this is to say that dirt gets a bad rap! That dirt all over me in the picture above is from the Rivanna River recently when we did "Clean the Bay" day. My buddy and I made quite a haul out of the river, including an eight foot sewer pipe wrapped in especially aggravating wire. We even made the television news. If you check out this link, I'm telling everyone to get involved. http://www.nbc29.com/story/14839960/volunteers-clean-up-as-part-of-clean-the-bay-day

My recommendation is to take the time to get your hands. . and whatever else. . dirty. It's a great way to make the world a better place to be.