....on the just, and on the unjust....

....and (God) sendeth the rain on the just and on the unjust....(Matthew 5:45)

I was standing in the kitchen just a minute or two ago, contemplating my cupboard and wondering  what we would have for supper tonight.  (This is an almost daily problem with me, the definite housewife WITHOUT a plan.)

Suddenly I was aware of a change outside.  Looking out the kitchen door I thought I saw rain.  Could it be rain?  We had a brief but intense little thunder storm with wind yesterday.  And this morning we had a sprinkle or two after which the sun came out and made it just plain muggy.

Going from window to door again I could see it was indeed raining.  Not a blowing rain but a nice steady shower.  Just what we need.

The last few weeks have been mainly rain-less, except for a few lucky folks in the neighborhood. (Almost 2 inches in some places I have been told.)  And we need rain.  We need moisture.  Ponds are drying up.  Gardens are dying.  Animals are suffering in the dry, unrelenting heat that only late August in the Ozarks can bring.

I took a snack, got my handy-dandy folding chair and went to sit out on the all-around porch.  The beauty of an all-around porch is that you can usually find a place out of the wind, sun, snow, or, as is in this case, rain to sit for a moment and enjoy the view.

It was a beautiful rain.  The rain that I remember from my childhood.  Soft smelling, spirit restoring rain.  The grass that was crunchy melted with the water's tender touch on brown-tipped blades.  Puddles formed at the bottom of the step and soaked into the parched dry ground.  If you closed your eyes you might have heard the earth sighing in relief.

I thought about all the people who were out on the lake and river celebrating this long holiday weekend.  They were getting wet.  They might have had to change their plans for a brief minute or two.  Hopefully, they weren't in any situation where they couldn't find cover if needed.  I have been rained on while floating the river.  It is not bad.  Then again, the things you want to keep dry get soaked.  But you are on the water.....and it is warm out.  You'll dry...and so will your gear.

The scripture that reads...and sends the rain on the just and the unjust...popped into my head.  Some people wanted rain today.  Some people did not want rain today.

As for me, it gave me a welcome break from decision-making.  And after my little rest I went back in the kitchen and started the spaghetti sauce cooking. 

Nothing like a rain shower to revive your spirits...whether you consider yourself among the just.....or the unjust.

 

The Trip. Part 6. "Avast"

While Andy and I were on our trip east we had the chance to take a short sail on a ship with a fascinating history.  It was a three-mast square rigger, built in Delaware in 1997.  And it is called the Kalmar Nyckel.   The original ship was built in 1637 and made four trips to the area where the state of Delaware is now located.  The Swedish crew called their new home New Sweden and made plans to colonize the area.

As some of you know I was raised in a small town in western Illinois called Galva.  I was raised by Swedes although I have no Swedish roots in my ancestry.  Over eighty percent of my hometown and the nearby village of Bishop Hill have Swedish origins, having been settled by immigrants from Gavle, Sweden around the 1840's.  Galva was named for Gavle, a seaport on the east side of Sweden, bordering the Baltic Sea.

And amazingly, Kalmar Sweden is just down the coast to the south of Gavle.

I was glad to hear that two of the volunteer crew members on our sail were from Kalmar.  I wanted to speak with them, but, needless to say, they were busy working while I watched.

The Kalmar Nyckel is a floating classroom giving people young and old a taste of what it was like to travel on a tall ship long ago when our forefathers were just beginning to explore the New World.  The present day ship is manned mainly by volunteers who spend their vacations sailing up the east coast from Delaware to Cape Cod during the summer, stopping along the way to give people like me an experience like no other.

First of all, we learned what the word avast means.  It does not mean There are some loathsome pirates that I need to kill!  It means Hold onto to the rope that you have in your hand and don't let it go.  There were only two other people beside Andy and me on this particular sail, so we were recruited immediately when the sails needed to be raised.  The chant to time our pulling was 2,6, Heave!!!.  And heave we did.  Somehow the sails were raised and ready to catch the wind. All was well.

We sailed out for about an hour and then turned back to port.  I spent time visiting with several of the crew members who didn't have anything to do at that time.  Some were teachers.  Others were re-enactors who loved to travel from city to city and dress up like people from long ago.  A ship that sailed up and down the coast was a perfect fit for them.

When I sat by myself and looked out over the vast expanse of sea in front of me, I thought about those Swedes from long ago.  The pioneer seamen who left their homes and set out for foreign shores to seek out riches for their country.  Or in the case of my own town, searching for religious freedom.  How brave they were.

When we came back to port I climbed up the gangplank and, looking back, could see the smiling faces of the crew.  I waved to them, thanking them for a new experience.  Sometimes you have to get on board a ship to truly appreciate what you have always taken for granted.  Though I will never have to sail away to find my fortune or a new home, I'm thankful for those who did. 

 

 

The Trip. Part 5. Big City

Some observations while on a visit to the Big City.

1.  New Yorkers are actually very friendly people.  You just have to smile and act like you have no idea what you are doing there and they take pity on you.

2.  When you are walking in New York you can travel much faster if you go at a trot when you see the green walk sign ahead.

3.  You are less likely to be run down by the cab or car who has ignored the red light if you look BOTH ways before crossing the street...even if the street is going one-way(go figure...)

4.  When taking a picture of a tall building, head to the inside of the sidewalk, take a wide stance and shoot.  Those who tarry will be run over.

5.  Policemen actually know where the nearest McDonalds is.

6.  At all costs...avoid Times Square.

7.  Never talk to a person who is dressed up like Papa Smurf and is standing outside an ersatz Irish Pub.

8.  Always check out the nearest place that is likely to have a public bathroom before you drink too much coffee.

9.  Cab drivers are a source of lots of information.  And most of the time it is correct.

10.  When a security guard tells you that you need to keep moving....keep moving.

11.  And, last but not least, make sure that you know for sure that the train that takes you home will still be running after 9 PM. 

The Trip. Part 4. The Mother Tongue

As some of you probably know, this is a picture of Grand Central Station in New York City.  Doesn't look very busy, does it?  But about half an hour after I took this at 7AM in the morning, it was packed with people running everywhere like ants.

Riding on the train that morning I had a wonderful experience.  A man and his little girl who I guessed was about age 5 or 6 sat in the seat across the aisle from us. They had a large suitcase with them so I assumed they were going somewhere on a trip.  He was speaking in Spanish to his daughter and she was giggling and laughing and having a great time.  Suddenly, she burst into song.  I have never heard a child sing in Spanish with such glee and fervor.  Her father smiled and nodded his head in rhythm to the tune.  Such joy.  Singing for her father in The Mother Tongue.

That very same day as we were coming home a woman who was seated in front of me told the conductor that she would need a ticket for a child who would be getting on the train a few stops ahead.  When the train stopped and the door opened in popped a darling little blond.  Her mother was waiting and immediately put her in the seat facing away from me.  She opened a box of fruit and fed her some melon and strawberries, all the while murmuring in Russian to her.  Smiling the little girl would answer in her high bright voice.  I could see the mother's face over the seat and when her daughter was done with the snack she put it away.  She began to recite a little rhyme and the girl repeated it.  Music to the ears.  And then she drew a letter in Cyrillic for the little girl to see.  Sounding out the word that began with the letter she made up another rhyme.  I was fascinated.  The Mother Tongue.

We traveled north to Cape Cod to camp a few days later.  While I was cleaning up in the bathhouse one night a mother and two girls came in.  They were speaking in French.  I was hidden behind the wall so I stopped what I was doing and listened.  I speak no French, but I could tell that they were pleading with their mother for a favor.  Sweet little voices, begging their parent for something they wanted badly.  She laughed and replied in the affirmative.  As they left, talking in rapid fire phrases, I knew that they had gotten their way.  Ahhhh.....The Mother Tongue.

As I was walking back to camp I mused over the experiences of the last day or two.  Children talking to their parents.  Parents talking to their children.  I couldn't understand a word they said.  But I know it was the universal language of love.  The Mother Tongue.   

The Trip. Part 3. Kentucky Dam....and more

Kentucky Dam, near Land Between the Lakes, was our first campsite.  It was the week of July 4th and, as you can imagine, the place was packed.  We had spent too long in Paducah seeing the National Quilt Museum and touring the RiverWalk and we were late checking in.  The sun was still shining but evening was coming on when we finally found the campground.  Hot and muggy and just worn down to a nub, we jumped into our suits and went for a swim down in the lake.  Lots of families were there with teenagers and toddlers alike splashing and playing games of keep away and dunk-your-cousin.  The beach closed at 7 so our swim was just  a short, refreshing dip. 

Back at camp, we showered, fixed supper and put up our tent.  Night was falling by then and we took a short hike through the campground to see what was happening. Since it was near a holiday the place was very crowded.  Friends and family had adjoining places in the camp and everyone had dinner grilling or a fire blazing ready to roast hot dogs and make some mores.  Perfect memory making time.

Walking back in the dark I noticed one family group gathered around a campfire and talking.  You could tell by the cadence of their voices that stories were being shared and everyone was involved.   Each face was bathed in mellow firelight.  Their smiles proved that this was a time of closeness for them.  In this family circle one little boy stood out.  He had his tablet on and his face was bathed, not in yellow, but in cool, gray-blue.  His eyes were fastened not on his family, but on the images that moved around on that little electronic screen. As I walked back to my  tent I thought, "What a shame.  That boy is missing out on something that he will never be able to experience again."  And I shivered, thinking, that perhaps we are seeing the end of family times and sharing as we once knew it.  What a loss that would be.  Hopefully that boy will put down his tablet or phone and join in the stories and sharing before it is too late.

 

The Trip. Part 2. Corvettes!

On a prior trip through Kentucky, we passed on the outskirts of Bowling Green.  Andy spied the sign that said National Corvette Museum.  We debated whether to take the time to go see it that day and decided to head on home.  Fast forward to this year's trip on the same road.  This time we did stop in to see the famous cars and where they are made.  And we were glad we did.

We went to the Museum first.  A kind woman met us at the door as we were going in.  "Are you going to see the cars?  Do you want a free ticket?"  Sure.  She had won about ten of them in a charity drawing and was giving them away.  How could we pass up such a good deal?

I am not much of a sports car person.  The place was full of Corvette enthusiasts so I went along for the ride.  When we were admitted to the hall we had to sign a waiver if we were going to visit the 'sinkhole' area.  Sinkhole area?  And then I remembered. The Museum had suffered a loss a few years ago when several rare and beautiful cars disappeared down a sinkhole that opened up in the main area where about 20 were displayed.  And we could actually go in and see it from behind a barricade?  We could, and we did.  It was a sobering sight.  They had brought up the damaged cars and they were displayed in a room next to the sinkhole area.  Still covered with dirt and damaged beyond repair they sat behind glass.  It felt like the visitation at a funeral home  as we passed by the wreckage.

After a quick lunch we lined up to tour the Corvette factory across the road.  We sat.  And sat.  We were entertained by the same movie for over an hour.  It seems that a lot of  Corvette fans want to see their favorite car being made.

The tour took about an hour and I enjoyed every minute of it.  Part of the fun was the fact that two young boys, aged 10 and 11, were on the tour with their parents.  They knew their stuff.  Every time the tour guide asked if someone had a question, they would pipe up.  They kept him on his toes...and we all learned a lot.

Another treat for me was meeting a couple who were watching their Corvette being assembled.  When you order one from the factory you can visit the plant and watch them put your car together...for a fee.  They were so excited.  Almost like being in the delivery room when your grandchild is born.

I came away from my afternoon learning about Corvettes and with a new appreciation for what it takes to make a beautiful automobile.

I may never be a Corvette owner, but I have seen the care that is put into creating them.  And I'm sure there are many fans out there who appreciate the fine work that is done in Bowling Green.

 

 

The Trip: Part 1. Cumberland Falls, KY

East, west, home is best.  And so the saying goes.  I have traveled over three thousand miles in the last month and I have seen a lot of places.

The first one I want to share with you is this amazing place called Cumberland Falls.  It is located on the Cumberland River in southeastern Kentucky.

We camped here for two nights.  The Falls themselves are breathtaking.  The water falls for hundreds of feet down to the river and the spray makes a constant rainbow over the river.  Where ever you look, there is the rainbow.  On nights when there is a full moon, the light causes what they call a "moonbow"...an other-worldly effect caused by spray and the rays of the full moon.  We weren't there to witness this but the brochure we picked up gave the dates when you could.

We took a rubber raft trip up to and close to the falls.  We could feel the wind and mist as we neared the place where cascading water and river met.  It was exhilarating and exciting to be this close.

Cumberland Falls has always been an attraction to any visitor.  Native Americans tell stories about the Falls.  And early settlers wrote about it in their journals.  Travelers in the last century were able to stay at the Moonbow Inn that sat perched on the bluff above the river.

After our river trip we took a hike to see Eagle Falls located on the western side of the river.  It was a hard climb up and down the rocky trail.  It took us over two hours to get to the spot where we could hear the water gushing out.  In our way was a huge blockade of flood debris which we carefully climbed over.  We were rewarded by a beautiful smaller falls that cascaded down into a pool. 

After resting we started our trip back.  Of course, we decided to take the alternate route.  After quite a climb we found ourselves in a dim and dark wood.  I just knew we were lost.  But then we came upon a sign that said, simply, 'Parking lot'.  Parking lot?  What did that mean?  As we clambered on  we saw more signs that had the same message and realized that park employees had put them there to encourage us and show hikers that, indeed, they were on the right trail...back to the parking lot.

We rewarded ourselves with a refreshing swim in the beautiful pool at the campground when we finally made it back.  And that night we slept in our little tent, under the star- studded Kentucky sky...lulled to sleep by the sounds of the distant Falls.

I have more stories to share.  So stay tuned for Part 2.

 

New Baby

Introducing August Edward Spencer.  Born at 6:45 PM, July 15th, 2014 at Mt. Sinai Hospital, NYC.  7 lbs. 12 oz.  19".  Mother and baby doing well.  He will be called Gus.