Blending Thanksgiving into Christmas...

Rachel and Graham working as Santa's Elves!

We don’t need a calendar to tell us it is December, although we do need a snow shovel. Lucky for me I pulled it out of the garage a few weeks ago. I even tied a red ribbon around it to make it more festive for winter and in case I dropped it in the snow.

Thanksgiving, as folks say, is in the books. I am not sure I like that expression. I guess it is true though. It was a whirlwind for us…so much so that now it is over, I just contemplate the beauty and fun of Thanksgiving. This year, once again, Aaron and Rachel hosted Thanksgiving with the blending of both families. With so much food (from such good cooks), there was barely room for all of us, but their house is big so we did have room to spread out. There was food and merriment and frivolity with so much talking and conversations taking place in every corner of the house. The food was so delicious, including a bonus jar of perfectly simmered broth for the gravy. This was due to the generosity of my editor, Mike. I stopped by the office to pick it up and I had to open the lid to let out the scent. It was marvelous. The turkey was a hit although my cranberry sauce came back home with me, never touched! However, nothing else came back including my fabulous apple pie, mashed potatoes and corn casserole. I only filled my plate once as, well, the plates were giant and that was all I could handle on that day. The Charleston family stayed home so we were minus the six of them, and I missed them so much, but I understand.

Santa came to Angola and lots of other small towns this weekend, and lucky for him there was plenty of snow to make his escape back to the North Pole as he tries to keep up with the elves in the toy making department. I love being part of that night in my sweet town. It really is a family affair as Rachel and Graham make their once-a-year appearance as elves and kept the line moving. It was a cold night, but no one seemed to complain as the night itself was completely magical. Mayor Martin did the countdown and threw the magic fairy dust upon the square, and all the lights came on. The crowds cheered and clapped. I stood back to watch, as I often do. I love watching the joy spread throughout. I love watching parents and grandparents doting on their children.

As quickly as the square filled up, it became silent when Santa left for the North Pole, the elves quietly going back to work, and everyone going home to hot cocoa and Christmas movies. I guess I was almost the last to leave. With one last look, I too went home for heat and cocoa.

With the impending weather, my Florida family, Adam and Lisa, headed out a day early. It was the right call for them. With the pumpkins still adorning my front steps, and a shovel with a red ribbon, the snow began in the night and through all the next day. I can say it was lovely as I could just stay home and, yes, drink the hot cocoa and watch those movies.

Late on Sunday night the magical Christmas fairies came to plow and shovel me out. Melissa and Colt Farnham arrived with Cody to do the work. When everything was perfect, they drove off as if in a sleigh and to their team gave a whistle, “Merry Christmas to all,” I hollered out after them. It was almost dark when they left. Time to light the candles and heat up the leftovers. It is not lonely or quiet in this old house. The floors creak and the furnace hums gently into the night. The sound of all their voices echo through each room from Thanksgivings past, present and even on into the future.

December is here. With it comes the last full moon of the year. You can see it tomorrow night…known as the cold moon of winter. Time to settle in as the story goes, “Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap…” by Clement C. Moore.

We welcome sparkling, lovely December with open arms, and even though I am holding tight to those pumpkins, I am ready!

 

Ken Burns and a Big Surprise!

 

I waited with much anticipation for Ken Burns’ documentary, “The American Revolution.” I didn’t need to set my alarm clock, as darkness prevails early, and with all the chores done (and no rehearsals!), my evening was free to cozy up and watch.

My Uncle Jerry sent me a note wondering if we will learn anything new as we have studied this time period repeatedly. I assured him that we will indeed learn new things.

As the music started, I found myself already wrapped up in our history, and I couldn’t help but cry. Maybe the music. Maybe not. It has always been my favorite time in history. I think it all started with my fourth-grade teacher, Mr. Finch. Not only did he love history, but he was also a great storyteller. On Monday mornings he would share stories about his weekend job at a local pizza place in Fort Wayne. Once we got him started, it was hard to get him to stop until it came to history class. I don’t remember if he used a book. I just remember he made it a living, breathing subject…like Ken Burns. By the time I went to get my first grown up book (and I have written about this before), I knew I wanted to read “Those Who Love” by Irving Stone.

History brings us together. On Sunday night I was thinking so much about the brave young and old men who dropped everything to protect and save a democracy that wasn’t even known or was possible yet. I can’t imagine.

The documentary has many voices, most of them are historians and writers who specialize in this time period. I love listening to the knowledge they know and share during this PBS special. I wanted to make a list of everything I learned, but I was so wrapped up in watching, that my paper was blank. But I can tell you, even though I studied in Abigail and John’s private library, even though I spent lots of time in Boston, in Philadelphia, in Braintree that I, indeed, learned so much.

There is still time to catch this series as it is on every night this week from 8-10. It is also available on the PBS app. (Isn’t everything on an app these days?)

Now, after my going on and on about this series, I want to share something wonderful with you. Last week I wrote about my grandfather, Walter F. Rhoads, and the empty trunk in my garage.

The day after the column appeared, I had an email from a long-lost (or never even knew about?) relative. She is the granddaughter of my grandfather’s sister, Mabelle. I knew Mabelle, of course. She was old like my grandfather. Of course, all grandparents seem old to children! Renae googled my grandfather’s name the day that my article came out and she wrote to me.  Renae’s mother, who is now 94, kept her mother’s scrapbooks all these years. She said she could share them with me if she ever found me, and because of the column last week, she found me. I was thrilled to hear from her. She sent me digital photos of Walter. She also promised to send me some of the postcards he sent home. This is what she wrote to me: “…when Mabelle was 16, she received a scrapbook for her birthday. In the book there are photographs of Walter in his uniform. She also has postcards which I am willing to send to you, so you have something to put into the empty trunk. My sister, Judy, and I always remember Walter on Veterans Day, so I googled him and found your story. Thank you for reminding all of us to remember our soldier’s past and present.”

When I received this note from her, I literally cried. I have nothing with my grandfather’s handwriting…no notes, no postcards, no letters. It was my grandmother, Luella, who always wrote, sending notes and recipes and family news. When these postcards arrive, I will have something to hold, and yes, to put inside the trunk. Hopefully we can also meet and share stories about our own lives.

So, this week my life has been ensconced in history. My history. My country’s history. Isn’t it amazing how we can connect in this digital age? Thank you, Renae, for finding me. Thank you for filling in some of the gaps in my own history, and above all, thank you for putting something into the empty trunk.

In Flanders Fields

Poppies

Yesterday was Veterans Day. I started the day by reading In Flanders Fields to my students. Most of them heard the poem in high school, although not all. I know my voice choked up as I read this beautiful poem which is read all over Great Britain on this day.

As a kid, I remember making paper poppies and wearing them. Of course, I doubt I knew much about the remembrance, but I loved making those poppies. There are groups that still make them and hand them out. Most folks in Britain wear the poppies on this day.

Lieutenant John McCrae was a Canadian doctor who decided he should be serving in WW1. He left his own practice and worked at a hospital on the front lines in Belgium. After the huge losses on the battlefield, McCrae wrote the poem. There were 150,000 known dead on Flanders Field.

“In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row, that mark our place; and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly.”

McCrae was moved greatly by the battle and all the dead, but it was his own friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer who was the recipient of the poem. He wrote the poem on a scrap of paper in the back of a medical field ambulance at his funeral.

“Scarce heard amid the guns below, we are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders Fields.”

Later on, McCrae was not happy with the poem and he threw it away. Luckily a fellow soldier saw him do that and retrieved it. Eventually it was first published in London’s Punch Magazine in December, 1915. It was published anonymously. After it was published, it was soon known to be McCrae’s work and has been read on Veteran’s Day ever since. I had to learn the poem when I was in elementary school, and as I said, I don’t think I really knew what it meant. Do I now understand? I don’t think so.

“Take up our quarrel with the foe: to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high.”

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae continued to care for the wounded and bury the dead until he became ill himself in 1918. He died of pneumonia in line of duty. I would imagine his own poem was read at his funeral.

Flanders Fields is a tourist attraction now as with so many other historical battlefields. It is important that we travel and go see where history took place. While there you can visit the War Museum, American Cemetery, and the John McCrae Dressing Station WW1 and honor him, and read his poem where it was written.

My own grandfather, Walter F. Rhoads, was stationed overseas during the first World War. After his death at 94 in 1989, my mother sent me his army trunk. I was thrilled that she was sending it to me.

After the death of my grandmother and grandfather, my mom gifted the quilts that were lovingly made by my grandmother and great-grandmother. These quilts are so precious to me, and I treasure them.

The trunk from my grandfather is different. I was so looking forward to opening it when it arrived. It is large and drab olive. My grandfather’s name, Walter F. Rhoads, is stenciled on the front. I could only imagine the treasures I would find in the trunk: his helmet, his work papers, a jacket, a book, a magazine, a letter from back home. When I opened the trunk, it was empty. I was so disappointed, until much later. I began to think about that empty trunk. Was there actually a gift in the emptiness?

Throughout his life, he never spoke of the war…not ever. I wanted to know the stories, but he ignored those conversations. Perhaps leaving me an empty trunk was his gift to me of not wanting me to know the horrors of war.

The trunk sits neatly in the back of my garage. It is never disturbed, much like a tomb itself. It is always there when I get tools or paint cans out of the garage. It is then I remember him, not just on this day. Wear the poppies, read the poem, say a prayer of thankfulness in the holy darkness.

“If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders Fields.”

 

“

 

 

 

 

 

 

Murder on the Orient Express

 

I am in my favorite place as I write to you this morning. I am sitting in the T. Furth Center for the Performing Arts listening to echoes of voices and laughter. This is what I always do as we start tech week before our show.

How quiet it is in this huge building. How many rehearsals have I had here since I started with the theatre? This is my 7^th production, and I have loved them all…including this one!

As you probably know, we are producing another Agatha Christie show, “Murder on the Orient Express.” I always love to know the background of stories or plays and this is what I have found out about our choice of shows. Christie wrote this show following the true story of the disappearance of Charles Lindbergh, Jr. who was snatched from his crib. This child was the son of aviator, Charles Lindbergh. The ransom money was paid, but the child had already been killed. Of course, this event had an emotional toll on the family. Even so, they went on to have five more children. This case made national news in 1932, and Agatha Christie decided to write a book using the case as the springboard for her writing of this novel. More than one source says she wrote this book in room 411 at the Pera Palace Hotel in Istanbul. The hotel itself was built in 1892 to accommodate folks traveling on the Orient Express Train. The hotel takes great pride in knowing she wrote the book there and they call room 411 the Agatha Christie. You can even stay in that room. (Well now, that would be a great field trip!) It was also rumored she hid the key to her diaries under one of the floorboards in room 411. The key was there, but the diaries were never found. Perhaps that is the charm and mystery of Agatha Christie.

Christie changed the child’s name to Daisy Armstrong, and using her amazing imagination wrote a story of murder and intrigue with a fabulous ending. Of course, she is always known for her surprise ending.

I find her life fascinating as we do not know all the moving parts. We do know she was stuck on the Orient Express during one of her travels. It was not due to a snowstorm, as in the play, but a deluge of rain. I can only imagine all these moving parts coming together for her to write the book.

Our theatre department has embraced Agatha Christie. Last year it was “The Mousetrap.” Once again, I chose “Murder on the Orient Express.” Just like Christie in her life, we also are a theatre company with so many moving parts and all are orchestrated by the students. Macy Bonifield kept a notebook of sketches last summer. She drew the sketches for the sets and tweaked them and presented them to me. Macy is an exceptional student, and she is studying to be a teacher. She will certainly be a good one as she is so dedicated to this show…to all the shows, really. Macy, along with Sean Carpenter, a recent graduate of Trine, designed and put the set together. They started in my garage and driveway a few weeks ago. For weeks I have had Trine students building, painting, working, laughing on the sets at my house. My job was to buy lunch for everyone! We finally moved everything over to the theatre but didn’t realize it was a five-hour job to put it all together. Finally, late last night we all gave a jump for joy as the last bolt was put on the sets. This year the students decided on a rolling set which is very interesting.

It is our tech week. That means anything that can go wrong will go wrong. There’s lots of last-minute painting. We still have to work with microphones, sound, and lights. I am very confident when I say we will be completely ready and excited for you to come see our show. We open for the high school students on Thursday at noon. We love sharing our passion for this production with students. Hopefully there will be time for questions afterwards.

My theatre group is growing. We love putting these shows on for you. They are so dedicated. We started the second week of September and here we are ready for you!

Don’t read the book ahead of time…I want you to be surprised! See you very soon!

Ahhhh...we love books so much!

I think my favorite part of elementary school was ordering books from Scholastic. I saved my pennies…my dollars to buy books. The order form was just on paper, and we had to pay before we got the books. I always felt sorry for the kids who couldn’t get any books. When I was in third grade, my teacher, Miss Pribble, made sure everyone got a book on the order. Of course, she paid for it herself. There was go GoFundMe for books or anything for that matter.

The orders usually arrived on Friday noon while we were at recess. Maybe they arrived earlier, and our teachers hid them til Friday knowing all we would do was to read those books. No other work could possibly happen with shiny new books.

When we came in from recess, those books were stacked up neatly on our desks. The Halloween books were my favorite! Halloween was my favorite holiday even then! I remember those shiny books waiting for me after a recess of swinging the rope under the cool Autumn skies. I do not remember most of the book titles. I am sure, over time, most of the books were so worn out that they were tossed out. One book has remained in my possession all these years, and even though it is so worn out, it is my favorite. I read it to myself if there is no one to listen to me!!

This book that I hold so dearly is “Georgie’s Halloween” written by Robert Bright. It is a small book featuring little Georgie, a ghost, who haunts an old Victorian house owned by Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker. Of course, as a kid, I didn’t pay any attention to the author. Now I want to know all about authors! Bright was a Princeton University scholar who spent his life working on newspapers all over the world including Baltimore and Paris. He is not known for his newspaper work, no, he is known for his twenty books on little Georgie. I do not remember reading any other book than the one I mentioned, but I want to say books can influence us so much!

I grew up in the suburbs so for me, the Whitaker’s house completely caught my attention. I loved the old house with lots of spooky rooms all decked out for Halloween. Georgie lived in the attic so that also was full of Halloween surprises.

It is funny to remember books I had as a child that influenced me so much…even this little paper back book. I carried it everywhere and tried to find the perfect house for me to move into. I guess I thought I could move into an old house at the age of ten!

My house is full of books so much that I gather books from other sources to put out in my little library. Once in a while, I will take one off the shelf and get ready to put it out, but I just can’t bear to part with it.

You can imagine how I feel about Book Night at Trine. So many books, so many donations. The halls of T. Furth are full of boxes of books everywhere you look. By Wednesday late afternoon these books will be prominently displayed by students all over the T. Furth building. A few years ago, I found a complete set of Shakespeare’s plays in small leather-bound books. These had been donated by Dr. Tom Tierney. I love those books, and I was so honored to take them home. (I think I got there early to find them!)

Book Night is only open for three hours on Wednesday evening. The clock will strike 4:00, and you can come in and peruse and take home as many as you can carry. By 7:00, the doors close.

As an added touch to this fun night, the doors to the auditorium will be open from 6-7 in case you want to catch a glimpse of our show coming up, “Murder on the Orient Express.” We are in big time production right now, and you are welcome to come on in and take a seat. The students were worried we might give it all away, but we will not be rehearsing the end of the show. You will need a ticket to see that!

Books are a lifeline to me, and to you. Robert Bright once wrote, “The imaginative man is fortunately never far away.” See you on Wednesday! 

I think my favorite part of elementary school was ordering books from Scholastic. I saved my pennies…my dollars to buy books. The order form was just on paper, and we had to pay before we got the books. I always felt sorry for the kids who couldn’t get any books. When I was in third grade, my teacher, Miss Pribble, made sure everyone got a book on the order. Of course, she paid for it herself. There was go GoFundMe for books or anything for that matter.

The orders usually arrived on Friday noon while we were at recess. Maybe they arrived earlier, and our teachers hid them til Friday knowing all we would do was to read those books. No other work could possibly happen with shiny new books.

When we came in from recess, those books were stacked up neatly on our desks. The Halloween books were my favorite! Halloween was my favorite holiday even then! I remember those shiny books waiting for me after a recess of swinging the rope under the cool Autumn skies. I do not remember most of the book titles. I am sure, over time, most of the books were so worn out that they were tossed out. One book has remained in my possession all these years, and even though it is so worn out, it is my favorite. I read it to myself if there is no one to listen to me!!

This book that I hold so dearly is “Georgie’s Halloween” written by Robert Bright. It is a small book featuring little Georgie, a ghost, who haunts an old Victorian house owned by Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker. Of course, as a kid, I didn’t pay any attention to the author. Now I want to know all about authors! Bright was a Princeton University scholar who spent his life working on newspapers all over the world including Baltimore and Paris. He is not known for his newspaper work, no, he is known for his twenty books on little Georgie. I do not remember reading any other book than the one I mentioned, but I want to say books can influence us so much!

I grew up in the suburbs so for me, the Whitaker’s house completely caught my attention. I loved the old house with lots of spooky rooms all decked out for Halloween. Georgie lived in the attic so that also was full of Halloween surprises.

It is funny to remember books I had as a child that influenced me so much…even this little paper back book. I carried it everywhere and tried to find the perfect house for me to move into. I guess I thought I could move into an old house at the age of ten!

My house is full of books so much that I gather books from other sources to put out in my little library. Once in a while, I will take one off the shelf and get ready to put it out, but I just can’t bear to part with it.

You can imagine how I feel about Book Night at Trine. So many books, so many donations. The halls of T. Furth are full of boxes of books everywhere you look. By Wednesday late afternoon these books will be prominently displayed by students all over the T. Furth building. A few years ago, I found a complete set of Shakespeare’s plays in small leather-bound books. These had been donated by Dr. Tom Tierney. I love those books, and I was so honored to take them home. (I think I got there early to find them!)

Book Night is only open for three hours on Wednesday evening. The clock will strike 4:00, and you can come in and peruse and take home as many as you can carry. By 7:00, the doors close.

As an added touch to this fun night, the doors to the auditorium will be open from 6-7 in case you want to catch a glimpse of our show coming up, “Murder on the Orient Express.” We are in big time production right now, and you are welcome to come on in and take a seat. The students were worried we might give it all away, but we will not be rehearsing the end of the show. You will need a ticket to see that!

Books are a lifeline to me, and to you. Robert Bright once wrote, “The imaginative man is fortunately never far away.” See you on Wednesday!

Keep pulling out of the bucket list!!

 

My twin sons, Aaron and Adam, in Alaska this past summer.

Just because a son lives near you doesn’t mean you see him all the time. That is the case with my middle son, Aaron. Of my three boys, he is the only one who lives local on a sweet little farm in Fremont with Rachel and their two boys. They are an active family, so it is no wonder I need to send him a text. “Hi, Aaron, could you meet me at Caleo Café on Friday. I want to interview you about your traveling experiences.” He replied with a time, and we made a date. Interesting, I thought.

He and Rachel were there waiting for me on Friday. I was planning to buy his coffee (since I set up the interview), but he beat me to it and bought mine. We settled into normal family conversations before the interview started. Rachel went shopping as I pulled out my list of questions.

I love my three boys as you well know. I love to write about family…they are my favorite topic. Aaron’s twin, Adam, lives in St. Pete, and the youngster of the family (with those four kids!) lives in Charleston, South Carolina. I have to admit I have never interviewed either of those sons! All three live lives of adventure, but alas, alas, Aaron is the one who is here.

“So,” I started the interview, “when did your love of traveling begin?” I knew what his answer would be,” That’s easy, mom, it was you.” But, oh, was I wrong. I was surprised. Although when they were all kids, we did most of our traveling in August up to the Upper Peninsula, a few trips to Florida and a few trips out to my Uncle in the Adirondacks. That was the extent of their traveling, and no passports involved.

Well, then I wanted to know how it got started. The answer surprised me. Aaron’s first job was teaching at a St. Pete elementary school. He loved that job, and he told me as he started to teach about the world, he realized there was so much to see and places he had never thought about. That’s where it started. At the end of his second year of teaching, he sent a note to everyone in the family. “Going to Alaska. See you in ten weeks.” What? Just like that? He packed his tent, a few sundry supplies, his fishing pole and drove from St. Pete to Alaska. He told me he never once stayed in a hotel or ate in a restaurant. Everything was “over the fire.” He fished and foraged for his food each day. I guess that was the beginning of his love affair of traveling. Sometimes he still goes alone, but oftentimes he takes his brothers or Rachel. I asked him if he could remember all the places. He put a list together for me: Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Peru, St. Croix, Aruba. St. Lucia, Belize, Jamaica, Barbados, Turks and Caicos, Cabo in Mexico. He said that he has made it to every state in the US and every province except Nova Scotia in Canada. His list is so different from mine, but traveling is traveling which opens your eyes to different cultures. 

I asked him about his scariest moments. He had several. Once he was with his brothers in the rain forest when an avalanche of water came pouring down. They took cover behind a big bolder as giant trees fell like matchsticks.  I never heard this story, and kind of glad I had not. Another scary moment was when he ran out of oxygen while scuba diving and barely made it back to shore. And your best moments, I asked him. His answers, “Catching the long-lost butterfly, casting your pole into the bright and shiny waters, watching the stars unfold in the magnificent western skies.” I smiled at all of that. That is what he loved best as a child, and it is still magic for him.

I asked about future travel plans. He and Rachel are planning a long European trip in 2027 as well as other trips along the way.

I admire him so much. I admire his adventure spirit and that of his brothers. This past summer he made two treks to Alaska…one with Jonah and one with his brother, Adam.

As I was closing up my notebook, he added. “I have a big bucket list. I just want to keep it going.” That is good advice for all of us.

 

An enchanting visit to the American History Fest...

 

A magical nighttime visit to the camps. Photo by Nathan Glascock.

Under the clearest blue skies and a warm wafting wind, Carolyn and I put our chairs out in the Selman Pavilion to hear the Auburn Community Band on Sunday.

I look forward to this event every year. There is something so magical about listening to the music under the shelter of the pavilion on a late September afternoon.

This is not just a random event, but part of the American History Fest. For those of you wondering about this, it used to be called Civil War Days. I do find myself still calling it that and lamenting the fact that there is no longer a reenactment on Sunday. There was one every year, and during those times, it was hard to even find a space to put a chair. A different battle was picked every year, and the announcer went into play-by-play description! The band always played along with the cannons. It was so interesting, and I always learned a lot about our history. I actually don’t know when this stopped, but things change.

Now it is called the American History Fest. I suppose that is okay as we combine Abe Lincoln with Ben Franklin. One of the best times to visit is at night. It is magical walking among the tents with lanterns. The sound of a fiddle can be heard against the night crickets. This year I was not able to attend until Sunday morning. By then, unfortunately, folks had already started taking down their camps. As I perused the grounds, I had lovely chats with the reenactors who were a bit disappointed in the crowds this year. I had quite a few conversations about that and folks asking me to help spread the word. I know I have done that in the past, so go ahead and mark your calendars now for the last weekend in September. Yes, it is a busy time, but pop in any time…they are there all weekend.

As I meandered through the breaking of the camps, I did come across a family still enjoying their mid-day noon lunch on tin plates and coffee over the open fire. These families spent the entire weekend at the park sleeping in tents, cooking on open fires, playing music into the night. We all exclaimed about the beautiful weekend.

As 1:00 approached, I met up with Carolyn who brought our chairs, and we settled in to hear the music. I know the Auburn Community Band is good as they play every year, but there was something absolutely wonderful about their performance this year. Maybe it was the blue sky or the warm wind? Maybe because it was a patriotic concert and it seems as if we, as a country, have strayed away from our beauty or forgotten it.

There are actually two directors for the band, Don Riley and Angela Bassett. Angela took the baton first. The first notes were loud and powerful, and we settled back into our chairs being carried away by our own Americana music. I knew most of the songs, but a few were different, and were just as lovely.

I tapped my foot, and clapped along with them, until they played “America the Beautiful.” It was played so beautifully, and I couldn’t help but cry. I looked over at Carolyn who was also dabbing at her eyes. I sang silently to myself, O, beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, for purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain.

Halfway through the concert, they switched places, and Don Riley took over. They played for an hour, song after song to a very appreciative crowd of folks sitting all around. The band members are volunteers who, with their love of music, meet once a month to practice. They are our neighbors, friends, relatives, and acquaintances. I am grateful for their work and for their talent!

By the time it was over, the park was beginning to empty out of all the volunteers and reenactors for the weekend. Take your kids and your families next year. I am making a note in my calendar right now.

Until then, let’s sing those songs, and live the words we sing. The second verse of “America the Beautiful” goes like this, “O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stern, impassioned stress, A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness.”

Thanks to the Auburn Band for making the day spectacular. Your passion, your music, your willingness to play for us will follow me into the winter months.

Autumn's Arrival

 

Autumn at Pokagon State Park

As the leaves skittered across the top of the tent in the bright sunlight, I was introduced to the works of Gerard Manley Hopkins years ago. It is funny when we remember poetry or songs or familiar phrases that our mind races back to the beginning. Mine does this often.

“Margaret are you grieving

Over Goldengrove unleaving.”

And so it was on a beautiful Autumn Day in Tennessee that the words of Hopkins went right into my soul and the words have never left me. I am referring to the poem, “Spring and Fall.” Sometimes I wish that not everything would send me to poetry or music, but it does.

Even without looking at the calendar, we know it is Autumn by the scents. When I pulled into the parking lot last weekend for the Johnny Appleseed Festival, I could smell Autumn. Campfires. Apple pies. Cider. Straw. The sounds were just as striking with the canon and the bagpipes strolling through the grounds. The best part of that festival is watching families being together having a wonderful time. The crowds were huge, but so were the smiles.

“Leaves like the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?”

What brings us to this place called Autumnal Equinox? The word “equinox” comes from the Latin word meaning equal thus we have the Autumnal Equinox and the Vernal Equinox in the spring. Does this mean the days and nights are exactly equal and thus brings us to Autumn? Not quite. I don’t want to get too technical, but some facts are so interesting. (You can always bring these up at your next gathering!) According to PBS News, “The sun has a size—it is not just a point in the sky. Sunrise starts when the upper edge of the sun meets the eastern horizon, and sunset ends when the upper edge of the sun sinks below the horizon.” Got it?

“Ah! As the heart grows older

It will come to such sights colder.”

Let’s just call it equal days and nights. What about the change in color? We all love that. We flood social media with leaves and trees that are a flame in russet or crimson or golden yellow. How does that happen? This is all regulated by the longer nights. There are other factors to the beauty of Autumn, not just the length of the night. Warm days and cools night contribute to the rich colors. The soil moisture is also an indicating fact. We need some nice rainstorms to bring out the color. Luckily we are having that this week so the color might become quite brilliant following this week of rain. We can all hope so!

“By and by nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwoood leafmeal lie”

I love that our small world of northern Indiana is now dotted with pumpkins and mums. Homemade signs point the way to pumpkin patches for children. And, please let me add, always let children pick their pumpkins from a patch. I did it. You did it. Let’s give them the joy of finding those pumpkins. I have a story for you. A few years ago, when we were still having community gardens up in the Commons Park, I had a large garden of pumpkins. Of course, as it goes, the deer found them before I could harvest them. Jonah and Graham were much younger, and I promised them pumpkins from my patch. Since I would never disappoint a child (mine or yours!), I went to the farmers’ market and filled up my car with pumpkins. With the help of Kathy, we drove them up to my patch and rolled them all over the garden. When the boys came up to get them, they were delighted to find so many. I thought I was home free until Aaron noticed a price on one of them Busted for sure!

“And yet you will weep and know why.

Now no matter, child, the name

Sorrow’s springs are the same.”

I am in awe of Autumn. I love everything about it from the festivals to the ghost stories to the apple pie out of the oven. I love the candles burning late, the campfire dying down, and a fiddle playing in a nearby town. (Okay, probably not the fiddle!)

Let’s celebrate. Have fun with your children. Play in the leaves. Gather the apples.

“Itis the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.”

Gerard Manley Hopkins

September's Arrival...

 

The Prairie at Elten and Carolyn's.

The garden seems to have come to a standstill. Each plant, each rose, each bush is covered with the Autumm dew each morning and stands picturesque throughout the day. Nothing grows, but nothing dies…yet.

The neighborhood gardens have all taken quite a toll by our local herd of deer. Don’t get me wrong, I love knowing the deer roam freely under the streetlights as they jump fences (mine included) in their nightly foraging for food. At a neighborhood picnic the other night we were all lamenting our garden losses. I thought I was the only one losing out on the vegetable patch, until I heard all the other stories. This is really the first year the deer have jumped my picket fence to devour all the goodies. It is good there are small and big markets all around the county since my own bounty is very limited this year.

With September brimming with bright blue skies and heavy-laden apple trees, we find ourselves pulled into the Autumn activities. These are my very favorite. As the sun creeps lower in the sky and night crickets fill the air around my house, my thoughts go to food first of all. I made my first batch of vegetable soup this week. It was good to have the stove on and a pot of soup simmering. I have made more peach cobblers this past month than ever before. Maybe there have been more potlucks? I took a cobbler fresh out of the oven to the tail-gating party on Friday night for Angola’s football game. I love that I have been invited and that I am known simply as The Nannie. That’s what my sweatshirt says anyway. There were lots of kids at that tailgating party who all said to me, “What is a cobbler?” Oh my. They soon found out!

With this mid-September beauty I find I am filling my hummingbird feeders every other day as they prepare for their journey. Hummingbirds can fly up to 500 miles without even stopping. How is that possible? I have no idea, but I keep the flowers blooming and the syrup fresh to help them on their way.

Not just the hummingbirds, but Indiana is right on the migration path for so many birds. According to the website, Bird Cast, 1,482,000 birds crossed Indiana from Monday night at 8:10 until Tuesday morning at 7:30. One night I stayed up late in the garden just so I could listen for them, but alas, alas. The web site updates their data every day so you can go and check that out for yourself. Keep your porch lights off!

This is also the time of year that Elten and Carolyn open their Prairie for walking tours. I took Rachel with me last Sunday as she and Aaron just planted several acres of prairie at their new farm. She wanted to see what it might look like someday. This is the 20^th anniversary year of the Powers’ prairie, and it is spectacular. The day was perfect. Everyone received a small paper bag in which to gather seeds to start their own Prairie. I have a small bag of seeds, but where will I plant them?

It is September, and I am grateful for this beautiful month. Kitchens are now full of soups and stews, cobblers and pies, and lots of preservation happening in kitchens all over the county. My new friend, Tawney, has just discovered gardening during the past couple of years, and she is celebrating each tomato or eggplant she finds in her garden. I love listening to her enthusiasm over gardening. I need to talk to her about the deer though!

Festivals are coming with a new one every weekend. It is time to open my own costume closet door and pull out the old smoke-stained prairie clothes as the storytelling takes first place in my life for the next two months. You will find me doting the landscape with stories around campfires, on festival stages, or in your local library!

Celebrating Autumn is an ancient activity. The rituals are important, and the harvest just as much. Even though my vegetable garden was enjoyed by a herd of deer, there is much harvest everywhere else. Let’s all get busy watching, listening, sharing, and perhaps dreaming during these beautiful days and evenings. Poetry adds to the beauty so here is the beginning lines of John Keat’s poem, Autumn.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Trine Fest!

 Macy Bonifield, Ben Hercules and me at Trine Fest!

Trine Fest came and went with the streets full of students and community members. The day was beautiful except for a brief downpour of rain. No one even knew that was expected. Most of us just stayed, got wet, and wiped things down. The mechanical bull had a bit of cleaning up to do to make it safe, but even were soon back up running.

To make the day more festive, I purchased a bubble machine and had a great time using it on Saturday. (Everyone should have a bubble machine!) I manned the theatre table as students popped by one at a time or in droves. Macy and Ben hung out the whole time of which I was very grateful. It certainly was fun chatting with them. I had photos of our Robin Hood show, and several elementary students came up to us and said, “I went to that show!” They also looked at Macy like she was a rock star. She is a rock star to those kids. I was so glad to hear their comments. We loved doing our show for them.

We were not the only event, of course. There were tables and vendors in every quadrant. There was a climbing wall, an ax throwing trailer, and I heard there was bungy jumping, although I never saw that one! Food trucks had long lines as did our local restaurants and a feature film at our beautiful Brokaw. What could be better? A perfect Saturday afternoon down on the square visiting with all who came by our table.

Not only did we talk about past shows (and we love doing that), but we also promoted and gave the green light in letting the cat out of the bag to announce our fall show. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we do not stand still for long! Our next (drum roll, please) will be another Agatha Christie play, “Murder on the Orient Express.” As you probably know by now, there definitely is a pattern to my shows! I always love something a bit spooky for the fall show. Last year it was Christie’s, “Mousetrap.”

This show is the second favorite show for Christie with “And then there were None,” as her top show. There is a bit of controversary as to where this one was written. Some say it was on an archaeological dig in Iraq with her second husband, Max Mallowan. Others say it was written in Istanbul. There is even a hotel, Per Palace Hotel, where they keep a room reserved in her name and her memory. This play was first published in six installments in the Saturday Evening Post under the name, “Murder on the Calais Coach.” I can only imagine how exciting it must have been to get the new copy of the Saturday Evening Post every week with the next chapter! This is so Dickens!! One more bit of trivia, some say she was inspired by the kidnapping of the son of Charles Lindbergh in 1932. The child was 20 months old. The ransom was paid, but the child was never found. Did Christie use that information for her novel? Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to ask her? Alas, alas.

With 500 save the date cards printed, Macy spent the afternoon luring students and the community to our show. Every half hour she came back for more cards! Of course, the auditions are next week, but it is never too early to get folks interested. There will be lots more later as we get going on the show!

I think those of you attending Trine Fest on that beautiful fall-like day will say the same thing. Our students are kind and respectful. Lots of them were working on the event: setting up tables, clearing trash, helping vendors set up. They roamed around and helped as if we needed them, and we did.

Everything was a bit soggy when I packed up. I had a few cards left, but not many. I tucked all the stories I heard under my belt saving them for a rainy day, I guess. Maybe a day when I need to hear sweet stories from the community.

This is my fourth year to run the theatre. Sarah Franzen left a couple of years ago, but it was just yesterday I was sitting in her office. “Put on a good show, Lou Ann, and let the students have fun.”

I have done both of those things. We all love it.

Another year...

I took this photo at the end of last year's fall semester.

My office at Trine is just how I left it except for the missing plants I took home. I unlocked the door this morning, and everything is exactly as it should be. Well, the twinkle lights burned out over the summer but never fear as I have a new box of lights in my satchel.

My new office was built for me early last winter. I truthfully didn’t think it would be possible to redo the room behind the stage in Taylor Hall. It was a catchall room with loads of theatre props and clothing, rusty old sinks still attached to the wall, stained floors and walls, no heat or fiber optics. In fact, you really couldn’t even walk through the room.

After the autumn show closed, Dr. Hopp, Joanna Claudy, and me rolled up our sleeves and cleaned up all the debris. Some things went to our storage unit, other things went to the dumpster, and still others? I have no idea. I do know everything ended up missing. The workers came in with gusto replacing ceiling tiles, laying carpet, painting walls, running fiber optics, and even washing the three huge floor to ceiling windows. (I never saw the windows before as they were all closed. I have had the best time decorating and planning this new space attached to my favorite place on campus, except for the Furth Center.

I unlock the door and everything is good. My teapot is waiting, the empty tin is waiting for the cookies, the chalkboard has been redone announcing the auditions for the fall play. I plug in my laptop, and I think I will get to work. I was wrong. The minute I sit at my desk, the students begin coming in one at a time. Of course, I could have shut my door, but that would not have been any fun at all! I love seeing them. Most of them are bright and shiny after a summer of jobs and internships and travel. Some are not so shiny and need to talk about various subjects. (As you know teachers need to be ready to listen at all times.) I am more than happy to become a sounding board for those students.

We drink tea. We eat cookies. We wish each other a good semester and off they go before a new batch comes in. Of course, my theatre students are different. I will see them almost every day during the course of this semester. They are excited about the fall play and some even borrow the bright and unused scripts that are sitting on my desk. No problem for me as they like to peruse the show, maybe learn a line or two or choose a character that they love. I am just happy so many are back and want to be involved. There are new freshman theatre students too, and I am delighted to bring them aboard.

It seems like only yesterday we closed our last show, “The Somewhat True Tale of Robin Hood.” But here we are with auditions just two weeks away. If you are curious about our new show, and you definitely should be, come find us during Trine Fest. We will be at our table blowing the bubbles. We will hand out the title of our show along with a card with the save the date!

So, we are back. The students are here. I love that they are back. I missed them. I also feel they bring so much energy back to our town. We are not exactly a college town, although we keep trying to bridge the gap between the university and the town. I think we are doing a great job with this. I want our students out and about in the town…having dinner, watching movies, photographing Miss Columbia. I want them to feel a part of us, and I want for us to feel a part of these terrific students.

Yes, I am back for another year. Every year I think to myself, will this be the last year for me? But I manage to say “yes” and keep the fire burning. I love it too much to leave. I love our students also.

So, come on out to Trine Fest this Saturday. Enjoy these students Stop on by our table to see what show we will be doing and stay and chat for a while. The students aren’t that scary!! See you there.

Cheers to a great year at Trine. 

 

Strolling down Main Street in Pleasant Lake...

Strolling down the streets of Pleasant Lake last Saturday was almost like walking through a history book. Photos and stories of this small town were posted up and down Main Street, much like the old-fashioned Burma Shave. The fun part about Pleasant Lake is that it truly does combine the past with the present. It is like a dormant Rip Van Winkle. Of course, that is a fictional story, and he only slept for twenty years. In this case, how long did Pleasant Lake sleep, and who was the magical fairy with the wand who brought it back to life?

The first two names who wooed the town out of the deep sleep are Elten and Carolyn Powers. Elten grew up in Pleasant Lake, moved away for his teaching career, and then headed back home. I am sure when he and Carolyn built their house and established their prairie that they never dreamed what would come next! What did come next?

The Pleasant Lake Museum was the first to arrive on the scene with hard work, community help and a vision like no other, the museum was built. Donations of money and artifacts began to fill in the blank spaces. I love visiting this little museum and seeing the beauty of Pleasant Lake in this once-upon-a-time time travel. The museum is open every Sunday afternoon from 2-4. Take a leisurely drive and end up at the museum. You definitely will feel as I do.

What came next, you ask? I believe Kelly Lynch brought his world famous (at least in these here parts) steam engines and other passenger trains to the Pleasant Lake Depot and the Angola Depot. On this particular Saturday as I meandered between past and present, the train whistle blew depicting the departure of the ice cream train. I took my Littles on that train a couple of years ago…ice cream in hand, eyes wide open, and the roar of the whistle as we found our seats. How many of us ride trains these days? Kelly has worked with the Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Society and brought it to us wrapped in a red ribbon. Just open the package and inside is the ice cream train, the picnic train, the whiskey train and so many more. Dress up if you would like. I know that is my favorite thing to do.

Moving on from the railroad and the museum, I headed down to the park where folks were gathered for great food and music. The Pleasant Lake Lions club provided a cookout sending the scents of summer into the air. I put my twenty-dollar bill into the donation box and took a plateful over to sit with Carolyn at the membership tent. Yes, we are both members! After we closed up for the afternoon, I was off to the last bit of bygone history…the opening of the Pleasant Lake Barbershop. Yes, another one of Elten’s visions!

As I meandered up the street from the park, folks were walking and chatting, pushing strollers, carrying toddlers. If I closed my eyes (and I did), I could see women in long dresses with parasols and men with derby hats and long coats. My imagination does get the best of me sometimes, but there we were standing in front of the barber shop built in the 1880’s. It is one of the oldest buildings in Steuben County. The last barber retired in 1984 and walked out the door leaving it as it was. It was left alone for 40 years…double that of Rip Van Winkle.

With community support with various donations and grants, new life has come to fruition. As I walked up the steps, I noticed a sign in the window, “Haircuts. $3.” Not bad, I thought, three bucks for a haircut. When I walked in, I had to laugh as the men were all lined up waiting for their own $3 haircut. Doing the cutting on Saturday was Josh Kline who owns The CombOver Barbershop. The barber chair was original as were many of the fixtures in this tiny little building. A new floor, air conditioning (that was nice on Saturday) and a few amenities, but we were right back to 1880.

I sat in one of the chairs and waited my turn. I couldn’t wait to sit in that chair. Of course, I donated another twenty-dollar bill so Josh would not cut my hair!

A stroll from the past to the present. Pleasant Lake is on the map!

Kathy and Alice

 Lou Ann and Kathleen at a Pub at Union Station! (A few years ago!)

I am not sure how our friendship started. I think it was aerobics class. I always stood in the front row, Kathy in the back. We didn't talk to each other much, although we knew each other. Even though I wasn't the teacher, I was always in charge...so I thought.

After life changed for the two of us, we found ourselves just a few blocks away in our little town. We were both single with good jobs and children that we loved who were on their way to becoming adults! We each owned our own houses.  We also discovered we shared the same political and environmental views. It was as if our friendship was always just waiting for us in the wings. And it was.

Because I am prone to accidents (and truly I am) Kathy stepped right up the first time I got hurt. She made sure I was tucked into my little bed which had been moved to the downstairs before she went home. She did cleaning. She did laundry. We watched movies. I could never have recovered without her...that time or other times.

When I started my Airbnb, it was Kathy who jumped right in to help with the cleaning. She knows my house better than I do, and there are certain cupboards from which I am forbidden unless I mess it up!

When my life falls apart, and it often does that too, she is there to pick me up. 

Kathy listens. She counsels. She laughs with me. She cries with me. She lets me be herself, and I hope I do the same for her. We have been through so much and our friendship has stayed strong and steady. Kathy is my go-to for everything in my life. I tell her all my secrets knowing they are safe with her. She is my BFF...now and forever.

The past few years, Kathy has taken time off from this lovely town of ours and all her many jobs to go to South Carolina to help take care of her mom, Alice. Alice is 101 years old and is my hero. She has a family who adores her...loves her...takes care of her. Alice is smart and bright and really, from what I am told doesn't miss a trick. Even though we have never met, I love Alice. 

Kathy has spent most of her summer with Alice. She never complains or even says she is homesick even though I tell her I miss her. She is an adoring daughter.

Kathy reads my blog to Alice. Alice says she gets to know me through my writing. So, cheers to you, Alice!

Alice, you are a treasure. This blog tonight is for you. Thank you for being such a role model for your own children and for this child, me, far away, who loves you also.

Be well, you two, and yes, come home soon, Kathy. I miss you. In the meantime, read stories, tell stories, drink your little bit of port before bedtime and know that the two of you are loved.

Is there anything better than that?