An Evening with Shakespeare...

Ophelia

World Poetry Day came and went without much of a fanfare. March 21 was held in awe by many as the first (or second) day of spring leaving poetry to hang out under the waning gibbous moon. I know I kept a poem in my pocket on that day and lit a candle in my garden to celebrate. I am not alone in these celebrations, yet most do not know of this wonderful day.

World Poetry Day was founded by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in 1999 in Paris. The first celebrations were held in the year 2000 and we have been celebrating ever since.

I love that a national organization realized the importance of poetry in our lives. As you know, I grew up with poetry. My dad loved poetry, and we spent hours learning and memorizing verses of poetry. “Keep them in your pocket,” he said. Not only do I keep them in my pocket, but I share my love of poetry wherever I go. I am naturally curious about the beginnings of poetry. Where and when did it start? With a little research I found one of the first poems to be written almost 4,000 years ago. The title, “The Epic of Gilgamesh.” With a little help from the Yale University Press, I learned that this poem was written on clay tablets. It was written in Mesopotamia which is now Iraq and Syria. Of course, it is a love story. There is no author to thank for this remarkable piece. That has been lost to time.

I do start each class with a poem, unless there is not time. Last week one of my students caught me and said, “Hey, you forget the poem today.” Yes, I did. I made up for it by grabbing “Do Not Go Gentle Into the Good Night” by the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas. I read poetry to my lovely troupe on opening night…all opening nights. I read Emily Dickinson’s poem about how it will never come again. And that is so true.

If I haven’t lost you yet in my history of poetry, stay tuned for a lovely event on April 17^th! Following our Edgar Allan Poe night at the Cline Museum, I was asked by the board if I would do another night of poetry. That is like asking me if I want another piece of chocolate cake. Of course, I will.

In years past I have read Shakespeare on the square in front of the Brokaw. Once I started with the theatre, that went by the wayside a bit. Now a new event has emerged, “An Evening with Shakespeare,” at the Cline Museum. I gathered my theatrical friends including Jan, Jacob, Amy, and others to see if they were interested. Of course they were. On that night we will be reading pieces from Shakespeare’s most famous speeches and narratives. Jacob and Jan are preparing, “To be or not to be.” Other pieces include “Romeo and Juliet,” “King Lear,” and “Hamlet.” I am working on a soliloquy of Ophelia from “Hamlet,” act 4, scene 5.

The other day I was given a bunch of old theatre scripts from Dr. Brad Jopek, our new music director at Trine. It was a box full of treasures, and with my own show in full production, I barely had a chance to look them over. However, my eye caught one that I just adore. “When Shakespeare’s Ladies Meet” is a wonderful short script written by Charles George in 1942. It is a dialogue between Juliet, Portia, Cleopatra, Ophelia, and Katherine…all leading ladies in Shakespeare’s plays. I have a feeling that parts of that script will end up in our show.

We are very excited to share our love of Shakespeare with you on April 17 at 7:00 at the Cline Museum. This will be presented by members of the community theatre and sponsored by the Steuben County Historical Society. We would love to see you in the audience! Maybe you want to read a sonnet or help out? Let me know…I will definitely find something for you!

Poetry is just another way to celebrate the beauty of life. Poetry brings us together as in act 3, scene 5 in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “To be or not to be—that is the question: Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles. And my opposing, end them.”

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

 

St. Patrick’s Day came with a flourish and a flurry this year with a bit of rain and snow and sun for the weekend. Nonetheless, it is a grand holiday inspiring all of us to send wishes to folks for good luck and good love the Irish way!

When I was in elementary school, we wore green from top to bottom…shirts, skirts, socks…so that no one would pinch us. I wonder, do they still do that? I do still wear green at least in some ways as no pinching for me.

Our lovely ukulele group played Irish songs last week, so I wore green and sported a green moustache to kick off the week. Actually, I took a few extra ones for my fellow uke players! Of course, Carolyn picked songs such as “When Irish Eyes are Smiling,” “Danny Boy.” It was great fun playing those songs. I even added the kazoo to some of them. By the way, I am getting rather good on my kazoo! Carolyn and I even went to the jam in Fort Wayne and played the lovely Irish songs with them too. I didn’t actually eat any corned beef, but there is still time this week to do just that!

When I was a kid, I always visited my grandparents on St. Patrick’s Day or on the weekend before as it was the beginning of gardening season. My grandpa Walter had the ground prepared for the garden and even if it was covered in snow or frost, we went to help plant the early peas and potatoes. It never made any difference to him on the weather. No. We had to plant on March 17. He would drag out, with our help, the burlap bags full of potatoes. He dumped them all on the cold ground and cut them up with his pocketknife. He always talked about the eyes on the potatoes. As kids, we were very curious about those eyes!! He dug the holes, and we put in the potatoes. I remember it being very cold in the garden.

As the day progressed, my grandma would bring out a thermos of hot coffee. She called it milk coffee as it was mostly milk and sugar. That is exactly how I drink my coffee now. I remember how good it was to drink that sweet hot mixture while planting! The best part of the day came when we were finished, and my grandpa dumped every last potato out of the burlap bag. There in the dirt combined with pieces of broken potatoes were two silver dollars! One was for me and one for my sister, Jessie. We were so happy to have those at the end of that day.

When we were finally finished, we went into the mud room to take off our coats and boots and dirty gloves and washed our silver dollars until they were once again shiny. At supper, with candles lit, my grandpa would say to us, “Now hold your silver dollar up to the candlelight and see if you can make it wink at you.” I think that kept us busy for another hour trying to catch the light and get our silver dollars to wink at us. You might want to try this with your kids or grandkids!

Of course, in the late summer we got to dig up those beautiful potatoes and help store them in the root cellar for the winter. Nothing tastes so good as potatoes right out of the garden! It is that time of year, once again, to get those gardens started. I longingly look out my back window. I always let the leaves stay right where they fall to put the nutrients into the ground. Now it is time to take those off and see what little surprises I might find in the garden. It is also time to prune the raspberries and get the garden ready for potatoes and peas and spinach and all those early garden seeds.

According to the Farmer’s Almanac, these seeds can now be planted in your garden: arugula, broccoli, cabbage, carrots, kale, kohlrabi, lettuce, onions, peas, spinach, and, of course, potatoes. Early gardening is a joy and gets us started. Maybe this year we should all double our gardens.

Until then, keep your Irish eyes smiling. Until then, Bing Crosby reminds us…

When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure, they steal your heart away

Still baffled by time change!

 

For some reason the time change always confuses me. Why? I don’t know. Is it 6:30 or really 5:30 or maybe even 7:30? I never even change my clocks until I am sure. (As of this writing, I have not changed my clocks so maybe I will be on time or very early or miss the whole event?)

I had a flight home on Sunday, March 10 at 5:06 a.m. from the Charleston Airport. First of all, who flies that early? I guess I do. So, on Saturday night Abe and I discussed what time we should be leaving for the airport to be there by 3 or 3:30. I like to get there early, but Abe said, “You really don’t have to be there until 3:30 because no one will be there and maybe the airport won’t even be open.” We checked. It would be open. Okay, well, then I asked him, “What time do we need to leave????” We agreed on 3:00 which would get me there by 3:30 or would it be 2:30 or 4:30? I set my alarm clock for 2:30.

At 3:00 Abe came into my room, and I was still sound asleep. I am always packed and ready when he comes upstairs to grab my bag. “Mom, wake up. You have a flight, and it’s 3:00.” I was completely in a fog, and I didn’t even know what he was talking about. It was that very deep, dead sleep. “What??” I couldn’t comprehend until I told him it can’t be because my alarm didn’t go off.

He continued to say, “There is no 2:30 a.m. It doesn’t exist. Your alarm can’t go off.” Okay, that was enough to wake me up. What? “What do you mean there is no 2:30? How can there be no 2:30??” I told you the time change really does me in.

I tell you, I never got ready so fast for a flight. I knew I couldn’t miss it as I had our first rehearsal after spring break that night. I made a big deal out of being back on time…including me! He came back up to grab my suitcase and I was hoping I had everything. After we got in the car, I couldn’t let it go. “What do you mean there is no 2:30? Where is it? Where did it go?” He continued to tell me there was only 1:59 and 3:00, but nothing in between. He tried to change the subject, but I couldn’t do it. Where did 2:30 go? It just vanishes? Did everyone know this but me?

Finally, to his luck, we got to the airport which was almost empty because it was 3:30 or something like that. The young woman at the counter was yawning as I stepped up with my bag. I had to ask. I mean, now it was a burning question. “Did you know that there is no 2:30 on the spring time change?” She nodded. She knew. I didn’t know. She laughed and said that so many passengers miss that early flight because of the confusion.

I got to my gate with a dozen other folks with that same hollow look in their eyes. I took a poll. Half knew and half did not. I felt a little better knowing I wasn’t the only one. As we were chatting about the fact that 2:30 does not exist, one of our pilots walked by with a large coffee in each hand. That was totally reassuring. When we were all on the aircraft, he made a joke which helped. He was awake enough to make a joke. Then as we starting to taxi down the runway, we had to stop as a herd of deer (seriously?) made their headquarters on the runway. That was a new one for me. It took close to a half hour to get them all off the runway and back into the woods. Finally, we left Charleston.

I am still a bit confused, but luckily, I won’t have to worry about it for another year. In the meantime, I thought of Carl Sandburg’s poem, “Arithmetic.”

“If you have two animal crackers, one good and one bad, and you eat one
    and a striped zebra with streaks all over him eats the other,
    how many animal crackers will you have if somebody offers you
    five six seven and you say No no no and you say Nay nay nay
    and you say Nix nix nix?”

Carl Sandburg

Stars...in the sky and on the stage!

 With my face pressed against the west upstairs window at the Fort Wayne International Airport, I search for the Planet Parade on Friday night. It wasn’t my plan to be at the airport on such a significant astronomical night, but there I was peering out. I caught the attention of others who came over to see what I was doing. A lovely man gave me his chair next to the window so I could keep my heavenly view and update the other passengers. I mean, the alignment of all seven planets won’t happen again until 2040! Venus is first as the sky darkens, I exclaim to all. Out of curiosity, some come look saying to me, “Oh, I wondered what that was.” I think to myself, everyone knows that is Venus, but then again, not everyone.

I don’t take my eyes off of the skies as Jupiter and Mars make their own subtle appearance, but alas I don’t see them all through the window. It is time to board the aircraft, I am the last to board, so I don’t miss a moment. I can finally wait no longer so I move along the small tunnel with a sigh. The flight attendant is smiling, and I gush out my thoughts on the planets. I want to talk to the pilots, but they are busy doing what pilots do before take-off.

I take my seat next to a lovely couple who met on-line. He has the window shade open, but we cannot see the rest of the sky due to our confined seats. Finally, I pull out one of my four novels and spring break has begun for me. I always save a stack of books for this one-week trip. It is a quick flight to St. Pete; one I have taken so many times. Cool, fresh air greets us as we leave the aircraft. I love Florida at this time of year as it isn’t hot yet, and perfectly refreshing after a few months of winter. Adam and Lisa are there to greet me, haul my suitcase into the back, and off we go.  We chat a mile a minute as we meander through the dark streets of St. Pete. I am always amazed at Adam’s skill of turning his bungalow into a lovely house with a pool and yard on the trolley line to the downtown and the beaches.

My room is ready with new quilts and towels, and fresh sheets. Sleep comes easy with the window wide open. I can smell the ocean from my window although the roar of the water is too far to hear. I sleep late which is something I do not do at home.

With just a few days here, my time is divided between shopping and cooking with Lisa and my voracious appetite for reading. Adam has charters so he is in and out a bit, but on Sunday we all hang out at the house and get ready for a poker party so I can meet some of their friends. Adam makes tuna freshly caught with his brothers, while we ready the kitchen with fresh brownies baking. Friends arrive with side dishes and bottles of wine for dinner while I meet and greet each one of them. I thank them all for their friendship with Adam and Lisa. We sit at the poker table, and even though I play with a cheat sheet, I do well and pull in the chips. Adam and his friends are impressed!

The week progresses with Florida sunshine, my firstborn son and his sweetheart. I love spending time with them. Yet to come, dinner downtown, a trip to the Dali to celebrate Pink Floyd and the surrealist and experimental photography from the David Raymond collection.

By mid-week, I will board another aircraft and head to Charleston to see Abe’s family and watch my oldest granddaughter perform in “Hadestown.” She asked me early in the year if I could come see her, and as it happened to coincide with spring break, I will be there opening night. The twins are also waiting with a worn-out calendar as they cross off every day until I arrive.

It is just one quick week out of my spring semester in which my mind can completely enjoy family without pressure of school or rehearsals. When I return home, forsythia bushes will bloom, and peepers will begin their spring chanting.

But isn’t it lovely to see everyone during one week in March? 

Plein Air painting is alive and well!

 

My cousin, Eric Rhoads. 

The air was quite electric as folks streamed in and out of the Steuben Art Scene on Sunday. I knew I wanted to attend after the concert by the Trine University Wind Ensemble at the T. Furth. The concert, too, was full of attendees on Sunday’s warm afternoon. Dr. Brad Jopek really showed us his talent in bringing quality music to our lives with “Music from the Silver Screen.”

After chatting with students and parents of students, I meandered over to the Steuben Arts Scene open house. Much to my surprise the corner square was alive and well! It has been great fun watching this new enterprise take shape over the past couple of years. We have needed this in our town for many years, and now that it is here, we are so excited to be a part of it.

If you ever thought of working on your art, whatever form that may include, this is your home base. Classes of every sort are available, and now that the secret is out, they fill up fast. Last summer when the twins were visiting, I enrolled them in art classes, and they loved it.

On Sunday folks chatted about art, sampled lovely appetizers, and even took an art class! I was drawn into the talk given by Doug Runyon. Doug was set up in the corner surrounded by books and paintings. At the appropriate time he shared his love of art through the works of photographer, Frank Hohenberger. Frank spent 44 years of his life, 1904-1948, taking photos of folks in Brown County. During that time artists were traveling to Brown County to paint the landscape. One of those first artists was T.C. Steele. Frank decided he wanted to see what was going on in Brown County so he packed up and went to see for himself. Needless to say, he never returned, but made his career photographing the folks, not the landscape.

Doug gave an amazing talk bringing to life Frank’s work. Doug talked about how difficult it was to get to Brown County at the time. I was fascinated by his talk remembering all that I had learned during my year long study of T.C. Steele for the bicentennial. Being an artist at that time meant dragging all of the heavy equipment out to the people and gaining their trust for their work.

Because I like to connect the dots, I also brought into my own conversation the work of Gene Stratton Porter who carried her own equipment to the woods to photograph nature and eventually paint the flora and fauna of Indiana.

As I did connect the dots between Steele, and Porter, and Hohenberger, I caught myself wondering where my cousin, Eric Rhoads, fit into this equation. Following Doug’s presentation I had to chat with him. I introduced myself and thanked him for the wonderful talk. I did not know of the work of Hohenberger, so I loved learning as much as I could. I chatted with Doug about T.C. Steele and told him how Steele was my bicentennial character that I brought to life. That work premiered in Indianapolis and then down in the studio in Brown County. Studying Steele and that period of history was so informative to me. It was the backdrop for Sunday’s lecture.

I told Doug that my cousin, Eric Rhoads, was the publisher and editor of Plein Air Magazine. By the look on his face, I could tell he was quite interested. As we talked about my cousin, Doug honored me by telling me he thought Rick was the biggest influencer of bringing back the plein air movement. Rick has dedicated his life to plein air painting by his own work and by taking groups to Cuba, Africa, New Zealand, Russia…just to name a few places. His goal was to have a million painters. Not only does he produce a magazine, but he does a daily podcast inviting folks from around the world to join him and promote this artistic movement.

I am thrilled at the success of the Steuben Arts Scene. It was brought to life by the vision of Vicki Thompson who wanted to expand art to the folks in our part of Indiana. After Sunday’s full house, I will say that she is doing just that.

If you are interested in taking any type of class, stop in and register! We are fortunate here in northern Indiana.

Congratulations, Steuben Arts Scene. We are so glad you are here!

Once again, Kindness 101...come on, you can do it!

I have always liked Steve Hartman’s Kindness 101 on CBS. I love watching him, usually with his children, sharing values as kindness, respect, patience. He even has lesson plans for teachers to use his videos and lovely ideas.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about Kindness 101. I mean, we live with 101 lakes, so why not have 101 ways of teaching, not just our children, but ourselves about kindness? I do want to say before I begin that I write this as much for myself as  you. Of course, I cannot get 101 thoughts in one small column. If you would like to send me some of your ideas, I would love to hear them and share them!

Some of these are very small tokens of kindness and gratitude, others are larger. I want to chat first about kindness while driving. I love it when you stop and let Lola, my old red Jeep, and me pull out of a side street or a parking spot. I am always so worried you won’t see me waving away so I always put my window down and wave voraciously as I thank you. Thank you. I also return the favor whenever I can. And please don’t forget to pull over for all emergency vehicles. They need the space to get on the scene as soon as possible, and always pull over for funeral processions.

This next gesture is one I have to keep in mind myself. We all fill the blessing boxes around the holidays. Yes, we do. We think about giving during that time of year. But, folks, people are still hungry when it is not the holidays. It is so easy to fill an extra bag every time you head to the store. I know prices are up a bit but let us be grateful for what we have and take a few of our coins to help out others. There are blessing boxes all over our area. Let us fill them up!

Shopping small is always at the top of my list. We love our small towns, which is the very reason I live here. I cannot imagine living anywhere else, and that is why I try my absolute best to put my coins into the coffers of our small businesses from our lovely theatre to restaurants to other shops. We have the most beautiful theatre, and it is our responsibility to attend. I love meeting friends at the Brokaw. They even offer free movies for Trine students on Thursday nights and offer a senior citizen movie once a month. As for restaurants, it is amazing how many local eateries we have in this town. Go there…tell them you appreciate them…share it with your friends.

Let’s talk about volunteering. There are so many opportunities. Do you love reading to children? I am sure your child’s teacher would love to have you help out in the classroom. Or choose to volunteer at the places you love. Humane shelter? Music programs? Theatre programs? Highway clean-up? Well, I could go on and on, but you get the picture.

There are many simple things we can do. Let someone go ahead of you at the grocery. Someone with a few items or a child that needs attending. Help them out. And always, always put your cart away! Thank the person who keeps the bathrooms clean at the airport or your school or business. Or pay it forward any way you can. In the drive-through, in a store. Do we even have any idea on how that could change someone’s day?

On your own home front, let’s expand our gardens! Plant flowers to beautify your neighborhood. Bake cookies or bread and fill jam jars with last year’s bounty and give away. Put books out for children in your little library. Talk to children as they walk past your house on their way to school.

I have barely touched the surface of Kindness 101. I know we can think of 101 things to do to make our world a better place. Start a list and add to it every day and see how many of those things you can do. I will do the same with my list.

If there was ever a time our world needs kindness, it is now. I always think of our corner of this world as where the heartbeat is strong. Our heartbeat can extend throughout the state, throughout the country, throughout the world.

Why not?

Robin Hood!

 

I love sitting in the auditorium at the T. Furth Center for the Performing Arts. I love all the programming, but I also love sitting quietly in the early mornings. There are a few sounds…the sound of a muffled trumpet in a practice room…the sound of the furnace humming away in the distance…and the echoes of students singing, dancing, and performing across the stage.

My imagination can see them so clearly. I see their shadows in all the shows I have produced. I can hear their laughter and see their grimaces as lines are yet to be learned. I know these young people, and, yes, I adore them.

We are deep into rehearsal now for Robin Hood. It has been my pleasure this semester to cast Muriel Mackey as Robin Hood. It seems fitting, really. When I first took over the program Muriel was my Dracula. She was a freshman at Trine when I first met her. Before I actually took the job as director, I found her on campus and asked if she would be returning to Trine her sophomore year. We didn’t know each other at the time, and I am sure she thought it was a strange question coming from a strange professor, but she answered yes. That was enough for me to take the job. Funny how things work out. Muriel is a graduating senior this spring, much to my chagrin. It was only fitting to cast her as Robin Hood. She is full of energy and keeps the cast on their toes. It will be hard to let her go at the end of this show.

One night after our rehearsal, our new music director, Dr. Brad Jopek, came up to me and told me what a lot of noise we were making on the stage while he was working downstairs. It was not a negative comment, but one of great interest. I told him it is, indeed, an energetic show. He shows up almost every night just to see the fun we are having!

Our Robin Hood show has great family appeal. Your kids will love it. You will love it. We invite you to come on in the first weekend of April and let the world slide by as we entertain you.

Not only are we working hard (and playing hard) on the stage, but my theatre students have also once again put together a theatre workshop for area middle school and high school students. Last year, senior Sean Carpenter, wanted to do these workshops so we worked out all the details and had our first one. It was a great success even though it happened to coincide with spring break. This year the students voted to do it again, so we got everything set up earlier with our workshop on Wednesday, February 26. The event begins with registration at 3:45 and the workshops beginning at 4:00. All students will get the workshops taught by my theatre students on important topics we all deal with in theatre: blocking, character development, back stage information, audio and tech. My assistant director, Lydia Roop, and I will host a director’s round table as we answer questions and also take the time to learn from one another.

A pizza party is planned for 5:00. Last year the pizza party was definitely a big hit with all the attendees and my students sitting together and chatting with one another. They were all loud and noisy and great fun. My students loved interacting with them.

The concluding event is watching the first act of the show before they all leave for home with heads full of theatre! I know I would have loved spending time with a university theatre when I was their age. It truly isn’t that we know that much more, but we all share the same goal and that is to produce a fun show for our audiences.

If you have a student or a young person who might enjoy this, drop me a line, and I will send you a registration form. We are excited to once again bring this to the community.

The arts programs are alive and well at Trine University. We have students who love performing with their music, their theatre skills, their tech skills. We are fortunate to all share the space in the T. Furth. If you have never been inside the building before, now is a great time to come and visit!

Come see us…we really are great fun!

Rose Valland...a hero!

 

A few weeks ago, a book arrived in my mailbox. This is not unusual as I order books often from my favorite small and independent bookstores. This package looked different. It was wrapped differently and was heavier than usual. As I took it inside, I was excited to see this new book of mine. What had I ordered? What surprise gift would I find inside of the wrapping? Once I pulled off the mailing attire, I realized what I had ordered…months ago…many months ago. Maybe even a year ago?

Inside the wrapping I found the book, “The Art Front,” by Rose Valland published by the Monuments Men and Women Foundation. I had completely forgotten about my pre-order so long ago which was helping to produce this book. I opened the book so gently, all 370 pages of it and perused the contents which also included a section of photographs. I have to admit this will become my book of the year. Last year’s favorite book was written by Timothy Egan (a long time favorite of mine), “A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan’s Plot to take over American and the Woman Who Stopped Them.” This book is a fabulous read and a true story showcasing how one woman, Madge Oberholtzer, made a difference in stopping the Klan.

So here I was holding in my hands another true story of an amazing woman. Valland was born in southeast France. She was the daughter of a blacksmith but was lured to Paris to study art and art history. In 1932 she took a job in a small art museum near the Louvre Museum, the Jeu de Paume. This job was simply an unpaid assistant, not even a curator.

On June 22, 1940 France began to fall under the forces of Adolf Hitler.  By now many collections had already been moved out of the Louvre and other museums to protect the magnificent pieces of art from the plundering Nazi’s. Everyone had left the museums except for one woman: Rose Valland. She was small with round eyeglasses and in her 40’s. She was not the typical spy for France, but she accepted the responsibility. She was also fluent in German which would help her cause.

Her job was to catalogue what came in and what went in and out. She was no threat to the Nazi’s. The plan was for them to use her and then kill her.  She began to keep tract of stolen paintings such as the great artists: Vermeer, Monet, Renoir, Degas, Matisse. Because Valland was quite invisible and unimportant to the Nazis, they supplied her with details. She kept tract of every detail. She lived during France’s darkest hours. She had to stand by while a bonfire was lit was the Nazi troops burning works of Picasso, Dali and other paintings declared “degenerate” by Hitler.

Not only did she risk her life, but her knowledge was insurmountable. She knew where many of the paintings were stored and were, in fact, still there. Following the war, she became a Fine Arts Officer. Her secret was not known for years.

Eventually she received the French Legion of Honor and the Resistance Medal. She was one of the most honored women in French history. She received the Medal of Freedom from the United States in 1948. Still, this was not the end of her story. In the late 1950’s she began to write this book, in French. It was her desire to see it published in English. It took years to translate her book and was just recently published. I received one of the first copies.

Her story is of great bravery. She knew any moment she could be shot, but she carried on. Today the Monuments Men and Women Foundation honor her. This foundation is still looking for art that was displaced around the war. How do I know that? I became a member of the foundation when I taught the book, “Monuments Men” to one of my early Trine classes. Every now and then an art piece will turn up and be returned to the museum.

I feel a great deal of gratitude towards Rose Valland for her bravery and her exceptional intelligence in outsmarting the Nazi’s. The book I hold in my hands is a history book in which one woman saved art for the coming generations.

If you are interested in joining, please go to www.mmwf.org for more information or to order the book.

Thank you, Rose.

My love for Abigail Adams...

 

I must have been twelve or thirteen when I fell in love with John and Abigail Adams. It was early June, and we had just moved into the rental cottage for the summer. It was right on the shores of Lake Michigan. I don’t know how my mom found that old house, but we loved it. It was big enough for all of us including grandparents and friends who meandered up for part of the summer.

My mom gathered food staples all winter so that we would just need to buy items like milk or eggs or fresh vegetables. Actually, going to the grocery was second on the list of checking in to that house. The first order of business was to take us to the library to get our summer library cards. I don’t think there was programming at the library in those days…probably not anywhere for the matter of fact, but all we needed were library cards. We all scattered into all parts of the library finding our books and being very quiet as well. There was also no talking in the library in those days!

By the time I was a young teenager of twelve or thirteen, I began to shift my reading into the adult section. It was quite on accident that I picked up “Those Who Love” by Irving Stone. I really didn’t know what the book was about, but I did like the title. I took it up to the front desk where I was immediately sent back to the stacks to return it and get a book more suitable for a young reader like me. Luckily my mom was right behind me and stood up for me. I checked out the book.

After supper that night, when we all headed to bed (with flashlights), I began reading the story of John and Abigail Adams. I fell in love immediately. John was a stodgy young lawyer; Abigail was the daughter of a New England preacher. When they fell in love and announced they were to be married, it was rumored (and gossiped about heavily) that the lovely Abigail was definitely marrying beneath her status. Love prevailed even with a long engagement. They moved into a house next door to his mother in Braintree, Massachusetts where John set up his law practice in a small room in the house and Abigail set up house. But, she was more than a housewife, she was his sounding board, his voice of reason. She was a scholar herself studying religion and literature and languages in her own father’s study. Even though women had no say in the early years, Abigail did. She clearly influenced John.

He was a brilliant young lawyer taking on cases of controversy. They moved to Boston where he could do his best work and give his all to this fledgling country. I could regale you with hours of stories, but not now.

Letters between the two of them have survived. One in particular Abigail asks John to “Remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors.” The letter is dated March 31, 1776.

John became the second President of the United States, and they were the first couple to eventually move into the White House. On the night of his inauguration John went to bed early. Abigail was unable to attend due to lack of funds and the roads were muddy making it hard for travel on March 4, 1797. John wrote to her telling her of all the details. He wrote, “May none but honest and wise men ever rule under this roof.”

He served just one term losing to Thomas Jefferson and retired back to his beloved farm with his law books and Abigail.

When I closed that book as a young girl, I knew I loved them, and I knew I loved history. In years since I have traveled to Braintree and Boston to study in their libraries. I have told stories and given speeches much akin to Abigail. If there was one woman I could meet from history, it would be her. We would sit in this old house with candles burning and a pot of fresh tea. She would push her hair back behind her ears as she always did while listening to John and tell me her stories.

I know this much, my life changed because of that book. I will always be grateful to Abigail Adams who once said, “Remember the women.”

Kindness 101

 The views from my windows are of great beauty. I think January is my favorite month. Of course, that will probably change when we turn the calendar to February, but for now the cold and snow give us pause in our day. Breathing in the cold, crisp winter air is a joy that not everyone can experience!

We are the fortunate ones. This winter is a bit different from last year! Last year ice fishing and ice skating on local lakes and ponds lasted for about two days. This week the lakes are dotted with fisherman on buckets or in shanties. I love driving by to see this fairy land at dusk as their lights gleam like winter fireflies.

And yet. So many are not so fortunate. I follow the fires in California just as you do. I weep over the stories and cheer on the heroes…the firefighters who are coming from all over the world to lend a hand. I cannot imagine in any way working 16 hours and day in the heat and the stress, sleeping for a few hours and then willingly go back to the job. I have traveled to California quite a few times. Sometimes by plane, but often by train. Several times I have taken the coastal train high up on the bluffs of the highway on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I have looked for the green flash more than once, but with no luck.

I personally know the grief of losing all that we once had or knew. When Jonah was a baby, Aaron was living in the farmhouse. One dark night in November it burned to the ground. I was on Ocracoke at the time and made the journey back home as did my sons. We walked through the rubble in old boots watching where we stepped in disbelief that our house was gone. We built that house as a family. The fire destroyed all but our stories and memories. Yet, while walking through the rubble, we came across a cardboard box which was somewhat intact. That was so strange as everything was gone. I opened the charred box to find three copies of “Oh, the Places You Go,” by Dr. Seuss. I had purchased one for each of my sons for their high school graduation. I wrote to each one of them in the front of the book. My handwriting was still legible. I stood there in the embers as I read to them. Of course, I cried.

Once the news was out, my front porch, my garage, and my living room were full of donations. It was a complete and generous outpouring of love in this town. Now we are faced with helping out. There are many organizations in which to give money. Please research the ones you feel are best for you. There is always the Red Cross. Does it matter that we do not know the folks? Of course, it doesn’t. We are generous. We are kind. We take care of one another. Dipping into our coffers will help those in need and fill our own hearts with love and kindness. And please, let’s not forget our friends in need from the October hurricane. There is still so much needed in the Appalachia area. Your support is needed and welcomed there.

There are always needs at home as well. You know my friend, Jacob, from my writings. He has been my right-hand man with Mary Shelley, Poe Night, Trine University Theatre, and a wonderful friend. While I was gone, his family home burned to the ground. His parents and their pets made it to safety, but the house did not survive. They also are in need and a good place to help locally. By the way, my front porch has become the donation center for goods and for cash, should you want to help.

Over the past weekend, Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman wrote a poem entitled, “Smoldering Dawn.” She wrote this as a fund raiser for the California Fire Foundation. The last line goes like this, “To find the angels, all we need to do is look within ourselves.”

We are the angels. We are called upon to be kind. To be givers. To be there for others. Why else are we here?

So, my friends, give what you can to whomever you can. And if your only gift during this time is a prayer in the holy darkness, then you too are the angel.

Home again...

 

The 4 a.m. alarm rings signaling the end of my visit to Charleston. A little bit of scurrying around to pack the last-minute items and then a note on the chalkboard saying goodbye to all the children. I sign my name with a flourish and a heart just as I hear Abe’s footsteps on the staircase coming up to grab my bags. I follow him out to the clear, but chilly Charleston skies to take the trip to the airport. I always love these early morning runs with Abe. It is a wonderful time for conversation with just the two of us. It is hard to squeeze that in sometimes with four children.

I am so proud of my son, Abe. He has made a wonderful life for himself and his family in Charleston. As much as I wish (I always wish) they would make their way back home, I know they are happy there so that is all that counts. Of course, Faith always wants me to move next door so they can come over for cookies after school. That would be lovely, but it isn’t possible.

For some reason today’s airport run goes so fast. We chat about many subjects, and just like that we are at the curb. He takes out my bags and I hug him goodbye. We always joke about how many times he has taken me to the airport during his adult years…Santa Barbara, Portland, Phoenix and now Charleston. I wave farewell until he is out of sight and meander on into the airport. It is definitely much quieter than my trip out with holiday travelers.

Within the hour I am seated at my gate waiting to go home. As much as I love traveling, going home always is wonderful. The flight is full, and I am in the middle seat, which is never my favorite, but on this morning, I have two lovely travel companions who are quite talkative. I have noticed over the years that with so much technology folks hunker on down into their own devices for flights. I am always looking for someone to talk to and on this day, I am in luck. To my right is a young lady heading back to college after being home for the long break. She shares her love of family and how she is not ready to go back, but, of course, she will. I asked her about her grades. (I know, I just can’t help it.) She tells me her grades are good and she is hoping to pledge into a sorority to make new friends. The woman on my left is a world traveler and is on her way to Montreal. She wants to talk and share travel stories and so do I.

We chat about my visit first of all. She is interested in all my grandkids, and I am happy to share stories about all of them. I tell her all about this visit with the kids, New Year’s Eve, and all our activities including Abe’s birthday. She has no children, so she loves to hear these stories. Next, we move on to travel stories. We talk as if we are old friends having tea at Caleo. Paris. Prague. Budapest. China. London. Well, the list goes on. We share traveling by train as well. As much as I have traveled, she has done more, and I hang on to every word. I ask if she has been to Iceland yet and she answers that it is on her bucket list. “Mine too,” I say.

Our flight is late into Charlotte, so we let the young college girl out first as she only has a few minutes to catch her flight. The two of us say farewell, and that is that. No name. Just an enriched conversation on a flight.

Another quick flight to Fort Wayne. Everyone is talking about how the storm missed northern Indiana. Elten and Carolyn are there for the pick-up of which I am very grateful. Carolyn and I sit in the back as usual and talk a mile a minute to catch up. We have much news to report and many stories to share.

Back home my Christmas tree is still lit, at least for another day or so. I make tea and sit thinking about the trip, thinking about the kids I sorely miss. But, there are classes to teach, poetry to share, a show to produce and a beautiful town I love.

Happy New Year's

I hear the scurry of little feet outside my bedroom door. It takes a moment to remember where I am, and then I smile. Of course, I am in the lovely guest room (aka Noah’s room) for my winter vacation in Charleston. I hear giggles and, I hear the little footsteps move quietly down the hall. They had instructions to let me sleep in after a long (and I do mean long!) day of travel. By the way, when the news shows clips of airports and long lines and weather delays, believe them! I think everyone is at the airport…any airport! Finally, after a long-complicated journey, I arrive in Charleston! The older girls have gone off to camp for a few days, and the parents are packed ready to go off to camp themselves…so they say!

Abe and the twins pick me up and whisk me to their lovely house all decorated for Christmas before they drive off into the night leaving me with the twins for a few days. We are, of course, delighted to have to time to ourselves. “Just us and Nannie,” they both chant! As quiet as they are on the first morning, I hear them outside my door. Quietly, I go to open the door to find a small mailbox sitting on the floor full of “Nannie” letters. How long have they been up? I know they are watching from down the hall as I retrieve my mail. The letters are in pencil with precious (yes, I use that word) letters from Faith and Noah. Most of the letters thank me for coming here. Some of the letters have lists of activities for us to do. They are all in some kind of order? They are sneaky little letters knowing the parents are far away, and that I will let them do some of the things they are not allowed to do. The lists are full of movies for us to watch, toys we will play with, games we will play, and all the meals we will make in the three days before everyone returns. They want to eat our meals on the floor as that is quite forbidden! I laugh as I pull out the notes! They come running to me as in The Children’s Hour, and my heart is full.

I make coffee as they help with the morning chores. They know how to help now that they are eight. They feed the cat, plug in the tree, and patiently wait for coffee number two before we have our own private Christmas. No, they do not want to wait for the rest of the family. I pull their gifts out of my suitcase realizing why I really brought nothing but toys! Luckily, I keep a tub of necessities here just for that reason!

We sit around the tree as they open their gifts with much glee. (Yes, the word glee is very appropriate here!) “These are the best presents ever,” they both exclaim! Then they joyfully pull out their hand-made gifts for me wrapped in paper with my name printed in pencil. They cannot contain their happiness as I open an origami black cat bookmark and a purple beaded bracelet. I tell them these are my favorite gifts, and they really are my favorites as they are made with love. A loving gift from a child’s hand will always be my favorite gifts!

We decide to stay in our jammies all day and not clean up any of the messes until an hour before the parents return on New Year’s Day. They are delighted with these rules, and I secretly hope Abe and Kristin do not come home early!! It is our Christmas, and we are going to love each moment of this day!

New Year’s Eve will be celebrated with just the three of us. We have big plans. We are ordering pizza and eating it on the floor, we have noise makers and a cupboard of pots and pans. New Year’s Eve is beautiful here in Charleston with fireworks and we will attempt to stay up until midnight although I might have to trick them a bit! Then again…

It is the week we celebrate the new year. We make our lists of all we want to accomplish. I have a big list, as always. Love tops my list. Love for family. Love for community. Love for the work I get to do. Love.

Happy New Year’s from the three us! 

The Christmas Train

 With a light dusting of snow on the ground, and all the bells and whistles possible, we boarded the Christmas train on Sunday. It is no small feat to gather seven of us on a Sunday afternoon between hockey and work and traveling, but I started planning two months ago. There are things we do in our life that bring us so much joy, and for me, it is always family. I wanted them to experience the train and so I needed to make it happen, which I did.

Of course, it was only for the Indiana family as the others had events in St. Pete and in Charleston. Not to worry, they get their special events too. I decided Jonah and Graham would enjoy taking the girlfriends with us so I invited them too. At 1:00 on Sunday they all bounded into my house with jackets and hats and did I hear a familiar “Ho, Ho, Ho?” Not sure, but I think I did! I had everything ready to go. I spent one day this week filling small cookie tins with my grandma’s sugar cookies making sure each one of us had our own tin. I filled a cooler with drinks, and grabbed a few extra blankets, and we were ready to go.

Pleasant Lake was decked out for Christmas as was apparent as we drove through on our way to the train depot and the awaiting train! The conductor scanned our tickets and we were on our way to our seats. Even though my grandsons and their girlfriends are not children, their eyes lit up as we sat down. Trains are so magical, even before we start moving! One of Aaron and Rachel’s long ago employees is now working for the railroad and he came up and swooshed them away for a tour behind the scenes! By the time they got back to their seats, we were just ready to pull out of the station.

What is the magic of the train? The way the conductor’s voice echoes across the tract as he calls “All aboard?” The way the train sways from side to side as it rumbles down the tract? I am a seasoned train rider, but the kids were not so I just loved watching their faces as we ambled from Pleasant Lake to Angola and then off to Fremont. Lucky for us, the ground was still snow covered which made the woods a picturesque thing of beauty. We were visited on the train by several key players! The first to visit was the balloon lady. Everyone chose something different for her to make. We had a candy cane, an elf hat, a Santa hat, and my favorite a wreath. Following her we were visited by Santa himself as he came to find out if we had all been good or bad for the year. We all agreed we had been very good this year.

There are times when I want time to stand still, to just stay right where it is as long as possible. That is exactly how I felt during the train ride with my family. As I watched them all laughing, talking, I felt this deep sense or pride and love for them. I could have just gone on riding the train for a day or two or a month or a year. Alas, alas. The time came to pull back into the station on Pleasant Lake. We gathered up all of our belongings and headed over to see the Pleasant Lake Museum and the newly acquired barbershop. It was quite a busy little place as we crowded into the museum. Of course, the man of the hour, Elten Powers, was there greeting everyone, telling stories, and sharing his love of the town.

Finally, we headed home. Home to the purple house where dinner was waiting along with Christmas Crackers, games and the crowning moment of the day to light the Christmas tree. No matter how many years I light my tree, each time it is beautiful. I never tire of it. We sang “Oh Tannenbaum” in German as we gathered around the tree. Each candle was then put out one at a time. Time had come to say farewell.

Christmas is magical. Families are magical. Life is magical. It is hard to believe that Christmas is here once again. From my family to yours, we wish you all Merry Christmas.

“God bless us all, everyone.” Tiny Tim from The Christmas Carol.