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?

Summer is still Magical...

 

I like writing about going back to school. I like writing about the crickets in the kitchen, and goldenrod in the garden, and re-reading “Dandelion Wine” by Ray Bradbury for the hundredth time. But…it is the first week of August, and I should not be writing about any of those things. Not yet. I don’t know how all of this started moving up the starting days of school, but here it is. I guess I really question the “why” of it. I try to think of it logically as in, oh right, they need extra time to read, or they lose too much over the summer. I get it, but then again, I don’t.

Summer is pure magic. Putting the shoes put away until Labor Day, and then, of course, they don’t fit the sprawling, bare-footed child. (How much scrubbing does it take to clean those feet?) We used to have a big pan of water outside the farmhouse door for feet scrubbing, but I doubt any of my boys really had super clean feet until November. I think I was included in that.

Summer is pure magic. Staying up late catching (and releasing) those lightning bugs which are so prominent this summer. If we weren’t catching them, we were biking around after dark or playing hide-n-go-seek until our dads called us home for the night. We always knew the sound of our own screen doors and lamented the fact that the day was over. Who wants a summer day to be over? Not me.

Summe is pure magic. Stretching out on the grass to watch the clouds take shape and change as bunnies or dinosaurs appear in the heavens. While watching the clouds (yes, a little Joni Mitchell here!), chew on the stem of a dandelion or a stray wheat stalk that ended up in the garden.

Summer is pure magic. Camping in a real tent far away from everyone is an August dream. We used to take our tent up to Lake Superior in August after 4-H, after baseball, after chores. We fished in the day (okay, my boys fished, I read trashy novels), told stories by the campfire at night. One year I saw the Aurora Borealis, and it completely took my breath away.

Summer is pure magic. Hauling in the zucchini by the bushel basket and leaving them on neighbor’s doorsteps in the dark of night! Picking sweet corn while the water is boiling on the stove. Burgers on the grills and s’mores at the campfire make for a perfect end to a garden day.

Summer is pure magic. Reading books while dusk turns to night, and then with the flashlights under the covers because, well, you can sleep in if you stay up all night reading! Gathering up those books and returning them to the mobile library as they peruse the town. My friends and I sat on the curb with arms full of books waiting for the traveling librarian with hopes that she remembered the books we wanted!

Summer is pure magic. Visiting relatives and friends gather at the house or the vacation spot filling the refrigerator with watermelons and popsicles and sleeping in every corner possible. My grandparents used to drive their Airstream trailer up to see us at the cottage on Lake Michigan when we were kids. Grandma brought green beans and cucumbers from her garden along with her award-winning pies and cakes. Everything was gone in a day!

Summer is pure magic. I realize that I am a romantic. I think all houses are full of books, the yards are full of lightning bugs, children get to stay home and be barefoot. I know. Lou Ann, you are so full of nostalgia…but why not? It worked for me. It still works for me. I want that magic in my life even though things change. My boys have their own lives, and I roam around in my purple house and my gardens with friends or guests coming and going. I want campfires and lightning bugs. I want clouds and sunsets. I want it all.

So, here is what I have to say with the school year starting in the middle of the magic. Parents, keep the magic. Evenings and weekends can still be magical. Go camping. Watch clouds. Read books til dark. Have campfires. Don’t let the change in the school calendar take away the magic. It doesn’t have to be like that.

Summer is still here, and, yes, it is magical.

Happy Birthday!

 

My birthday celebration with my boys!

As soon as I got to the front door, I knew we were having a great celebration! Peeking into the dining room I could see the room was full of cards and gifts and flowers and balloons. I smiled. Rachel knows how to celebrate birthdays, and since it was my birthday, it was all the more fun! As I walked in, the Indiana family were all there to greet me. “Happy birthday, Nannie!” could be head echoing through the halls of the house.

The four of them know there is nothing I love more than family and they are always there for me! I know I was smiling from ear to ear just being able to spend the evening with them! There would be fireworks too from the Fremont Music Festival, if the skies cleared.

As I walked further into the house, Rachel was literally bouncing off the walls! “Did you see the dining room?” she asked me. I nodded…oh my, yes, beautiful. And it was. Again, she asked, “Did you see the dining room?” Again, I nodded. On her third time asking the same question, I decided I better go investigate the dining room. Yes, I missed something. Two mannequins wearing Mardi gras masks were sitting at the table. They turned their heads as I burst into tears. It was Adam and Lisa. They flew up from St. Pete in the morning to surprise me! I am not used to quite a big surprise and I cried, of course. With my boys living a distance away, I don’t get to be with them too often, but now I had two out of the three.

We chatted about Abe. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could have come? But, he has four kids, and they just got back from vacation. Of course, I get it. Aaron was finishing up the brats and burgers (what, no fish?) when Rachel went to the door as more guests were streaming in. This time when I looked up, there he was, my youngest. I cried again. Now all three are together for my birthday! I do not think there is anything in the world that could have made me happier than my three together with me. With Rachel’s family joining us and family friends, we sat at the table for hours laughing, crying and telling stories. My boys are masters of storytelling!

There were times I sat back in my chair to watch. If I closed my eyes, I could see the three of them romping through the woods at the farm or riding their Big Wheels up and down the small hills. If I closed my eyes, I could hear them telling stories at the farmhouse table or talking late into the night. If I closed my eyes, I could see the three of them playing baseball for Angola High School. If I closed my eyes, time stopped.

The hours flew by as always happens when you want to stop time or hold on to it with both arms. I opened lovely presents…and funny ones too! We cleaned up and got our chairs situated on the balcony for the fireworks. The sky cleared and from their house, we had a perfect view! By 10:00 the skies were full of fireworks. It was a great display, and we all cheered as they lit up the sky.

The evening came to a close. “Hold tight,” I whispered to myself, as I hugged each child of mine. I drove home late with my windows rolled down to dry my tears in the wind. Luckily, we still had Sunday to be together. And then that was that. By Monday morning, I had theatre, and they all had flights home. It was short, but it was probably two of the happiest days of my life.

When our children are small, it seems as if they might stay that way forever. And then, as if some bit of magic or the passing of time, there they are all grown up. That is how it should be, but then again, it tears my heart apart when we have to leave each other.

I am so fortunate. This year’s birthday was a big one for me. When the candles were lit and after the song, everyone chanted, “Make a wish and blow out the candles.”  I smiled through my tears. “I don’t have any wishes. They have already come true,” I say as I look around a table full of love.

Drama Camp 101!

 

It’s Monday morning and we gather in a circle. Our nametags are on, but most of us know each other. I wait until the ten o’clock hour, and I begin. “Welcome to LCYC Drama Camp. I am Miss Maggie.” I have said those words so many years during the summer. Yes, it is once again time for drama camp. From year to year I always feel I have plenty of time to finish the script, edit and tidy it up before I send it to Jennifer Martin to print for our young students. Yet, it seems during the week before it is fast and furious getting the script around. But it always gets down and ready for our students. Of course, they want to see the script the first thing on Monday morning, but we keep the scripts under lock and key until after lunch.

My job is the easy one…I write and direct the show. Jennifer Martin, director of LCYC, is the glue for all of us. She arranges the location, all the helpers, lunches. She does the programs, and the social media for our camp. She smiles the whole time assuring us all is well, and the show will go on.

Even though Jenn takes everything off my plate, I do always wonder…will the magic show up one more time? Will they learn the script, and be able to leave it on the back table? Will there be costumes and make-up? The answer to all of this is yes. These things always happen.

This year’s story takes place in 1789 in Seville, Spain. It is, of course, one of my signature who-dun-it plays which involves the audience. Usually, I don’t even tell the cast who-dun-it, but this year it had to be woven into the plot!

After lunch on Monday, we hand out the scripts. I watch them curiously as they quickly browse through the pages…lots of pages. They are quiet as they peruse the script. They are looking for their parts. Who will they be in the show? How hard is this script? I think this one is a little difficult, but I have no worries. We have a small group too which is made up of the younger students who are just toe-dipping into theatre. I have competent help with Ellie and Ana to work on their young acting skills. The younger ones will be performing the short pirate vignette between the scenes. Everyone will be on stage. Everyone.

You know my passion is the theatre. Going back into history we find theatre emerging in Ancient Greece in 700 BC in the City of Athens. The Greeks focused on tragedy, comedy and satire. Of course, only men occupied the stage. Not only could women not perform, but could not attend theatrical performances. Theatre was considered an indecent occupation for women. Men played all the parts. By 1660 during the Restoration period, it changed, and women were allowed to take parts on the stage. Anne Marshall was the first female professional actor in her performance of Othello. After that, all the rules changed, and aren’t we glad about that?

I look at these young actors in my charge for the week. I expect so much out of them. I tease them about taking the script with them everywhere they go. I can always tell how much they are working outside of camp as to how worn and torn their scripts look!!! (They don’t know I notice!) The auditions go as planned and we have a cast. Of course, not everyone gets the part they want, and that is okay. In theatre, as in life, we take it as it comes. I have many returning students each year that I love watching the progression from young actor with a line or two to a confident actor taking on the lead role. That has happened again this year. The older students are mentors with the younger ones!

So, our show goes on, and we would love to see you! We have just one performance on Friday night at 6:30 at Lakeland Jr. Sr. High School. There is no cost so bring the whole family! If you have a young person in the show, you won’t want to miss it. It is also wonderful for these students to see a nice audience. You will be amazed. They are all brave and excited to be on that big stage. Come see us on Friday!

So, my dear cast, break a leg!

 

A little bit of gardening, traveling memories and remembering a special poet.

 Buffalo Bill

With scissors in my back pocket and my watering can in my hand, I head out to the garden as soon as the sun’s rays dance upon my picket fence. It is early. Early enough so that the heat of the sun stays away long enough to water my garden and check for any special plants peeking out or others needing clipping. I am always surprised at what I find in the early morning light. Walking the perimeter of my garden is such a joy even though I am a bit behind this year. I had it all planned out, but an injury put me in the backseat during the month of May, and we all know what I did in June. I kept reading articles stating there was still time to plant. I followed that advice and kept tossing seeds into the ground during the first of July. On the whole, I planted 250 sunflower seeds. One grew. The neighborhood squirrels enjoyed the rest of them for brunch. Why, I ask myself with a sigh. I guess my garden will be blossoming when others begin the late summer withering process. We shall see. I am hopeful. The garden keeps me grounded these days…literally and figuratively as I try to limit my time on the news.

The news keeps my heart rate high. I cry over every lost child or adult in the flooded areas. Their photos flash over the Internet and I am drawn to look into their young eyes. This week the historic Inn at the Grand Canyon burned to the ground. I was there once with my family. We usually spent the summer at Lake Michigan, but one year my dad decided we should go West…as in the advice by Horace Greely. We were all issued a trash bag (there were a lot of kids), in which to pack with our clothes and treasures. It was easier to pack trash bags in the back of a station wagon than suitcases. They fit much better. We had another container full of small breakfast cereals. The kind where we each got our own! The milk was stored in the cooler along with bologna for lunches.

It was a six-week journey across America from Indiana to California and back by way of station wagon. Two parents and five kids. My youngest sister was not born yet. My travel place was in the middle of the backseat so I could entertain all the younger siblings. No iPads or phones…just our own voices for songs and stories…all the way there and back. No wonder I grew up to love stories and music! And how many of us sang a hundred bottles of beer on the wall?

We stayed at the Wild Buffalo Bill Hotel in Cody, Wyoming. We actually stayed two nights which sent my mom refiguring our journey as she had planned each day. During our stay the grandson of Buffalo Bill was there. As I remember, he was quite a character. We loved staying there on our way to Yellowstone National Park.

And then we went to the Grand Canyon and splurged to stay at the Inn. We all crowded into two rooms. We did not walk down into the canyon but spent much time wandering around the rim. It was spectacular. This week the wildfires took the Inn and the history with it.

This week we also lost a marvelous writer and poet. Andrea Gibson was the Poet Laureate of Colorado. She was chosen in 2023. Qualifications include artistic ability along with a body of work. Usually, these poets are also activists for causes. Andrea was definitely that. Her work reminds me of Mary Oliver, of which I am also a great fan. I do believe in poetry. I believe it helps us understand and appreciate our world. Her is just a quick sample of Andrea’s work. She was just 49.

I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color,

But I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight.

I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies

And they were real close to looking like the sunrise,

And sometimes it takes the most wounded wings the most broken things

To notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight.

Andrea Gibson

Her words help me understand and appreciate the beauty of this life. I think about this as I put away the morning tools and take one last look at the garden. Tomorrow is another day.