Everyone needs a front porch!

 

The garden swelters under the heat. For that matter, so do I, but then again, you all know I love the cooler weather. I am grateful for air conditioning even though I really,  dislike using it. It seems as if our windows and doors are shut most of the year, and I love billowing curtains. The time will come for billowing curtains when Autumn comes calling.

I do not remember air conditioning anywhere when I was a kid. I know my grandparents didn’t have it, and neither did we. Of course, there were those long, hot nights with sweaty sheets and just a box fan. It was summer so, well, that was the way it was. But, there were porches.

My grandmother had a front porch complete with a porch swing. She had a porch light that she often blinked if I was staying with her and my date stayed too long. She never actually came out to the porch, but just kept blinking the porch light! During the day that same porch was where we cleaned beans for dinner, darned socks or chatted with neighbors walking by.

My farm had a great porch too. That porch had a swing and, in those days, without stop lights or businesses, all that the eye could see were Doc’s fields and apple orchards filling the gaps into town. In the summer it also held three butterfly nets for the boys and an old pan to fill with water to wash their feet before they came in for the night. I don’t remember anyone wearing shoes during the summer! It was quiet too. In the winter the porch was a mainstay. We filled it with firewood, work boots, and a snow shovel, of course! My front porch was also where we read books, told stories, and cleaned beans for dinner.

Later on in my life, when I bought my house in town, I knew I wanted a porch. I found the perfect house for that. Once I moved in, I realized all the windows were nailed shut and the ropes had been cut. My first order of business was to get those windows open. Lee made screens for each one and we had to number them as each window was actually a different size.  Lee replaced all the old-fashioned ropes. Once the weather warms in April and before the heavy frost in October, my porch is my go-to every day. There is no air-conditioning, but I have a great ceiling fan and those lovely windows. My porch faces east so I get the morning sun, and the heat of the day stays in my backyard. I don’t have a porch swing, but lovely wicker furniture and stacks of books. I love my porch as I also have it surrounded by bushes so that I can watch the world go by, yet I am a bit hidden.

How and when did we lose these glorious additions to our homes? There really are two major factors contributing to the demise of the front porch. You guessed it. Air-conditioning and the invention of television. Once folks were comfortable inside, why go out to the porch? It was cooler and more entertaining inside. Ah, but was it really? Now my family wasn’t musical, so I didn’t learn the banjo or hear my grandpa play the harmonica on my porch, yet I love them. My dad lived with his grandparents for several year during the Depression. His room was up in the attic with a bed of straw-filled ticking. He often told stories about going to bed early and listening to the old men talk on the porch as they sharpened their knives on the whetstone every night. What a lovely memory to have.

In my neighborhood, there are porches. Probably because most of the houses are close to a hundred years old, such as mine. Sometimes Lee does play the banjo on the porch. My neighbors, Larry and Cheri, spend hours on their porch with their dog, Molly. People stop by to chat every afternoon.

If you don’t have a porch, maybe you have a stoop? It seems everyone has a back deck which is not quite the same, but at least you are outside.

This week the temps will cool so a perfect time to sit outdoors and watch the world go by during the day and stars by night.

 So come and sit a spell for stories, for music and to help clean those beans!

Ukulele Camp!

 

I check my list: sheets, blanket, pillow, towel, washcloth, ukulele, music. It looks like I I have everything I need. I load it into my wagon and wait for Carolyn to pick me up. She arrives and we load all of my gear into the back of her van including my wagon. Everything she needs is already packed. I hop into the front seat and off we go. Oh, not to just any event, oh no, we are headed off to ukulele camp or to be more specific, Midwest Ukulele and Harmonica Camp. I missed camp last year so I am eager to go this year.

It is a short drive to Toledo University. I love that the camp moves around to different locations. We get out out map to find our way to our dorm where we will not only sleep, but where all our classes will be held. We are not the only ones arriving, although It looks as if I am the only one pulling my wagon. “Smart idea,” someone calls out. I smile. Between my wagon and Carolyn’s cart (we are very prepared for camp!) we head up to the registration table. Just like college, I think, as we are issued our meal ticket and our keys to our suite. There is an elevator, thank goodness, with all of our stuff. I tried to think back to my dorm days so many years ago, I don’t think we had an elevator. I guess we just hauled all of our stuff up the staircase. I am grateful for the elevator and the door closes. We find our room and our other two roomies come in as well. They love our means of unloading and borrow our cart and wagon!

We make our beds and put things away on the shelves. Going to ukulele camp with a great friend is about as good as it gets! We check our schedule over and over and mark the classes we want to take. Jazz, blues, finger-picking, strumming, song-writing…how can we choose? With classes circle, and our ukes strapped on our backs, we head down to the classes.

The workshop instructors are brilliant uke players. As we walk through the halls to our workshop rooms, the sound of ukes tuning up fills the hallway. I mean, have you ever heard 200 ukulele players tuning up? Carolyn and I had planned to take all different workshops so we could share the information, but we start out together. We settle into our chairs and join the others as we tune up our ukes.

I am so ready for these classes.   What amazes me most of all abou these professional teachers is how beautiful and effortlessly they play their ukes. They make them sing in ways that I cannot. I want to play like them, I really do, but I know the amount of work that goes into this. Maybe it would take me a full year to learn a song or two. No different from storytelling, although I have been doing that for so many years.

The instructors talk about so many concepts. I listen and try my hardest to understand the Circle of Five, or other terms. Carolyn knows it all already, and whispers to me, “I will explain it to you later.” How lucky am I to have such a good friend?

We take classes, we eat in the cafeteria. We both think about our granddaughters heading off to college this fall. We take photos of us sitting on our beds and send them to  girls!

The evenings are the best. We all gather in the community room as our teachers perform for us. They are extraordinary. The music community is close and they invite other members to play with them. We sit on the edge of our seats and watch the beautiful sky out the giant windows turn from dusk to dark with cotton candy clouds. We clap, we laugh, we sing, we applaud. We are an appreciative audience. Following the concert, we all just hang around with our ukes strapped across our backs as we begin our night jam session. Now it is our turn to play with them until midnight.  When it is over at the midnight hour, we head back to our rooms and chat with our suite mates. No one wants to go to bed as there is so much to talk about.

Camp isn’t just for kids.  Go ahead, pack your bags, and go to camp!

Ah yes, the 4th of July!

 Finally the Fourth of July is here with all the fanfare it deserves in my little town. There are so many culminating events…the Philharmonic, the Americana, the fireworks, the park events, and how can we forget the parade? Kathy’s daughter and friends came from San Diego to enjoy an old-fashioned Fourth of July parade and all the fun the lakes offer.

I pulled my wagon out of the garage, loaded it up with three lawn chairs, sunscreen, water, and my phone for photos. I was excited to visit with Emma and her friends. I went down a little early to set up camp! They really were great seats, even at the end of the parade. Emma and her friends brought the rest of the chairs and were over the top with parade enthusiasm! “Best parade in northern Indiana,” I said. We settled into our lawn chairs to wait, and  were not disappointed. (I told that when Bill’s Towing showed up, that was the end----and I was right!) Lots of years I am in the parade, but not this one, so I could just cheer from the sidelines! The parade was everything they hoped it would be…candy in their pockets, smiles on their faces, and an appreciation for small town U.S.A.  After the parade, I hauled all my chairs back up the hill. As I went to put them away, I noticed the garage remote was not where I usually keep it! Hmm…I never put it in a different place or lose it, so it is somewhere, but the picnic at Aaron and Rachel’s calls me. No problem, I can put everything away later. By later, I guess I meant on Sunday morning after all the festivities.

By Sunday morning my wagon was drenched. No problem. It will dry out, but in the meantime, where is that remote? I started my search. I really dislike losing things and I am always telling my kids, “”put things back where you found them.” Yes, I say that, but on this day, I didn’t follow my own advice. Three hours later I have searched every nook and cranny in my house and yard. I checked in weird places…every drawer, every seat cushion, every roll of toilet paper-----even in the toilet. Okay, that is really extreme, but I am being honest here. Once the search was complete, I didn’t find it, so, of course, I do it all over again. Don’t we all? In the meantime (yes, there is a meantime) I realize the downstairs toilet is plugged. I have had lots of guests this week…now what did they do? I am handy with the plunger. So, I plunged away, but with no success. Again, try the same thing over every hour because surely it will work. Sadly, no. I donned the rubber gloves. Aha…I can fix this. Nope, I can’t. I continued this sage through the day on Sunday…remote, toilet, remote, toilet. By four in the afternoon, I finally came to the realization that the two must meet. (Twain meet?) I think I solved the riddle. The remote must have fallen out of my back pocket and into the toilet. Sure. That’s what happened.
I make my calls to Bradley Overhead Doors, and my long time handyman, Lee. I make the confessions and hope to see them both soon. Bradley Doors appeared first. Of course, they wanted to get into the garage to make me a new remote. Alas. Alas.

As I sit and wait for the finder’s keepers, I am reminded of the book by Judith Viorst, “Alexander, Who Used to Be Rich Last Sunday.” Last Saturday morning I had a working remote. Last Saturday I had a working toilet. Last Saturday I used to be rich. Now what do I have now? A lost remote. A broken toilet. Oh, and two blank checks.

 

Update: Doug from Bradley Doors used a wire coat hanger and was finally able to get into the garage through a side door. (When he first asked if I had a coat hanger, I answered, “Yes. And it’s in the garage!” But I found one upstairs.) I had a chat with Doug about his son, who wants to be a writer. Anyway, the garage door now operates, I have two working remotes and a $261.61 dent in my checking account.

 

The toilet mystery is still unsolved, but Lee said if there really is a remote control stuck in there, I’ll have a topic for my next column!

My July 4th Column...John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

 

I write a lot about Abigail Adams. I am, and always have been, enamored with her life and the time period in which she lived. She was an extraordinary woman who raised a family often without John as he was serving his country. Money did not flow in. In those days politics had nothing to do with money or salary, it was all about the love of country…the new country. When John Adams, a portly man with a degree in law, began to court Abigail and then propose marriage, most folks (including her own family) thought she was marrying beneath her stature. He was a fledgling lawyer with his office in the front of his house in Braintree, as was often the case. Abigail saw something in John, and she, with advice from her good friend Mercy Warren, kept the home fires burning so John could take care of the country.

John Adams was away many years of their marriage, and it was while he was away at the First Continental Congress in 1776 that he met Thomas Jefferson. They instantly became good friends. They had so much in common, besides the powdered wigs! They both loved books and reading, of course. They both studied law, and they both deeply loved this new country, the United States of America, even though they had different viewpoints.

John Adams and Thomas Jefferson helped write the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson was the primary writer which was written between June 11 and June 28, 1776. It was written in Philadelphia on Market Street. It was written by five men who became known as “Committee of Five.” Fifty-six delegates signed it and it was ratified on July 4, 1776. That  date lives on in all of our lives!

Eventually George Washington became the first president of the United States with Adams as the Vice President. Everyone, in the colonies, wanted Washington to run for a second term, but he decided it was time to retire. John Adams, a loyal Federalist, ran against Thomas Jefferson, a Democratic-Republican. Adams won the election by three electoral votes. I find it interesting (and really wish we still did this) that Jefferson became the Vice President under Adams since he received the second amount of votes. How smart they were to put the most intelligent men in charge of a brand-new country.

They differed in their opinions, however. Adams believed in a strong national government; whereas Jefferson felt more power should be given over to the states. Amazingly enough, these two men worked side by side in order to benefit the newly formed United States. There was no time for bickering or for ego building. Our founding fathers did not do that. Their only concern was that of the country.

Adams and Jefferson ran against each other for the third presidency, but this time it was Jefferson who gained control as the President. Aaron Burr also ran tying Jefferson with 73 electoral votes. In the end, Jefferson took the Presidency and Burr the Vice Presidency. (Of course, we all know the Burr-Hamilton story, but that will wait for another column!) Following Jefferson’s win as President, he and Adams had a falling out which lasted for ten years until they both retired. Abigail went home to Braintree to set up John’s library after his loss. Eventually Jefferson went home to Monticello.

When I think about these two men, I have such deep pride. I can’t imagine sitting in a room in Philadelphia complete with powdered wig, layers of clothing and the heat of a Philadelphia summer to write our Declaration of Independence. Benjamin Franklin, another signer, often wrote about the heat! Our founding fathers asked for nothing except a new government. We owe them such a debt this week.

Following their retirement, the two men wrote letters which are housed in the Smithsonian and some in Braintree. Both men became ill in the summer of 1826, but did not know that about each other. One of the most interesting facts of our country’s history is that both men died on July 4^th, 1826 on the 50^th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  Adams last words were, “Thomas Jeffereson survives.” Jefferson died a few hours later.

The celebration this year is so much more than fireworks or swimming in the lake. (Although lucky you!) No, it is about men and women who gave and sacrificed for us. Let us always remember.

Happy Fourth of July to all of you.

Warmshowers Rides Again!

 

Faith and Noah are wishing our new frind, Norman, safe travels!

Warmshower guests have filled my backyard for many years. I first heard of warmshowers when I was on Ocracoke and one of the younger girls had traveled across the country on her bicycle. I was intrigued about that whole process and wanted to hear all about her adventures. I was also curious about the funding. How does that work travelling across the country (any country) on a bicycle? Where does one stay? How do you shower or cook? She explained it all to me.

Warmshowers is actually an organization that pairs bicyclists with hosts. The hosts can provide tenting in the yard or lodging, access to kitchens and, of course, a great hot shower after a long day (or week) of cycling. There is no money exchanged as it is completely voluntary and it is the right thing to do, if you can. I signed up right away.

My yard has been home to many cyclists over the years. Men, women, college students, young, old…and from every corner of the earth. One year a young lady pitched her hammock bed in my trees. I have had cyclists from Asia, Europe, and of course the United States. So, it was exciting for me to accept an evening of hosting last week from a man from Australia. Ah, that would be a first and the kids always love meeting new people. Not only was Norman from Australia, but he was coming on a unicycle. I was very intrigued. Who travels across the country on a unicycle? I had to look him up. Everything about Norman was interesting. He was 58 years old and originally from New Zealand. His goal is to bike around the world on his unicycle, and he is going for the Guinness World Record. I said yes, of course.

Norman arrived at our house around 8:00 in the evening just as we had started our campfire. It was one of those perfect nights last week, cool, cloudless and no wind! It was also our s’mores night! Aaron had already set up their tent, so we moved it over making a spot for Norman’s tent when he arrived. Just as we got the fire going, he popped into our yard with his backpack and his unicycle. Noah was completely taken with Norman. In fact, he helped him unpack and set up his tent. We gave Norman towels and soap for his much-needed shower, and soon he was back out with his under a twilight sky. He told us it was his first American campfire.

We had all the ingredients ready for our s’mores and asked Norman if he would like to make one. We were all amazed when he said he never heard of them or had one before. Well, that was it! The kids had a marshmallow on the roasting stick in a second. Of course, his caught his on fire, but he didn’t mind. I handed over the Graham cracker and the chocolate square. He loved them. Well, who doesn’t?

The stories kept on as we asked questions. We were very curious. He told us stories and we listened intently as his accent was quite Australian!! Finally, the embers dissolved into a few leftover coals, and time to call it a day. We said good night as Norman climbed into his tent.

The kids and I chatted for another hour before they settled down to sleep. By morning they were both up and ready to help Norman pack up. They were like little Magpies. Noah took Norman up to my welcome wall. He was absolutely amazed. He drew a unicycle and wrote about his adventure, so we always have a part of Norman in our house.

As he was all packed up and ready to leave, there was one more thing he asked me to do. I had to sign his logbook so he would have proof of his travels here. The logbook was thick and full of signatures from 153 days on the road. He left Australia on January 1^st. He said it would take him a full year to complete his journey. We waved and hollered as he took off down the road.

I can’t imagine riding a bike across the country, let alone riding a unicycle around the world. This was a great adventure for all of us. We will always remember Norman’s story.

We wish our new friend safe traveling around the world. We are cheering for him and for the Guinness World Record!

My pretty little purple house.

Spring peonies in my garden. 

I drive through this sleepy little town at night, and I am grateful I found a place to call home many years ago. What was I looking for? I remember talking to my friend, Ellen, what should I do, where should I go? She said to me, “You love your town, you love your community…move to town.” It took two years to find the perfect little house. I didn’t want to just buy a house…or an investment. No, that wasn’t for me. I wanted home with twenty-one pairs of Dorothy red shoes. I wanted home where I could rip off the old siding and look in amazement at the over 100-year-old siding still intact, still ready to be shown off with the right color. The right color, of course, was purple.

The house was good and solid and as I have said so many times, Randy and Shannon saved this house for me. I bought it on an early summer night over a grilled-out steak dinner at their home. I was so surprised at how quiet it was in the neighborhood. My sister said that I should never buy a house without seeing it at night…flushing the toilet, drinking the water. I did those things.

The next morning, I sat across the table from Randy and Shannon deciding how to buy the house. It was just the three of us. Randy brought out notecards. I wrote what I would pay, they wrote what they would accept, and we traded. I smiled. Exactly the same amount. Have I ever regretted this move? Not for a day, not for a moment.

This old house of mine is all the grandchildren have ever known. I think they all call it a magical faerie house, well, it is! This old house has celebrated Women’s potlucks, family gatherings, and neighborhood parties. It has also experienced sadness. Haven’t we all?  Luckily, the good times and stories layer over. Maybe I think of this house as more of a gathering place for friends and family. That is my hope.

Celebrations consist of many activities, but three of my very favorite events happen this week! First of all, in my neighborhood, we will be celebrating the beginning of summer at a neighborhood gathering at my house. Our quadrant has been completely enriched by the perseverance of Nate and Aimee Simons in teaching us that neighbors become friends and friends become family. Nate mentions this at every party. This Friday night we welcome the rites of summer with a Rock ‘n Roll into Summer party. Not only will we celebrate with food and laughter, but my good friends Pete and Ken will be here to play music and sing for us. Who doesn’t love music at their parties? We always bring food for the “blessing boxes” at the Episcopal Church. We also take care to check on each other, congratulate each other for the good food we have prepared, and as Nate says, bring us closer to family. We are welcoming two new families this Friday night. They have no idea how lucky they are to live here! I have chatted about this before. If you want some advice on how to build community, come see us, and we will be happy to share.

The Solstice celebration is here this weekend too. The first day of summer is on Sunday as is Father’s Day. My twins are already excited to celebrate with party hats and my year long collection of rose petals to strew across the yard welcoming the faeries into the garden. (It does work, by the way!) My boys all did this when they were young, and now all of the grandchildren have taken part in this fun ritual to welcome in Summer. The Solstice is such a fun celebration in many other countries even though it mostly passes us by. Let’s remember it…rose petals? Daisy petals?

Before I let you go, I want to give a shout out to Cahoots Community Center for hosting Angola’s Got Talent on Saturday night at the T. Furth Center at 6:00. The line-up is stellar. I go every year and I am always so amazed at the talent. Come support all the young (and young at heart) folks who will be singing, dancing, and playing music.

An ending thought: I own a picture by Brian Andreas which says, “The real reason we are here is to love each other and to eat each other’s cooking and say it was good.”

Glimmers

 

This weekend I had guests. Two lovely women who were once upon a time college roommates. They wanted a quiet little space so they could spend hours telling stories and a quiet little town to visit between their stories.

This, my friends, is the best part. When they were leaving, they shared their favorite memories of the weekend and here they are: billowing curtains in the bedroom (okay, I really love that one too!), little soaps on their towels, a quiet, sleepy little porch for their late night stories, the sweet smell of grass, the scent of French lilacs wafting through the open windows, a sweet purple house with good coffee, a thank you note featuring Miss Columbia and friendly folks when they went out and about. They loved it here.

After they left, and I hung out their sheets, I thought about things they didn’t even mention that I often worry about! Yes, I live in the house, the shower is downstairs, the floors creak. Those are the things guests must live with. The charm of our area, and the sweetness of small things were all that mattered. As I puttered through the rest of the weekend, I thought about this.

I am wondering if we really take enough time to love the small things. Some folks call these glimmers. The experts in mental health call glimmers the opposite of triggers. We all have those. Glimmers come and go so quickly, we often do not spend enough time embracing them. I try to pay attention to the above things my guests mentioned. I often say to Kathy, “Oh, how I love sleeping with my balcony door open and the curtains billowing.” Spring brings so many glimmers, and they are fast tracked and we can miss them if we are not watching or thinking about them. They are different from big events in our lives…weddings, graduations, birth of babies.

Stop for a moment. Go outside or even just look out the window. What do you see? The bursting forth of the first peonies. The color of the trees. The sound of children. Write down these small glimmers. Keep a notebook…maybe add it to your gardening book or your star gazing book or start a new one full of joys and glimmers.

My dad was into glimmers, although he didn’t use that word. (I don’t think it was invented then!) Nonetheless, he understood. Once, at the old farmhouse, the two of us sat out on the porch swing. It was my very favorite thing to do. The farmhouse overlooked Doc Headley’s fields with acres and acres of beauty. This was before the build up of businesses…just orchards and land. As we sat outside, he said to me, “Take it all in. Listen. Look. Pay attention to your senses.” We sat in silence, but it wasn’t silent. Crickets and bird song filled the air. The scent of the new mown hay wafted onto the porch. The colors of the land and the sky were breathtaking. The taste of the strong coffee I brought out as the screen door shut with a bang.

My uncle Dean understood. One year I flew to upstate New York to celebrate Labor Day with him. On that Monday morning, we got up early to do some photography of the lake features. Uncle Dean filled the thermos with coffee; we grabbed our cameras and off we went out to the boat and into the dawn’s light. It was cold and it was foggy. As we meandered around the lake, the fog didn’t lift. I shared my frustration with my uncle. “I can’t take any photos,” I said, “it is too foggy.” I was so disappointed. He told me to wait and be patient. He was right. Just as we went around the bend, we caught sight of a silhouette of a canoe with two passengers. All we could see were their shadows, but my uncle took the photo. When we were back at the house, he printed it and gave it to the neighbor whom he recognized. They framed it. Glimmers. Don’t miss them. Sometimes we need to forget the big picture and see the one blooming tulip in the garden.

In the year 1513, Fra Giovanni Giocondo, a Franciscan Monk, once wrote, “The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take Joy!” As a new week unfolds, take the time to see the glimmers within your own joy.