tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69746652024-03-19T08:29:36.145-03:00Stories from a small town...Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.comBlogger1551125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-90630794994403108232024-03-19T08:28:00.001-03:002024-03-19T08:28:35.494-03:00Congratulations Trine!!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEr6P4piwH3nWg7PSjqe72iOIVodcAkOA2vwMYtMDaeGSRhKb7E2EgDPTlTBo29nfaK6b2KDKAsJfXcV3iyQfnQs1MoANQeq7XLtfU9zpO7fdsK1UHWuZn46Dyx6iMuj3dKPDux7ikrHCt-Ur1iyiwyHjzYBKAKwSIINXRJ1VAl2S9UlaqYww0/s1063/bluemound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEr6P4piwH3nWg7PSjqe72iOIVodcAkOA2vwMYtMDaeGSRhKb7E2EgDPTlTBo29nfaK6b2KDKAsJfXcV3iyQfnQs1MoANQeq7XLtfU9zpO7fdsK1UHWuZn46Dyx6iMuj3dKPDux7ikrHCt-Ur1iyiwyHjzYBKAKwSIINXRJ1VAl2S9UlaqYww0/s320/bluemound.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My first glimpse of our monument decked in Trine blue took
my breath away. I was coming home from the Thursday night game with Aaron and
Rachel and the boys and there it was all in blue. Of all the colors we put on
the monument, I do think this is my very favorite!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t usually write much about sports unless it is about
our boys, Jonah and Graham, but this is different. Basketball fever took hold
of this town last weekend in a way no one thought possible. Not Trine. Not the
community. Not the coliseum in Fort Wayne. Not even the sports commentators.
What happened this weekend, and the weeks preceding, gave rise to the
Cinderella story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The success of Trine’s NCAA Division III win this weekend,
if it were written on a playbill, would have a list of thank you’s so long you
would need to add pages to complete the list! Of course, the players and the
coaches were beyond terrific. These players and coaches forfeited spring break
and every other activity that came along to prepare for the games. In all of
that, the players still had to complete their course work while spending every
other free moment practicing, perfecting, performing so the trophy could come
home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The list of thank you notes goes to bus drivers, and ticket
takers, and the school administration who had to work out every detail as it
was always changing as the status of the wins continued. A very big thank you
goes out to the community who came together to support Trine’s team and the
school in general. Folks who never attend sporting events were in the stands clapping
and cheering their hearts out. A record attendance was set as 4,546 folks
attended the championship game. We supported the team with their send off
around the circle on Wednesday and again when they returned on Saturday night
with all the bells and whistles from our local police department. Thank you,
Mayor Martin, for making sure this happened! As I stood on the curb filming the
return, I couldn’t help but notice how many folks dotted the circle waiting in
the cold wind for our team to return. We sure made a lot of noise as they made
their way around the circle three times before heading back to campus so the team
could celebrate with their classmates. I stayed and chatted with the Witmer’s.
We chatted about Trine and this place we call home. We said farewell as folks
sauntered back to warm cars to meander home. I stood a few moments longer to
just let the moment of the win and the night and the blue monument make a
lasting impression. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have been thinking a lot about what binds a community,
especially one like ours. I am talking about our county as well with all the
surrounding small towns. How did we get here to this little corner of the
world. Some of my Airbnb guests actually call us Mayberry. I love it when they
do that. Other comments include, “How did we miss this town? We never knew it
existed.” Once when Mayor Hickman was in office, I asked him what we could do to
promote our town. He didn’t miss a beat when he told me to just be friendly to
the newcomers and, of course, participate in the town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was right. There are so many ways to participate in a
community, but in a small community it is even more important. We all need to
step up to volunteer for boards or obligations or run for office. We all need
to make sure we shop local, attend movies, watch sporting events, and support our
local theatre. We do this already. The world is a big place, but keeping our
small towns afloat in love and generosity will keep up going day by day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To the boys and the coaches of Trine University, we take
off our hats and raise our glasses to congratulate you. Thank you for working
so hard to bring the trophy home. Thank you for sharing that with our community
and thank you for acknowledging the community in your win. We played right
along beside you every step of the way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">T. C. Steele, plein air painter of the early 1900’s, took
his hat off to the beauty of the world every morning. Let’s do the same. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I take my hat off to the Trine basketball team.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Congratulations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-8780595259998087612024-03-11T13:22:00.003-03:002024-03-11T13:22:48.814-03:00Spring break in St. Pete...<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtU549jQcf66CmkOABfXFTz2B55zPVY10Fz-hrVb-QAk6DS1t1Dk2njXaCc19YpGCO0Fakmwsy-9GCBIopVqicI-cKG0y3mXpB2LFIUm3ECz-D5dvN73G97RLBNYerMh95_TbMaY4s0CP_JBQl3abFKFdfji8lE4-34k5_5_8BEHQbYovEvdF1/s1080/adamandhispups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtU549jQcf66CmkOABfXFTz2B55zPVY10Fz-hrVb-QAk6DS1t1Dk2njXaCc19YpGCO0Fakmwsy-9GCBIopVqicI-cKG0y3mXpB2LFIUm3ECz-D5dvN73G97RLBNYerMh95_TbMaY4s0CP_JBQl3abFKFdfji8lE4-34k5_5_8BEHQbYovEvdF1/w300-h400/adamandhispups.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam and his pups!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The late-night flight is full. Everyone is heading out for
spring break. Students and teachers, moms and dads, kids and pets fill the
plane with lots of chatter and laughter even though it is the midnight hour.
Flying through the dark is always a mystery to me. There is no full moon to
follow, and the stars and planets are but dusty specs above us. Finally, we
begin our descent and once through the parting clouds, we follow the beautiful
pathway of the Tampa Bay Bridge still streaming with traffic on a late night.
The city of St. Pete, Florida comes into view as a fairy land as the plane shifts
to the left. I close my book to prepare for the landing. It was a quick trip of
just two hours. Two hours and I leave the not-yet-spring of Indiana for the
warmth of the sun. I always forget the jet bridge is not attached to the airport,
and we step out on the bridge into the warm Florida air. I grab my purple bag
and go on out to the curb to wait for Adam for the midnight pick up! Cell phone
lots have become the new thing for airports, and are so nice as folks wait for
arrivals. <o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Adam arrives in his Playin’ Hooky truck complete with all
three pups all snuggled onto the front seat. He grabs my bag and comments on
how heavy the bag is. “What did you bring, Mom?” I laugh and tell him it is
full of books! It is after all my spring break, and nothing I love more than having
time to read and just enjoy the books. Off we go to his sweet bungalow on the
outskirts of St. Pete. We put the windows in the truck part way down to enjoy
the warm, balmy St. Pete air. It feels so delightful after winter, even though
our winter was so mild this year. We arrive home and go in the back gate
through the backyard which is definitely a fairy land in itself with twinkle
lights strung and lit through palm trees and the gazebo and pool lit up. The
pups are happy to be home too but are not so sure about me!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sleep comes easily. I sleep through my alarm and by the
time I get up, Adam is already off to work. Adam spends his working hours
between the law office and his charter business, Playin’ Hooky. It was always
his dream as a young boy to be a charter captain, and a few years ago that
dream came true. He is a well-known captain in the area with his stellar
reputation as a great captain for fishing or cruising. Spring breakers fill his
dance card! I knew he would have lots of work and obligations when I booked my
flight for March, but alas, my books and I have the whole place to ourselves…along
with the pups. After a quick coffee or two, I find myself outside in the
backyard with my stack of books. I am not really a beach girl, I just love the
warm weather and with no obligations of my own, I can just sit back and read
the day away. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My days are spent reading except for the one day I take the
SunRunner bus downtown. It is so convenient as it goes right by Adam’s house. For
five dollars a day, you can ride all over St. Pete to all the museums, the
beaches and to the flourishing downtown. Construction is everywhere as St. Pete
is a city on the move attracting young folks with the coffee shops, art
galleries, and, of course, the beautiful beaches. My day downtown is a day at
the Dali Museum featuring the Dali collection paired with the impressionists:
Renoir, Degas, Matisse, Cezanne, and Monet. The exhibit is outstanding, and I
spend the entire day exploring the collection and the downtown. The SunRunner comes
right on time, and I just enjoy a tour of the town and the beaches from my seat
on the bus. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is not often that I get time with my children one on
one, but this time I did. We went to the movies and visited local dives for
dinner in St. Pete. My favorite night was when we cooked in and sat outside
watching the stars and planets fill the night sky. We talked well into the
night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Visits end. Planes take us back home. Until next time…<o:p></o:p></span></p></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-88629336429810662862024-03-04T12:05:00.006-04:002024-03-04T12:05:45.436-04:00Hello March!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwTRGLZ3mTDmzL1S6wmCTLR425fB4tv0LeShNhDXXgsRDGwtlyvDIkQUOAtqBKpN7HUhs60T-w6Oybl3BnMEO3RnHEtRCNP2zLy6ECrzq0c-j2EDhJdiJBFhlREgPWvHW1m7NFrTd0jdag-T3aMoksuZpnXz0CKR8v5gk4GAiV6gDja799PzG/s1080/marchcrocuses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwTRGLZ3mTDmzL1S6wmCTLR425fB4tv0LeShNhDXXgsRDGwtlyvDIkQUOAtqBKpN7HUhs60T-w6Oybl3BnMEO3RnHEtRCNP2zLy6ECrzq0c-j2EDhJdiJBFhlREgPWvHW1m7NFrTd0jdag-T3aMoksuZpnXz0CKR8v5gk4GAiV6gDja799PzG/w300-h400/marchcrocuses.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March arrives with a flurry of weather activity. Rain,
snow, wind, and the occasional sun shining down upon us. Yes, March is as
fickle as they come. March does not know if she should continue with the
arrival of spring and a sprinkling of faeries in the garden or cover us with inches
of snow. Yes, we are waiting for that one! Winter was just a bit too easy for
us this year! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March is named for the god of war and yet it brings the
promise of spring, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter (this year), and the rumblings
underground of what is next to come. Searching through the leaves of Autumn
yesterday, I cam across the arrival and blooming of my crocuses pushing their
blooms through the leaves and garden debris to add color to my winter landscape.
The forsythia bushes are next along with the daffodils. Daffodils are not just
for beauty; they have great properties that are used in bioresearch these days.
Daffodils are the flower of March and the national flower of Wales. According
to Greek mythology Narcissus fell into a pool and drowned and the first
daffodil appeared. Of course, this is mythology and fun for research although I
think of my own daffodils as a cheery end of winter and a hello to spring.
William Wordsworth wrote about daffodils in his beautiful poem, “Spring.” This
lyric poem was written in 1804 after he and his sister, Dorothy, came across a
field of daffodils in Grasmere, England. The poem was first published in 1807
and is a staple in my cache of spring poems. Once in England, during the
spring, I went to Grasmere to see the daffodils, and oh, they fill the
hillsides with outstanding beauty…just as Wordsworth said!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March does have its own wicked side as we think of Julius
Caesar. Of course, the murder of Julius Caesar on the 15<sup>th</sup> of March
gave us all the saying, “Beware the Ides of March.” We thank you William
Shakespeare for that bit of knowledge! Do you remember acting that out in
history class? At least for fun anyway as Caesar was stabbed 23 times. All I
can say is that he was warned!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March brings the Oscars to those of us who really care
about movies! Carolyn and I have been watching these award-winning movies for
years and spend the winter knee deep in movies. We don’t even wait for the
nominations! We start in the summer with the films we think will make the list.
This year we scored high on those films. Once the nominations are in, we begin
the frenzy of getting all of those films watched. It is not easy as we have to
move around quite a bit to movie theatres and some on-line. We watch as many as
we can at our local theatre, of course. The Brokaw is always our go-to, but we
must be creative to get to all the films. On Sunday, a group of us went to The
Tibbits to watch the animated shorts and documentaries. It is always fun to do
this in a group. We carry our hankies in our pockets and pull them out for this
film or that film. Some are so hard to watch, but all are important pieces of
our own culture. The attendance is sparse for this four-hour event, but I thank
The Tibbits for continually showing them. On Sunday night Carolyn and I, after
marking our own cards, will host our own Oscar party. It is always a fun winter
activity as we cross off movie after movie!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March brings St. Patrick’s Day and Easter which we will
chat about in the future. It also brings the dreaded turn our clocks back
(again!) on Sunday morning. I personally love the time right now, but alas,
alas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was younger, I did not have good thoughts of March.
It was always a fickle time for snow or rain. How many times did we travel
through snowstorms for the basketball sectionals? But over the years of paying
attention to the land, to my gardens, I have learned to appreciate the beauty
of March just the way it is. My dad used to say that in March the faeries begin
their house cleaning, and if we are patient, with our ears to the ground, we can
hear them working. You probably don’t want to go that far but do enjoy March
for the hidden beauty which now springs forth. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-36703513420249180762024-02-27T11:36:00.002-04:002024-02-27T11:36:21.459-04:00Let children be magical and play!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0fqHQ2UKXH41nQm2X7Wb4DAAU85V9CggRT1iDm160SUVP82Pf78r-6jlRFjgnkP-G4TMStzp0WGJA_saKzY0GDMGUHdiwelKqFSy7wJ7Oi5I1gfruYqpE2gwugjBp5Vy3XEy7hjCPs358LjqtKOZQhgnhTWjTg4S8P-chy_n1wqZWWieYT_y/s1080/FB_IMG_1681332371845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0fqHQ2UKXH41nQm2X7Wb4DAAU85V9CggRT1iDm160SUVP82Pf78r-6jlRFjgnkP-G4TMStzp0WGJA_saKzY0GDMGUHdiwelKqFSy7wJ7Oi5I1gfruYqpE2gwugjBp5Vy3XEy7hjCPs358LjqtKOZQhgnhTWjTg4S8P-chy_n1wqZWWieYT_y/w400-h300/FB_IMG_1681332371845.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">With
this warm weather and spring around the corner, I am thinking about the magic
of play and childhood. Maybe we do not think of this enough for our kids or
grandkids. Maybe. I hope I do, but I know I need a refresher now and then. I
also want to make sure I remember the magic of childhood and not let it slip by
me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Two
weeks ago, in one of my speech classes, the students had to write and deliver a
eulogy. It could be for someone they lost or a pet or even an inanimate object.
Students are often very clever with their eulogies. Once a student did my
eulogy! It took me a minute or so to catch on, but it was very clever. No, I
didn’t mind one bit, and it was kind of nice hearing it before it is actually
needed! I keep a box of Kleenexes available when we do this. Sometimes I am the
only one weeping in class, other times all of us just sit there weeping. One of
my very favorite, and saddest, eulogies was a student who was mourning for his
lost childhood. This one was different and caught me by surprise. It also sent
me to the box of Kleenexes. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Childhood
is so short and so fragile and full of magic, if we will encourage it and let
it be available to our youngsters. Bruno Bettelheim, child psychologist and
author, once said, “Play teaches the child, without his being aware of it, the
habits most needed for intellectual growth, such as stick-to-itiveness, which
is so important in all learning.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Probably
most of you reading this column grew up with play. The stoops of our houses
were always littered with jacks, skates with keys, hula hoops, pogo sticks,
doll baby carriages, marbles, and with bikes tossed on the lawn ready for the
next adventure. Never did we stay inside. There were a couple of reasons for
that. First of all, we loved playing outside. Maybe I should say it stronger,
we could barely stay inside. The second reason always did the trick when our
mothers said, “If you can’t find something to do, I will find it for you!” How
many times did we hear that? Usually, it meant washing dishes or dusting. That
alone was enough to send us outside until dark. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">While
walking to Trine the other rainy day, I noticed the sidewalk full of earthworms.
I had to laugh as I gingerly walked around them. When my boys were little, they
couldn’t wait for the earthworms to appear. It meant a good day of fishing was
upon them. They gathered all of those worms and put them in containers just
waiting to go fishing. I am sure their elementary teachers were a bit taken
back when they arrived in school with their worms in containers, but they all learned
to appreciate and understand them. One day, armed with worms and a sunny day,
Aaron declared he was quitting first grade because he had more important things
to do. (Fishing was what was most important!) I called his first-grade teacher,
Rita Deller, to discuss this with her. She was brilliant. On Monday she told
Aaron how much she would miss him if he left school, and all the stories he
brought to his classmates. Needless to say, he stayed in school until college
graduation. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One of
my favorite children’s books was written by Alice McLerran, “Roxaboxen.” In this
story the children make up their own little village and stories. If you have
kids, I highly recommend this book. I have read it to all the grands and
purchased their own copies as well. One day, Jonah came running into my house
telling me he had found “Roxaboxen!” I was thrilled of course. He invited me to
see it, so we just hopped on our bikes to find this secret place of his. It
was, indeed, a perfect “Roxaboxen” right in town.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bettelheim
also says that it is important for us to let children choose their own play.
They may even play differently than we might choose, but don’t we choose enough
for our children? Let them choose their clothes, their play, their own ideas.
Just let them play.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Childhood
is so lovely. It should be full of magic and stories and faeries that linger on
the lawn at night. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #111111; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now, if
you will excuse me, I have a bit of playing on my own in my backyard.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-47844862992493984132024-02-24T11:38:00.004-04:002024-02-24T11:38:40.161-04:00Under the Snow Moon<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUqs1ud5MQCYXwhaR61JRwz8-R1-MufYa7YsXTmCgXe4YwoOKGvMdEal25IWVQ4OEA6s4BZyTSkZ4VoL3oznIAAPOQNj5lRpM_VCJtfKHX0TAPQXGGyCbjtlDz6ecXNN1OuBbtVW3VKKOXptsJNy6s8HYq5ZPhH7NkFs3U2iHuY38KqxWehd5/s1080/snowmoon24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUqs1ud5MQCYXwhaR61JRwz8-R1-MufYa7YsXTmCgXe4YwoOKGvMdEal25IWVQ4OEA6s4BZyTSkZ4VoL3oznIAAPOQNj5lRpM_VCJtfKHX0TAPQXGGyCbjtlDz6ecXNN1OuBbtVW3VKKOXptsJNy6s8HYq5ZPhH7NkFs3U2iHuY38KqxWehd5/w400-h300/snowmoon24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>cascading snowflakes</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>whispered secrets to the moon</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>under winter's spell </i></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-17666498465656707012024-02-21T08:37:00.003-04:002024-02-21T08:37:39.694-04:00The Princess Bride and other sundries!!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LCIpov9mfJ7mbkMdxNC7laaXAYIhApRgGWLXWurfMbUkIt7Esqy6cKoT7gtV6azGNOipgPUsnSrFWkEXybaVjfgMbeEGMRushXD9qpIjPWjeu0M7sKP5y42lxEGAqdaS7pWrbgy3f53NmNu1L76I7DMhPBUvzgWqaResbr0YXyfC8qsw68Jj/s1079/asyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1079" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LCIpov9mfJ7mbkMdxNC7laaXAYIhApRgGWLXWurfMbUkIt7Esqy6cKoT7gtV6azGNOipgPUsnSrFWkEXybaVjfgMbeEGMRushXD9qpIjPWjeu0M7sKP5y42lxEGAqdaS7pWrbgy3f53NmNu1L76I7DMhPBUvzgWqaResbr0YXyfC8qsw68Jj/s320/asyou.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shakespeare once wrote, “All the world’s a stage, and all
the men and women merely players…” It seems as if everything I do these days is
theatre oriented whether it is attending or participating or just dreaming. Let’s
go ahead and take a look at theatre in northern Indiana!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few weeks ago, I had a call from Carolyn. She had an
extra ticket to go to the Honeywell Center in Wabash to see “The Princess Bride”
with Elten’s daughter and son-in-law. “Sure,” I said. She added that there were
a few other events on that night, but she wasn’t sure what, but it would be
great fun. I rarely turn down an adventure with Carolyn! The offer included a
night at the Charlie Creek Inn in Wabash. Of course, Wabash has been my go-to
for the past few years as I have painstakingly researched, written and
performed the stories of the Charlie Creek Inn and the Eagles Theatre right
across the street. As we pulled into the parking lot, I remembered all the stories!
We quickly made our way to our room, and barely got settled when it was time to
meet Carrie and Dave in the lobby for the short walk to the Honeywell Center.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have spent many happy hours in the Honeywell for concerts
and once for the Madrigal Dinner at Christmas. This was, however, the first
time I was able to see a film in the huge auditorium. We had really great seats
in the third row and there must have been almost a thousand seats in that
auditorium, and all of them were full! It was great fun seeing “The Princess
Bride” so such a huge screen with a big crowd. There were lots of cheers when
the movie ended. I thought our night was over, but oh no, I was wrong. In a few
moments (to an even bigger cheer) Cary Elwes, Westley, came out from behind a
curtain with a moderator and gave a lovely chat about filming the movie and answering
audience questions. His stories were just wonderful. I always love to hear the
behind-the-scenes stories, and he had many of those! Finally, at 11:00, this
was over, and I started to put on my coat, but the evening was not over, no,
not yet. The moderator asked everyone to leave unless they had a VIP ticket
which included the 300 or so of us in the front several rows. When we were the
only ones left, the moderator asked us to leave everything in our seats when
our row was called to have our photo taken with Cary and receive an autographed
copy of his book, “As You Wish.” What? I asked Carolyn if she knew about this,
but she didn’t. Within the hour, our row was called. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I do like meeting actors and movie stars, I do! I was
greatly surprised by Cary. First of all, he looked really great after all these
years, and I did tell him so. He asked all of our names, shook hands, and we
smiled for our photo. Each of us received his autographed book, and we were
finally on our way back to the Charlie Creek Inn. It was a marvelous evening
full of surprises. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">More theatre was in the works for me as I attended “Yazoo
Mississippi” written by Jean Ciami at the Tibbits Opera House. Again, a fun
evening with friends and a wonderful show put on by the Branch County Community
Theatre. The following night I traveled to Kendallville to the attend Neil
Simon’s “Rumors” put on by Gaslight Playhouse. This also was just wonderful. I
loved each of these shows, and it was so fun for me to know cast members.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As if all of that was enough, it definitely was not. Each
night I gather my playbook and head over to The Furth for rehearsal on our “Matchmaker.”
This is a delightfully funny show written by Thornton Wilder. I love working
with these students…usually! Of course, there are fraternity and sorority
meetings, choir, band, sports and all of the delightful activities by college
students. I have learned over the past two years to work around their schedules.
I guess what I love most is the enthusiasm and the fun they all bring to the theatre.
Directing these shows has fulfilled a life-long dream for me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Theatre. Shakespeare said it best, “They have their exits
and their entrances: and one man in his time plays many parts.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-23195212573118664482024-02-12T16:48:00.000-04:002024-02-12T16:48:00.120-04:00Happy Valentine's Day<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vTKhcT3YKjZsluAcQZmwzWrFeEsZJ1JxujRLVEwldEZnOgrTVmwKHqMlxwFYXTMAN5I53Sn1i4m0XEcdzxVrG4UueNpfPus6bJpjubNUGvZ9tV0sCtVaVp0-fjCRZwgQyxWlDMCwjg6w8uPvG-6WrbzG4W3ef2S5cwf8GbunpXcfJQk3-zwL/s225/roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vTKhcT3YKjZsluAcQZmwzWrFeEsZJ1JxujRLVEwldEZnOgrTVmwKHqMlxwFYXTMAN5I53Sn1i4m0XEcdzxVrG4UueNpfPus6bJpjubNUGvZ9tV0sCtVaVp0-fjCRZwgQyxWlDMCwjg6w8uPvG-6WrbzG4W3ef2S5cwf8GbunpXcfJQk3-zwL/s1600/roses.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is Valentine’s week which is always a wonderful day to
reflect or just a day to stay in bed and wait for next year. (Kind of like
Groundhog’s Day?) I gave all of my cast members the evening off so they could
just enjoy the evening with a date or with friends, and I do not give days off
easily.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have so many memories of Valentine’s Day! I loved making
my valentine bags in elementary school. Paper, scissors, glue, and we made the
best bags. Tucked tightly in my hand, I lovingly took them home at the end of the
day. My sister, Jessie, and I would play with those valentines for days, maybe
even months. We lined them up according to circus animals, and then cats and
dogs, and later on we looked for signs that a boy liked us! Usually, the
Valentines came in the packs, and we spread them out on the kitchen table choosing
just the right valentine for the right person. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember the first time I got a “store bought” valentine
from a boy. I hung on to that valentine for months shamelessly turning it over
many times to look at the price of the card. (I said I was shameless!) Cards
were not quite as much money as now, but that dollar sign on the back meant
pure love! Girlfriends talk and tell stories, and we always asked how much the
card cost. One year I got two store bought cards from two different boys. That
was the year I knew I had arrived! Two boyfriends? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One year in college I received a bouquet of red roses with
no card and no name. That definitely was an interesting conundrum. Who sent
them? With my college roommate, Sally, by my side, we made a chart of
possibilities and found the right young man to thank. Nowadays, my bouquets
come from Aldi’s, and I buy them myself. Why not?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How did this day of candy and cards and romance evolve? Let
us look into the history a bit. It was in the 14<sup>th</sup> century that
romance came into the picture. Before that (and just some possibilities?) it
was a priest who was martyred by Emperor Claudius II Gothicus. The lovely
priest sent a letter to is jailer’s daughter and signed it “from your Valentine.”
Of course, he was beheaded so not all was perfect for his romantic attempt! Another
possibility was that St. Valentine of Terni secretly married young couples for
the man could be freed from going off to war. That is a sign of true love, I
think! Others think that the Christian church placed this day in the middle of
February to coincide with Lupercalia, a fertility festival. This festival was
outlawed in the 5<sup>th</sup> Century. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the United States, valentines became popular in the
mid-1800’s, although there are remnants of valentines from the early 1700’s. We
owe a bit of gratitude to hallmark as well for making this a big holiday for
love and friendship! It is estimated that there are 145 million cards sent on Valentine’s
Day, second only to Christmas cards.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know I sent valentines to all the grandkids. Cards this
year were not just at the one-dollar mark, but rather five or six dollars! I
make cookies too for family and friends! Luckily for us (well, some of us), we
can celebrate with girlfriends and family members. There are so many fun events
in town this week. Galentine’s Day is a big event to share with friends! The
Brokaw is open on Wednesday evening for movies and there are basketball games
at Trine. In other words, there are no reasons to just sit home and eat all the
candy yourself. (Yes, it is okay to buy your own candy!) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I think back over all my own years with valentines from
my days with Jessie and my grown-up days, I am so lucky to have a drawer full
of valentines from year’s past. And, yes, I do still believe in love and
romance but with a different twist, perhaps. Don’t forget to notice the sky on
Wednesday night. Build a fire, light a candle and ready poetry, even if it is
to yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="background: white; color: #232323; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘She
walks in beauty, like the night</span></i><i><span style="color: #232323; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">And all that’s best of dark and bright</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Meet in her aspect and her eyes:</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Thus mellowed to that tender light</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Which heaven to gaudy day denies.’</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background: white; color: #232323; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lord Byron</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-35273424270604222012024-02-10T11:21:00.002-04:002024-02-10T11:21:19.263-04:00Carpe Diem<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sun streams through the prisms in my windows and casts
dancing rainbows all over my downstairs. With the leaves off the trees, and the
bright sun, I am living in a Pollyanna movie! As a kid I loved Pollyanna, and
my very favorite scene was the one with the prisms in the windows. I knew right
then I would want to do that someday in my grown-up house, and I did. It is
amazing to look back and see so many events in my life which found a home in my
grown-up world and my grown-up imagination. From theatre to poetry to prisms, all
those things have ended up in my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I often say I was so lucky to grow up without the Internet
or cell phones, etc. Of course, I love them, and they both play a prominent
role in my life. As a child, they were not only unattainable, but not even
invented yet! Wasn’t I the lucky one? Wasn’t I the lucky one to spend hours in
my attic bedroom with just books and a table for writing? I wrote my first soap
opera at ten. Yes, we all watched soap operas then while helping fold the
laundry. I read my first adult book at ten, “Those Who Love,” by Irving Stone
which set me on the path of historical fiction the rest of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My own kids grew up on the cusp of technology, but we didn’t
have any at the farm. There were Saturdays when I watched my three sons do what
they love most of all. Abe was always tearing things apart and putting them
back together. Adam could make anything from scratch and was often busy with building
cupboards or knick knacks for the house. Aaron was usually fishing at the pond.
All three were, of course, products of their childhood which took them into
their grown-up years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I watch the grandkids do the same thing. Holly is an
avid actress. Brianna sings. The twins just play. Graham is getting ready for
baseball and working at The Brokaw. Jonah just finished his first year of hockey
at Indiana Tech where he is a freshman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember the day, ten years ago, when he came home from
the newly built Thunder Ice Arena to announce that skating was his life. I had
to laugh and said, “Jonah, this is the first time you have been on skates!
Maybe you should try it another time or two.” But the truth is, he didn’t need
to do it another time or two to make that decision. He knew, and he was right. It
has been exciting to watch his hockey career from an early lad to high school and
now in college. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I talk about this because I am very much aware of the presence
of technology in our lives. I love it as much as you do or anyone else
including my students at Trine. I sit here in my cozy studio this morning
writing on my laptop with my phone close by. Yes, I love it as much as you do!
I do, however, know the limits of my technology usage. My students are not
allowed to have their phone out during class unless, of course, they are
expecting a call from home or a possible internship. For those purposes, I ask
them nicely to keep it on vibrate and take the call outside of the classroom. I
do joke that if anyone is a brain surgeon, they may leave it on at all times. I
have yet to find a brain surgeon in my speech classes! They do complain a bit
at first and always ask me what they should do instead. “Oh,” I say, “you can
talk.” This takes a while for the talking to start. I always notice when the
magic happens. Usually around the third or fourth week of the semester, I find
myself saying loudly (with complete joy), “time for class…” as they are so
chatty. They make friends, they build each other up and take care of one
another. That is one of my teaching joys.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Technology is here with us, but let’s keep it at a minimum.
Don’t miss snowman building, or cookie baking, or walking in the park noticing
each little worm or frog that comes your way. And, if we can, let’s hang prisms
all over our windows. Life is short. Watch the rainbows dance. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On this beautiful February day, carpe diem. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-11991693763770549692024-01-29T14:19:00.001-04:002024-01-29T14:19:15.557-04:00The groundhog knows...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FSEgKtP95htBAMb_SOIDoyV0AIftLEPotWQMILIUeotPobVBp9_tD2UDfTxop2KSgiIUS-l-N8WqbsOo6muKbgjUqI3CpZMO6OdZkycOWcmGD3uP4PTleXGipCjVocrLGcf4zgGk71dagL_8ALUWpvZvjbM7z-hd5kARQAPiRetrbWBNTlIO/s318/st.brigid.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="318" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FSEgKtP95htBAMb_SOIDoyV0AIftLEPotWQMILIUeotPobVBp9_tD2UDfTxop2KSgiIUS-l-N8WqbsOo6muKbgjUqI3CpZMO6OdZkycOWcmGD3uP4PTleXGipCjVocrLGcf4zgGk71dagL_8ALUWpvZvjbM7z-hd5kARQAPiRetrbWBNTlIO/s1600/st.brigid.webp" width="318" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">St. Bridget of Ireland</p><p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I took a stroll around my garden this weekend. With the
warmer temperatures and bouts of rain, winter just took a short recess. There
are always those early, early signs of spring that cheer us on. My daffodils
are up a couple of inches. Some of them are just peering out from under the
bits of snow. Other shoots are sturdy and strong defying the end of January.
The chives are just barely uncurling in this January thaw; even enough to cut a
handful by the end of the week. It is early for all these signs of spring. I
always worry about the daffodils and other plants that appear before it is
time. I try to whisper to them to just curl back up and sleep for a bit longer.
“Your time will come,” I say to them.</span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not only are the daffodils a bit early, but Nate, our neighborhood
“let’s go tap our trees” guy, was out tapping trees this weekend. He knocked on
my door asking if I was ready to tap. I really was not ready for this event to
start. I mean, once these trees are tapped, there is no going back. Nate tapped
my trees for me this weekend, and so the show does go on. Today I find myself
pulling out my wagon, washing out the buckets, checking on my enamel pots and
making sure the candy thermometer is on hand. I love gathering sap and boiling
it down in my kitchen! My house is always full of humidity and smells so sweet,
but was I ready for this? I made a joke to Kathy that I was not emotionally
ready to tap. That sounds so strange when writing it, but it is true. However, after
today, I will be ready and for the next six weeks, I will be trudging up and
down the street with my wagon replacing buckets and bringing home the sap. Last
year I had a record crop (okay, I have only done this for two years), and I
still have a quart left. I love looking at that jar in my cool, dark cupboard. The
color is amber and full of last year’s February sunshine. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With these signs of spring comes February 2nd which is
Candlemas and Groundhog Day. It is also the cross-quarter day between winter
and spring! We all know the story of the groundhog and his shadow! This is part
of our modern culture, but it dates to ancient times. A European folklore
belief is if the weather is fine on February 2<sup>nd</sup>, more winter is
coming! Another folklore states that if the dikes are overflowing, spring will make
an early arrival. The most well-known lore comes from the ancient Irish. On
February 1<sup>st</sup> they summon the goddess of fire and call to her to
bring spring to the land. This Celtic goddess was known as St. Brigit. She was
known as the goddess of fertility and everything in the household…including chores
and children. Three thousand years ago in Ireland, fires and candles lit the
way during the first of February to frighten away the winter and the evil
spirits that go with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We do not think much about goddesses or ancient times. No,
our lives are too busy, too on-task, but isn’t it nice to stop for a moment to
ponder these old customs and folklore? No, all we get is a groundhog, but we
have fun with that. I must laugh as I write, no matter what the groundhog sees
or does not see, winter is here for six more weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for me, winter goes by quickly. I simply never run out
of things to do, and winter is no exception. There are candles to light,
stories to tell, books to read and soup to simmer. There have been hockey games
with Jonah, ukulele practice with Carolyn, rehearsals to attend and now, of course,
thanks to Nate and our neighborhood, there are buckets full of sap to carry
home and boil down. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In between the light and dark, there are letters to write
and a campfire or two to dissipate the darkness and the spell of winter. Who
does not love getting a hand-written note or letter or sitting by a
neighborhood campfire to watch the stars come out. Do not forget to plot out
your garden, order your seeds, and start them in your house!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Winter is still here, and with a groundhog keeping guard, only
six more weeks!<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-45189787701263918732024-01-23T09:33:00.001-04:002024-01-23T09:33:19.166-04:00Robert Burns<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVRdF7j49qm9snakvgUi7e13CHXiIMx93sKaEomjW0nBMHDSpzlvFNQSGVZ2Ll6iBYcLlmt6zWmKkekh77VDXWdD7L764MeSYWKCzCDvffEYvgtMvO5T_GP4dsVQTMTeI9roeaUJZMXGhdx88FoY6EQkiduwN5sxrytZ2cmjlWXV7A3zag6RK/s547/Robert-Burns.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVRdF7j49qm9snakvgUi7e13CHXiIMx93sKaEomjW0nBMHDSpzlvFNQSGVZ2Ll6iBYcLlmt6zWmKkekh77VDXWdD7L764MeSYWKCzCDvffEYvgtMvO5T_GP4dsVQTMTeI9roeaUJZMXGhdx88FoY6EQkiduwN5sxrytZ2cmjlWXV7A3zag6RK/s320/Robert-Burns.png" width="293" /></a></div><p><br /></p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">On Thursday evening, January 25, we will be celebrating the life and poetry of Robert Burns. Burns was the poet laureate of Scotland and he is still celebrated all these years later. (1759-1796)</span><p></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He left a huge body of work that we still enjoy including, My Luv is Like a Red, Red Rose, and Auld Lang Synne.</span></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our celebration will be at Caleo Cafe from 3-5 with tea and cookies. Come join our celebration by bringing one of your favorite poems or just come to listen. Our celebration joins in with hundreds around the world. I like knowing we are part of the bigger picture!</span></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Joining us this year is Mark Gropp, my very favorite bagpiper!</span></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">See you at the Cafe!</span></p><p><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-70286606139481573712024-01-22T12:54:00.002-04:002024-01-22T12:54:22.905-04:00The January Night Sky<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yRYVaJ6bRNFmOn3ZllCXeI5RJefCWDbFioWnq9XU0IIUFbEnYVgGPYdsLImg5QQRo_KPBJtoqYrdhSOQvRxk57ZiQH68SuaAGO5CFgwlLqERDPNhtww32Nl1-HFQO6kdxJckoyw2dTTMXj-jC7ExrX_qfmzXUQlmD5KsuYd796gQD5wDIHwJ/s1920/orionjan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yRYVaJ6bRNFmOn3ZllCXeI5RJefCWDbFioWnq9XU0IIUFbEnYVgGPYdsLImg5QQRo_KPBJtoqYrdhSOQvRxk57ZiQH68SuaAGO5CFgwlLqERDPNhtww32Nl1-HFQO6kdxJckoyw2dTTMXj-jC7ExrX_qfmzXUQlmD5KsuYd796gQD5wDIHwJ/w400-h225/orionjan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I sat outside last night as dusk turned to dark, and the
sky was adorned with the diamonds of winter. So many of my favorite images
appeared before me…the waxing gibbous moon, Jupiter, Orion. It has often been
said the coming is darkness is saved for the poets and musicians and dreamers
of the world. I quite agree with that, but it also belongs to anyone who takes
the time to look. All you need is a jacket, mittens and a pair of boots! The
rest of obtained with no money or thought of the morrow, but a bit of patience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was my dad who brought the sky into my life by his own
adoration. I remember as if it were yesterday when we were ice skating on a
pond on the edge of Fort Wayne. My dad sat on the bench with a thermos of hot
chocolate waiting for us to toddle over to him to grab a blanket and a cup of
that steaming cocoa. On that night his appreciation of the night sky drew us
all in as he pointed out the constellations and planets. It was before I was
old enough to traipse out into the woods alone. It was before I was old enough
to gather stars as friends and share my stories into the dark. It was before I
knew the Universe was bigger than myself. I know that now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had a conversation with a friend the other day about the
stark beauty of the winter night sky. But why I ask myself? What makes the
winter sky more beautiful than summer nights? Is it my own imagination or is
there some truth to this? I found a lovely article by meteorologist, Danielle
Noyes, from New England. According to Noyes there are three main factors which
causes these beautiful sunsets. I will just paraphrase her information for you.
The winter nights are colder and much less humid which causes bolder colors.
Cold air travels down from Canada, as we well know, and the air is usually
cleaner in the Arctic or Canada. The last reason is the Earth is closer to the
sun in winter. The setting sun is at a sharper angle during the winter months.
So, I guess there are a few reasons we enjoy these sunsets so much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Winter months also brings certain constellations back in view.
One of my very favorites and now easily seen after dark is Orion. I love the
mythology of the constellations and folks often think Orion is in combat with
Taurus the Bull, but no such story exists for that. However, if you look closely,
you can see the hunting dogs of Canis Major and Canis Minor. Orion disappears
from our viewpoint in the summer months and comes back to us in Autumn. Now,
after dark, it is easily identified in our night sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This week also brings us the full moon of January. The moon
will be full on Thursday at 12:54 p.m. According to the Farmer’s Almanac, this
full moon is known as the Wolf Moon. By January food is scarce for animals in
the wild under the deep cover of snow so it is thought that wolves circle
villages and howl in search of food. I think we are not in too much danger of
howling wolves, but coyotes are another story. Perhaps late at night you will
hear the coyotes howl until the snow cover is gone and food in once again
available. It is a good idea to keep those chickens locked up during these cold
months! Other names for this full moon include Spirit Moon, Canada Goose Moon
and the Moon after Yule. Whatever you want to call it, make sure you do not
miss this beautiful moon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">January brings so many activities that are only here in
winter. Ice skating, skiing, ice fishing are just a few of the activities that
bring us closer to nature. It is also a wonderful time to teach children about
tracks in the snow. I know every morning I love to see who was visiting my
garden during the night. Creatures do move about during the long cold nights.
Poetry abounds in the mid-winter with readings by candlelight, or flashlight or
firelight. Burns Night at Caleo will come and go warming our hearts and keeping
such traditions alive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">John Stoddard, poet from the late 1800’s, once wrote, “The
sunset embers smolder low, the moon climbs o’er the hill.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy mid-winter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-7332677626865785442024-01-15T20:08:00.001-04:002024-01-15T20:08:25.791-04:00In the bleak mid-winter...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSndWeb471Rp4dSBMAaIpDG81dTJUaPt5YnDlGYkSoihVFqwa3P7nclGIpIwoEy_6pQy153pvJiTASqK39nGk78ac1zswQKcg5D4HXz2j7I2onA85vRy27GUgZ7geiljvhevGPPrkPfqWZ82nbrSOqPQgZycj4MHFfbm5G5VAuN4a_NtOJ0Ym/s1080/wintergnome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSndWeb471Rp4dSBMAaIpDG81dTJUaPt5YnDlGYkSoihVFqwa3P7nclGIpIwoEy_6pQy153pvJiTASqK39nGk78ac1zswQKcg5D4HXz2j7I2onA85vRy27GUgZ7geiljvhevGPPrkPfqWZ82nbrSOqPQgZycj4MHFfbm5G5VAuN4a_NtOJ0Ym/w300-h400/wintergnome.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With needle and thread in hand, my grandmother Luella would
always say, “When the days begin to lengthen, the cold begins to strengthen.” I
always loved these folklore sayings from her. My head still holds them all in a
special hiding place waiting for just the right time to say them. I think the
time is now for that one!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The beauty of this week astounds me so…everywhere I look
the pristine fresh snow gives our landscape a glow of life which we do not see
in most of the other months. Each month has beauty although I often think the
jury is out for March, but we carry through that month too with the promise of
early snowdrops and sheets on the line. For now, it is January who holds court
over the land.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last week I held my first writer’s workshop in over several
years. I tried it once years ago, but we didn’t get too far. I am hopeful with
the new group that the writer’s group will not only be about writing but
reading also. We sat cozy in my living room sharing the books we are reading,
our thoughts on writing, our goals and, of course, a prompt with a ten-minute
time limit. This month’s prompt was easy, “What did you do on snow days as a
kid?” I daresay it was spurred on by the announcement of the Fremont Schools to
have a real snow day! It was fun to listen to everyone’s short vignette about
snow days. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Listening to WOWO on my transistor radio I always knew
about the snow day before my mom even made it up to my attic stairs. One room
at a time we, the six of us, would be thrilled about the day. We were part of
Southwest Allen County Schools, so we had more snow days than the city schools,
and we were happy about that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On these days the McMillan Ice Skating Rink would open, and
when I think about those days, that is all that comes to mind. Pancakes and hot
chocolate made for the morning breakfast. It was early too as we could not stay
in bed. No, snow days meant we were up as soon as possible so we wouldn’t miss
the day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I spent most of the morning helping with the younger kids.
Snowsuits on. Snowsuits off. By noon they were worn out, and I could head over
to the skating rink. Of course, we walked. No one would ever drive us anywhere…not
school, not Girl Scouts, not sledding, not skating! I wore as many clothes as
possible as the rink was all outside then. With skates slung over my shoulder,
I headed out to pick up my girl friends one by one. We all looked alike with
our old skating clothes on as we trudged through the neighborhood and to the
park. There were pathways, some shoveled and some not. We chose the ones not
shoveled! Maybe thinking of Robert Frost’s poem, <i>The Road Not Taken</i>. The
snow was deep, if I remember correctly, but we didn’t care.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In those days I thought my Uncle Norman owned the rink. He
did not, and that is another story! On these days though, he stood at the doorway
taking money for our skate and stamping our hands. We never had to pay as he
took of that for us! Once in the pavilion we sat on benches and threw off those
winter boots. Do you know the kind I am referring to? Worn out boots with felt
linings that stayed wet from December to March. Lacing up our skates was part
of the experience. Lace them tight and snug and head out to the ice. With no
roof to stop the falling snow and music piped in boasting all genres, we skated
all afternoon. We skated til 5:00. We skated until it was time to go home for
meatloaf and mashed potatoes. We skated with no where else to go and nothing
else to do. We were free to skate in circles, twirling and showing off. Yes, I
did that. I was such a great skater. I knew someday I would be in the Olympics.
Isn’t it wonderful to think we were free to want to be anything in our lives?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, I am not an Olympic skater…I don’t skate anymore.
I have given that to Jonah. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My grandmother was right, “When the days begin to lengthen,
the cold begins to strengthen.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-83408727884895875462024-01-14T15:49:00.001-04:002024-01-14T15:49:15.678-04:00"I want to do it all over again."<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnjyWLi-ZRK8F5Xp8cEGMzYQI8F8OBWRotrcyLm2-fI1p61GRTk9WyRXjbJO2w-P-bJdDFupd2nSHBn_B7k8h3OK0Mc2Aei4gQ4RGLAoZLR-2xdexDkT0B2TrRh0XP-sjT5iqrbHeyOZVsG5LqHy5t33W1V0JmYnx9JVnSS1UtYrYg8s7H4xb/s1080/charle24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="1080" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnjyWLi-ZRK8F5Xp8cEGMzYQI8F8OBWRotrcyLm2-fI1p61GRTk9WyRXjbJO2w-P-bJdDFupd2nSHBn_B7k8h3OK0Mc2Aei4gQ4RGLAoZLR-2xdexDkT0B2TrRh0XP-sjT5iqrbHeyOZVsG5LqHy5t33W1V0JmYnx9JVnSS1UtYrYg8s7H4xb/w400-h278/charle24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With the threat of gusty winds in Charleston and the promise
of snow in Indiana, I was able to catch a flight back between all the weather
patterns. It was smooth sailing all the way home. It was another early morning
flight and Abe got me to airport by 6:00 a.m. The drive was nice even dodging
several deer enjoying a highway stroll in the early morning hours. I would
probably be very rich if I had a dollar for every flight I have taken since Abe
graduated from college. First it was Santa Barbara, Portland, Phoenix and now
Charleston. The kids often say I should move close to them; however, I wonder
will Charleston be their final nesting place? I think it is their last big
move. The kids are happy and involved in school and with friends. Holly drives,
has a job and a boyfriend. One of the first columns I ever wrote for KPC was
Abe and Kristin waiting for their baby to be born. Now we are sixteen years
later. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I think I played at least a hundred games of “go fish,”
sang hundreds of songs and read hundreds of stories. The twins are still in the
Paw Patrol mode so that took care of a few afternoons. Abe’s birthday, soccer
on the beach, movies, New Year’s Eve, meeting the boyfriend, well, the list
goes on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The last night I was in Charleston, I kept the tears at
bay. The twins were extremely sad I was leaving and wanted me to give a list of
all the things we did. Of course, I went through each day sharing our events
and stories. We had a great time, it was obvious. Faith was quiet for a moment
and then she said, “But I want to do all of that over again!” That opened the
flood gates for me. I cried, as I nodded to her. It wasn’t just the two weeks
with the kids in Charleston. No, it was more than that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I want to do all of that over again!” I thought about that
on the flights home, and the drive and when I got home. Faith is right. I want
to do all of that over again. Everything. Each moment of my life. I think most
of you would say yes to some parts of your life. I would like to be a young mom
again on the farm. Did I know much about raising children then…especially
little boys. Did I know anything about the farm? Absolutely not. But I knew
about love, and that got me through.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I want to do all of that over again. I would love to spend
a few days in college as a young student with long dark hair and short skirts
thinking about English classes and weekend dates. I would love to have those early
theatre moments when the stage called to me, and I followed the call not
knowing what I was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I want to do all of that over again. Weddings. Birthdays.
Holidays. Births. I guess maybe even death. I was so honored to be with my dad
when he died. Those moments are still so precious to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Charleston Children have a great grandmother on
Kristin’s side. Edna is 103 years old. I never met her, but we are Facebook
friends which is quite fun. She always loves it when I visit them because I
fill my pages with photos of the children. Edna has had a bout of illness in
which the family gathered to send her off to cross the veil and into heaven.
However, she recovered, and they all went home. Edna makes hats for preemie babies,
and she needed to make two more hats for a set of twins yet to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>born. Edna has outlived her parents and all
her brothers and sisters of which there were 17 total. If I were to ask her
about doing it all over again, I think she would have some memories and stories
to tell that we have never experienced.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Arriving home, my house is quiet. Abe’s house is noisy and
messy and so full of love. My Christmas tree still stands beautifully in the
corner beckoning me to be calm, be happy, be glad to be home and get back to my
life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, all is well, but I know in days to come my mind will
wander back to little Faith, “I want to do all of that over again.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-33840624638963753162024-01-03T14:56:00.002-04:002024-01-03T14:56:25.232-04:00The Children's Hour<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have not used my 2:00 a.m. alarm for quite a while, but
the time has come. With two alarms set, a suitcase already in Lola, I sleep for
a few hours, unplug the Christmas tree lights and head down to the Fort Wayne
Airport. Fog and rain keep me company as make the hour drive. I was hoping to
have the waning gibbous moon keep me company, but no moon in sight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I arrive at the check-in, add points to my Advantage card,
apologize for the duct tape on my suitcase (the zipper broke!), and head off to
the gate. Everyone is a bit quiet; I guess because it is four in the morning,
and no one is very chatty. I try, but to no avail. No problem. I have a book, a
real book, and I happily settle in for an hour of uninterrupted reading. We
finally board in the dark, in the rain and the lovely scent of coffee permeates
the entire aircraft. I decide to wait until later for the coffee. My seatmate
is a bit of an astronomer guru, and we have conversations of the night sky and
the moon phases. He is also disappointed that rain is pelting the aircraft,
although we both know that within minutes we will pass through the clouds and
the moon will shine. We are right and since he is next to the window, he takes
photo after stunning photo.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The early morning crowd is already assembled in Charlotte
with arms still full of Christmas presents. Gates are full of folks heading out
to the Bahamas and Vegas and New York. It is always fun to people watch at the
airport…where are they all going? What will they be doing? I find my own gate
to Charleston and settle back in with my book until we board. It is a quick and
easy flight except for the medical emergency so we are not allowed off the
aircraft until the patient is taken off. Later I see him in the ambulance
hooked up to wires and surrounded by a staff of medical caregivers. We can only
hope he is okay and will make it home for care.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Meanwhile I wait for Abe to pull up, and then just like
that there he is with the twins. They jump out of the car yelling all the way, “Nannie,
Nannie, Nannie!” I have missed those voices and those hugs of love. A short
drive to the house where all the other family members are waiting, and it is
non-stop conversation. Faith and Noah do not want to miss a beat and set the
table up with all the games we play. (I filled my suitcase with games…no room
for clothes!) The four of them bring out their ukuleles and Brianna’s guitar.
The ukes are all out of tune so the first order of business is to tune them and
get ready for band practice. In the meantime, my taped suitcase sits unopened
and a bit ragged with the duct tape falling off! For a moment I look at it
longingly as in, “I think I really need a nap, but alas, alas!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Children’s Hour comes to mind as my imagination recites famous lines from the
poem, “</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Between the dark and the
daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's
occupations, that is known as the Children's Hour.” Our children’s hour
consists of five games of Bingo, four games of Go Fish, three games of Old
Maid, two games of matching, and a Partridge in a Pear Tree, I mean one came of
Candy Land. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dinner is a family affair with all of us
assembled at their big table. I am an observer and a participant all at the same
time. It is fun to sit in the middle of a family and be a part of the
conversation and the jokes and breaking of the bread. This is a house of hearty
eaters and soon empty plates, and cocoa mugs sit idly by as more stories are
told. Dishes, bedtime, stories, and good nights finish the evening. I am happy
to retreat to “sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,” according to
Shakespeare. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Morning will come. Fresh coffee will be
brewed. The sleep of night washed from our eyes, and we will start all over
again. The next several days my life will be full of four Charleston Children. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happy New Year!<o:p></o:p></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-42398296816797336742023-12-19T11:57:00.002-04:002023-12-19T11:57:21.162-04:00Christmas is alive and well in Pleasant Lake, Indiana...<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgVg0XvEUBDYLUUx-H4V_yAArjpD0ejwX6FVdmAvwxXdGm_VGLq5V60PlTrnidcwqORyEIX7IMUBKuJ92LpImbQtVLSYts_pEqAVzPaPRjkBaevtx0-_YJtNPac6l1g_F9JQBeLqXKnyQfPxsi8djLtainqvOTDscxQXZiiTIzt3WEXrj0LOAy/s1757/kayandbarb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1757" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgVg0XvEUBDYLUUx-H4V_yAArjpD0ejwX6FVdmAvwxXdGm_VGLq5V60PlTrnidcwqORyEIX7IMUBKuJ92LpImbQtVLSYts_pEqAVzPaPRjkBaevtx0-_YJtNPac6l1g_F9JQBeLqXKnyQfPxsi8djLtainqvOTDscxQXZiiTIzt3WEXrj0LOAy/w246-h400/kayandbarb.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kay Walker and Barb Penick of Pleasant Lake</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In 1897, Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the New York
Sun. “I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is
there a Santa Claus?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We could easily exchange the words Santa Claus to Christmas.
Let’s take a stroll or a brief car ride as we weave out into the countryside to
the little town of Pleasant Lake. Meander on down past the schoolhouse until
you come to the Pleasant Lake Museum. On Sunday afternoon it was decked out
with every whimsical Christmas bauble to be found in the archives of folks in
and around Pleasant Lake. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I drove out, cautiously looking for deer at every turn,
until I arrived at the museum. Opening the door was like stepping into a time
capsule of Christmas past. Of course, I was greeted by a smiling Elten and
Carolyn Powers who have spent the last month turning the museum into a walk-through
Christmas event. There were trees decorated though out the decades with toys
and other treasures donated by Pleasant Lake folks. As I perused the trees, I
had to laugh remembering my own stories. Two trees were decked out with the
added tinsel! When we were kids, we loved throwing the tinsel on the trees. My
dad had to take off all the clumps of tinsel and redo them. No one uses tinsel
anymore, but it was beautiful as it caught the light. This is exactly how the
trees looked in the museum. One even had the bubble lights from long ago. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was an aluminum tree because didn’t we all have at
least one of those? I remember the year my parents bought an aluminum tree. We
rebelled until they got us a real tree! I don’t know what happened to that
tree, but we never saw it again! I loved reading the story board with the
history of Christmas trees around the world! I had to ooh and ahh over every
collected card from the past. They were lovingly displayed along with books and
trains and an old phonograph complete with an entire case of records.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, my visit wasn’t just about all the tangible
items, but the folks who are Pleasant Lake. I met up with Kay Walker and Barb Penick,
and they filled my head with stories which was much better than sugar plums!
These two ladies have been best friends since childhood and are current board
members for the museum. “What were your favorite Christmas gifts?” I asked
them. Barb pointed to the skates under the tree. I had to laugh as they looked
just like my old skates. The two of them got to talking about skating on
Pleasant Lake as kids. Every night, they said, they all would skate across that
lake. Barb also pointed out her record player. All the kids were getting them
for Christmas, and oh how she wanted one. She did get it for Christmas but helped
pay for it! I could see Kay remembering as she talked about a kitchen set her
dad made for her as a child. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We walked over to the gumdrop tree. Carolyn had been
telling me all about it, but this was the first for me. During the 1930’s, and
even up through the 70’s, families in the Appalachian Mountains would find a
thorn bush in the mountains, along with cutting down their Christmas tree, and
bring it home. It was decorated with gum drops for the children. I love this
idea of a gumdrop tree, and the story. I might have to do this in the future! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I meandered a bit more around the pretty little museum. I
chatted with Tracy Stroh who grew up in Pleasant Lake. He told me lovely
stories of skating and swimming in the gravel pond years ago. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Does Christmas exist? Much like the answer to Virginia, it
does exist in the hearts and minds of all of us. If you missed the open house
at the Pleasant Lake Museum, never fear. Elten and Carolyn want to make sure
you have this lovely experience so give them a call to schedule a visit! (260)
403-1803.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as
certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist. Alas, how dreary our world
would be if there were no Santa Claus.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Merry Christmas from my family to yours. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p> </p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-37128541026052636712023-12-15T17:59:00.003-04:002023-12-15T18:00:05.217-04:00The Messiah in Angola, Indiana directed by Joseph Peters.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRp_dZF68IuULQivZDr1CIForqeY9cvshHTgyXWwlS05aYTJYsshqsSkHDKDe55u3sD2qfxrftxCyjtAYGes2It-4izFdpHhTSHdLv4TkfguMBUsCRyOnE-j4es6GOqxiz3peuckH93HKT4NobbTx-A4NnjrI4-wp6jLs3eSiPq9DmcJQaeekw/s1080/messpho.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="1080" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRp_dZF68IuULQivZDr1CIForqeY9cvshHTgyXWwlS05aYTJYsshqsSkHDKDe55u3sD2qfxrftxCyjtAYGes2It-4izFdpHhTSHdLv4TkfguMBUsCRyOnE-j4es6GOqxiz3peuckH93HKT4NobbTx-A4NnjrI4-wp6jLs3eSiPq9DmcJQaeekw/w400-h265/messpho.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I take my seat in the balcony, stage right at the T. Furth
Center for the Performing Arts. It is my traditional seat. Of course, I am
early as I want to chat with friends, and watch the orchestra warm up as the
singers begin to meander in one at a time. I know them, at least most of them.
The air is absolutely electric with anticipation of another lovely event mixed
with an audience of all ages. This year I share my tickets with my friend,
Anita. It is her first time, and I am so happy I can give her this opportunity.
The audience is chatty as we wait for the moment when Joseph Peters takes the
stage. All is hushed and then a huge applause breaks out. Joe is dapper in his
tuxedo, and it is apparent he is the star of the day although he would never
agree to that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For on this Sunday, we wait in anticipation for the 12<sup>th</sup>
annual performance, presented by the Steuben County Festival Choir and
Orchestra, of Handel’s “Messiah.” Joe makes a few announcements and reads
through the thank you lists. So many folks to thank for this extraordinary
affair. He gives his utmost praise to the orchestra, the choir and to George
Frederick Handel. Handel, amazingly, wrote the “Messiah” in twenty-four days.
It was written in English as an oratorio which meant it became popular in
England first. It is to the brilliance of Handel that this piece, written over
200 years ago, is the most sought after piece performed at Christmas time.<a name="_Hlk153182208"> </a><span style="background: white; color: #1b1b1b;">Ludwig
van Beethoven, citing the<span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> “<em><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-style: normal;">Messiah</span></em></span>,” called Handel the
"greatest composer who ever lived. ... I would uncover my head and kneel
before his tomb.”</span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For
me, it isn’t Christmas until the “Messiah” is performed in our town.<span style="background: white; color: #1b1b1b;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After the introductions, Joe takes his position as
director. From my balcony seat, I can tell he whispers something to the
Philharmonic orchestra and to his choir. He smiles. He picks up the baton, and
we are off for a two-hour, uninterrupted musical masterpiece. I watch Joe work,
and as I have said before, he is a living work of art. The music and the choir
are stellar. One by one the vocalists, coached by Lynn Syler, take their places
at the microphone. Their talents exceed all possibilities as they sing their
respective parts. Not just are they amazing, but it completely takes my breath
away to hear such voices. I look down at the choir, smiling and singing, and I
know the hours and time they have put into this production. Jeri Mow continues
her role as the pianist. Her work is also done in perfection.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Between the movements of this piece, there is no clapping.
We must wait until the entire piece is finished, but it is hard to wait. I
applaud thunderously between movements in my head. I have attended all of the
twelve productions, so I recognize the songs and the movements. By the time we
get to the <i>Hallelujah </i>chorus, we are all on our feet! It is tradition to
stand following the lead of King George 11 who stood during the premiere in
London in 1743. From that day on, audiences have followed the tradition and
stand for that one movement. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By the time the last movement is performed, I am sitting on
the edge of my seat knowing I will soon give my standing ovation as well as
everyone else in the full house! We are so quick to stand, and with a
non-ending thunderous applause, Joe points to the orchestra, the choir, the
vocalists and then points to them all over again. We, the audience, are pulled
into that space of joy and celebrate the beauty with all of them. Time stands
still.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Making my way down from the balcony, I chat with friends.
We shake our heads and say, “Wasn’t it magnificent?” There are no other words
to describe what we all shared together. I stand in the lobby hoping to say a
word or two to the performers, to Joe, to his parents. I am in luck as they
stroll by, and we share congratulations to all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There are moments in life that we share with one another.
We become one. This is one of those times. I can’t imagine being anywhere else
doing anything but sharing this afternoon with friends, with community, with
tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Mr. Joseph Peters, you are an icon, and we thank
you. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-52722001637905615762023-12-10T18:52:00.000-04:002023-12-10T18:52:01.055-04:00A loving farewell to a friend...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QWRa9VX2FGtnw4uVzTtYgkKdFuZmeU4Q-3LkTARCImuKYjKsqjlgy61XOFlX1JYqI_Oq69hNykWVYS9jNV9QPjWlZoGGMly_Ldhxwao3QYMezFl20-q0s0ReF9QBvDsn0joun4WAzpyLRe4qZAGDs52cBPAyjlkK5ULLLix5g4LDbRqUpljA/s1167/received_1089555498736685~2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="1167" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QWRa9VX2FGtnw4uVzTtYgkKdFuZmeU4Q-3LkTARCImuKYjKsqjlgy61XOFlX1JYqI_Oq69hNykWVYS9jNV9QPjWlZoGGMly_Ldhxwao3QYMezFl20-q0s0ReF9QBvDsn0joun4WAzpyLRe4qZAGDs52cBPAyjlkK5ULLLix5g4LDbRqUpljA/w400-h188/received_1089555498736685~2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The day was gray and foggy, and the ground was soddened
with the leftover rain from the day before. It didn’t really matter as we were
all dressed for the occasion, and no one seemed to mind the dampness of the
day. With hats and gloves and sweatshirts, fifty of us gathered to plant a
small prairie under the guidance of Nate Simons of Blue Heron Ministries. We
were of all ages from children to those of us much past the age of children,
yet we were kindred spirits on this day. Laughing. Talking. Smiling. Crying. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was not just any prairie planting. This small prairie
was dedicated to the gardening legacy of Steve Wahlig. Before starting the
ritual of the prairie planting, we gathered together and listened as Ruben Ryan
read the eulogy. Not only was this the prairie planting, but it doubled as the
memorial service. All was quiet as Ruben pulled the paper from his pocket to
read what he had written. Ruben was a great friend of Steve’s and, of course,
to Jake as well. He actually started with such a sweet story saying it took him
the longest time to figure out which one was Jake, and which one was Steve! He
continued his reading as all were hushed on that foggy morning. He talked about
the joy the garden gave to Steve and to the community. How many tomato plants
did he deliver to the neighbors around him? And the tomatoes as well! He spoke
of lunches at the table laden with their homegrown food, and always conversations
about the garden, about the land, about Ruben. It was hard wiping the tears
from our eyes with gloved hands, but indeed we did. When he was finished, he
handed the paper to Jake as we clapped and cheered. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate took the stage, so to speak, next as he explained how
this would work. He laughed as he said, “This is the biggest group ever
gathered for such a small prairie!” Indeed, as I looked around to friends, neighbors
and family of the Wahlig’s, I just had to smile. I didn’t know everyone, but
planting seeds side by side is a great way to get to know one another. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate explained the procedure of planting as he pulled out bag
after bag of gathered prairie seed from already established prairies in Steuben
County. There were four species of native grasses and 37 species of native
Indiana wildflowers. The seeds were dumped into a trough with cracked corn and
mixed thoroughly. We planted in two groups of 25 as we lined up with our empty buckets
to have them filled with seed. Fred Wooley was on hand to make sure the mixture
came out just even. (How did they do that?) With the first 25 ready to plant,
we stood shoulder to shoulder and following directions, scattered the seeds
from one side to the other and back. I was lucky enough to be in the second
group too, so I got to do a double planting. When all the seeds were scattered,
the fifty of us lined up, holding hands and danced our way across and back
pushing those seeds into the damp earth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Following the planting, some gathered in the garage to
listen to Nate talk about the Seeds of Truth and the restoration of the land
into the prairie. The other group went inside for chili and cookies and to
shiver off the dampness. I chose both groups. Sitting on buckets in Jake’s
garage we listened to Nate and sang, “Joy to the World.” I was glad to follow
that crowd into the warm kitchen to share stories with Jake and her children
and grandchildren. Finally, even I had to leave. When I arrived home, I took
off the old shoes I had worn and noticed seeds among the mud. I took my shoes
to my own back yard and clapped them together as children do chalk erasers
hoping a few seeds would find a home into my own garden.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate said it will take three years before the prairie is
blooming and beautiful. To me, that sounded like a perfect love story. Love
grows slowly and hopefully blooms in the end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Very few couples shared the love that Jake and Steve did
during their courtship and long marriage. Love doesn’t die. Love lives on, and
in this case, love will live on in the prairie that was planted with cold hands
and warm hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-22304909201577855172023-11-27T13:59:00.002-04:002023-12-01T10:31:03.412-04:00Farewell, November!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOAXgBe9RsYOR3Fd-Miw0koDHc6G1dMpLdM-q0Sg3jx92f-V9QzqklawJ2OoJpM-SsLvcyjzBzXMimaPO0li4xhDpv5ZmjJCb0KAbKXIgLoxyiYp9lsISyy-hCv1ixDOif6vhbgjFldnp5qW4nau7bLpd5VxCeD1GdqhHKXhCTA55c62PxiCu/s720/46990537_2093121130727532_5777585024417136640_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOAXgBe9RsYOR3Fd-Miw0koDHc6G1dMpLdM-q0Sg3jx92f-V9QzqklawJ2OoJpM-SsLvcyjzBzXMimaPO0li4xhDpv5ZmjJCb0KAbKXIgLoxyiYp9lsISyy-hCv1ixDOif6vhbgjFldnp5qW4nau7bLpd5VxCeD1GdqhHKXhCTA55c62PxiCu/w400-h300/46990537_2093121130727532_5777585024417136640_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Elizabeth Coatsworth once wrote, “November comes, and
November goes with the last red berries and the first white snows…” We are
certainly ending the month with the winter winds whirling around us. I did get
my leaves raked…well, the ones in the front and side yards…done before the snow.
I spent Saturday night raking by the light of the almost full moon. It was a
fun experience. I felt a little like Emily Dickinson who always gardened at
night. Perhaps I should take on that persona?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanksgiving came and went. So many joys for me. Adam and
Jonah were home. I loved spending time with them. We went for our Christmas
tree with Aaron and Rachel’s family. I am so grateful that Bud and Deb’s
Christmas tree farm is just right around the corner. They opened on Friday
morning at 10:00 and we were all there shortly afterwards. I love traipsing
through the pine forest especially with the boys. We spend a long time choosing
our perfect trees. Mine must whisper to me. I love it when Jonah says, “Is this
one talking to you, Nannie?” We did finally find our perfect trees, the boys
cut them down and we hauled them home. Mine is sitting stately and bare in my
living room waiting for the baubles to come out of the closet. That will happen
this week. Bud and Deb’s Christmas Tree Farm is open every weekend until they
decide enough trees have been taken. They are very much stewards of their pine
forest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This past weekend was also Santa coming to town and it was
a perfectly brilliant night with families lining all the street corners.
Someone commented to me that it looks like a movie set. Yes, it did, it always
does. Small Business Shopping appeared the next day with folks once again
perusing our shops. Carolyn and I helped at the new Gallery featuring the
Steuben Art Scene. I loved seeing so many folks pop in to have a look. We have
so much talent in our area. Make sure you visit and see if there is something
you would like from Santa!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Coming home I checked Facebook news and saw the post from
The Hatchery that they are closing. At the news, my mind was completely flooded
with stories and events from The Hatchery. I am a frequent patron, probably at
least once a month. Kathy and I go for our birthdays and anytime we need long
conversations. Elten and Carolyn and I go every Halloween after the last
trick-or-treater has left and the porch light goes out, we go to The Hatchery
for chocolate martinis. They make the best ones. I almost (almost!) got engaged
at The Hatchery. It didn’t work out, but that wasn’t their fault. On the night
Aaron proposed to Rachel, we sat in The Hatchery while friends and family
decorated their back yard with rose petals and lights. We were all on pins and
needles that night. The decorating still wasn’t done so we headed over to
Monument Pizza until I got all clear sign. Luckily for all of us, she said, “Yes!”
Valentine’s day, and so many occasions were spent inside those walls. It isn’t
always about the food, but the event, the conversation. I will miss them so
much, and so will my guests!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Is it our fault they are closing? I suppose so. We can do
better. I know I am a broken record on this town of mine. I love it so much. I
try to promote everything and everyone. We are responsible for the businesses
staying open. Yes, small business shopping is over for another year, but one
day a year cannot sustain our businesses. I will try harder. I know I also need
to be more vigilant. We all do. Enough said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Other news has our community shadowed in
sadness. Since we are a close-knit community, we all grieve together. We share
these stories as we break bread together and tell the stories. Sometimes I do
feel guilty of continuing on…decorating the tree, singing songs, attending
concerts, and making and buying gifts for those I love. Yet, this is what we
are called to do.</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #e67e23; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> </span><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="color: #242424; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the meantime, November leaves us this week. It was a
beautiful month with stunning sunrises and sunsets. Elizabeth Coatsworth, a New
England poet, said it best, “The fires burn, and the kettles sings. Earth sinks
to rest until next Spring.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We welcome you, December, your beauty awaits us.</span>izabeth Coatsworth once wrote, “November comes, and
November goes with the last red berries and the first white snows…” We are
certainly ending the month with the winter winds whirling around us. I did get
my leaves raked…well, the ones in the front and side yards…done before the snow.
I spent Saturday night raking by the light of the almost full moon. It was a
fun experience. I felt a little like Emily Dickinson who always gardened at
night. Perhaps I should take on that persona? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanksgiving came and went. So many joys for me. Adam and
Jonah were home. I loved spending time with them. We went for our Christmas
tree with Aaron and Rachel’s family. I am so grateful that Bud and Deb’s
Christmas tree farm is just right around the corner. They opened on Friday
morning at 10:00 and we were all there shortly afterwards. I love traipsing
through the pine forest especially with the boys. We spend a long time choosing
our perfect trees. Mine must whisper to me. I love it when Jonah says, “Is this
one talking to you, Nannie?” We did finally find our perfect trees, the boys
cut them down and we hauled them home. Mine is sitting stately and bare in my
living room waiting for the baubles to come out of the closet. That will happen
this week. Bud and Deb’s Christmas Tree Farm is open every weekend until they
decide enough trees have been taken. They are very much stewards of their pine
forest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This past weekend was also Santa coming to town and it was
a perfectly brilliant night with families lining all the street corners.
Someone commented to me that it looks like a movie set. Yes, it did, it always
does. Small Business Shopping appeared the next day with folks once again
perusing our shops. Carolyn and I helped at the new Gallery featuring the
Steuben Art Scene. I loved seeing so many folks pop in to have a look. We have
so much talent in our area. Make sure you visit and see if there is something
you would like from Santa!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Coming home I checked Facebook news and saw the post from
The Hatchery that they are closing. At the news, my mind was completely flooded
with stories and events from The Hatchery. I am a frequent patron, probably at
least once a month. Kathy and I go for our birthdays and anytime we need long
conversations. Elten and Carolyn and I go every Halloween after the last
trick-or-treater has left and the porch light goes out, we go to The Hatchery
for chocolate martinis. They make the best ones. I almost (almost!) got engaged
at The Hatchery. It didn’t work out, but that wasn’t their fault. On the night
Aaron proposed to Rachel, we sat in The Hatchery while friends and family
decorated their back yard with rose petals and lights. We were all on pins and
needles that night. The decorating still wasn’t done so we headed over to
Monument Pizza until I got all clear sign. Luckily for all of us, she said, “Yes!”
Valentine’s day, and so many occasions were spent inside those walls. It isn’t
always about the food, but the event, the conversation. I will miss them so
much, and so will my guests!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Is it our fault they are closing? I suppose so. We can do
better. I know I am a broken record on this town of mine. I love it so much. I
try to promote everything and everyone. We are responsible for the businesses
staying open. Yes, small business shopping is over for another year, but one
day a year cannot sustain our businesses. I will try harder. I know I also need
to be more vigilant. We all do. Enough said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Other news has our community shadowed in
sadness. Since we are a close-knit community, we all grieve together. We share
these stories as we break bread together and tell the stories. Sometimes I do
feel guilty of continuing on…decorating the tree, singing songs, attending
concerts, and making and buying gifts for those I love. Yet, this is what we
are called to do.</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #e67e23; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> </span><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="color: #242424; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the meantime, November leaves us this week. It was a
beautiful month with stunning sunrises and sunsets. Elizabeth Coatsworth, a New
England poet, said it best, “The fires burn, and the kettles sings. Earth sinks
to rest until next Spring.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We welcome you, December, your beauty awaits us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-83328116430070904582023-11-15T08:46:00.002-04:002023-11-15T08:46:28.811-04:00Thank you from all of us!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXqYm010ehZKnLBYU96w0iWOUbR9zvUlIQUqHsNWSZycHj-JtHdI-BrCsb5mMgBBppW-Qik4VmQlLnIgDJgMLUoprCuMqqTzsycgFn0VJbG5KkzuaaYL5JHtts-57RIyWBkLdJHgAbhHAjd1o4s1jygCsQns_sWLMSiO-lpAE_FGZ0_6-Q3EBg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="1080" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXqYm010ehZKnLBYU96w0iWOUbR9zvUlIQUqHsNWSZycHj-JtHdI-BrCsb5mMgBBppW-Qik4VmQlLnIgDJgMLUoprCuMqqTzsycgFn0VJbG5KkzuaaYL5JHtts-57RIyWBkLdJHgAbhHAjd1o4s1jygCsQns_sWLMSiO-lpAE_FGZ0_6-Q3EBg=w400-h268" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;">The cast of "Arsenic and Old Lace."</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The curtain call comes on Sunday with thunderous applause
and a standing ovation. I watch all of this with tears in my eyes as we draw
the show to a close. I want to thank the hundreds (and I mean hundreds) of
students, faculty, community, parents and folks who simply saw it advertised
and decided to come on in! From my lovely cast to you, thank you so much.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On opening night, as in all opening nights, I gather the
cast to read Emily Dickinson’s poem, “That it will never come again is what
makes life the sweetest.” I tell them to look around and live in the moment of
the night…each night. I also tell them how theatre is a dance with the
audience, and our job is to make the music for the dance. After the Saturday
night show, one cast member said to me, “PH, you are right, it is a dance.” I
just had to smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I promise you I will move on to small business shopping and
Thanksgiving next week, but as I sit writing, how can I not wrap up the fall
theatre season? The cast party was here on Sunday night, and I sit amidst pizza
boxes and pop cans with chairs strewn about. I don’t like my house in a disarray,
but there is something magical about the remains of the party and the echoes of
their voices and laughter that keeps the mess about me for a short time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am, of course, referring to my theatre group, but this
pertains to all we do. I think, as responsible adults, it is up to us to share
our talents with the young people around us. Many of you are involved in the
arts, I know. But I think lots of you are completely committed to sports (yes,
I am committed to Jonah’s hockey and Graham’s sports) and I applaud that as
well as the arts. It doesn’t really matter if we are engaged with their
activities as parents, as grandparents, and as leaders. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I would like to share a few of the reasons we need to
encourage and support our young people with a few stories between the lines. I,
of course, will use the theatre as examples, but it could be anything! Let’s
look at discovering new possibilities. I have a couple of freshmen students in
my theatre of which both did not know how much they would love it. In fact, one
said last night at the cast party, “Now, what do I do every night? I will miss
this so much.” He is not alone in his sentiments. How fun it is to introduce
students to a life-long activity. Another graduating cast member said, “I know
I will join community theatre no matter where I live.” That just makes me
smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are many pieces of data that show students with
outside activities actually do better in school. They love looking forward to
another activity at the end of the day. This also leads to time management
which is definitely a skill that is learned. Finding groups for students is no different
than finding groups for us as adults. We all like to hang out with friends on
the weekends, and students are no different. Whereas, I do believe in having
lots of friend groups, I know that the core to this is having the close-knit
group who will always be there. My theatre students fall under that category.
They embrace the new recruits, hold fast to the already established
friendships, and are willing to pass it on when they leave. I love finding my
own tribe, and so do students. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Besides friendships and having something wonderful to do,
being part of a group gives us confidence that carries on for students into
adulthood.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe I have encouraged some of you to even look into new
hobbies or groups for yourself. I hope so.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, the time has come to go back and clean the stage and
back room of the T. Furth Center for the Performing Arts. The time has come to
hang another autographed cast photo to my studio wall. (Thank you, Jacob, for
making that happen!) <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The time has come to wash costumes and put my house back
together with a sigh. The time has come to pick up where I left off in early
September…if I can even remember life before rehearsals.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The time has come to thank you one more time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p> </p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-19957379022799887052023-11-08T11:47:00.000-04:002023-11-08T11:47:04.871-04:00A sneak preview of "Arsenic and Old Lace."<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnWV42acJLfg29Eh6Z0L9oWmz04pJX0Xtq8e8svfmXVU2oDk0roX9CqkRhfS3T2Mdfz_9pK1WNGDFWVT3Z8n8QW1Vo4vQc-uFCLlFvUyAqSInjVdeF_Yb9P5lZcqBtGxQ6O0YM6Dhu9WRlke87DJ9tJurGa6LWXjF9oux7FB7EbshhYLPegehr" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnWV42acJLfg29Eh6Z0L9oWmz04pJX0Xtq8e8svfmXVU2oDk0roX9CqkRhfS3T2Mdfz_9pK1WNGDFWVT3Z8n8QW1Vo4vQc-uFCLlFvUyAqSInjVdeF_Yb9P5lZcqBtGxQ6O0YM6Dhu9WRlke87DJ9tJurGa6LWXjF9oux7FB7EbshhYLPegehr=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Just a lovely photo from our show which opens tomorrow night! We are so excited to bring this show to you! We have worked long and hard in order to make this happen! Tickets on line at the T. Furth Center for the Performing Arts and at the door! See you at the show!</span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-11939869043299492252023-11-05T10:27:00.000-04:002023-11-05T10:27:20.934-04:00Lou Ann for City Council<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJk71s2azTg0zrGHWij4lFYHNs630zcHH6sF0QyPw7rxUgc4YwT96DtSLJqMYxejceItaPJ5SNabh2mawTEunK9AJrClVpalfGekc8bjLYJEz7jviIERdDYHE3T0OOt0lRvqkKtFHv9aA34sZXFEeBlm6p5hQfWgJbJw2wqtRIAcDEdJrMneH/s1080/FB_IMG_1695948288695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1055" data-original-width="1080" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJk71s2azTg0zrGHWij4lFYHNs630zcHH6sF0QyPw7rxUgc4YwT96DtSLJqMYxejceItaPJ5SNabh2mawTEunK9AJrClVpalfGekc8bjLYJEz7jviIERdDYHE3T0OOt0lRvqkKtFHv9aA34sZXFEeBlm6p5hQfWgJbJw2wqtRIAcDEdJrMneH/s320/FB_IMG_1695948288695.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Women around the world fought long and hard for us to have the right to vote...they were arrested and put in jail. They went on hunger strikes, and were diligent for years. All we have to do is walk in and vote!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Don't forget to vote on Tuesday. Please don't let your chores get in the way. They can wait. No babysitter? Take your children with you and teach them about voting and democracy!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-13232506636194375572023-10-28T12:32:00.003-03:002023-10-28T12:33:29.218-03:00Halloween weekend...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMwI4WJ79KOKPXwfhU8fk2kWpwaiE8FEZbeZKpi4o91Y2LX7NFdg30WBl5tyU_a8Tx0-rY2QWHy2p3Cxe_nCPDDhy_HLgyHmngmiioRB3-J4toxUpw0j6FzZG7-5-vq9XMnw77pH6zq_JQeVL4fCsAodnOfJ6ZnzQ0Il_pHf-MKs73ti8tfeJ/s1248/received_704168194982611.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1248" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMwI4WJ79KOKPXwfhU8fk2kWpwaiE8FEZbeZKpi4o91Y2LX7NFdg30WBl5tyU_a8Tx0-rY2QWHy2p3Cxe_nCPDDhy_HLgyHmngmiioRB3-J4toxUpw0j6FzZG7-5-vq9XMnw77pH6zq_JQeVL4fCsAodnOfJ6ZnzQ0Il_pHf-MKs73ti8tfeJ/w400-h254/received_704168194982611.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It has been a great week for stories and for my annual Poe Night. This was the 13th year and, of course, it never fails to be wonderful. So grateful to all the folks who read poetry at Wells Theatre on Thursday evening. Special thanks to Jacob McNeal who is always there and decorated the stage so beautifully!</span></p><p><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Today is the Halloween contest in town. It is cold and blustery...a perfect day. I love hosting this contest for my town. Come on downtown today...you won't want to miss this!</span></p><p><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Special thanks to Annie Eyster for the enhanced photo of the Macbeth witches!</span></p><p><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Lou Ann</span></p> <p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-20714122896582697952023-10-20T09:36:00.001-03:002023-10-20T09:36:14.145-03:00Poe Night<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaE_EnGEXWFdUOcRx2-fplU9fxFzLswT6zsQfWpaFZ89t7W-CYSiw_EUP72DeYV2IdvzUUKNaYPJE0N1Z_9MYdJwpGgpf4_-YLvlZy_dxrFmO1WG8oKnw52cQq-mVEO2bFdKnkQjeBBzzssqAolAlSiBuVL9Yu_LgzCbZVzIHwDgYCPrW0LYW/s227/poe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaE_EnGEXWFdUOcRx2-fplU9fxFzLswT6zsQfWpaFZ89t7W-CYSiw_EUP72DeYV2IdvzUUKNaYPJE0N1Z_9MYdJwpGgpf4_-YLvlZy_dxrFmO1WG8oKnw52cQq-mVEO2bFdKnkQjeBBzzssqAolAlSiBuVL9Yu_LgzCbZVzIHwDgYCPrW0LYW/w240-h320/poe.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>This is the 13th annual Poe Night at Trine University. The event is in Wells Theatre on the beautiful Trine campus starting at 7 bells...if you dare! See you on Thursday, October 26th!</p><p><br /></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-49809527834585077562023-10-17T11:47:00.001-03:002023-10-17T11:47:05.937-03:00The Steuben Strummers!<p> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">Today let’s chat about music. Oh, not
about just listening to music, although that is great too! In fact, currently
Pandora is sharing Halloween songs with me on this cozy Monday morning with a
small fire sending warmth into every small nook and cranny. I want to talk
about playing music.</span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In the long history of my family, at
least as far as I can tell, no one was exceptionally musical. However, I guess
I need to retract that statement. My dad played the piano. He learned to play
as a young child when he lived with his grandparents during the depression. His
grandmother played the pump organ for her church. She taught my dad to play a
few songs so he could also play in church. He was only four years old, but
sitting on her lap he could play a couple of songs for church. She pumped the
organ while he played. When he returned home to Fort Wayne, his dad, my
grandfather, Ralph, ran a mission. Once a week he and my grandmother, Goldie,
fed folks ham and beans and provided a small Biblical message to the men. Once
my dad returned (only five years old) he told Ralph he could play the piano. Of
course, the mission didn’t have one, but a piano was donated so he could play. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My dad grew up to be a fine pianist.
Oh, not musician enough to make a career, but a piano player for his own good.
I took lessons as a child, and while not a natural musician, I learned to play
show tunes with my dad. We played many duets on our grand piano. I still have
most of those wonderful books and sheets of music. I used to take the bus down
to Murphy’s in Fort Wayne on Saturdays to buy sheet music with my allowance.
The other bit of my allowance went towards buying bouquets of flowers from the
Barr Street market. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I have always played the piano for my
own enjoyment. I often set the timer as I get lost in the music and time slips
away. I tried the guitar, but I really wasn’t good at it although I wanted to
be good. Perhaps I didn’t practice enough? I gave my guitar away to Brianna
this summer as she is interested in all the arts!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Trading in the guitar for a ukulele
was such a great decision for me! Of course, sweetening the pot is Carolyn who played
uke with me every day during the pandemic. We have traveled to lots of weekend
events, but the most fun of all is playing at the Angola Carnegie Library on
the second Monday of the month.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This past month we had a different situation.
We were invited (or we invited ourselves?) to play music for Cameron Woods on
that Monday. Carolyn presented the possibility to our group, and we all said “yes,”
of course! Having a gig…a real gig…meant extra practices and adding some great
Halloween music! Who doesn’t love “The Monster Mash,” or “The Flying Purple
People Eater?” Carolyn and I have been participating in the Fort Wayne uke
group and a few of those folks said, “Sure, let’s play!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We practiced, and the day of our gig
came! Now I have had many storytelling gigs in my life, but not so many music
gigs with folks I like a lot. Do I dare say how excited we were to share our
music with the residents of Cameron Woods?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We showed up early and had to bring in
even more chairs for the band. We filled up half the room! Ken Scharpenberg and
his wife, Judy, came to accompany our ukes and keep the beat for us! As we were
setting up, we saw familiar faces which made us all smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Then the concert started. We had the
most fun…probably even more fun than the residents. Oh, I know it was a small
gig in the big pool of available music in our area, but to us it was an amazing
afternoon. We had two encores, although I think we instigated both! It didn’t
matter; we were happy to play a few more songs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It was a great afternoon, and I think
we all need some happy afternoons in our life. Playing music that afternoon was
perhaps a Zen moment letting the music carry us away! Of course, we would love
to play for you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We are the Steuben Strummers! Won’t
you join us?<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1U3aAINS6CGs6MMQSxoWVwyVAdWoO_Hz9su1riKdiUdFbPV_WJHfpw-LkFdBHFDQ3Gnl4bqJp3yC3oUfx3R1THDXR3_5NhEfOoii8EVTA55pq-YNi4RrabsH3PjfTqaivBdUBH-v3IsxP1zBZ25Tt8a5pHrNcEeoWJj7GMPutjk6ChpCmajH9/s3323/original_15f4b857-909f-4b4c-b5b5-0ffe2c39733f_20231009_140700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1821" data-original-width="3323" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1U3aAINS6CGs6MMQSxoWVwyVAdWoO_Hz9su1riKdiUdFbPV_WJHfpw-LkFdBHFDQ3Gnl4bqJp3yC3oUfx3R1THDXR3_5NhEfOoii8EVTA55pq-YNi4RrabsH3PjfTqaivBdUBH-v3IsxP1zBZ25Tt8a5pHrNcEeoWJj7GMPutjk6ChpCmajH9/w400-h219/original_15f4b857-909f-4b4c-b5b5-0ffe2c39733f_20231009_140700.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Steuben Strummers</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974665.post-464834243819743372023-10-15T09:18:00.001-03:002023-10-15T09:18:16.215-03:00My new ritual!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlh4VxpnsAqdbgPWCprZQoJRcv8ynZGaIHu9f89O5OKOo5d-UmALNboou4Gg9M4qoRvwT0Ge3h-W0efomTuYja6qp6eQK4NuMqa4r0qMIY6t5n_eVUUFzTjYL_Woel9iP8LN6NfG0HTcvfqmBlkHfc_igp3jZzswVCXb2X-fWruwk5NUrT_qm9/s1080/FB_IMG_1663932503167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="1080" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlh4VxpnsAqdbgPWCprZQoJRcv8ynZGaIHu9f89O5OKOo5d-UmALNboou4Gg9M4qoRvwT0Ge3h-W0efomTuYja6qp6eQK4NuMqa4r0qMIY6t5n_eVUUFzTjYL_Woel9iP8LN6NfG0HTcvfqmBlkHfc_igp3jZzswVCXb2X-fWruwk5NUrT_qm9/w400-h225/FB_IMG_1663932503167.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I have a new ritual. I come home at
night from rehearsal or town events or an evening with friends and sit on the
park bench in my yard. I always light a candle and spend a few moments
reflecting on the day and the beauty of the night sky. With my lovely tree
gone, I have the big sky all to myself in my back yard. Of course, I miss my
tree. She was the crowning glory. The gnome tree has taken her place with much
grace, and I marvel at the sweetness she brings to my yard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The weather is forecasting a possible
frost for the next few nights. I am doubtful it will spread the frost into the
town area, but there is that possibility. I am not so frantic about the frost
or the first freeze as I once was so long ago with my children. I truly did
look forward to that day, and we stopped all other work to head outside to the
garden to harvest all that we could. We filled bushel baskets of food, and
filled the root cellar with the potatoes, onions, and apples. I braided all the
garlic and hung in the kitchen from the beams. Not only did the beams support
the garlic, but the herbs were strung from one end to the other. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Once the garden was completed, we
gathered the hickory nuts down by the big tree. Next to the hickory tree was a
huge boulder. We did not put it there, but perhaps some farmer from long ago
dug it up in the field and moved it under the hickory tree. We gathered all
those nuts and put those in the barn. The boys would have the task of cleaning
them for the winter. We put the walnuts in the driveway so that the tractor
would run over them to help with the cracking of those walnuts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Firewood and wood for the cookstove
were a huge priority. The boys knew we would be heading to the woods to cut
wood, take it back up to the farmhouse, unload it and start all over again. It
was a challenge to learn to cook with wood in the woodstove, but I loved learning
how to do it, and there is nothing like an apple pie fresh out of the
woodstove!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Chores were essential for my children.
Perhaps it worked best because we lived in the country with no neighbors except
for the daily adventures of Curt Hasselman making his way down our lane on his
bike. We always put Curt to work as well before they could take off hiking in
the woods or fishing in the pond.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The other day I read an article about
a family that was visited by social services because they had no electricity or
running water. We made a choice to go without those amenities for the first
couple of years. I daresay, it did not seem to bother my kids, at least I didn’t
think so! Now they tell the stories of the farm, and I have to smile. at the
way they see their childhood. We decorated the walls with their early kindergarten
papers. Rose Clark sent so many papers home, and they all ended up on our
walls. The time came for us to take them down to actually put up dry wall and
paint. Aaron was very upset and asked us not to be “too modern.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We stomped out twenty gallons of sauerkraut,
gallons of cider and pressed sorghum for molasses cookies. I do not remember
the boys ever complaining, although surely they did!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sitting on my bench in the backyard
waiting for the first frost, those memories flood my brain. I see them in
overalls and flannel shirts. I see them climbing Doc’s hills to watch the
sunset. I do, indeed, live in the moment of my life, but the moments slip back
into oblivion as I see my boys on the farm long ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Memories are a funny thing. We tend to
forget the hard work and the day after day grind of living off the land. I have
no regrets. I would do it again in a heartbeat!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As for tonight, I will finish my tea,
blow out the candle and call it a day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">“October’s Bright Blue Weather”</span></strong><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 7.5pt;">O</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;"> SUNS
and skies and clouds of June,<br />
And flowers of June together,<br />
Ye cannot rival for one hour<br />
October’s bright blue weather.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 9.0pt;">Helen Hunt Jackson<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Lou Ann Homanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10975972696054637393noreply@blogger.com0