First Flakes

This year I am in a new classroom.
I inherited it from my surrogate sister,
Diane Bernardo (may she Retire In Peace).
The room has large, unfogged windows,
enormous windows,
a wall of windows looking out
on a scene so lovely
that it is featured in local publicity brochures.
Across a little stream
is a curve of flowering crabapple trees
framed by enormous oaks.
Within walking distance
are crayfish and cattails,
forget-me-nots and touch-me-nots.
We sometimes interrupt the routines
of reading and writing and math
to appreciate the changing seasons creekside,
but more often we go to the windows.
We note the shadows are still frosty white
while the sunny areas are bright green.
We watch oak leaves shimmy and shake
and break free and float down.
We watch the snowflakes...
SNOWFLAKES!
WOW!
The first snowflakes prompt us
to grab coats
and hats
and gloves
and dash outside for a snowdance.
We welcome those first flakes
with our tongues
and our feet,
whirling to the Chieftain's Irish music.

Some days it's easy to be thankful.

S.

You Must Be Proud....

Last week I congratulated six-tear-old Sam
on a neatly done, correct paper, saying,
"You must be proud of yourself!"

He looked me straight in the eye and replied,
"You know pride is a sin."

Powerpoint Lesson

This morning I went to a PowerPoint links class.
I've long appreciated the organizational aspects of PowerPoint,
and thought I could use it well.
... and I may,
but this morning's class taught me other lessons as well.
It reminded me what it is like to be a slow learner.

I arrived slightly before the class began
and chose a corner computer
where my lack of skills would not be as noticeable.
Ten minutes into the class,
a younger,
enthusiastic,
technologically skilled person
sat down beside me.
During the down time,
she zipped to the youtube site
for entertainment,
singing moms,
dance history,
shadow bunnies*,
and used a plug-in stick (?)
to show her son's first grade year.
I envied her prowess.
As we worked on PowerPoint (PowerPoints?)
hers danced
and talked
and had many colors.
Mine stared at me,
malfunctioning,
and it was my fault.
After trying whatever made sense to me
and some things that didn't,
I raised my hand for help.
My neighbor knew the answer before the teacher even got there.
How does she know that?

Eventually I got through everything twice;
the first time blindly following directions,
the second time writing things down
and beginning to understand the "whys."

On the drive home,
I had more sympathy for Holly
who seems to have no idea how adding works,
and Derrick
who has great difficulty with letters and sounds
and makes so many of his letters and numbers backwards.
They keep smiling
and trying their best
as they get individual attention.

When I got home,
I went directly to the computer.
Microsoft Powerpoint 2003...
It isn't the same as the school's.
Forget the links,
I tried three different times to find a way
just to make a second page.
No luck so far.
Aaaaaauuuuugh!

So instead I complain to you
and give thanks that most learning comes easily.
I will try again in a few minutes
praying for intuition.

S

*The shadow bunnies were AMAZING. Shadow puppetry to "Wonderful World." Click here. Maybe it will work!

Haikus for Jews

I had no school on Monday due to Veterans Day
(though what better place to remember than school?)
and I went to Ollie's,
my favorite cheap bookstore.
It was there I found Haikus for Jews by David Bader.
I laughed so hard the checkout that I distracted
the checkout people several displays away.

That night I reread it in bed.
Poor Denny.
Between my laugh decibels and my sneeze decibels
it's a wonder that he has any hearing left.

Following is a smattering:

Scrabble anarchy
after Putzhead is placed on
a triple word score.

Like a bonsai tree,
your terrible posture at
my dinner table.

The spitting image
of her father. Down the road
rhinoplasty, yes?

Today I am a
man. Tomorrow I return to
the seventh grade.

Left the door open
for the prophet Elijah.
Now our cat is gone.

Bare autumn branches,
the old crow sits. Mother, come
down from there at once.

Hava nagila,
hava nagila, hava--
enough already.

S.

Squirrel Thoughts

What is on the Squirrel's mind these days?

If the approach of our winter
means the northern hemisphere is tipping away from the sun,
and that means the rays have to travel
through more atmosphere before hitting the ground,
and more atmosphere means brighter colors at sunrise and sunset,
wouldn't the most spectacular sky color
be found during December and January,
the closer to the Arctic Circle the better?
(North of the Artic Circle would be dark all of the time,
but the Aurora Borealis should make up for the sunset/sunrise color loss.)
Keep your eyes on the skies....

He wonders if the rumor about
dropping the comma in front of and in American lists is true.
If so, who gave the OK?
And how did they get that power?

He also agrees with the kindergartener
who told him that plastic army guys look better
after you play with them in dirt.

The Squirrel wants you to know
that he handles all academic and aesthetic questions;
social questions are now referred to his new neighbor,
the Inner Duck.

The Inner Duck wishes Katrina a happy birthday,
and Denny a happy belated birthday.
Much love to both.

S.

Lost Ukranian Memories

Last night the Ukranian dance troupe Voloshky was in DuBois.
I thought, "Mom was an exchange teacher to Russia in the 90's.
She will enjoy this,"
so we made plans to pick her up.

My mom is 71 and looked great,
red turtleneck, black pants, and a black and red sweater,
hair freshly washed,
rail-thin but energetic.

Mom, are you ready to go?
Not really. I had a lot of company and they just left.
She stood by the counter and folded some paper napkins.
Who was here?
I don't know.
Patty?
Yes.
We employ Patty from 8-6 daily to attend to Mom's needs,
but she sees Patty as company
and lets her do very little.
Get your coat on.
Do I need my Bible?
No. We're going to see dancers.

The car was filled with the powdery smell of an old lady.
When did that happen?

On the way, we stopped at the Goodwill store
and ran into a friend of mine.
We all chatted,
but when I thought Mom was shopping,
she was following Leslie around.
Denny watched their conversation from the car
and reported that Mom showed Leslie the unnecessary safety pin at her wasteband
and the baggy crotch in her pants.
Upon leaving, she carried up a broken ninety-nine cent picture
of a harlequin child with enormous eyes.
Mom, do you want that?
Yes!
This from a woman who lives with hundreds of dollars of original artwork.

We found a seat in the auditorium and waited.
Mom told the talkative women behind us that she loved to hear old ladies laugh,
then unnerved the child in front us
when she touched her and whispered some cheerful comment.
During the colorful, entertaining performance,
Mom failed to recognise the recurrance of the Master of Ceremonies.
Who is that man?
Each appearance of the instrumental soloist brought
What is that? Is it a piano?
She was in each moment, but the moments never connected,
as she repeatedly obsessed about the coats on the seat beside her.
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?
Are these things yours?

Upon leaving,
she ran away from us
up to an unfamiliar vehicle and opened the door.
You all are the nicest-looking old ladies I've seen all night!

She'll have no memories of the dancers today;
they were probably gone before she got into the car.


Mom has always been a friendly person,
a people person,
many students' favorite teacher
who corresponded with loads of them for years,
who led hundreds of Bible studies
and led many people to faith in Jesus Christ.
The friendly part is still there
but the marbles cracked one night about ten years ago
when she hit the ice with her head.
More marbles seem to be cracking with increasing regularity.

Why?
"For now we see through a glass darkly,
but then, face to face."
Mom in her best moments realizes that there is a glass,
and often wishes that she were on the other side of the glass.

Until then, we are faced with many questions,
today's being:
Is it worth making others uncomfortable
and insulting older women
to enjoy disjointed, ephemeral moments of interest?
Should I follow up Mom's comments with whispered apologies and explanations?
What if she hears?

The jury is still out.

Sue

Mom-isms

A friend at school showed me the youtube comedienne singing all the things that moms traditionally say. I looked up the lyrics and decided there were a few Shaffner sayings that were missing:

• Don't run with that stick.
• Scrub. Hard. Did you scrub?
• Time's up. Get out of the shower. Thankfully we now have a new well.
• Leaving in five.
• Four....
• We'll wait for you in the car.
• Whose day is it? Paul had choice on even dates, Luke on odd.
• No Man's Land. Stay on your own side of the car. Nobody touches the middle.
• There's a kitty treat in the basement. Litter box duty.
• Not in the house. BB guns, paintballs.
• Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.
• Go directly to bed. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.
• When the music comes on, the lights go out. Read, then listen to whatever music I think you need to be exposed to.
• Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.
• Love you Paul. Love you Luke. Love you Dad. Think "Waltons".
• Choose wisely.

Sue

Luke: Now and Then

Our son Luke is 22,
is stationed at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio,
and will take his final test to complete tech school on October 30.
Results of this one test make the difference between continuing in the USAF
and being discharged.
Please pray for his wise use of time,
good judgement in what to study,
and a clear mind.

I found a letter from July 1994 that described Luke at age 9:

Luke collects sticks,
things that fly,
and whatever isn't permanently adhered to his pockets.

He loves Dinosaur Bones ice cream,
cartoon books and the Picture Bible,
playing piano by ear,
rollerblading with a fast dog on a leash,
and climbing trees.

He can be quiet--
when I make a snowman, I love the "crt crt" sound,
--or not,
and thinks he might be governor someday because he's friendly:
I walk up to someone and trip on a pretend rope.
They laugh.
Then we play.

Luke loves drawing Claw cartoons,
isn't ready for camp,
and is reason-impaired:
...the reason I'm wearing three pairs of underwear is because I'm cold.

He recently learned to dive,
wakes when dragged out by his toes,
loves to dissect lobsters,
and asks questions like Wouldn't it be neat to paint air?
and If I sit real still, would maggots get in my leg?

He's a lovely child and gift of God.

I miss the nine-year-old,
but am very proud of the man.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

Sue

Lessons Learned By Confusing Contact Lens Wetting Solution With Cleaning Solution

Friday morning I was relying on habit
(the bigger bottle is the wetting solution)
rather than remembering the times are a-changing
(the bigger bottle also has a red lid, signifying cleaning solution).
Oooooooooooops.

Lessons learned:

• Little suction cups for stubborn lens removal aren't cheap.
• Contacts can act as bandages. The pain gets worse when you take them out.
• Chemical burns heal more slowly than abrasions.
• Eye patches don't make pirates say, "Arrrrrrgh!" But pain might....
• Eye patches need to be pretty thick to keep your eye closed.
• One eye really wants to do what the other one is doing.
• If I go blind, one of the things I'll miss most is reading.
• When walking blind, shade is an indication you're about to hit a building.
• Depth perception really is dependent on a two-eye system.
• Eyes react even when they're closed. They move at changes of light and sound.
• Eye surgeon friends who check up on me are a blessing.
• If it doesn't get worse, it's probably getting better.
• I'm vainer than I thought. I wore sunglasses to church.
• I'm thankful to get back to the normalcy of one eye smaller than the other.

And, on an unrelated topic, nail polish on a bug bite sometimes makes the itch go away.

Sue

...And the Not-So-Nice Campground

On June 30, we were in Anchorage, Alaska.
Aside from two Wal*Mart parking lots, we found only one campground.
It was Centennial Campground,
run by the city of Anchorage.
At the end of a substantial detour,
we found it.

"You can have any campsite for $20--
tent or RV. $20!
...but not these campsites, they're for RVs."

The campsite we chose was mislabelled,
but the check-in girl can't read the campground map anyway.

"Hey, look! Period tents! 'The Society for Creative Anachronisms'."

Den put up our little tent about 100 feet away
and settled down to read about
Billy Mitchell falling into a river at sixty below.

While planning the next day's trip to Seward,
I began to people-watch:
a long-maned man in a plaid bathrobe with baggy pants tucked into tall, tasseled boots,
a little girl moseying past a sign marked "Slow,"
a man in tights and an embroidered shirt,
a woman in a thin medieval velveteen dress and a dollar-store crown....
We greet them, but there is no response.
An orange-coated woman with run-away hair walks by,
turning around to argue loudly and in great detail.
There is no one behind her.
The thought occurs to me to look at her through the binoculars,
but I decide against it.
I go for a walk instead.

One bathhouse is closed.
The other is filthy.
Thank goodness for Crocs.

There's a man with a truck filled with many gas cans
walking past the "no cutting" sign
with an ax.

A loud-rap-music truck with a keg in the back pulls into a site.
People pile out,
dance for about four minutes,
then get back in and leave.

What are they doing around that dumpster?

This place may be the south end of a black hole going north....

It's almost eleven o'clock,
but still lots of daylight
and there's road noise,
kid noise,
generator noise,
creative noise,
anachronistic noise.
We decide to pack up the tent and sleep in the back of the truck,
which is a great idea,
because by morning it is raining.

We get a quick shower,
find a church,
and make a friend
who invites us to camp in her driveway the next time we come through Anchorage.
We do.

Where was a memorable spot you wouldn't return to?
Sue

The Girls

When I was young my father took me turkey hunting. I remember the early mornings sleeping in the pickup truck as we travelled to the mountain. My father would locate where the turkeys were and choose a few natural obstructions to hide behind in the area. We would arrive with flashlights and then secret ourselves until the turkeys came. On one particular occasion I remember falling asleep on the ground behind a log while my father called patiently to see if a gobbler would respond. It was familiar territory to Dad, he'd hunted the area since he was a boy, and we were set up just right. A gentle nudge from Dad and a whisper to get ready got my heart pumping as I knew he'd seen the turkeys and was watching. Suddenly he rose up from behind the log and the Winchester blasted. By the time I'd gotten my gun up the turkeys were just running out of sight. Dad was baffled. "How'd I miss that bird? I can't believe I missed that bird!" And just then a branch of a witch hazel bush that was growing there fell over, shot through by a 12 gauge blast. What a laugh we had.

Over the years my father and I had mixed success with the turkeys, lots of different places and lots of different memories, but when I went off to college, our turkey hunts ended. I've picked up the sport in the last few years. There are a couple of friends who are serious about it and they've piqued my interest again. These days I don't sleep in the truck on the way to the hunt. I am the one locating my spots and choosing where I set up for the hunt. I'm often the one with the call and the one listening and watching as the birds approach (or don't). I generally don't fall asleep during the watch, generally not. Words don't come to me to describe how much I enjoy sitting in the woods watching it come alive in the morning because on occasions like that my father is still always with me. The girls will come in, cautiously, testing my skills, and it always makes me feel like a kid again.

Well, this summer the girls are coming in again. Twice a day the flock passes through the yard. I've been feeding them faithfully and they are faithful to come. Sue and I have watched four hens raise their 25 poults right under our noses this summer. Tonight we sat quietly in the hot tub as they ran to the yard, scratched up their dinner, and then mosied off towards the barn, only to return again to be sure they'd finished their meal. The young ones still haven't totally learned the game, they are hilarious to watch as they dust themselves under the pear tree, nestle down in the grass, flap their wings, fly up into the grape vines, and scoot away to their roosting spots with no worries. The matriarchs watch over the young ones carefully and lead them away each night to roost safe and sound out of harm's way.

Couldn't help thinking about what my dad would think if he were sitting in that hot tub with me tonight as the girls came in. But he was. I learned my excitement for the natural world from him. He'd think it was so cool to see the girls, and it is. Cool because it brings me joy to remember sleeping behind that log and laughing with him when he missed.

Hey dad, the girls are back.

Denny

A Favorite Campground

We've found a favorite campground!
It's secluded and quiet,
with wild animals like turkey and deer that the manager feeds daily.
Showers are free, as is the laundry.
The place has swings for the kids,
some great climbing trees,
and a nearby stream to play in.
There's a great swimming hole within a five minute drive,
and the campground has a hot tub to relax in
while you watch the stars and meteors.
Barbeques are held regularly.

Actually, the campground used to be even better.
Fifteen years ago, it had a dog, a cat, a sandbox, and lots of toys.
On a camping trip,
the boys were sooo excited when we described it to them,
then sooo ticked when they found out it was their home.

*Ahem.* Come visit us.
We love company!
And we won't even make you sleep outside.

Sue

PS. Next time, a not-so-favorite campsite....

Technology Shapes the Future

Have you heard that diabetes may be cured by nanotechnology?
That lifespans are expected to soon jump to 120 years?
That universal translators will end the need
for learning foreign languages?
That reading and writing may no longer be necessary
as everything will be available auditorially and/or visually?
That walking may provide power for your personal technology,
and walking on sidewalks provide power for cities' energy needs?

Last week I met one of the school's tech teachers
who filled me in on those possible future developments.
It was fascinating and exhilarating and disconcerting.
What if nanotechnology has unwanted side effects?
If there are glitches in translation that cause miscommunications?
No readers... reminds me of the pre-Wittenburg era.
If living beneath power lines causes cancer,
wouldn't making your own power have similar risks?

I'm thankful that I'm not in charge of the brave new world,
and that the God of the heavens, macro universe
is also God of the atoms, micro universe.

It will be interesting to see what the future brings,
and find our role in it.
I'm sure it will still involve love.

Sue

Roadside Liberal Arts

Last Saturday was full blown summer.
Hot.
Humid.
Smell of chipmunk-abandoned tomatoes.
Afternoon spent inside, reading.

The very next morning, fall had come.
Cool.
Dry.
Smell of burning pine.
Afternoon spent in a jeep, exploring the Quehanna.

With the doors off, the roadside views were fantastic.
We watched deer skipperty-hop up roadsides,
elk in velvet munching on apples,
and many fall plants:
goldenrod, Queen Anne's Lace, Joe Pye weed,
maidenhair ferns, Christmas ferns, bracken ferns,
knotweed, ragweed, smartweed....

One of the many things we've gained from a Houghton liberal arts education
is familiarity with our surroundings.
Denny learned geology from Mr. Paine.
Sue learned botany from Mrs. Cook.
Though these skills aren't necessary for education majors,
they've certainly enriched the way we observe the world.

The Cooks have taught us many other things:
*how to make plans, and then to be flexible,
* to choose restaurants that have the most local cars,
* to find the humor in everything (it's punny!),
* to pass food around the table in one direction,
* to treasure Gene Stratton Porter books,
* to be calm when you remove a potential rattlesnake from the back of a stove,
* to journal,
* to appreciate the seasons,
* to identify birds and appreciate their Latin names,
Did you know that a robin's Latin name is Turdus migratorius? True.
* to go off-the-beaten-path when travelling,
* and to be content in whatever situations we find ourselves.

Thank you, Cooks, for the lives you've modelled for so many students.
Thank you, Houghton, for hiring profs like the Cooks who make the liberal arts come alive.
Thank you, God, for places like Houghton College,
the Quehanna Wild Area,
and this mountain.

Sue

Isaac and the Polar Bear

It's been one month since we arrived home from our Alaska trip.
"So... how was your trip?"
How do you answer that in a passing conversation?
"Great!"
The more savvy have asked,
"What's one memory of Alaska that stands out?"
Aaaaaah.
That would be Isaac's story of killing a polar bear
with a spear
when he was five years old.

We met Isaac in Anchorage,
but the event took place in the far north.
Isaac is now 56,
but told the story as if it had happened yesterday.

The tiny five year old stood alone on a frozen pond
as directed
to lure the polar bear
while his family waited further off
to kill it.

Isaac started singing a song his mom taught him,
"Jesus loves the little children."
A polar bear noticed
and came to the bait.

Just then, it started to snow, hard,
and Isaac could not see his family.
But he could see the bear,
and knew he had to make the bear mad.
If the bear isn't mad,
he just plays with you
and knocks you around
and you'll be senseless.
You have to make him mad.
So Isaac said every mean word he could think of to the polar bear.
One of my words worked
and pissed that bear off.
He ran right at me.

I remember thinking
My mom is going to be so mad if that bear gets me
because she just made me a new parka
and he will ruin it.

Ten or twelve feet away,
the bear stopped and roared.
I thought I had lost my intestines
but it was just a big fart.

Isaac looked for solid footing,
a "bog",
to plant his spear
but it was all ice.
The polar bear rushed at him and hit him.
He knocked me down
and I could hear my spear spinning away.

While down on the ice,
Isaac found his "bog".
It was a polar bear footprint.
Sometimes a warm midwinter wind comes and thaws the ice.
Birds come to the open water, then the ice refreezes so quickly
that the birds start to freeze into the ice.
Polar bears come along and eat them.
As he was dodging the bear in the whiteout
he found his spear.
Isaac planted the end of the spear in the footprint
as the bear charged.

The spear entered the bear's chest
and stopped at the stopper.
Stoppers dangle from the spear.
They are crosspieces that are attached to leather thongs
that stop the spear from going straight through an animal.
In this case, it kept the polar bear from landing on Isaac.
The bear lunged again,
and the stopper broke,
and the bear covered Isaac.

His dad and brother had been stumbling in the whiteout
listening to the song
and the insults
and the roars
but were unable to find Isaac
to rescue Isaac
until something caused a small break in the snow
and something caused his brother to look back
and he saw the polar bear lying on the ice.

Isaac was nowhere to be seen.

Something made them turn the polar bear over,
grabbing the bear by his testicles,
when they caught a glimpse of a small Inuit boy
beneath the pile of white fur, grinning.

The first thing I saw was my brother.
He had just got a new haircut
just like that stooge Moe.
It made me laugh.

Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world
Red, brown, yellow, black, and white,
They are precious in his sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Sue

Summer Blessings

Tonight is the last night of summer vacation,
and while I'm excited to begin a new year with fresh first grade faces,
I'm somewhat nostalgic for the months past.
I take this time to share some simple summer blessings with you:

floating in a swimming hole
lying under flowers so that hummingbirds feed over your head
Penn State Creamery ice cream
going a-journey
mocha chocolate milk
reading on the couch, or on the porch, or in the yard
jeep rides
collecting Japanese beetles
friends visiting
a walk through the chicken barn at the fair
fresh raspberries
the Hazen flea market
calling someone you love
Swedish rye bread, toasted, with cheese
wading
good conversation
looking closely at a dragonfly
oooohing at meteors
appreciating what is set before you each day,
no matter what the season.

What would you add to the list?

Sue

Some Thoughts On Home Haircuts

If hair hits your eyes or your mouth when riding in a summertime jeep, it's too long.

Symmetry is a good thing.

When cutting hair with electric clippers, put an attachment on unless you want a buzz cut.

Brunette hair is more forgiving than blond.

For a quick wedge cut, put on a ball cap frontward and cut whatever sticks out the back. Then put the cap on backward and cut whatever sticks out the front.

Don't cut your own hair when you are being ruled by humidity or hormones.

A cool haircut sign would be
HAIRCUTS, $2.00
BAD HAIRCUTS, $1.00

You can get reeeeeeeeeally dizzy if you spin on a barber chair too long.

Keep your clippers oiled.

Don't say "Oops."

If there is an "Oops," remember I Samuel 16:7...

God does not see the same way people see. People look at the outside of a person, but the Lord looks at the heart.

Sue

PS Katrina is a quick study with clippers.

Remembering

Last Saturday,
Denny's college roommate Mark
and his family
escaped from inner-city Buffalo
curious about their ministry?
and visited the mountain for the first time.
While Mark and Denny told stories of thirty years ago
(thirty years!)
I talked with his wife Diane.
We were discussing how we remember our "to do" lists.
I put items I need to take with me directly in front of the door
so they're not forgotten.
Diane said she sometimes writes lists on her hand.
We all develop ways of remembering what is important to us.
Just like God...
See! I will not forget you.
I have carved you on the palm of my hand.
Isaiah 49:15

Sue

The Morning Is Glorious

It's a beautiful morning. The sun is shining, the zinnias and sunflowers and coneflowers and mallows and lilies and beebalm and snapdragons and marigolds and black-eyed susans and geraniums and begonias and pansies are blooming, leaves raised to the sun, processing life. Also the cosmos and the morning glories. The cosmos is (and are) amazing, and the morning is indeed glorious. This is a safe and peaceful place.

It's been about a month since we visited Denali National Park.
We rode the tour bus to and from Fish Creek, about six hours.
During that trip, we saw
a woman slice her knee badly while hiking on loose rock,
six people make an emergency entrance onto our bus
due to a close encounter with a grizzly,
a woman get stranded on a gravel bar due to rapidly rising water,
three hikers in shorts and t-shirts shiver uncontrollably,
and a man nearly drive off a steep embankment.
Five incidents
in six hours
on one of many buses
in one of many places
on one of many days.
(There is a multiplication possibility here.)
Denali was a peaceful place, but not a safe place.

And yet, what is peace? What is safety?
In the past week, a Minnesota bridge collapsed.
An earthquake devastated coastal Peru.
There were local fatal car accidents,
fires,
diseases.
Peace and safety are an illusion.
Our peace and safety are only found
in feeling the fingerprints of God on our lives each moment.

Sue

Climbing The Hill Together

Twenty-nine years ago today we said our vows at West Side United Methodist Church in Clearfield. Denny sang "Let Us Climb the Hill Together", and almost three decades later we're still climbing, as C.S. Lewis and our vows said, "...further up and further in." I am thankful to God and to Denny for our past and future together.

Guys, take note. Here is some author-unknown advice on starting conversations for those who of you have not yet reached the twenty-ninth year: when in doubt, you may want to choose "C".

A.What's for dinner?
B. May I help with dinner?
C. Where would you like to go for dinner?

A. Are you wearing THAT?
B. Gee, you look good in brown.
C. Wow! Look at you!

A. What are you so worked up about?
B. Could we be overreacting?
C. Here's twenty dollars.

A. Should you be eating that?
B. These apples are so delicious.
C. Are you craving chocolate, honey?

A. What did you do all day?
B. I hope you didn't overdo today.
C. I've always loved you in that robe.

Sue

No Target Shooting

Wellllll, irregardless, the weather here on the mountain is rainy. There is so much humidity in the air that it just has to rain. That's an opportunity to type about Alaska. Sue has allowed me to type about the signposts that we noticed along the way. Interesting that the "must have" travel item for Alaska and the Alaska Highway is "The Milepost." Really, it's better than AAA brochures that we have loved.

I'd love to be able understand the need for some Alaskans to punch bullet holes in the signage that the tax dollars provide. In the state that has the most interesting things to hunt, the sportsmen can't find enough to shoot at so they put holes in their signs. It seemed that the most interesting signs were those that had to do with no shooting zones. No shooting. Firearms prohibited. Hunting prohibited. Perforated with bullet holes! One such sign which interested me was one next to a "rent-a-can" (we call them portapotties here in Pennsylvania). The sign said, "No target shooting." It was, as you can see, placed right next to a "rent-a-can" that was on the Turnagain Arm highway on the way to the Kenai Peninsula. We shan't discuss exactly why this was a stop along the way :-) , suffice to say that we just couldn't pass it. I think that we were looking for the tidal bore--yeah, that's what we were doing, looking for the tidal bore.

I contemplated the exploration of this area by Captain Cook, how incredibly large this land is, the glacier that formed Cook Inlet, which must have been huge back before global warming was even an issue. (Heck, that was almost before we knew there was a globe.) Everybody headed for any milepost on the Kenai has to pass this spot. And the sign is perhaps a chance to warm up for things further south. Anyhoo, it is clear that Alaskans have taken to heart the words of wisdom from Clint in Unforgiven, "...should have armed himself."

Perhaps I must confess that I only noticed these bullet holes because I was unable to arm myself. That customs lady at the Canadian border north of Haines asked me three times if I had a firearm in the truck. Three times I had to answer, "No ma'am." It was like saying, "No ma'am. I'm a girly man." A real man probably would have hidden that pistol inside the console of his pickup cab. A real man probably would have had no compunction to smuggle that loaded pistol through the Canadian customs station so that he might have plugged the first "big game sign" that he came across. A real man would have armed himself.

And so I could just make an observation and not participate in the sport of Alaskan sign hunting. It's a season that has no starting or ending dates and that's so American. We can fire off those guns at any time. "Oops! Sorry officer! I was just trying to scare those mosquitoes away from that portapotty."

Denny

A Chipmunk Question

The chipmunk living in the raised beds used to be cute. We'd find a pile of raspberry seeds on the stone wall, a tomato skin and seeds on the other side of the herb garden, but today I counted 21 tomatoes on the ground with just tiny nibbles missing. That chipmunk is getting just as many tomatoes as we are. At times like these, we really miss the cat. We never realized how many small animals he kept away. We think a bobcat got him. That chipmunk may be a marked mammal.

A question: what precipitated his change from a clean-your-plate rodent to profligate-tomato-waster? And while we're at it, here are some other questions that have entered my mind recently:

• Does the wind ever blow something out of the ground roots and all?
• Why is pre-lightning air greenish?
• Are there advantages to fallow fields besides postponing degradation?
• Where was George McGovern from?
• How does male eyesight differ from female eyesight?
• What does "uff da" mean?
• Why don't classic sermons get read more often?
• What is ear candling?
• What is the difference between "regardless" and "irregardless"?
• Why are samovars so big?
• Are flowers more fragrant in dry places?
• Are all northern races blue-eyed?
• Why is there a fire in the chimney at the gas plant?
• If IQ is mental age divided by chronological age, shouldn't we get dumber as we get older?
• What difference would it make if mosquitoes were eliminated?
• If you put Japanese beetles into a jar of water and they crawl over eachother to get to the top, are there beetles at the bottom who are self-sacrificing enough to not crawl?

If you have any thoughts on these questions, let me know.

Sue

The Place Where You Go To Listen

"The place where you go to listen"
is a soundproof room in the University of Alaska's museum
where seismic tremors,
solar radiation,
and other silent geologic and cosmic measurables are transformed into sound.
We heard rumbles and varied high keening tones, always shifting, unpredictable.
Unthinking, it could be called "unearthly,"
yet it was both as earthly and as heavenly as anything we'd ever heard.
We were transfixed.
Imagine, to hear sunrise and moonrise,
storms and sunlight,
mountains being made new,
northern lights and starry nights and comets and earthquakes.
So much goes on that we are unaware of,
that we refuse to be (or can't be) aware of.

I tell you, if my disciples would keep silent, the stones would shout aloud. Luke 19:40 (NEB)

Sue

36 Days and 8,000+ Miles

, Life on the mountain is peaceful. The katydids have recently begun their back-to-school song katydid katydid katydidn't, the pink coneflowers are attracting loads of fritillaries and monarchs, the stone wall chipmunk is treating himself to a daily ripe tomato leaving only skin and seeds, and 27 turkeys frequent the lawn for the doves' corn. We are enjoying being back home, having driven a Chevy S-10 to Alaska and back for the first five weeks of the summer. Paul and Katrina came back from Tanzania in June due to greencard issues, housesat for us, and are now spending part of their last days stateside teaching me to blog. Thanks, guys.

Let's face it. One of the main reasons we headed off was to see MOOSE. We started looking in Montana, then Idaho, Washington, British Columbia, Yukon Territory, Alaska.... Aside from a roadkill in BC, we'd seen zilch. I was beginning to be depressed when the thought "In His time" popped into my head. Other scriptures soon followed:

God will provide a lamb, er.... moose. Genesis 22:8

I go to prepare a place, ummm, moose, for you. John 14:2

From that moment on, it was an adventure, to see what God had for us that day. It may be the most peace I've ever felt. ...and the moose that had been prepared near Anchor Point, Alaska walked to within forty feet of the truck with her two babies.

Sue