life on a mountain

Groundhogs and Cowboys....

2010-01-30T19:48:00.000-08:00

Greetings from almost-Punxsutawney!

It's almost Groundhog Day.

This year PETA has proposed that Phil be replaced by a robot.

I'm still laughing.

The very premise of GHD is silliness....

This week in first grade,

cowboys are big.

Kids abandon sneakers at playtime

to clomp around in my four pairs of cowboy boots

with bandanas and vests and hats and stick horses.

Things are a bit different

from when I played cowboy years ago, though.

"I'll be the cowboy.

You be the mom,

you be the dad,

you be the sister,

and you be the ex-wife."

We learned the "Doe, a Deer" song,

then watched a clip from The Sound of Music.

Such inspiration!

They sing it constantly,

lining up for lunch,

dismissal,

silent reading (!),

at playtime.

One of the best things in life

is hearing kids spontaneously sing.

This week I'll show them the clip from the

train station in Antwerp, Belgium:

two hundred people dancing as Julie Andrews sings.

(Google it! Youtube. Very cool.)

I predict they'll be dancing in the cafeteria next.

Random thoughts

2009-12-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

1. This past Friday,

I was perusing Peter Speirs' book Christmas with my first graders.

There was an illustration of Santa ringing a bell for donations.

I said, "Sometimes people dress up in Santa suits at Christmastime."

Zach said, "Elves do that."

"Zachary, I don't think they are elves. This man is tall."

Zach replied with certainty,

"One elf stands on another elf's shoulders...

they do that, you know."

2. Neither one-year-olds nor 52-year-olds find somersaults effortless.

3. What do you do when you find an ancestor's grave?

Talk to them? What do you say?

4. My mom is in an Alzheimers unit.

She has trouble carrying on a conversation of more than a half minute,

and difficulty answering simple questions.

She often doesn't recognize loved ones.

(Actually, she treats everyone as a loved one,

whether she knew them or not.)

...but she can sing!

Many songs.

Many verses.

In harmony.

Interesting what the mind retains.

5. In November,

Denny had the opportunity to be in an elk herd at night.

A little disconcerting,

and very cool.

There is more to that story,

but I'll let him tell it.

Twilight in 119 Words

2009-08-11T10:50:00.000-07:00

When I borrowed Twilight
my librarian friend remarked,

"Oh no! Not you, too!"

I was curious about all the hype,

and read it in an afternoon.

Let me save you an afternoon....

Twilight, Part I

Bella moves from Phoenix (remarried mom)

to Olympic Peninsula (busy dad) high school.

Bella thinks:

"Edward Cullen is beautiful!

His eyes change!

He likes me!

He likes me not!"

Smoldering looks.

Chuckles.

"He saved my life! Often!

But Indians say Cullens are vampires!"

More beauty.

More changing eyes.

More smoldering looks.

More chuckles.

Edward thinks:

"Bella smells good.

Should I or shouldn't I?

Why do I keep saving her life?"

Part II

Bella meets the Vampire Folks.

Nice house.

Vampires play amazing baseball.

Bad vampires come and want Bella.

Will she get away?

At the prom, Edward aims for the neck.

Will he or won't he?

Find out in Book Two.

I have no intention of reading Book Two.

Thanks, Mormons!

2009-07-30T05:45:00.000-07:00

The Mormons have Glenn Beck,

polygamy,

the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,

and Harry Reid.

They also have Marie Osmond,

Napoleon Dynamite,

the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,

and Family Search!

Last night I was cruising through Family Search

and found out that my ancestry

includes Charlemagne.

Cool. Very cool.

I now will be reading the encyclopedia in my spare time.

If you want to peruse your genealogy,

google Family Search,

click on Advanced Search,

enter known information

(the older, the better),

and read the postings.

Many seem identical,

but one may have a nugget

that connects you to another generation.

And yes, it's free!

Sue

PS. Would you put Twilight

in paragraph one or two?

Greetings from Bogalusa, Louisiana

2009-06-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

Recommended:

Perry's Seafood,

a tiny restaurant on route 26 east of Bogalusa.

Boiled crayfish (pronounced "crawfish).

Boiled shrimp.

Remoulade.

Crayfish etouffe.

(Is that how to spell ay-tu-fay?)

Talking Perry into a tour of the

as-yet-uncooked crayfish--

I've never held two huge handfuls of those guys before!

Karen's conversation

of weeping trees

and karaoke

and haircuts,

and the "God bless you" on the way out.

There are gators behind the motel tonight.

Cool.

Some Unsolved Mysteries

2009-05-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

1. Why did dinosaurs become extinct?

2. Who built Stonehenge?

3. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

4. Who sent my mother a card signed "Your loving daughter, Sue" ?

It wasn't me.

The Young Male Mind

2009-03-30T17:33:00.000-07:00

This past Friday,

a fifth grader reading the morning announcements said,

"...and a happy weekend birthday to Mrs. Shaffner."

My first graders perked up and smiled at me.

A bit later, we were finishing the weekly spelling test.

When the kids finish,

they turn their papers to the back

and begin drawing a picture.

As I passed the green table,

I noticed Megan was drawing a birthday cake,

Alexis was drawing a person wearing our classroom birthday hat,

Alayna was drawing a birthday cake,

...and Joel was drawing a detonator connected to TNT.

Five Things

2009-02-26T16:16:00.000-08:00

1. This is the week that robins and bluebirds traditionally are seen on the mountain. Not this year! Winter is hanging on, but I have seen a few signs of spring:

a roadkilled raccoon
a roadkilled skunk
geese flying, not north, but in circles
a dog with his head out a truck window

2. Recently we saw Ladysmith Black Mambazo perform in State College. Wow. Amazingly creative sounds, sparklingly funny personalities, beautiful worship songs in an African tongue (Zulu?). They were introduced by an NPR hostess who loved their songs of peace. She just omitted mentioning where that peace comes from.

3. Our granddaughter Anna (the cutest baby in the world-- and as soon as we remember how to send pictures from the camera to the computer, we'll prove it) and our Siamese cat Chai are beginning to have things in common: they both are fascinated by the sound and feel of papers.

4. We watched Mama Mia! last week and the songs have not yet stopped running through my head. Recommended.

5. "Thanks!" to all those friends who recommended watching "24."

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Thanks, KatE.

Groundhog Dog

2009-02-04T15:46:00.000-08:00

There are a number of reasons to make this "Groundhog" post:

1. It's Groundhog Week.

Our famous friend Ben "Fogspinner" Hughes

dislodged Phil from his burrow

early on Groundhog Day this past Monday morning.

Phil saw his shadow,

implying there will be six more weeks of winter.

Sorry, folks.

2. I've been going through some of my mom's papers

and found a paper titled "Groundhog Dog"

that Dad had written at Mom's urging.

My mom really

really

really wanted to be a published writer herself,

but instead her legacy is her students,

a few of whom were published due to her encouragement.

Perhaps she would have appreciated blogging.

3. This month marks the sixth anniversary of my Dad's death.

4. With the current economic conditions,

you may find this information useful....

"Groundhog Dog"

Today when I talk to people about a groundhog dog they wonder, of course, if I haven't slipped a few gears. Everyone has heard about rabbit, coon, bird, and even deer and bear dogs, but groundhog?

During the Great Depression of the thirties (I never did understand why they called it "great") my father made a living at the barber trade. I can remember haircuts were twenty-five cents and a shave was fifteen cents. We rented a small three bedroom home in DuBois for $18.75 per month. One of our main staples was groundhog. Not many people eat groundhog today, but during the depression a lot were consumed with great relish. My mother would cold pack the small pigs that my father would carry home and in the winter the sweet aroma would fill the house and could make the mouth of a king water.

In order to supply this sweet meat to feed three sons and a wife, my dad used a groundhog dog. Fanny was the name of this black and tan, airdale, and other various breeds crossed to make a lovable dog that was death on groundhogs.

Saturday always seemed to be the day we would take to the field in search of whistle pigs. My older brother brother carried the small mattock. My job was to carry the T-pipe used to follow the holes, and Dad had the Colt Woodsman 22 pistol. Fanny would run the fields in search of a hog away from his den. If she found one above ground she would move in to cut the retreating groundhog from its hole. Then the fight began. I would like to say Fanny never lost a battle--I can't, because she lost many a battle but won most of the wars. Her black muzzle was scored from many fights, but when she got the pig behind the neck there was a whole lot of shaking going on and we would have one for the pot.

During the heat of the day when most hogs were in the nice cool den, Fanny would go from one hole to another looking for an occupied den. When one was found she would start to dig. This was the signal for dad to call in the Rensel reserves. Dad would get a long stick and shove it deep into the den hole to see the direction it was taking and he always left the stick in place. He would then take the T-pipe I had been carrying and shove it into the ground looking for the hole. When he could feel the pipe drop through the underground run we would start to dig. Once we had the run uncovered, another long stick would be placed into our new excavation to check directions and again dad would push the pipe into the ground to find the run. We could dig as many as five holes until we had the groundhog trapped between our manmade holes. I forgot to give the job descriptions: Jack and I did the digging and it was my father's job to watch the sticks. When a stick would start to wiggle he knew the hog was crawling to that entrance. Out the gray grizzled head of the pig would come to be met by a 22 hollow point from my father's Colt Woodsman. After dad cleaned he chuck, we would fill in all the holes and move on to follow the dog to the next hole.

I think the record for a day was twenty-one groundhogs, but most days were six to eight. In the evening they would be cleaned and cut up to fit the quart jars mom used to can. During those days most people had an ice box so the meat could not be kept long if it were not canned.

The education I received from these many outings was great: for instance, a metal pipe will conduct electricity, a physics lesson I learned when crossing an electric fence and holding the T-pipe too low. I would like to say it was a shocking experience, but I guess I'll pass that pun. I can remember the biology lesson we learned when Fanny had us dig out a skunk. I escaped the spray but Fanny and brother Jack rode home in the rumble seat of the Model B Ford coupe.

I'm sure Fanny was not the only groundhog dog in Pennsylvania in 1938 but I thought she was the greatest. I would not trade my memories of these Saturday Safaris for the world. My dad always said he would not live anywhere but Pennsylvania and I'm very blessed to have had a father that shared his love for the state and groundhog dogs with me.

written by Bill Rensel

October 1931-February 2003

2008 Newsletter: The Untold Stories

2008-12-11T18:07:00.000-08:00

Welcome to those of you who are here as a result of the Christmas newsletter.

It is a snowy night on the mountain.

Gilda did fine until she got to our driveway;

it's the second time this winter

(and it's not even officially winter yet)

that Den had to retrieve her

from the bottom of the driveway.

The amount of time that passed

between Den's leaving and returning

was a bit humiliating.

But I'm not here to write about the weather.

I'm here to answer newsletter questions:

Ben Affleck?

Ben and Matt Damon were in Kenya earlier in the year,

where Ben met Aaron Adkins.

Aaron was one of Paul's groomsmen

who grew up in Kenya

and is currently working there.

Aaron and Ben spent a few hours hanging out,

and Aaron thought,

"Who can we call?"

Aaron decided on Paul,

entered his Tanzanian number,

and handed the phone to Ben Affleck

only to have Paul choose not to pick up,

as there was something semi-interesting happening at the time.

Gilda?

Gilda is a 1990 Volvo wagon.

I first met her when she belonged to Aaron Adkins

(yup, same guy)

and She-Who-Cares-Nothing-About-Cars thought,

"That car is gorgeous! It looks it's wearing a tuxedo and sneakers!"

The car is now is ours,

she and her quirks.

We named her Gilda

after we pushed the clutch pedal to the floor

and it stayed

because,

as with one of Gilda Radner's characters,

"It's always something."

Currently the something is

a racing right-turn signal

and quirky wipers,

but has been brakes,

heater,

axle....

We love her.

Tossing snakes off the roof skills?

When we were re-roofing this summer,

at least two medium-large snakes

had climbed the ivy and were quite comfortable

in the comb of the roof.

Den,

being the non-snake-phobic of the group,

tossed them off.

Iditarod?

We won't know if Den has made the final three

for the Teacher on the Trail

until late January.

If so, he'll travel to Alaska in late February.

Hope hope hope hope hope.

Knocked a hummingbird out of the air?

Den tossed a towel from upstairs onto the deck

and when he picked it up later,

there was a hummingbird in it.

That same week,

the cat also knocked a hummingbird out of the air

but he used his paws.

Made the cat limp?

I shouldn't have indulged his request:

"I want to chase the balled-up paper!

Please throw the paper!

Please please throw the paper!

Please please please please!

Throw it throw it throw it!"

two days after he was declawed.

Three guilt-ridden months later he was back to walking normally.

Floating skills?

I can float in six inches of water.

Skills improve as the pounds go on.

Slid down waterfalls?

Yup. In Malawi.

But be careful in slot canyons;

there may be flash floods.

New mouse-killing technique?

I knocked the mouse off the stone wall

and imprisoned him in a cottage cheese container.

Paul, not knowing I meant to release him,

rapidly shook the container.

Rapid death.

Any other questions???

Christmas blessings to all who read this.

Joy and peace,

Sue and Denny

A Thankful ABC

2008-11-26T15:31:00.000-08:00

While cleaning out the costume closet last weekend,

I found my Pilgrim skirt.

"I'll wear that on Wednesday for Thanksgiving," I thought,

and put it in a good place.

This morning,

unable to remember where that "good place" was,

I wore plan B,

my dad's leather Indian shirt

complete with bones, teeth, antlers,

hair (both horsehair and my mom's hair),

and lots and lots of fringe.

Today while kids walked under those fringed sleeves,

I asked what they were thankful for:

"Parents."

"My family."

"My mom."

All nice-but-bland answers

'til I got to one wild-haired boy...

"Banana cream pie!! We're having it tomorrow!"

In my classroom,

we worked on Thankful ABC lists.

B was for bologna,

G was for God,

and also for "Gesus"

(makes sense if you think only of the letter name)

T was for "Teecher,"

X for X-box.

Den and I are working on our own list:

Antioxidants in dark chocolate

Bedtime reading

Chocolate milk

Desks, clean

Eggs, deviled (next on the job list)

Friends who pray

Grandbabies

Hot showers

Iditarod show on the Discovery Channel

Jobs finished

Lap cats

Moose Tracks ice cream

Nightly news (most of the time)

Owl sounds

Pilgrims (ten-greats-ago grandfather was Peter Browne,

who actually not a Pilgrim,

but was on the Mayflower)

Quilts (actually, down comforters)

Retirement is on the way!

Snowblowers

Trips just about anywhere

Uncle Jack conversations

Vacation days

Windows

Yancey books

Zappia's bread, warm, with butter

Happy Thanksgiving.

May this day find you truly thankful.

What is on your list this year?

100

2008-11-17T19:55:00.000-08:00

My grandmother, Maud May Waugaman Rensel,

was born in Sykesville, PA on November 17, 1908,

the fourth of six children.

I think of her often.

I think of her intricate, jungle-like gardens.

"Look, Susie, it looks like God used a purple paintbrush on a white iris."

She taught me that carrots are best eaten when standing in the garden,

a little dirt makes them taste even better.

Grandma made me costumes each year.

I won "most creative" in her gypsy costume in first grade.

She made a huge wardrobe for my Barbies;

only as an adult did I appreciate the tiny armholes and tinier buttons.

Grandma had great Christmas stuff,

and I could play with it anytime.

She'd make cutout cookies all year round.

(Poinsettias don't have to have red icing, you know.

And Kayro syrup makes icing extra shiny.)

Rainy summer afternoons,

we'd find our way to the attic

for the Christmas decorations

that were stored near Uncle Jack's early taxidermy animals...

pasteboard houses, bottle brush trees, glass angel choirs.

She bought them in downtown Pittsburgh

when she rode the bus to her eye appointments.

She never drove. Ever.

Grandma taught Sunday School

and Vacation Bible School.

Whenever I read Genesis 1

I picture her little planets for each day of creation.

"And it was good."

I remember her strong alto voice.

She had taken voice lessons in her youth...

great lung capacity, also good for burping.

No teenaged boy could outdo her.

She could rattle windows.

Sunday dinners were amazing.

Homemade rolls.

Mashed potatoes and gravy.

Ham.

Homemade noodles with little pieces of celery.

Stuffed celery.

Candied sweet potatoes.

Corn from her garden.

Harvard beets.

Fried beets.

(I love beets.)

Raisin-filled cookies.

Apricot-filled cookies.

And pie! Cherry. Sour cherry.

With brown sugar streusel topping.

Maud was married the year Charles Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic.

She and Bernie eloped,

drove across the border to Salamanca, New York.

They survived the depression

with the help of a barber shop.

"Your hair grows even when you are poor."

She helped Grandpa Bernie build their camp.

Strong.

"Maud the Mule," she'd say.

She raised three boys

with a sense of humor and great tolerance.

Who else would allow boys to bring rattlesnakes

into their backyard in town?

"Don't you dare lose any."

When Bernie died after a preventative Swine Flu shot,

Maud moved to Florida to live with her sister during the winters.

She who rarely travelled went to Europe,

to Oberammergau, Germany

to see the passion play.

She wrote us postcards,

and later, long letters

in her loopy handwriting.

They always included a joke or two.

Always.

In her last years,

she lost her memories of most things,

but could belt out hymns to the very end.

Tonight, Paul, Katrina, and Anna came for supper.

On the table were Maud's white china dishes,

her figures of kids from around the world,

her tiny plastic Mother Goose statues

(more eye appointment finds).

Happy 100th birthday, Grandma.

I love you.

Susie

I don't know.... Alaska.

2008-11-13T18:24:00.000-08:00

At the end of each first grade day,

we learn another line in the song "The Fifty States That Rhyme."

We discuss what we might visit and do in each new state,

then review what we've learned:

Did you know that you can search for diamonds in Arkansas?

That eating cheese curds makes a squeaking sound?

Did you know

that the stack of states from Louisiana to Minnesota

looks like an elf?

That Montana looks like a man looking over a cliff?

(Actually, I'm pretty sure the man is Richard Nixon.)

Did you know that parts of Alaska are dark even in the daytime?

We talk about Alaska a lot,

as it was my most recent vacation.

Teacher prerogative.

Yesterday Joel asked me what the capital of Alaska is.

I replied, "Juneau."

Joel said, "No."

I said, "No?"

He looked puzzled. "No, I DON'T know...

that's why I asked you."

True story.

An Election Week Marriage

2008-11-08T07:53:00.000-08:00

This week a friend got married again.

Her previous husband was taken by the war,

and though another serviceman had proposed,

she married a different man that she hadn't known long.

He seems wonderful in many ways--

calm, enthusiastic, smart, with many friends.

Some of his friends and their ideas make me uneasy,

and I wish she'd have known him a little better,

but she was financially unstable,

and I think she was more than a little infatuated.

For better or worse,

I wish them the best,

and pray God will bless them both.

Let's Try This Again

2008-11-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

When our computer had a glitch back in July,

I never suspected that it would be almost four months

before we'd blog again.

In the interim,

school started,

and first graders again greet me with enthusiastic stories:

"My house is full of peacock feathers!"

"I threw up last night and my dog ate it!"

Alexa was looking at a horse book

and was horrified when Elijah said,

"I know that horse! That's Black Booty!"

September 11th, we received the news that

our daughter-in-law Katrina was being induced.

We planned for substitutes,

then were off to State College to meet

Anna Brion Shaffner.

We are now grandparents.

The small snuffling sounds

and triple breaths

are reminders that life goes on.

On Tuesday, November 4th,

Den will turn fifty-five,

and millions of people will go to the polls to vote.

What about the animals?

Sheep want Obaaaaaaaaama,

goats prefer Ollama.

Horses like McMane,

ducks like McRain,

puppies for Omama,

bigger dogs for McDane-- he's Great.

Then there's...

Dentists for McPain.

Tarzan and Boy for McJane.

Punctuation geeks for Ocomma.

Narcoleptics for Pajama.

Theater majors for Odrama.

Sugar producers for McCane.

The monkeys in the school courtyard

were enthusiastic about

O'Cain and McBama.

I'm just ready for it to all be over.

Happy fifty-fifth birthday, Den.

I love you.

How is she doing?

2008-07-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since my mom, Aileen, entered an Alzheimers unit.
It's new and very clean,
has individual bedrooms,
a lounge,
a dining room,
a game room,
a crafts room,
a flower garden/yard area,
and friendly, competent workers.
Mom's room is right off the garden,
and has a visiting area in one corner
that allows for five guests at a time.
The room is bright
and filled with art,
books,
and photographs from home.

Starting a parent at an assisted living facility
is similar to starting a child in kindergarten.
You dress them in clean, attractive clothing,
take them on a Monday morning,
stay for a short time,
then leave.
You come back when you're told,
and have questions for those in charge:
How is she doing?
Is she getting along well with others?
Does she seem to fit in?

In Mom's case,
they say she's adjusting well.
She often thinks the others are former students,
and she falls somewhere in the middle ability-wise.
She has a lifelike baby doll there with her.
Some of the residents thought it was real,
and were amused that Mom had tricked them.
Some others think it is real
and beg to babysit.
A few think Mom is crazy for carrying around a fake baby,
ironic.

Memory loss comes in different ways.
If memory is like a beach,
some have theirs tidally eroded,
predictably,
little by little.
Mom's memory is a beach at low tide
in a war zone,
with craters in the sand.
She can seem totally normal,
then BOOM!
Where did that hole come from?
Holes used to consist of repeating stories,
restated questions,
forgetting to eat.
More recent holes have included hygiene issues,
which perhaps pushed her move somewhat.
The most recent hole was not knowing her letters:
A visit included a nurse-led group game of hangman.
This time, we're guessing a phrase.
Give me a letter. Ann?
B.
No B. Jo?
A... for Angel!
Mary?
B.
We've already had B. Pick another letter.
K.
Fred?
Silence.
Hurry up, will you?!?
Charley! Be nice! Fred doesn't want to play. Aileen?
My turn? What do you want me to do? Pick a letter? ...Man!
M? OK. Charlie?
B!
We've already had B. Pick another letter.
When they get to Lucille, she has some hard words figured out.
She's the top of the class.
Jo always responds with letters from "Angel" enthusiastically,
and makes others laugh.
She's the class clown.
Fred seems to be at the bottom this day.
Mom is the most talkative,
and doesn't seem too concerned that she doesn't know her letters.

We return to Mom's room,
where I've recently returned her things to their appropriate places.
She regularly puts her things in piles
on the bookshelf
or just outside her door:
shampoo,
toothpaste,
jewelry,
photos,
books,
scarves.
Is this packing for home,
or simply a continuation of the rearranging
that she did nightly at her house?
I guess it depends on your point of view;
the glass is either half empty or half full.
The mom I've seen in the past week
was clean,
animated,
more of the personality I knew years ago,
instead of often curled up on her couch
in damp, wrinkly clothing,
feeling sick.

The glass is half full.

Coldfwigs Warm

2008-06-27T18:25:00.000-07:00

"Coldfwigs Warm"
This phrase was printed on snowman bellies
at a store in Smicksburg.
Not being able to figure out the meaning,
I asked other shoppers,
the checkout girls,
the guy who owned the store....
No great ideas
'til the owner asked his wife.
She said the shipment had come from Japan
and the boxes and packing slips were almost indecipherable--
spelling errors,
reversed letters,
spacing mistakes.
Knowing that, she speculated
thinking of "Cold hands, warm heart",
it should have been "Cold twigs, warm..."
and then the heart was missing.
Those little snowman bellies
have had me chuckling all week.

In the same store was a sign:
"We may find that the little things were really the big things after all."
With that in mind,
here is a partial list of other little things this week:
-tomato cheese pie
-a pocket of sunshine on a chilly day
-cat snuffles
-an exquisite spotted moth
-a milksnake stretched across afternoon bricks
-south-to-north lightning
-fireside conversations
-Singin' in the Rain
-a fresh cabbage
-two brand-new ten-cent baby carriers at Goodwill
(did you know that Katrina and Paul are expecting in early October?)
-a u-turn on Beaver Drive

In May I wrote of being unable to confirm a roadkilled badger--
add that to the list of little things in life that I'd change.
Since that time,
I reminded myself that sometimes things need immediate attention,
so yesterday
when I spotted a mostly intact unknown mammal on Beaver Drive,
I turned around,
parked,
carried the little fella by the tail to the car,
emptied a grocery bag for the carcass,
deposited the body,
tied the bag shut,
and brought him home.
Using the Fieldbook of Natural History
(perhaps the most useful present Den has ever gotten me),
I checked for small, round ears
and a white chinspot
amd confirmed that it was, indeed,
a mink.
Cool!

Now, what to do with a mink?
I showed Paul and Katrina,
showed Denny,
then decided to give it as a belated birthday gift to my friend Linda
who had encouraged my previous badger thoughts.
I made a card:
"Yesterday I went to Goodwill,
and found you a mink...
in the middle of Beaver Drive."
Today I dropped the gift and card at Linda's house.
She took it well.

Parting advice:
Appreciate the little things each day,
and beware of gifts in plastic bags.

S.

Crime Does Not....

2008-05-18T14:04:00.000-07:00

I teach first grade.
In reading class,
I teach that there are
a number of ways to figure out what a word is;
two choices are
sounding it out (phonics)
and putting in what makes sense (context clues).
Most kids use a combination of approaches as needed.

I was leading two groups in reading Aliki's Feelings.
The page was about
the verbal consequences of flying a paper airplane in class.
The teacher's words were in capitals,
the boy's thoughts were in lower case letters*,
and a commenting bird's interpretation of feelings were in italics.
At the end of the page,
the bird's final comment is
"Crime does not pay,"
but each time the child read
"Crime does not play."

I guess the knowing the result of classroom misdemeanors
outweighed the phonics in this case.
Kids are so funny.

S.

*Did you know that lower case letters
were kept in the bottom drawer
at the Oxford print shop?
Thus "upper case" and "lower case."
I love trivia.

Mayday! Mayday!

2008-05-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

The first day of May has been interesting.

I think I saw a badger on the way to school.
Do we have badgers around here?

The marsh marigolds and skunk cabbage
that I admired in the meadow yesterday
had been shrivelled by frost overnight.

I stopped to tell bridge construction workers
to watch for arrowheads.
My grandparents owned that property sixty-five years ago,
and found arrowheads while working in the garden.

During morning bus duty,
I asked a kindergartener to put his lunch money in his backpack.
He complied,
then made his hand into a gun and shot me.

Diane Brewer challenged me to make her laugh today,
so during the announcements,
I said, "Good morning Juniata. This is Mrs. Brewer...."
Her kids looked at her and said, "That's not you."
Bright kids, those.

We began the day with a fire drill,
and soon after, the rain began.
We had to deliver May baskets to our indoor friends
rather than visiting the neighborhood.
The comment again this year was
"This is like 'ding dong ditch!'"
Since we couldn't get outside for dandelions and crabapple blossoms,
we added Hershey kisses.
There's no great loss without some small gain....

At the end of the day,
my class left to go to their dismissal rooms
and I wanted to use the time to "hot synch" my palm pilot,
but I couldn't remember how.
Technology vs the fiftysomething brain,
not pretty.
When I went to ask Christina,
the hall was jammed with parents and siblings
picking up students in a new location
due to hoagie deliveries in the gym.
Organized chaos.
Half a minute later,
the fire alarm went off.
In that dismissal crowd, a mom had been
holding a two-year-old too close to the alarm box.
Who now is responsible
for the three hundred dollar false alarm fine?

I stopped at a Home Camp ditch
to dig some marsh marigolds for transplanting.
The four foot shovel handle almost disappeared into the muck,
amazing!
and pulling it out covered quite a bit of me with mud,
but the flowers are exquisite.

The weather was warm enough to
finally cut my mom's hair outside
to avoid a mess.
She squirmed like a preschooler.
Good thing she didn't pay for that haircut!

Finally home!
My throat hurts.

Trying to step over the invisible garage door sensor
while carrying hairclippers
and books
and groceries
and school bag
and flowers,
and stuff in general,
the handle on a basket snapped
and an antique milk bottle
that was bound for the historical society
shattered all over the driveway.

I swept it up
and sliced my finger.

Den arrived soon after
and volunteered to make supper.
Bless you, Denny.

Now, after bandaids
and pork chops
and Airborne
and soaking muddy clothes
and listening ears
and a backscratch
and Survivor
and the rest of the bag of espresso chocolate chip cookies,
I'm feeling much better.

May there be relatively few "Maydays!" in your May.

Sue

Malaria

2008-04-12T08:44:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday afternoon was spent sigh grocery shopping.
When I returned home, Den said, "Paul called."
"Oh? What did he say?"
"He said that Katrina had a positive malaria test,
and they are travelling to a bigger hospital for treatment.
He wanted me to call him back,
but I didn't know how. *
I told him we'd call tomorrow at 11:00."

A Houghton student had malaria this semester.
He had two parasites/200, and was very sick for days.
Kat's count was fifteen parasites/200.

My mind went into overdrive;
Katrina is pregnant, due in early October.
I called the Blue Cross Information Line
and asked about malaria during pregnancy.
"...possibilities include death of the mother,
birth defects, premature birth, stillborn."
I called some friends who are gifted in prayer,
and put Kat's name on some local prayer chains.
The older I get, the more I realize
-- my control is mostly illusion.
-- prayer is often the only option.
-- there is great power in prayer.

The earth continued turning.
Daylight came over Asia, where Kat's family was praying,
over Africa, where Paul and Kat's friends were praying,
over America, where friends were praying.
The church was at work.

We left Sunday School a bit early to make that 11:00 call.
Paul told us that Kat's fever was gone,
and that she's feeling better all the time.
Later in the week,
he said that Kat has had two more malaria tests,
both negative.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!

Sue

* Similar to "I can't come back! I don't know how it works!" Name that movie.

Spring Thoughts of Grandma Maud

2008-03-29T18:23:00.000-07:00

Today was a beautiful early spring day,
sunny,
approaching fifty degrees.
I thought of my grandma, Maud Rensel.
She was a superb gardener;
her table was usually topped
with an artistic display of flowers.

During the early spring,
if budding forsythia branches are placed in water
and put in a warm place,
they'll bloom early and put on a lovely yellow display.
As I went to one of our budding forsythia bushes
and clipped a number of wands,
I thought of Maud.
When I took her graceful lead crystal vase
directly from the hot dishwasher,
I thought of Maud
...and as filled the vase with water
and heard a telltale "ping" as it cracked,
a word came to mind,
and, again, I thought of Maud.

March Waiting

2008-03-23T18:03:00.000-07:00

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Mike, I hope you're flattered....
Some March thoughts:

1. March is the second advent--
waiting for God to display his new creation once again.
So far, we've seen robins, geese, a moseying skunk,
and a roadkill bunny.
Now we're watching for snowdrops in bloom,
coltsfoot,
and porcupines, raccoons, and possum.

2. Denny and his class tuned in daily for Iditarod updates,
and mushed fantasy dog teams over playground snowbanks.
The weather channel guy says diphtheria;
the book I read gave the pronunciation as diphtheria.
Are both correct?

3. Cleaning bookshelves is never as easy as it seems.
There's always a pile
that doesn't fit with the new organizational scheme,
maps that siphon away time,
xeroxed pages of jokes and stories.
Throw away?
I toss most of them back on the shelf.

4. Some weeks are jammed.
Holy week also contained St Patrick's Day
(dress as a leprechaun and throw green and gold glitter on kids' heads),
the official first day of spring
(dress as Mother Nature and bonk kids with flowers while explaining the equinox),
and two days of parent-teacher conferences,
all in four days.

5. Why, all of a sudden,
am I getting weird blog comments from people I don't know?
I ticked a few boxes to try to stop them,
and now I'm unsure whether any comments can get through.
Pictures have also been more of a pain than usual.
It's frustrating to be only slightly computer literate.
And why does this computer keep barking at me?

6. I've sucked thousands of ladybugs from windows in the last few weeks.
I do prefer them to the gypsy moths they were imported to fight, but
where have they been hiding?
What have they been eating?
What percentage of them have escaped from the vacuum cleaner?
If I refuse to suck any more of them,
will there be any biological repercussions?

7. Den made maple syrup at one of the county historical sites.
It's been a good year for sap.

8. I have been a Survivor fan for the last few seasons,
but I'm disgusted at the people who are volunteering/pleading to leave.
I think Den would be a terrific contestant for Survivor,
but he's not interested.

9. Den took the snowblower off the John Deere on Friday,
as the forecast was for an inch or two.
We woke on Saturday to a foot of new snow.
We now can confirm that it does take longer to shovel by hand.

10. Easter memories include
travelling to Houghton
without keeping a close eye on the backseat--
we had to make an abrupt stop in Bradford
for Luke to unload a chocolate bunny,
the eggs no one finds til months later,
pickled eggs,
and the resurrection story in swahili.
I am grateful to be reminded of Jesus's resurrection victory
and his free gift of grace.
He is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

Spring is Here. Right.

2008-03-02T16:36:00.000-08:00

I know spring officially begins at the spring equinox.

But, for a number of years now,

we have celebrated March 1st as the first day of spring.

There are a number of reasons for this:

If summer vacation is traditionally June, July, and August, then it follows that spring is March, April, and May.
The first of the month is a more concise system for us OCD types.
I have difficulty remembering whether the equinox is March 20th, 21st, or 22nd.
The week containing March 1st is often the week that robins and bluebirds return, shivering.
October is literally the eighth month, implying that the year starts in March.

If the robins come back this week, they're crazy;

March 2008 entered as a major snowstorm.

Mother Nature is still wearing 10 inch boots.

PS. The day after I posted this, Den heard a robin in Clearfield, and tonight one flew over the house while Den was in the hot tub. Crazy.

Six Word Memoirs

2008-02-25T07:45:00.000-08:00

You know that place between sleeping and waking,
that place where J.M.Barrie says fairies exist?
That's where my squirrel is busiest.
Last year, he wrote a riddle for everyone in my building
in about 45 minutes.
This morning, he was fascinated
by the concept behind the book
Not Quite What I Was Planning
in which people have written six word memoirs
(look here and here).
Stephen Colbert's, for example, is
"Well, I thought it was funny."

The squirrel tried his hand
(or is it his paw?)
at the challenge:

Laughed loudly and often-- sorry, family!

I did my best-- perhaps not.

Den is my very best part.

Took the big jump-- great fun!

Boiled life into phrases and scribbles.

Grace is an amazing idea. Thanks.

Maybe I should go back to sleep....

S.

The Week After Groundhog Day

2008-02-09T13:42:00.000-08:00

One week ago,
we were there when Punxsutawney Phil
predicted six more weeks of winter.
We then joined the thousands of people
trudging through early morning cornfields
in multiple layers of clothing.
It evoked a tiny thought of what a refugee might feel like.
God, bless refugees.
One week down, and it's been a mixed bag weatherwise.
Today alone we had near whiteout conditions, blue skies, sleet, and rain.

It's been a mixed bag week otherwise, too.
Groundhog cookies,
headaches,
a Chinese New Year feast,
appointments,
a one hundredth day celebration,
and "speaking the truth in love" to parents.
A few moments in first grade particularly stand out:

Moment #1:
"Mrs. Shaffner!
I brought in 100 jellybeans for the 100th day of school!
Do you want coffee or booger?"

Moment #2:
"Who can name some polite body parts?"
"Arm...leg...teeth...mouth...spine...uvula...."
"Uvula, Jack?!
Cool! Show us your uvula."
We spent an interesting minute looking down neighbors' throats.
An hour later,
Jack tells the lunch lady that someone was twisting his ankle.
Turns out he meant wrist.
How can he know uvula but not wrist?

Moment #3:
"Mrs. Shaffner! Do you want a worm jellybean?
They're these ones with the red spots."
"Do you like them, Darius?"
"Yup! Gonna try a real worm in the spring!"

This is the day that the Lord has made...
remember to rejoice and be glad in it.
And hang in there for five more weeks.

Thanks for the picture, Stam Babies!

S.

In Person

2008-01-28T18:29:00.000-08:00

Punxsutawney Phil,
the world famous weather prognosticating groundhog,
visited my school recently.
Later, when composing my classroom newsletter,
I gave advice on attending Groundhog Day.
"If you want to see the groundhog in person,
you need to go early,
as you'll need to park in downtown Punxutawney
and take a bus to Gobbler's Knob."
I chuckled over seeing the groundhog "in person"
instead of "in groundhog."
Then I discovered I was unsure of what "in person" meant.
If I went to see James Taylor in person,
was he the person, or was I the person?
We both had to be at the same place at the same time....
I surveyed a few colleagues, with mixed results.
My googling was inconclusive as well.
I'm now expanding my survey to include you.
What do you think?

Kitchen Goddess? Not.

2008-01-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

I think I have a pretty good vocabulary.
The Reader's Digest vocab tests aren't much of a challenge.
I can probably feed a small child on a visit to the free rice website.
I can hold my own in most games of Trivial Pursuit.
But my intellectual self-image took a major hit at the grocery store this morning.

Den and I were at the local upscale grocery store
so I could pick up some ginger root.
While he perused the seafood,
I ducked down the baking aisle to get dark molasses
and to escape the sticker shock I get at the seafood counter.
Across the aisle were pots and pans.
Doing a price comparison on an item I just sent to Tanzania,
I noticed an adjoining label said "saucepan."
Saucepan??
Pans are low. Pots are higher.
I teach that in first grade phonics.
But saucepans are high.
I never knew that.
I guess that explains why I've never been referred to as a kitchen goddess.

S.

A Winter Morning's Prayer

2008-01-04T17:10:00.000-08:00

I recently read that people often have guilt
because their minds wander when they pray.
The author (Philip Yancey?) suggested that we
turn our stream of consciousness
into a prayer.
I've been trying it on my way to school.

Whoa! The driveway is slippery!
Keep Gilda away from that tree!
God, bless Aaron Adkins who sold us Gilda.
I think he's in Kenya now.
The election massacres are horrific.
Give the Kenyans peace.

Here's that curve
where I went into the snowbank twice last winter.
I would be sooooo embarrassed
to tell Denny and Dorretta
that it happened again.
Thank you for family and friends to share my shortcomings with.

Denny put the stonework in that ditch with his dad.
A local woman grew up
hiding from the communists
in a ditch during the Korean war.
Thank you for my life in America.

There's a lot of traffic on 322 today.
The top of the mountain must be pretty slippery.
I wonder if Shirley is in one of those vehicles.
God bless Shirley.

Put it in neutral to coast down the mountain--
I get braking on all four wheels
and save gas.
Give Paul and Katrina wisdom in their plans for next year.
If they have to drive more,
at $6/gallon,
gas will be a major consideration.

Stop at the Rockton post office for Mom's mail.
Help her to rejoice in this day. Me too.

I have now passed from the Susquehanna watershed
into the Allegany River watershed;
Rockton is on the eastern continental divide.
I remember visiting Colorado's divide,
when a tiny car drove up
and three guys unfolded out of it.
"This here's the continental divide.
That means half of the country is on this side,
and the other half's on that side."
Then they refolded and zoomed away.
Help my stupidity to not be too obvious.

The frost and light snow are on every tiny branch.
Luke used to call this a "magic day."
God, give Luke a big hug today.
Let him feel your breath.

There's the little cross where Marion Miles died.
God bless her grandchildren.

I'm passing the bus station.
Bus stations always make me sad.
May something good happen to that guy
when he gets to his destination.

There's Riverside's enormous flag.
I think that's the biggest flag I've ever seen.
Except maybe Fort McHenry in Baltimore.
God bless the people who serve in our military forces
and their families--
Jeremy
and Kasey
and Steph
and Luke
and the other Luke
and all Luke's friends--
and our Baltimore friends.

I'm almost to school.
God, put your hand on my family today.
Oh, and please heal that guy
that was in the accident in Tanzania.
Why is it that my thoughts are so often selfish?
What was that C.S. Lewis poem?
"... I am mercenary and self-seeking though and through...
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin.
I talk of love, A scholar's parrot may talk Greek.
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin...."
I probably didn't get that right.
Hold my mind together.
Me again.

Parking lot. Take the keys.
It's crunchy cold. I love it!
Yessss!
And amen.

First Flakes

2007-12-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-11-27T15:19:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-17T10:45:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-14T15:49:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-06T16:48:00.000-08:00

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

2007-10-28T18:34:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-19T19:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-14T17:02:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-22T07:41:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-06T17:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-26T08:46:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-17T19:04:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-14T07:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-12T18:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-09T15:17:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-08T17:19:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-07T13:52:00.000-07:00

"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

2007-08-06T16:28:00.000-07:00

, 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