Battling Winter, post #4

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We battle winter in much the same way as southerners battle the long, sweltering summers – we move from one “air conditioned” space to another. The difference is that we condition our air to be warmer than the outdoors and southerners condition the air to be cooler than the outdoors.

The condo that Mom and I are in has some lovely air conditioning features. One is the heating system itself. It is hot water heat that circulates through the floor. I often put my feet down and feel the warmth of the floor, which makes everything feel warmer. Another wonderful warmth comes from the fireplace. When you have a chill, there is no nicer way to warm up than to back up close to a fireplace with a glowing fire. Modern fireplaces can heat up a whole room in no time at all.

Doing things

While I spend time in various warm spaces in Wisconsin, I find many of the same things to do that I do in Florida. However, I think it is true that there is more time spent doing quiet things. The short days, the darkness, the cold, all give me excuse to stay inside and eat, knit, read, eat, watch TV, do puzzles, talk on the phone, look at Facebook, cook, and work, of course.  Mom and I do all these things, and while we do them we talk about  All of these normal activities seem different when I look out the window and see the bare trees and a world white with snow. I am glad and content to be inside where it’s warm.  20171219_2109471963711294.jpg20171219_211041291305750.jpg20171219_2109571623281655.jpg20171221_1855031082116113.jpg

Being with People

Some of my favorite times here in Wisconsin turn out to be in the car with people I care about, taking them where they need to go. Winter driving hazards can make it difficult to travel. Places people need to go are often farther apart. There is safety in numbers. So, we get chances to spend time in the car, talking to each other.  Last week it was an hour’s drive to Ashland with my aunt and uncle for a doctor appointment. I learned a lot about them during that time. Yesterday it was a drive to the hospital in Duluth with my sister in law for a radiation treatment. It was good just spending time together.

Thinking Right

In thinking about how I battle extremes of weather in the places I live, I’m coming to the conclusion that I had better do it mentally if I want to do it well. I need to set my mind to seeing the good, the beauty in my surroundings. I need to avoid isolation when it starts to make me uncomfortable. I need to be active when constant introspection starts to drive me crazy.  I’m just sayin’ that the battle isn’t always taking place where you think it is.

Battling Winter, post #3

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A Walk in the Woods

When you can’t ski, you walk. There are trails for every kind of travel in the snow including snowmobile and fat tire bikes. It’s the biking that I don’t get. Riding a two wheel bike fast on a narrow trail through a forest of trees, rocks and other natural hazards? Why not just relax by walking blind folded through a mine field – same difference. But winter hiking is good.

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The straight rows of pine provide an easy trail for Mary Pat, Dennis and Scruffy. I’m last in line, taking pictures and catching up.

There are trails very close to the family farm and my brother and his wife go hiking there a lot. After a day of work, when they need some exercise, they dress up, take Scruffy their dog, and walk the loop by Hospital Lake. Part of the trail goes through a planted pine forest, along the edge of the lake and returns to the parking lot. It’s just the right length so Scruffy doesn’t freeze his feet. (Isn’t it weird how some animals can stand on snow and ice and not get frostbite?)

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An eye catching little ornament on a tree that seriously needs something.

There are a lot of outdoorsy people in this area so the trail is well traveled. In a bow to the season, someone (or maybe more than one person) has begun decorating trees along the way. It’s fun to find the variety of ornaments, although I felt really sorry about the Teddy Bear. It looked more like he was being tortured.

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After a walk, I might have cold feet, cold fingers, nose and cheeks but there is a core warmth that is sustaining. Breathing all that cold air makes me feel … healthy, I guess.  As I climb back in the car and the heat kicks in, there is such a feeling of calm and peace and “put me to sleep right now”.

Because it gets dark so early, these walks often coincide with the most beautiful sunsets. Really, I could not stop taking pictures because it was changing every minute or so and I wanted to capture it.

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Battling Winter, post #2

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Skis and boots just like I remembered from 30 years ago (when I last skiied).

So how do you do battle with winter? You enjoy it in every way you can, and there are lots of enjoyable things about it. Like skiing, for instance, which is what I did for exercise the last two days. The weather has been mild for winter – temps in the 30’s F.  I was able to borrow skis and boots from a retired skier and set out to see if I remembered how to move in them in an upright fashion.

Me, thinking I’m ready to go.

It took me 15 minutes or so to get dressed for this outing – a borrowed under layer from my sister in law, a borrowed pair of ski pants from my brother, a ski jacket from my nephew.  People up here have these things and it is a blessing not to have to buy them since they are often expensive. All these clothing items are specially designed to wick moisture away and still preserve body heat. This is important because cross country skiing is a very effective way of burning calories and you will SWEAT.

And I have to say – the newer gloves with “techy” fingers are great because you can open your touch screen to take pics without removing gloves. 

Cross country skiing can be done on the flat, thank God. In keeping my balance, I find there are mainly two things to watch out for – when I think I’m going to grip but instead I slide, and when I think I’m going to slide and instead I grip. Snow is funny that way. It is also different when you travel new snow for the first time and are breaking a trail. For this reason I did a long loop around the condo greenspace and then followed the tracks again the second time. The second time was much quicker. I find myself looking down a lot to keep my balance, but it also is fun to notice details like those in the next two pics.

The simplicity of things jumps out at you when everything is covered in white.
Deer tracks across the trail

I’m happy to say I did not fall once on the first day.  I did not fall on the second day until I finished three times around the loop and was feeling more confident. At that point the rubber toe broke off one of my boots and I suddenly discovered I had no connection to the right ski. I decided to walk the short distance to the house, and somehow forgot that I did still have a connection to the left ski. It’s like having one foot that is maybe 10 inches long and one that is six feet long – doesn’t work. I fell into soft, cushy white stuff which is tons better than any other kind of falling.

Just one way to battle winter and come out ahead. More coming, stay tuned…

Battling Winter, post #1

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Thinking back over the past few weeks, and the stories I have not told about them, makes me glad to be in my present circumstances where it is actually possible to catch up. I am with Mom, in beautiful northern Wisconsin, in my original hometown. No, there isn’t a medical emergency. No, I’m not escaping from the husband or any peril in Florida. I am here helping Mom battle winter.

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The loveliness of winter

Winter is a force to be reckoned with here. This area is a special part of the North American continent where the temperature maps show a peculiar dip in the cold zone. A finger of it comes south from Canada and curls around our river valley, making it slightly less habitable, particularly for anyone who is not fond of winter. The cold comes early and stays for months and leaves late in the spring. Some places much farther north, Anchorage Alaska for instance, have a warmer climate than this part of northwest Wisconsin.

It, winter, is a significant part of everyone’s experience in this small town. They all have wardrobes of jackets, mittens, hats and special suits, special boots, and special underwear – if they go outside at all. Those who don’t have to go outside, pretty much don’t.  The weather makes a lot of difference in how they go about their day.  Will the car start? Are the roads plowed yet? There are times when workers have to evaluate whether their job is important enough to risk 60 degrees F. below zero wind chill. That’s the cold, but there’s also the darkness. The sun goes down about 4 pm these days in December and it is still dark now at 7 am while I write. All this to say that winter can be tough, especially for our elders.

A lot of my family lives here because this is the land they know best. We started out here, are no longer too surprised by its harshness, and have learned to get along with winter. My Mom’s side of the family can point out the farm where they lived as children and many of her siblings came back after living elsewhere to make their home here. Some never left.

My dad’s side of the family also owned farmland and woodland, which my brothers now own and care for.  Mom lives in a fairly new, energy efficient condo, built by my brother on the farm where Dad grew up.  My brother’s house is within sight. The property used to be rural but now is on the edge of town. I could throw a rock and hit the local Walmart. We can walk to Pizza Hut in less than 5 minutes. My grandmother, long deceased, would not believe how things have changed outside her now renovated farmhouse. I’m not saying that this is bad. I’m just saying that it’s a lot of change in what seems like a short amount of time – but maybe it’s no so short. Time is funny like that.

So, winter has set in. I was able to fly to Minneapolis and catch the shuttle van going north. It was snowing as we approached Hayward, in the dark, last Wednesday. I was the last passenger to get delivered. The people before me had a home on one of the many local lakes. We tried three times to get up their driveway, but even though the plow had been through, the new dusting of snow made it too slippery to crest the hill. We went to a nearby boat landing that adjoined their property and they hiked/climbed, with their suitcases, in the dark, through the trees and the snow, to their house. They had done it before. I’m just saying, it’s winter and I’m in Hayward.

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Homecoming. Would you like to go through this to get to your front door?

Am I a Habitual Rescuer?

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Been thinking a lot of how God is in the business of eventually making all things new – restoration. And strangely, over the last 24 hours I’ve thought maybe I should be more like him and restore the piano. Three hundred dollars isn’t all that much. Maybe it can be fixed. It will feel good to try, even if it’s a bit crazy.

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Losing My Voice

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I am saddened. Today I decided to consult with a piano repairman about my faithful, long-standing instrument and its recent problem.  It will cost more to repair than it is worth, about $300. I would have thought it was worth more than that – it certainly was in its youth.

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Faithful friend

We acquired this Everett piano in 1974 or 75, I’m not certain of the date. The husband and I were newlyweds and in college. We had mentors, both of them teachers at the college, who were going to spend some time abroad and were selling a lot of their possessions that would be hard to store. We bought their piano and their car.

I’ve had access to a piano my whole life, except for a few years living in college dorms. Now I had my own, in my apartment, to play any time I wanted to. We moved from Texas to California and the piano came with us and survived the distance. We moved from California to Wisconsin and again the piano held up well. We moved from Wisconsin to Florida, with the piano in the trailer. Through all this it never had significant tuning problems, just a nick or two on its wooden surface and a stripped screw that held the music stand.

I practiced my lessons on this piano, as well as wedding music, funeral music, fun music for my kids, and special accompaniments for friends who sang. As my children learned to play their instruments, I learned to accompany them. There were years when I taught my own piano students – many small hands had their first introduction to music on the keys of my Everett. There was the year when I once again took lessons from a college professor, doing difficult music and learning intricacies that stretched my ability. Learning hymns and worship music for churches I worked for was always going on in the background. My piano was a workhorse.

But it was more than that. They say that music is a path to the soul, and I have experienced that connection. The instrument making the music became a voice for my soul. My piano taught me that beautiful sound is more than just pushing the right notes, it is putting emotion into those musical phrases, touching them in a particular way, a familiar way.

My piano has calmed me as I cried, has distracted me in distress, has satisfied my need to create. Although made of wood and metals, felt and ivory, it has become almost like a person to me. A treasured friend and encourager.

We are looking forward to one more move, and I have been paring down in anticipation of having to store whatever we decide to take with us. The piano is heavy. It will not store well, and it is broken. I think it is time to let go, but it is hard, and sad. Yes, it’s a sad day, and there are a few tears… just sayin’.

Mission Possible (Done!)

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One day earlier, I had gotten a call from my brother, small business owner of an award company. A shipment had gotten lost and an important account needed to be saved. By making an emergency trip and driving the found shipment to its destination on a tight schedule, I had myself a fun adventure. 

On Thursday last week, I took the two hour drive to the economy parking lot of Orlando International Airport. Memorizing my spot under a tree, I took the shuttle to the departure area and found my Frontier flight.

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No frills flight – so inexpensive.

It was only two hours but I got some reading done on the way. We arrived in Memphis earlier than scheduled, around 3 pm, and I walked (fast) to the Alamo car rental desk.  In no time at all I was choosing my mini-van, a Dodge Grand Caravan and putting the address of the shipping company into my phone navigation app.  It’s a little disconcerting when you get no service when in the parking garage. I had to drive out, not knowing where I was going, and find a street to park on while my directions loaded and I got my bearings.

The van was pretty sweet – leather seats and all the latest gadgets. I love driving and especially love a comfortable car, without a lot of road noise. My payload of 1200 pounds was going to make it a little heavy in the back but it would be driveable.

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My new dispatcher friends

The shipping company was only a few miles away, in a very secure, fenced yard with a guard. He directed me in, after I gave him my “story”, and told me to go to the dispatch office.  I was famous before I even arrived. They all knew about the “Orlando shipment” and told me some workers would be out with the pallet of goods immediately, and would even load it for me.

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One box in the passenger seat – the other 18 in back.
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Crystal and marble are heavy
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Everyone was so helpful!

It was only 4:30 and I was loaded and on the way out of Memphis. Fortunately, the airport was on the outskirts of the city and I had very little rush hour traffic to contend with. I drove for several hours after dark, meaning to get to Birmingham before stopping for some food. I really hadn’t had time to be hungry since breakfast. My brother checked on me by phone, my husband checked on me too, and I had a long conversation with a friend. All that, plus running my GPS, was getting me pretty low on phone battery.

Birmingham was the closest thing to a problem that I had the whole trip. It was foggy. I stopped to figure out the navigation program on the van but I didn’t like the way it looked so I kept the phone on too.  For a while I had two different devices telling me directions. which would have been great if they had been on the same route. I also got another phone call and missed an exit I was supposed to take. The good thing was I got some dinner. All this to say that Birmingham is a little confusing and I got on a different road than intended. Since it was an alternate route I decided to take it rather than back track. The new road was going south and that was the right direction.

My travel philosophy is connected to the faith I have in God to handle details – like maybe the route I take? Heading south on I-65 to Montgomery was a lot different than heading east on I-20 to Atlanta but I figured it must be the best route for reasons I didn’t know. Turns out I got to Montgomery at the right time for getting some sleep and was able to find a motel easily. I had six hours to rest up and get ready for the next day.

I was on the road by 6:30 am and although it was still foggy for quite awhile it was the most beautiful drive south I’ve seen in a long time. It was the right route for me. I was across the Alabama/Florida line by 10. The time zone change made it 11 am. I heard from the customer in Orlando and he was really hoping for an earlier ETA than I had told him. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted to hurry, but you can only go so fast and that’s how fast I went.

I-10, I-75, Florida Turnpike. All I can say is that there are too many toll stops on the Turnpike. I used all my cash and there were still more. Sometimes they don’t even tell you how much to pay, there’s no person at the booth, and the only choices are pre-paid tolls (nope, not in a rental car) or exact coins (nope, I’m out). I threw my last 30 cents in one of them and drove through anyway. Ha ha.

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A thumbs up from Diego!

The customer was on the phone with me as I neared Orlando, and was actually waiting on the sidewalk to direct me to the loading dock where my cargo was going. It was in the thick of the city and there was a lot of construction. Orlando is a big city, but being at the end of my trip, I didn’t care how it strange and busy it was. I was relieved to be there and get the apples unloaded. The only person more relieved than me was the customer. Diego was a nice young man and I guess he had a lot of work to do getting all those awards ready for the presentation. He said he was going to start putting the labels on them right away so I left and let him get to work.

I drove to the airport, turned in the rental van, found the shuttle to economy parking and my car, under the tree where I left it.  A few hours, and a couple of rush hour traffic jams leaving the city, and I was home. The “crazy train”, Apple Award rescue mission was over and it was a success.

So, what’s next?

Rescue Adventure!!

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20171129_185300.jpgI love adventure! And is there any adventure more exciting than getting to rescue someone or something, with deadlines, secret contacts, airports and in great haste? I can hardly believe I get to do this!!

Okay, the contacts aren’t really secret and I’m not rescuing a person, and I’m doing it in a mini van, but everything else is true and I’m doing it tomorrow and Friday!  I’m on a mission to deliver a shipment to its destination in Orlando. It was lost over three weeks now, including the long Thanksgiving weekend, and due to the delay the shipper cannot get it to Orlando by the Friday deadline.  Panic time for the customer! Fortunately, my brother’s company, Apple Awards, is great on customer service. He was on the phone most of the afternoon arranging alternate delivery by me, Apple Awards business blogger and emergency delivery driver.

I’m putting the “crazy train” details (my brother’s name for the operation, although no train is involved) down here so the husband has something to help him keep it all straight. It’s a little complicated but makes sense when you study it.

Step 1. Drive to airport in Orlando FL and take a flight to Memphis TN (about 6 hours)

Step 2. Pick up rented mini-van and drive to freight warehouse (eh, hopefully 1 hour)

Step 3. Load precious cargo and drive to Orlando to deliver (let’s say 13 hours minimum, and I can add sleep time if I need to)

Step 4. Turn in mini-van at airport in Orlando and drive home. (3 hours at most)

See, it’s only 4 steps and really quite simple. I think it’s the fact that it was all conceived and arranged in a couple of hours that makes it remarkable. Tomorrow I am on my way, and for once all I need is a backpack, because it will all be over in less than two days.

It’s an ideal mission for me since I love to drive, and I actually do like mini-vans for the most part. Stay tuned for my “mission debriefing” post, and if you are one of my praying readers, I’m asking for friendly skies and clear roads please.

The Work of Flying Home

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It’s a sad way to end a vacation, but I’ve had a headache for over 24 hours now. Nevertheless, today the husband and I are traveling home by air. I have a new phone with a “learning curve” involved. I am flying on an airline with an unfamiliar app.  I am set up for disaster at worst, awkwardness and embarrassment at the least.

At the bag drop, I tried to pull up the boarding passes. I hate looking like someone who doesn’t know how to operate my devices when other people are waiting and looking (and my head is pounding) but clearly that was me.  The husband and I stepped away to figure it out. Our second pass in front of the same attendant was no better because even though I had found the boarding passes, they didn’t have barcodes on them. “Go print at the kiosk” she ordered.

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In my opinion, this app needs serious tweaking.

The first kiosk I stood at for several minutes had an “Out of Order” sign on it that I didn’t notice at first. The second kiosk refused to scan my passport and trapped me in a vicious circular message of how to do what I was already doing without success. The third kiosk also would not scan my passport. The attendant, who had been watching, came over to see what I was doing (to help the elderly, confused woman who obviously was having trouble and about to pound on the machine). She said to type in my name and forget the passport. Out popped the boarding passes, of course. We checked the bag.

Next, we entered the security check area behind an Asian family, non-English speakers, who were having an  interesting difficult time understanding what to do.  The grandmother left her carry-on bag on the floor in front of me and tried to walk through the metal detector. I called out to her and she grabbed it and tried to pull it through the metal detector with her. Didn’t work. She was sent back to put it on the x-ray belt, along with her coat which the TSA person had to nearly take off her before she understood what to do. On the other side she walked off with her suitcase but I had to chase her down and give her the coat. It was so distracting. I also had to remove my boots with their big zippers before I could go through and retrieve all my stuff.

One of my most important jobs is keeping an eye on the husband as we travel, presumably together, but often yards apart. If he falls too far behind I wait for him so he doesn’t get lost. I am quicker at reading signs and hearing what others are telling me to do, so he naturally lets me do the navigating. Do I always do a good job of this? No.

Next, the husband and I found a seat in the waiting area by the gate. All seemed well until we began to be surrounded by families with babies and toddlers. I counted at least 10. Don’t get me wrong – I love children, but I know how much they don’t like to sit in a plane for three hours. My headache intensified.

Two hours later, somewhere flying south, as the babies began to cry and the parents began to plead I finally decided to take some Migraine Formula Excedrin. I zipped up my down jacket, which had been serving as a pillow, and put it over my head. It was nice in there. Dark, warm, quieter.

After arriving in Tampa, the remaining tasks were getting our checked bag, getting to economy parking, and getting out of economy parking. Nothing went horribly wrong but there were glitches. My whole point is that traveling is an adventure with challenges. From purchasing the right tickets, to finding one’s way through the airport labyrinths, using technology, devices and their apps, keeping track of traveling companions and their needs, managing your own comfort, and ending up in one piece at your final destination – it is a job, on its own right.  Do I get paid for this?

Something mildly crazy happens almost every time I fly.  How about you?

The Birthday Blessing

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November is the birth month of  both my mother and my father, who is now deceased. Last week the family was missing him and reminiscing about the birthday rituals in our past… The story of the birthday blessing needed to be refreshed, and here it is. 

 

It was 1961. Sunday mornings were undoubtedly stressful for the mom – how could they not be with four little boys to dress. It would be comparable to the circus act where the man balancing spinning plates on the tops of poles, would have to keep rushing back to give the first plate another spin before he got the last plate up and balanced. A completely dressed child would spill something on his shirt, an uncomfortable shoe would be kicked off and forgotten, a squabble would break out and hair would be mussed up, someone would discover a missing button, or perhaps escape outside and find some dirt. Fortunately the oldest, a girl, had learned to dress herself pretty well and even helped with the boys on occasion. It was somewhat safer when all were in the car, but even then… who would get to sit in the front seat on the way to church?

The small white church on the corner lot was where the family had worshiped for the last two generations. Mom and Dad had met there when they were teens. For decades life had revolved around the weddings, funerals, potlucks in the church basement and “youth group” activities. The wide “foyer” (such a funny word) was up a flight of cement steps and through double doors. The bathrooms and classrooms and kitchen were down the stairs to the left. Coats were hung on rods on the long wall which was bisected by another set of double doors with glass panes. These doors were often shut to guard the sacred quiet of prayer or teaching, but were wide open if service had not yet started.

Inside the sanctuary were two sections of wooden pews (another funny word for long benches with arms at the ends). A wide center aisle and narrower side aisles led up to the front of the church where the organ was on the far left next to another door going to the basement, and the piano on the far right. The raised stage was small, only having room for a podium for the speaker, and a short half wall behind which the choir sat. A door on the right side of the stage opened to a small room, where the pastor supposedly constructed his sermons, but most of the children knew it as the place where they waited nervously for their part to come in the Christmas program.

Most Sundays the children would enter, walk up to one of the first pews on the right and slide into place on the smooth wood. They would sit, not still, but sit, as the Sunday school superintendent (often their grandfather) would open the service with a welcome and some songs from the small chorus book. Their mother was often playing piano or organ. Their friends were usually sitting close by so the whispering and giggling would start. Big sister often got to sit with her best friend, but the boys needed to be monitored a little more closely.

Reading scripture was always a part of the opening. Better yet were the times when the “super” would give the Bible reference and have everyone compete to see who could find it first and get to read the scripture out loud. Announcements were given, an offering was taken (often by their father who was an usher), and then, “Who has had a birthday this week?” The honored ones were invited up to the front where a birthday offering was put in the little wooden church bank – coins to equal the age.  A jar full of new pencils would be brought out, if the birthday child was old enough to choose one for themselves. Then the congregation would be led in the birthday blessing.

“Many happy returns, on this, the day of thy birth

May blessing and sunshine be given,

And may the dear Father prepare you on earth,

For a beautiful birthday in heaven.”

It was memorized. There were no bulletins, no screens with words, no theater lighting or electric instruments. There were only families together with their God, doing Sunday school and church, worshiping, fellow-shipping, having birthdays and feeling blessed. And for those younger people, the words were said with little idea how meaningful they would become as time progressed.