The third book in Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers, series, Doctor Thorne, moves away from focus on the lives of clergy in the Church Of England. This book could be characterized as a love story as in "can an impoverished, blooded, member of the aristocracy marry someone of a lower class and find acceptance?" Trollope's answer is "Yes, if the commoner has wealth," wink, wink. It's a light hearted tweak of aristocratic pretensions.
While the book is not bursting with action it is filled with wry insights into the human condition. Trollope continues his play with appropriate names. Attorneys play their part in the story and ones who take their time work for the firm of 'Slow & Bideawhile.' Others are named Abraham Haphazard, Sir. Ricky Giggs, and Neversaye Die. Such names are indicative of Trollope's droll sense of humor which occasionally makes me laugh out loud.
Of very different genre is Bruce Chatwin's The Songlines. Ostensibly the books sets out as Chatwin's Australian travelogue with the aboriginals. The flyleaf says "Part adventure story, part philosophical essay, this extraordinary book takes Chatwin into the heart of Australia on a search for the source of man's restless nature." Chapters in the book are notes from his various travels and are at least as interesting as his Australian experiences. He believe humans are made to wander and when they become sedentary, settling in to farming and cities, they become corrupt. In his view nomads have a corner on virtue. This, of course is the tension in the Hebrew Bible between the virtue of following one's flock VS the lure of settlement. Can the God of the wilderness still reign in the fields and vineyards of settlement?" Songlines is a very interesting read.
While I was in a corn field this morning I saw triplets! It's the first time ever I've seen triplet fawns. A few days ago I saw twins but now triplets. They are young enough to still have mottled coats. How fun!
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 29, 2020
Sundry...
With the ascendancy of Black Lives Matter, this thought from the founder of the Methodist Church: (Could some unnecessary attack have been avoided had the movement been called "Black Lives Matter, Too"?)
"He was also an ardent
abolitionist. In Thoughts on Slavery (1774),
he wrote: '"Are you a man?
Then you should have an human heart.
But have you indeed? What is your heart made of? Is there no such principle as
Compassion there? Do you never feel another's
pain? Have you no Sympathy? No sense of human woe? No pity for the miserable?
When you saw the flowing eyes, the heaving breasts, or the bleeding sides and
tortured limbs of your fellow-creatures, was you a stone, or a brute? Did you
look upon them with the eyes of a tiger? When you squeezed the agonizing
creatures down in the ship, or when you threw their poor mangled remains into
the sea, had you no relenting? Did not one tear drop from your eye, one sigh
escape from your breast? Do you feel no relenting now? If you do not, you must go on,
till the measure of your iniquities is full. Then will the Great GOD deal
with You, as you have
dealt with them, and require
all their blood at your hands.'" Writer's Almanac, 9/28/2020
From another source and other issues:
"'Today,' he said, 'more than ever before, men had to learn to live without things. Things filled men with fear: the more things they had, the more they had to fear. Things had a way of riveting themselves on to the soul and telling the soul what to do."' Songlines, Bruce Chatwin, P. 64. Isn't that the truth? Everything we "own" ends up owning us. A POW remarked on the sense of freedom he had
From Songlines, again: "'Make no mistake,' he said. 'Epidemics are going to make nuclear weapons seem like useless toys."' P. 197 The book was copyrighted in 1987! What can I say? but "Ya, then...."
Yet I remained blessed and grateful.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS: Trygve, the wonder dog, was due for his shots. Worried about COVID the vet. said, "Not to worry, come to the clinic 15 minutes before opening and I'll give him his shots in the parking lot." I did and he did.😃
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| The Wonder Dog |
Sunday, June 28, 2020
Boundaries, geographical....
"There's a church over there? I didn't know that!" The geographical boundaries of the community in which I grew up were very distinct. U.S. Highway 81, was on the west edge of our farm. From homestead days my family related to the Sinai community to our east about 7 miles. West of us people went to either Arlington, seven miles north of the farm, or west to Oldham. The people I knew mostly went to Sinai Lutheran Church or Sinai School. A mile west of us we had a very clear view of the Damsgaard farm but I never met the family who lived there until I was out of high school. That church I saw, Spring Lake Covenant Church was five miles away and I never knew it was there until I spotted it from a high point on the farm when I was a teenager.
Spring Lake Church has been closed for some years. Last I knew they were having one worship service a year there. A few years ago, the church had been closed for some time, a wind damaged the building. The insurance money was used to repair it though it stands unused. Today I wandered the cemetery by the church because it was on my route from another cemetery.
Lake Whitewood Lutheran Church is a few miles south of Lake Preston, S.D. and 4 miles north of Sring Lake Church, In the early 70s I had a call to the church in Lake Preston and Lake Whitewood was a part of the parish. Now it is served by the pastors of First Lutheran Church, Brookings, and has services every Sunday when not closed by COVID.
Grandma Negstad, my father's mother had a sister at Lake Whitewood which is about about 25 miles from our farm. Contact with that branch of the family wasn't maintained for some unknown reason. Today, I think I may have found the grave of my great-aunt at the Lake Whitewood Cemetery. More research is needed.
Sundays and cemeteries....what can I say?
Takk for alt,
Al
Spring Lake Church has been closed for some years. Last I knew they were having one worship service a year there. A few years ago, the church had been closed for some time, a wind damaged the building. The insurance money was used to repair it though it stands unused. Today I wandered the cemetery by the church because it was on my route from another cemetery.
Lake Whitewood Lutheran Church is a few miles south of Lake Preston, S.D. and 4 miles north of Sring Lake Church, In the early 70s I had a call to the church in Lake Preston and Lake Whitewood was a part of the parish. Now it is served by the pastors of First Lutheran Church, Brookings, and has services every Sunday when not closed by COVID.
Grandma Negstad, my father's mother had a sister at Lake Whitewood which is about about 25 miles from our farm. Contact with that branch of the family wasn't maintained for some unknown reason. Today, I think I may have found the grave of my great-aunt at the Lake Whitewood Cemetery. More research is needed.
Sundays and cemeteries....what can I say?
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Dreams and more...
Three brothers lived in close proximity. My father, Albert, the oldest lived on the original homestead, where I grew up. Immediately across the road, U.S. Highway 81, lived Henry, with his wife Inga. A half mile south lived Sam, with his wife Josie. Inga and Josie were sisters. Henry's place is underwater now, the buildings gone but some trees remain.
Sam and Josie, along with their son Leslie and his family, moved to Washington state in the early 50s. That left brothers Albert and Henry as the remaining neighbors.
Henry and Inga had no children. With them childless and living just across the road I spent much time with them. There were things to do for them like mowing their lawn and other chores. With her sister Josie gone, and eventually settled in southern California, Inga spent much time there. In October 1967, while Inga was in California, Henry died. Inga then sold the farm and moved to California. She died in 1988 and they are both buried in "Joanne's" cemetery.
A nice 1.7" inch rain two nights ago left fields too wet for much activity. This morning's project was cutting back the sod around Henry's and Inga's grave. Of course that is memory time. Inga was a fastidious housekeeper. She'd say that she "cleaned house and scooped out the dirt." We'd laugh because there was never any dirt to be found in her house. Lutefisk, that wonderful Norwegian delicacy, she always called "lutefish." Fisk is the Norwegian word for fish but she changed from Norwegian to English mid-word.
Extended stay in The Little House is giving me opportunity to do these care taking tasks. There are two family plots in that cemetery remaining for me to fix. Projects such as these fill my days.
Joanne often appears in my dreams. These appearances are never dramatic but we are doing normal things. Last night we were out for coffee. The venue isn't recognizable but our interchange amuses me. Raised to take my cap/hat off indoors, which was reinforced by the Marines, I'm not comfortable wearing a cap inside. In the dream we're sitting with our coffee and I ask "do you want me to put my cap on?" She looks at my shaved head and says "yes." Now I know what Joanne thinks of my new hair style,😀
Takk for alt,
Al
Sam and Josie, along with their son Leslie and his family, moved to Washington state in the early 50s. That left brothers Albert and Henry as the remaining neighbors.
Henry and Inga had no children. With them childless and living just across the road I spent much time with them. There were things to do for them like mowing their lawn and other chores. With her sister Josie gone, and eventually settled in southern California, Inga spent much time there. In October 1967, while Inga was in California, Henry died. Inga then sold the farm and moved to California. She died in 1988 and they are both buried in "Joanne's" cemetery.
A nice 1.7" inch rain two nights ago left fields too wet for much activity. This morning's project was cutting back the sod around Henry's and Inga's grave. Of course that is memory time. Inga was a fastidious housekeeper. She'd say that she "cleaned house and scooped out the dirt." We'd laugh because there was never any dirt to be found in her house. Lutefisk, that wonderful Norwegian delicacy, she always called "lutefish." Fisk is the Norwegian word for fish but she changed from Norwegian to English mid-word.
Extended stay in The Little House is giving me opportunity to do these care taking tasks. There are two family plots in that cemetery remaining for me to fix. Projects such as these fill my days.
Joanne often appears in my dreams. These appearances are never dramatic but we are doing normal things. Last night we were out for coffee. The venue isn't recognizable but our interchange amuses me. Raised to take my cap/hat off indoors, which was reinforced by the Marines, I'm not comfortable wearing a cap inside. In the dream we're sitting with our coffee and I ask "do you want me to put my cap on?" She looks at my shaved head and says "yes." Now I know what Joanne thinks of my new hair style,😀
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, June 26, 2020
Another image for grief.
Grief Room
Grief is a room, invisible.
You are pushed into it.
For a while, it is the only
room in your house.
You stumble around.
No lights. No clocks.
No windows.
Empty.
When darkness is dark enough-
enough!-you cross
the threshold, return
to the visible world.
Dust on your desk,
on the fruit bowl.
Kitchen. Remember to eat.
Living room. Agree to talk.
When dust chafes
your living skin,
you'll step outside.
Sun and wind will be at play
and you'll find yourself smiling.
Really, I mean find yourself-
you've been lost all this time.
You have the whole place back now,
but that room will always be there,
and the door will always be open.
―Patricia McKernon Runkle
My friend, Sue, sent me this poem. Another friend, quite awhile ago, suggested the image of life in the land of grief. Both images, i.e., grief as a land and grief as a room speak to me. Runkle writes
"You have the whole place back now,
but that room will always be there,
and the door will always be open."
Living in isolation in the land of grief works quite well for me. I've "...step(ed outside.
Sun and wind will be (are) at play." Often I've wondered, "how would Joanne do in this quarantine?" Such separation is not designed for an extrovert.
Today was the day for my second self-inflicted haircut. Living, as I do without adult supervision, there's no one to tell me if I missed a spot on the back of my head. Philosophically I'm OK with it: if I did miss something then I have a "before and after" plot. 🌝
Takk for alt,
Al
Thursday, June 25, 2020
55 years ago today! 6/25/1965
The when and where of many of the events I remember doing with Joanne are vague. Not so with the event on this day 55 years ago. This is the 55th wedding anniversary of Frank and Carole Pollard and Joanne I were at the wedding. Carole is my cousin and they were married at St. Timothy Lutheran Church, Lakewood, CA. Lakewood is between Long Beach and Los Angeles.
Getting there was a bit of an adventure. Driving west of Las Vegas, in the middle of the desert, we had catastrophic engine failure. The 1962 Chevy II threw an engine rod through the block. Baling wire will not fix that! Standing in the morning heat trying to catch a ride the Buicks and Cadillacs heading back to LA fromm Las Vegas didn't even give us a look. Finally a Corvair, with a family of five African Americans, stopped and squeezed us in. They took us to Barstow which had a Chevrolet garage. We made arrangements to have the car towed there and repaired.
A bus got us to Lakewood and the wedding. After spending a few days in that area we flew to San Francisco to visit my uncle. How we got from San Francisco to Barstow, (bus? plane?) is lost in time. The discovery when arrived I remember clearly. No repair had begun on the car, it was Thursday, and I was supposed to be on duty at Westwood Lutheran Church, St Louis Park, MN., on Sunday!!! General Motors had shut down their warehouse for inventory so no parts had been delivered in the two weeks since the car was towed. A shipment was expected that morning, and if the short block was in the shipment, the garage would repair the car that day. Waiting at the garage was rewarded with the arrival of the block. Joanne and I rented a motel room for the day and slept as the car was being repaired.
About 4:00 p.m., we retrieved the car. and headed for home. Taking turns driving and sleeping (?) we drove straight through. Exactly when we arrived I have forgotten but it was on Saturday so I reported for duty on Sunday. Yes, we were young..............
Takk for alt,
Al
Getting there was a bit of an adventure. Driving west of Las Vegas, in the middle of the desert, we had catastrophic engine failure. The 1962 Chevy II threw an engine rod through the block. Baling wire will not fix that! Standing in the morning heat trying to catch a ride the Buicks and Cadillacs heading back to LA fromm Las Vegas didn't even give us a look. Finally a Corvair, with a family of five African Americans, stopped and squeezed us in. They took us to Barstow which had a Chevrolet garage. We made arrangements to have the car towed there and repaired.
A bus got us to Lakewood and the wedding. After spending a few days in that area we flew to San Francisco to visit my uncle. How we got from San Francisco to Barstow, (bus? plane?) is lost in time. The discovery when arrived I remember clearly. No repair had begun on the car, it was Thursday, and I was supposed to be on duty at Westwood Lutheran Church, St Louis Park, MN., on Sunday!!! General Motors had shut down their warehouse for inventory so no parts had been delivered in the two weeks since the car was towed. A shipment was expected that morning, and if the short block was in the shipment, the garage would repair the car that day. Waiting at the garage was rewarded with the arrival of the block. Joanne and I rented a motel room for the day and slept as the car was being repaired.
About 4:00 p.m., we retrieved the car. and headed for home. Taking turns driving and sleeping (?) we drove straight through. Exactly when we arrived I have forgotten but it was on Saturday so I reported for duty on Sunday. Yes, we were young..............
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
A regret!
"My advice to you, young
people, is to start asking questions of your elders about family history and
who did what when and why and don’t stop until you get answers because, though
you’re much too cool to be interested in family history now, someday you’ll
want to know these things and by that time they will all be dead.
Okay? Read that paragraph over a couple of times to yourself and
then go do it." Garrison Keillor
Keillor is correct. When I think of all the time I spent with my parents and how little I asked them I'm filled with regret. Mother was more willing to talk about her past than was my father. She would volunteer information. Occasionally my father would offer a story like telling of his mother who had a severe toothache. The nearest dentist was in the town of Lake Preston about 15 miles away and required travelling via a wagon. The toothache persisted until Lake Preston came into view and then it vanished. Now, there is so much I would like to know but don't because I didn't ask. This is further proof that youth is wasted on young people.
Today, observing my customary pattern I spent the morning outside on a project. It's another gorgeous day at The Little House. 79 degrees, sunny, slight breeze that makes the reflection of the trees in the pond look like an impressionist painting, with a few puffy clouds, is my definition of a perfect day. So I took my laptop outside and I'm writing this in the shade of a lilac. Certainly I'm blessed and Trygve likes it here, too.
Takk for alt,
Al
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| Mystery object on a wheel. |
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
Vegetative social distancing!
When white settlers came to America they attempted to plan corn, maize, as they had planted wheat. They would take the seed and scatter it by hand. It didn't work. Corn is the social distancing crop of the plant world. Modern seed corn companies do extensive research studying the maximum effective planting rate. Corn does not like to be crowded and is never found growing wild, it's always under some form of cultivation.
Last year I wrestled with the decision about spraying my corn. The farmer side of me wanted to spray for a clean fields. The sportsman side of me thought, 'weedy corn is better for wildlife' and so I didn't spray. This year the weed crop is choking the corn. If I don't spray there will be no corn.
This morning I sprayed the weediest field, It was so choked with weeds that almost no soil (don't call it dirt) was visible. The corn could almost be heard crying for "help". In addition to the issue of crowding, the weeds also take the nutrients, and moisture plus they also block the sun.
What about the other field you ask? Mechanical failure; so perhaps I'll accomplish spraying it tomorrow.
Deer seek salt. There are no natural salt licks in this area. Farmers who raise cattle buy salt for their herds in fifty pound blocks. The deer consume the fifty pound block I place by the food plot in twelve months. There was a doe with two fawn not far from the salt block yesterday, perhaps she is drawn to it. No one is permitted to hunt deer on that property so the salt is not a form of baiting.
Life is good, I am grateful!
Takk for alt,
Al
Last year I wrestled with the decision about spraying my corn. The farmer side of me wanted to spray for a clean fields. The sportsman side of me thought, 'weedy corn is better for wildlife' and so I didn't spray. This year the weed crop is choking the corn. If I don't spray there will be no corn.
This morning I sprayed the weediest field, It was so choked with weeds that almost no soil (don't call it dirt) was visible. The corn could almost be heard crying for "help". In addition to the issue of crowding, the weeds also take the nutrients, and moisture plus they also block the sun.
What about the other field you ask? Mechanical failure; so perhaps I'll accomplish spraying it tomorrow.
Deer seek salt. There are no natural salt licks in this area. Farmers who raise cattle buy salt for their herds in fifty pound blocks. The deer consume the fifty pound block I place by the food plot in twelve months. There was a doe with two fawn not far from the salt block yesterday, perhaps she is drawn to it. No one is permitted to hunt deer on that property so the salt is not a form of baiting.
Life is good, I am grateful!
Takk for alt,
Al
Monday, June 22, 2020
Come and gone.....
It was a real treat to entertain guests for a weekend. Days often pass when I do not have a face to face conversation. Phone calls are a great gift in isolation but they are not the same as in person conversation. Of course Joanne's presence would be the best for me. For her, isolated with a monosyllabic introvert, it might not be so great. It appears that many have given up on virus prevention but I'm not ready to surrender.
The house does seem quiet and empty. Trygve's very quiet but delighted in a romp in the field. With rain forecast for noon I quickly began my task of the day, after Lisa and Evy left at 8:00 a.m. The noon rain materialized but then quickly fizzled. Crops are doing well but rain would be welcome.
There are five horses, no camels this year, pastured on the edge of town. Evy delighted in pedaling her bike to the horses and feeding them greens through the fence. Both the proximity of the horses and the freedom to ride her bike pleased her.
So it is......
Takk for alt,
Al
The house does seem quiet and empty. Trygve's very quiet but delighted in a romp in the field. With rain forecast for noon I quickly began my task of the day, after Lisa and Evy left at 8:00 a.m. The noon rain materialized but then quickly fizzled. Crops are doing well but rain would be welcome.
There are five horses, no camels this year, pastured on the edge of town. Evy delighted in pedaling her bike to the horses and feeding them greens through the fence. Both the proximity of the horses and the freedom to ride her bike pleased her.
So it is......
Takk for alt,
Al
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| Evy feeding miniature horses. |
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Sunday = cemetery!
Joanne would be pleased. Today's outing was a trip to Bethlehem Lutheran Cemetery, Astoria, S.D. Astoria, population 130?, boasts a sign at the outskirts "ASTORIA, NEXT 4 EXITS." The cemetery a few miles east of Astoria is about a mile from the farm on which the Rev. Dr. Oscar C. Hanson grew up and he's Joanne's father.
Joanne's grandparents, Henry and Mary Hanson, are buried there. Henry died in 1937 and Mary in 1964, a month before Joanne and I were married. It was Mary who showed us the family Bible in which was recorded that my grandfather, Rev. Olai Bergh, had baptized her at Singsaas Church. Also buried at Bethlehem Cemetery are two of Joanne's aunts; Clara Solem with her husband Clarence and Myra Hanson. Clara's two daughters, Connie and Mavis are buried next to their parents.
Coming equipped with appropriate tools I did some much needed maintenance around the gravestones. It was also an opportunity for Lisa and Evy to learn more about their families. We'd hoped to visit the Singsaas Cemetery but there was some event there so we didn't tarry. Joanne's great-grandmother Kari Rasmuson is buried there. Singsaas is still an active congregation.
There were two Lutheran Churches east of Astoria; Bethany near town and Bethlehem a few miles east. Eventually they merged and formed Bethel Lutheran in town. Joanne also has relatives in the Bethany Cemetery but they are more distant.
Perhaps it's a sign of geezer-hood that I'm visiting these cemeteries, though I've always been fascinated by them. Cemeteries are filled with history and pathos. In this case it was also an opportunity to involve younger generations. We brought a picnic lunch which we enjoyed in the shade of the cemetery trees.
Takk for alt,
Al
Joanne's grandparents, Henry and Mary Hanson, are buried there. Henry died in 1937 and Mary in 1964, a month before Joanne and I were married. It was Mary who showed us the family Bible in which was recorded that my grandfather, Rev. Olai Bergh, had baptized her at Singsaas Church. Also buried at Bethlehem Cemetery are two of Joanne's aunts; Clara Solem with her husband Clarence and Myra Hanson. Clara's two daughters, Connie and Mavis are buried next to their parents.
Coming equipped with appropriate tools I did some much needed maintenance around the gravestones. It was also an opportunity for Lisa and Evy to learn more about their families. We'd hoped to visit the Singsaas Cemetery but there was some event there so we didn't tarry. Joanne's great-grandmother Kari Rasmuson is buried there. Singsaas is still an active congregation.
There were two Lutheran Churches east of Astoria; Bethany near town and Bethlehem a few miles east. Eventually they merged and formed Bethel Lutheran in town. Joanne also has relatives in the Bethany Cemetery but they are more distant.
Perhaps it's a sign of geezer-hood that I'm visiting these cemeteries, though I've always been fascinated by them. Cemeteries are filled with history and pathos. In this case it was also an opportunity to involve younger generations. We brought a picnic lunch which we enjoyed in the shade of the cemetery trees.
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, June 20, 2020
Company's coming...came!
Needing an escape from the city two visitors came to see me. It's either the last day of spring or the first of summer and my visitors have cleaned my cupboards, 13 years maybe?, ("throw that away just because it expired in 2009?") and made rhubarb/raspberry/blueberry crisp! Not only that, they brought Trygve. And, I'm told, tomorrow is Father's Day!😊😊😊😊 A feminine touch is quite welcome.
Lisa and Evy have come for the weekend and my solitude has been delightfully suspended temporarily. Trygve will now stay with me. As the nesting season for ground nesting birds comes to an end his presence in the fields will be less problematic. He was last here at New Year's but hadn't forgotten any of the routines.
Evy enjoyed the story of the Norwegian bachelor farmer who was on a neighboring farm during my childhood. He was very fussy about washing dishes. He would not allow guests to stack dirty dishes because then he'd have to wash both sides of them.
A bit of a non-sequitur: Out for a meal with my family in Thailand I had two plates. Having finished what was on one, I placed the one from which I was eating on the dirty plate. ALARM BELLS! My family leaped up saying "No, no, no!" Turns out there's a taboo about doing that because it signals 'death coming.' Needless to say I've never did that again!
Takk for alt,
Al
Lisa and Evy have come for the weekend and my solitude has been delightfully suspended temporarily. Trygve will now stay with me. As the nesting season for ground nesting birds comes to an end his presence in the fields will be less problematic. He was last here at New Year's but hadn't forgotten any of the routines.
Evy enjoyed the story of the Norwegian bachelor farmer who was on a neighboring farm during my childhood. He was very fussy about washing dishes. He would not allow guests to stack dirty dishes because then he'd have to wash both sides of them.
A bit of a non-sequitur: Out for a meal with my family in Thailand I had two plates. Having finished what was on one, I placed the one from which I was eating on the dirty plate. ALARM BELLS! My family leaped up saying "No, no, no!" Turns out there's a taboo about doing that because it signals 'death coming.' Needless to say I've never did that again!
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, June 19, 2020
Joanne's kind of day!
It's 73 degrees, wind out of the north at 5 mph, humidity is 55%, with some puffy clouds. This was Joanne's ideal day. She did not like hot weather and, with Lisa's return from Cambodia, one trip to SE Asia was enough for her. Cold didn't bother her and we used to tease her about her "parka". It was a light wind breaker and she didn't wear the beautiful Norwegian knit cap that Lisa gave, no matter how cold. What is so rare as a day in June?
Walking in my grassland today I missed stepping on a mallard sitting on her eggs by about 18 inches. It's a bit late so perhaps her first nesting attempt wasn't successful. Yesterday I saw a large brood of mallard ducklings, 12? 14? they were moving so quickly I couldn't be sure of the number. They were at least half grown. Not far from them was a large brood of blue wing teal ducklings which must have just hatched...they were tiny little fuzz balls.
Much of the joy of walking in the grass comes from seeing the birds; bobolinks have been described as wearing a tuxedo backwards, as kids we called them "skunk birds" because of their black and white colors. A wren was an unusual sight in the field. Sloughs are filled with red winged and yellow headed blackbirds. With the rising water cormorants and white pelicans have become common, as are egrets. A mother mud hen's chicks are very cute. Pied billed grebes we called "hell drivers" because of their rapid dive and resurfacing a long distance away. Brown thrashers have a claimed a row of cedars. King birds play 'leapfrog' with the tractor sitting on a fence and then flying a bit further, repeating this process. Field sparrows are common. Canada geese have completely eaten all of the soybean plants on my nephews one hillside. Rooster pheasants show themselves but the hens are either nesting or concealed with their broods. Shoveler ducks, often called 'spoonbills,' are 'tip ups' as they forage beneath the surface. Great blue herons stalk the shoreline looking for frogs and minnows. Bitterns, which we called 'slough pumps' becasue of their guttural call, stand in cattails with their long bills pointing up like a read. Meadow larks sing their cheerful song.
COVID has changed my pattern. Prior to COVID I'd commute regularly between The Little House and the Condo in MN. It's satisfying to stay here for longer periods. How long will I stay? Who knows but social distancing is simple here. There are projects to be done but no urgency in doing them.
Takk for alt,
Al
Walking in my grassland today I missed stepping on a mallard sitting on her eggs by about 18 inches. It's a bit late so perhaps her first nesting attempt wasn't successful. Yesterday I saw a large brood of mallard ducklings, 12? 14? they were moving so quickly I couldn't be sure of the number. They were at least half grown. Not far from them was a large brood of blue wing teal ducklings which must have just hatched...they were tiny little fuzz balls.
Much of the joy of walking in the grass comes from seeing the birds; bobolinks have been described as wearing a tuxedo backwards, as kids we called them "skunk birds" because of their black and white colors. A wren was an unusual sight in the field. Sloughs are filled with red winged and yellow headed blackbirds. With the rising water cormorants and white pelicans have become common, as are egrets. A mother mud hen's chicks are very cute. Pied billed grebes we called "hell drivers" because of their rapid dive and resurfacing a long distance away. Brown thrashers have a claimed a row of cedars. King birds play 'leapfrog' with the tractor sitting on a fence and then flying a bit further, repeating this process. Field sparrows are common. Canada geese have completely eaten all of the soybean plants on my nephews one hillside. Rooster pheasants show themselves but the hens are either nesting or concealed with their broods. Shoveler ducks, often called 'spoonbills,' are 'tip ups' as they forage beneath the surface. Great blue herons stalk the shoreline looking for frogs and minnows. Bitterns, which we called 'slough pumps' becasue of their guttural call, stand in cattails with their long bills pointing up like a read. Meadow larks sing their cheerful song.
COVID has changed my pattern. Prior to COVID I'd commute regularly between The Little House and the Condo in MN. It's satisfying to stay here for longer periods. How long will I stay? Who knows but social distancing is simple here. There are projects to be done but no urgency in doing them.
Takk for alt,
Al
Thursday, June 18, 2020
Forgiveness vs restoration.
In response to last night's blog about forgiveness Peter made a very helpful observation.
"And one might consider that forgiveness is different from absolving from consequences. A sinner may be forgiven for robbing a liquor store, but still must suffer the consequences of that act, including perhaps jail time. Totally separate from forgiveness." Peter
He's absolutely correct. People often confuse forgiveness and restoration. They are separate realities. If a pastor embezzles money from a congregation that he/she is serving he/she may well be forgiven. On the other hand he/she may never be restored to office of pastor in that or any other congregation.
Mr. Thompson, husband of a woman murdered at the Charleston church, recognized that by forgiving he, Mr. Thompson, gained freedom. Whether or not it does the perpetrator any good is beside the point and can only be determined by him. By giving forgiveness Mr. Thompson is giving himself a gift.
Unlike last spring when it rained without ceasing, almost like the Biblical "40 days and 40 nights," this year is much drier. It is dry enough that now we hope for rain. A half inch received last night is very welcome. Crops are not suffering and spring weather allowed efficient and timely planting. Memories from childhood are of wishing and waiting for rain. Now average annual rainfall, here at The Little House On The Prairie. is over 30% more than during my childhood. Another effect of climate change.
Takk for alt,
Al
"And one might consider that forgiveness is different from absolving from consequences. A sinner may be forgiven for robbing a liquor store, but still must suffer the consequences of that act, including perhaps jail time. Totally separate from forgiveness." Peter
He's absolutely correct. People often confuse forgiveness and restoration. They are separate realities. If a pastor embezzles money from a congregation that he/she is serving he/she may well be forgiven. On the other hand he/she may never be restored to office of pastor in that or any other congregation.
Mr. Thompson, husband of a woman murdered at the Charleston church, recognized that by forgiving he, Mr. Thompson, gained freedom. Whether or not it does the perpetrator any good is beside the point and can only be determined by him. By giving forgiveness Mr. Thompson is giving himself a gift.
Unlike last spring when it rained without ceasing, almost like the Biblical "40 days and 40 nights," this year is much drier. It is dry enough that now we hope for rain. A half inch received last night is very welcome. Crops are not suffering and spring weather allowed efficient and timely planting. Memories from childhood are of wishing and waiting for rain. Now average annual rainfall, here at The Little House On The Prairie. is over 30% more than during my childhood. Another effect of climate change.
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Five Years ago.
It's five years today since nine people were murdered during Bible study in a Charleston church. Anthony Thomas's wife, Myra, who was leading the study, was among those who were killed. Washington Post published a lengthy interview with Anthony reflecting on the tragedy and its aftermath. This quote is from than interview.
"Even five years later, he told me that he still hears criticism that he was too quick to forgive such a heinous crime. Anthony explains that choosing to forgive does not mean he dismisses, condones or excuses his wife’s murder. Instead, as he sees it, he’s unshackling himself of the burdens of distress and despair while acknowledging the foundational Christian truth that we’re all sinners."
Thomas rightly recognizes that forgiveness does as much for the forgiver as for the forgiven. Refusal to forgive shackles the refuser to the perpetrator and the incident with all its attendant pain and hurt. Forgiving, as Thomas points, out recognizes that we are all sinners.
The Minneapolis Tribune today published a lengthy article about an attempt to catalog all the racial lynchings in America. Fredrick Douglass biography, which I read recently, described his agony over the repression which quickly followed the conclusion of The War Between The States. Lynching became the method of denying racial justice and equality. We need to know what happened and why. Without confronting the reality there is no hope of change. We are all in this together. John Donne said it well.
John Donne (1572–1631)
Takk for alt,
Al
"Even five years later, he told me that he still hears criticism that he was too quick to forgive such a heinous crime. Anthony explains that choosing to forgive does not mean he dismisses, condones or excuses his wife’s murder. Instead, as he sees it, he’s unshackling himself of the burdens of distress and despair while acknowledging the foundational Christian truth that we’re all sinners."
Thomas rightly recognizes that forgiveness does as much for the forgiver as for the forgiven. Refusal to forgive shackles the refuser to the perpetrator and the incident with all its attendant pain and hurt. Forgiving, as Thomas points, out recognizes that we are all sinners.
The Minneapolis Tribune today published a lengthy article about an attempt to catalog all the racial lynchings in America. Fredrick Douglass biography, which I read recently, described his agony over the repression which quickly followed the conclusion of The War Between The States. Lynching became the method of denying racial justice and equality. We need to know what happened and why. Without confronting the reality there is no hope of change. We are all in this together. John Donne said it well.
John Donne (1572–1631)
For Whom the Bell Tolls
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Who'd thought?
As one who spent 8 years is a one room school, lived on a farm that for long had neither radio nor running water, etc., etc., I am certifiably a geezer and older than dirt's father, who'd think I'd be computer addicted? Well I am! When my computer crashed a few days ago I became seriously adrift. Even the life line of a Smart Phone, only kept me from going completely over the brink. But, here I am with a new laptop, and quickly going to forget the frustrations of dealing with corporate bureaucracies. Should I seek out a 12 step program for computeritis?
During this span of computer issues reading was it's typical balm. It's always fascinating to read about places I've been. In 1950 Norman Lewis traveled in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. His book detailing those travels; Dragon Apparent: Travels in Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam was published in 1951. Beginning in 1997 I've made several trips to SE Asia and most of the places he visited I have too.
In 1950 those three countries were still French Colonies but the Viet Minh was very actively fighting colonial rule. These opposing forces controlled different parts of the countries and his traveling dependent on very fluid military situations. In 1954 the French were decisively defeated but unfortunately Americans continued the conflict. One of the Viet Minh officers told Lewis that the only solution to colonial rule was communism. For many of those opposing colonial rule the real issue was nationalism.
So here I am computerized again and a benefit will be access to books on Kindle. The loan expired on a couple of books I was reading via Kindle while I was offline.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS My computer was fully backed up so I didn't lose any files.
During this span of computer issues reading was it's typical balm. It's always fascinating to read about places I've been. In 1950 Norman Lewis traveled in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. His book detailing those travels; Dragon Apparent: Travels in Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam was published in 1951. Beginning in 1997 I've made several trips to SE Asia and most of the places he visited I have too.
In 1950 those three countries were still French Colonies but the Viet Minh was very actively fighting colonial rule. These opposing forces controlled different parts of the countries and his traveling dependent on very fluid military situations. In 1954 the French were decisively defeated but unfortunately Americans continued the conflict. One of the Viet Minh officers told Lewis that the only solution to colonial rule was communism. For many of those opposing colonial rule the real issue was nationalism.
So here I am computerized again and a benefit will be access to books on Kindle. The loan expired on a couple of books I was reading via Kindle while I was offline.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS My computer was fully backed up so I didn't lose any files.
Monday, June 15, 2020
Surprised!
The Christian Century journal often invites readers to contribute essays on selected topics. The essays are interesting with personal stories of truth and authenticity. The topic for the May 6, 2020 issue was “plates”. It was a surprise to find wisdom about grief in an article about weight lifting plates.
Sarah Stewart wrote about her grief over the death of her friend. “I felt my life force returning, and I felt it was a response to the friend I still loved, a reminder that the best answer to death is to keep on living.” P. 26
“...the best answer to death is to keep on living.” Now isn’t that the truth! I too, like Sarah, felt my life force returning and it was about ten months after Joanne died. Though living in the land of grief the best answer is keep on living.
Takk for alt,
Al
Sarah Stewart wrote about her grief over the death of her friend. “I felt my life force returning, and I felt it was a response to the friend I still loved, a reminder that the best answer to death is to keep on living.” P. 26
“...the best answer to death is to keep on living.” Now isn’t that the truth! I too, like Sarah, felt my life force returning and it was about ten months after Joanne died. Though living in the land of grief the best answer is keep on living.
Takk for alt,
Al
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Sunday = cemetery
Last Sunday I drove to Minnesota to visit my aunt’s grave and also her husband’s and son’s. There was a fierce south wind and it was 97 degrees. Today I went to Joanne’s cemetery and there was a fierce south wind but it was only 80 degrees. Wind wears me out much more than heat.
Also buried in her’ cemetery are my parents, paternal grandparents, two uncles and their wives and a cousin and his wife. Not far from Joanne is my classmate with whom I attended 12 years of school. Very near Joanne is a woman that I knew who was a widow for sixty years! Many children are also buried there and I pause to contemplate parental grief. There is much company in the land of grief.
Yes, Lord “teach us to number our days and so get a heart of wisdom.”
Takk for alt,
Al
Also buried in her’ cemetery are my parents, paternal grandparents, two uncles and their wives and a cousin and his wife. Not far from Joanne is my classmate with whom I attended 12 years of school. Very near Joanne is a woman that I knew who was a widow for sixty years! Many children are also buried there and I pause to contemplate parental grief. There is much company in the land of grief.
Yes, Lord “teach us to number our days and so get a heart of wisdom.”
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Wedding Anniversary
No, no not mine. That was two weeks ago. This is the day that Martin Luther and Katherine von Bora were married, a former monk and a former nun. He had helped her escape from the convent.It was a happy marriage and they had six children. Katherine managed the money and business affairs because he had no talent for it. When he died she was devastated.
He gave several reasons for marrying; to please his father, rile the Pope, delight the angels and anger the devils. Nothing was said about love ❤️ nor anything about Katie😊.
I’m fine. I schedule one project a day outside. The weather is beautiful and I’m blessed.
Takk for alt,
Al
He gave several reasons for marrying; to please his father, rile the Pope, delight the angels and anger the devils. Nothing was said about love ❤️ nor anything about Katie😊.
I’m fine. I schedule one project a day outside. The weather is beautiful and I’m blessed.
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, June 12, 2020
On this date.
On this date Medgar Evers was assassinated standing in the driveway of his home in Mississippi.
On this day in 1929 Anne Frank was born. For her 13th birthday in 1942, she was given an autograph book she used as her diary she named kitty. Arrested in 1945, after hiding for two years, she died the next year in Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Her father published it in 1947. It gave the world a profound and intimate look at the evil of Nazism.
The frustrations of corporate bureaucracy! When my computer power cord failed I spent extra money for Best Buy to send it quickly to The Little House on The Prairie. What did they do? Sent it quickly to Minneapolis. Ever tried to get in touch with them? Impossible!!!
Takk for alt, except Best Buy!
Al
On this day in 1929 Anne Frank was born. For her 13th birthday in 1942, she was given an autograph book she used as her diary she named kitty. Arrested in 1945, after hiding for two years, she died the next year in Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Her father published it in 1947. It gave the world a profound and intimate look at the evil of Nazism.
The frustrations of corporate bureaucracy! When my computer power cord failed I spent extra money for Best Buy to send it quickly to The Little House on The Prairie. What did they do? Sent it quickly to Minneapolis. Ever tried to get in touch with them? Impossible!!!
Takk for alt, except Best Buy!
Al
Thursday, June 11, 2020
“Chosen”
While I was still at Noble Academy I was reading Chaim Potok’s Chosen with a group of 8th graders. It was a good choice because the Hmong and African students knew nothing of Judaism. The story is of a unusual friendship between two boys. Both are Jewish; one orthodox and the other Hasidic. It covers the period of WW II and the establishment of the nation of Israel 🇮🇱. Because we hadn’t finished it I did so now.
I recommend it. It’s well written and gives much insight into the difference’s of Jewish religious interpretation.
Takk for alt,
Al
I recommend it. It’s well written and gives much insight into the difference’s of Jewish religious interpretation.
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Oops
Computer issues will effect blogging temporarily. Will resume more normally when issue is resolved. I am alive and well.
Takk for alt,
Al
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
More good reading!
'Worship wars' were part of my work experience. Lines were drawn between 'traditional' vs. 'contemporary' and organ versus bands. Happy that is in my past. Now I've discovered such conflict is nothing new.
Anthony Trollope's Barchester Tower, book, and six book series by the same name, are set in the fictional Church of England's, Barchester Diocese. When the beloved old bishop dies a new bishop is appointed by the state. The new bishop, and his personal chaplain, favor a less liturgical and more evangelical style of worship. Battle lines are quickly drawn in the midst of which love and marriage add intrigue. Barchester Towers was published in 1857, so these worship issues have a long history.
The book is a delightful read with much good humor, some of which made me laugh out loud. Trollope has a wry sense of humor which is often displayed by the names he gives characters in his novels. Take for example the name of one pastor who is the father of 14 children; he's named Rev. Quiverfull! Happy endings aren't all bad, not every novel needs to end with everyone going to smash. Interwoven in the stories are astute observations about human character and important ethical observations.
I'm indebted to Peter for recommending Trollope to me...thanks! So many good book..........
Takk for alt,
Al
Anthony Trollope's Barchester Tower, book, and six book series by the same name, are set in the fictional Church of England's, Barchester Diocese. When the beloved old bishop dies a new bishop is appointed by the state. The new bishop, and his personal chaplain, favor a less liturgical and more evangelical style of worship. Battle lines are quickly drawn in the midst of which love and marriage add intrigue. Barchester Towers was published in 1857, so these worship issues have a long history.
The book is a delightful read with much good humor, some of which made me laugh out loud. Trollope has a wry sense of humor which is often displayed by the names he gives characters in his novels. Take for example the name of one pastor who is the father of 14 children; he's named Rev. Quiverfull! Happy endings aren't all bad, not every novel needs to end with everyone going to smash. Interwoven in the stories are astute observations about human character and important ethical observations.
I'm indebted to Peter for recommending Trollope to me...thanks! So many good book..........
Takk for alt,
Al
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| A good time to remember Joanne's piano. |
Monday, June 8, 2020
Letters to the editor.
On June 2, I sent this letter to the editor of the Minneapolis Star Tribune. To date it has not been published.
From 1959-1962 I served as an enlisted
person in the United States Marine Corps. As I’ve considered the role of police
unions in our current unrest I’ve tried to imagine my Marine experience, had
the Corps been unionized. “Hold on a minute Drill Instructor, the union
says you’ve violated my rights when you called me a ‘Petrified Piece of Buzzard
Puke.’” Vaunted Marine discipline would never happen with split authority.
Likewise, there will never been police reform as long as the union calls the
shots. Absent union abuse, Mr. Floyd would likely still be alive and an officer
would not be charged with murder.
Today I decided to write to the editor again. This is what I wrote.
Perhaps it may not be published either. Display of the Confederate Flag seems so inappropriate. The Confederate States went to war with the United States over the issue of slavery. That is treason on behalf of racism. Neither make that flag a proud banner.
It was 88 degrees when I attacked a battalion of cedar trees in a ditch. The temperature was no issue but the 22 mph. south wind beat me up. The second day of such wind must mean there is a very deep low pressure to the north.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS After my excursion yesterday I consulted my grandfather's autobiography. My aunt, Marie Cecelia, taught vacation Bible School at Ellsborough Lutheran Church and that is how she met her husband.
Sunday, June 7, 2020
What might have been!
Cousins; there were several on my mother's side of the family...the Berghs. Uncle Oscar did his part with 7 daughters and a son. My mother contributed four. There could have been many more. Uncle Martin died in a plane crash in his early 20s before he was married. Aunt Ella died unmarried in 1918 of the Spanish Flu. Aunt Margaret had a hear murmur so had no children and died about age 40. Aunt Huldah married a widower and they had no children. There were ten children in mother's family who lived to adulthood...the first two died as infants. Mother was third youngest.
This brings us to Marie Cecelia, mother's oldest surviving sibling. Mother always called her Cecelia so that's the name I will use. Grandpa Bergh was a pastor in the Hauges Lutheran Synod. He established a congregation 4 miles south of Volga, S.D.. on land he owned, in 1884. Because there was a shortage of pastors he traveled to other congregations to preach. One of those congregations was 15 miles southwest of Balaton, MN. Balaton is about 60 miles east of Volga and a train connected them.
Likely Cecelia traveled with her father to the congregation near Balaton where she met and married a local farmer, Alfred Folstad (My mother much later would marry a farmer named Albert Negstad.).
In 1910 Cecelia gave birth to my cousin, Clifford Folstad. A month after Clifford was born Cecelia died of uremic poisoning. Three years later Clifford drown in a cattle, water tank. In 1920, Cecelia's husband and Clifford's father, Alfred, died of the Spanish Flu.
Long I've wanted to visit the cemetery where they are buried and today I did. Expecting a forlorn and forgotten place I brought materials to clean neglected grave markers. Much to my surprise, and pleasure, I found an exceptionally well tended cemetery. The church which once stood there was founded in 1900, so the Folstads are among the earlier burials and quite central. No upkeep was required of me.
It was 97 degrees with a fierce south wind, the temperature I don't mind, blowing much dust in the air. There is a deep sense of satisfaction making the visit and it feels it feels like I've completed an important loop. My mother was ten when Cecelia died and, before her sister's untimely death, she would go and stay with her. Had this family lived I may have been blessed with more cousins.
Takk for alt,
Al
This brings us to Marie Cecelia, mother's oldest surviving sibling. Mother always called her Cecelia so that's the name I will use. Grandpa Bergh was a pastor in the Hauges Lutheran Synod. He established a congregation 4 miles south of Volga, S.D.. on land he owned, in 1884. Because there was a shortage of pastors he traveled to other congregations to preach. One of those congregations was 15 miles southwest of Balaton, MN. Balaton is about 60 miles east of Volga and a train connected them.
Likely Cecelia traveled with her father to the congregation near Balaton where she met and married a local farmer, Alfred Folstad (My mother much later would marry a farmer named Albert Negstad.).
In 1910 Cecelia gave birth to my cousin, Clifford Folstad. A month after Clifford was born Cecelia died of uremic poisoning. Three years later Clifford drown in a cattle, water tank. In 1920, Cecelia's husband and Clifford's father, Alfred, died of the Spanish Flu.
Long I've wanted to visit the cemetery where they are buried and today I did. Expecting a forlorn and forgotten place I brought materials to clean neglected grave markers. Much to my surprise, and pleasure, I found an exceptionally well tended cemetery. The church which once stood there was founded in 1900, so the Folstads are among the earlier burials and quite central. No upkeep was required of me.
It was 97 degrees with a fierce south wind, the temperature I don't mind, blowing much dust in the air. There is a deep sense of satisfaction making the visit and it feels it feels like I've completed an important loop. My mother was ten when Cecelia died and, before her sister's untimely death, she would go and stay with her. Had this family lived I may have been blessed with more cousins.
Takk for alt,
Al
 |
| Where the Folstads are buried. |
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| Before. |
 |
| After. |
Saturday, June 6, 2020
June 6, 1964
It was a beautiful summer evening June 6, 1964, which, like 2020, fell on a Saturday. It had been a busy week. The previous Sunday I graduated from Augustana College. Six days later Joanne and I were married at First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls.
Joanne's bridesmaids were her sister, Mary, Jenine Peterson (Jordahl) and the late Maxine Amundson. Groomsmen were my brothers David, the late Richard and David Halvorson. The late Pastor Mark Gravdal presided and Joanne's father, the late Rev. Dr. Oscar C. Hanson did the homily. Roger Hatlestad played the organ, Stein Mydske was soloist and the Augustana Choir Sang. The processional hymn was Love Divine. Stein, from Fredrickstad, Norway, was present at our 50th wedding anniversary and, accompanied by his wife, sang the solo again: Kjaerlighet Fra Gud,
There was neither time nor money for much honeymoon. Joanne had accepted a position as counselor at the St. Louis Park High School, MN., on the condition that she take an additional counseling course. She had a Master's Educational Psychology from the University of MN. This course was offered at the University Of S.D. in Vermillion, beginning the Monday following our wedding.
Being self-quarantined on this 56th anniversary, and the third since Joanne's death, makes it unique. With the cemetery where she is buried so proximate to The Little House on the Prairie I chose to spend my morning there today. It was a good opportunity to tend her grave and several others. Naturally it reminded me of the depth of my loss but also of many memories of 54 years of marriage.
Takk for alt.
Al
Joanne's bridesmaids were her sister, Mary, Jenine Peterson (Jordahl) and the late Maxine Amundson. Groomsmen were my brothers David, the late Richard and David Halvorson. The late Pastor Mark Gravdal presided and Joanne's father, the late Rev. Dr. Oscar C. Hanson did the homily. Roger Hatlestad played the organ, Stein Mydske was soloist and the Augustana Choir Sang. The processional hymn was Love Divine. Stein, from Fredrickstad, Norway, was present at our 50th wedding anniversary and, accompanied by his wife, sang the solo again: Kjaerlighet Fra Gud,
There was neither time nor money for much honeymoon. Joanne had accepted a position as counselor at the St. Louis Park High School, MN., on the condition that she take an additional counseling course. She had a Master's Educational Psychology from the University of MN. This course was offered at the University Of S.D. in Vermillion, beginning the Monday following our wedding.
Being self-quarantined on this 56th anniversary, and the third since Joanne's death, makes it unique. With the cemetery where she is buried so proximate to The Little House on the Prairie I chose to spend my morning there today. It was a good opportunity to tend her grave and several others. Naturally it reminded me of the depth of my loss but also of many memories of 54 years of marriage.
Takk for alt.
Al
Friday, June 5, 2020
Race relations.
On this day in 1851, an abolitionist newspaper in Washington, D.C., began publishing installments of a novel called “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” The author, Harriet Beecher Stowe, had been appalled by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. “The time is come,” she wrote to the newspaper’s editor, “when even a woman or a child who can speak a word for freedom and humanity is bound to speak.” Many spoke, but few spoke with such impact. “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” — inspired by the memoir of Josiah Henson — became the best-selling novel of the 19th century and reached an even wider audience through theatrical adaptations.
Frederick Douglass wrote that the novel’s “effect was amazing, instantaneous, and universal.”
Washington Post
Given national events following George Floyd's death it's appropriate to remember Uncle Tom's Cabin. There came a time when the novel came under heavy criticism for sentimentalism and stereotypes. Perhaps that is a helpful corrective but, in fairness to the author and novel, we should be careful of judging it on the basis of latter day values. President Lincoln is reported to have said to Stowe "So you're the lady who started the war." That's likely apocryphal. But the book certainly did much to support the abolitionist cause.
Prophet of Freedom, the biography of Frederick Douglass, which I recently finished, not only details Douglass remarkable life. It also lays out clearly the persistence and revival of white supremacy, after the War Between the States. This was most evident in the Jim Crow laws and lynchings in the South. White supremacy is alive and well in all facets of American Life.
We have much work to do and we best begin with ourselves.
Takk for alt,
Al
My city council representative wrote this for TIME MAGAZINE.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Same, same...
Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers was published in 1857, not even I was alive then. 😊 Those of you who have read this classic may remember that the context of the novel is the Church of England's Diocese of Barchester. The issues that arise in this fictional diocese are very similar to many of the issues experienced during my ministry.
There's the issue of the role of music and liturgy for instance. Of course the big issue then, as now, is power and personality. Who will be in charge? When the new bishop comes, immediately there's division into two camps. There are those who like the way things were done and those happy for change. "We've always done it this way."
Trollope's a great writer, which goes without saying since his books are still popular. Some of the scenes make me laugh out loud. Perhaps this should have been assigned reading in seminary. It would have been a good seminar text in preparation for congregational life.
Obviously I'm a person of privilege that I have the leisure and opportunity to spend much time reading.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS It was on this day, June 4, 962, that I was honorably discharged from the United States Marine Corps. Two years and two days later, June 6, 1964, Joanne and I were married. It was my pattern to tease Joanne that I could always remember our anniversary date in relationship to the date of my discharge. Uffda.
There's the issue of the role of music and liturgy for instance. Of course the big issue then, as now, is power and personality. Who will be in charge? When the new bishop comes, immediately there's division into two camps. There are those who like the way things were done and those happy for change. "We've always done it this way."
Trollope's a great writer, which goes without saying since his books are still popular. Some of the scenes make me laugh out loud. Perhaps this should have been assigned reading in seminary. It would have been a good seminar text in preparation for congregational life.
Obviously I'm a person of privilege that I have the leisure and opportunity to spend much time reading.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS It was on this day, June 4, 962, that I was honorably discharged from the United States Marine Corps. Two years and two days later, June 6, 1964, Joanne and I were married. It was my pattern to tease Joanne that I could always remember our anniversary date in relationship to the date of my discharge. Uffda.
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| Joanne eating Lutefisk |
Wednesday, June 3, 2020
Realities in the land of grief.
Wang Lung the protagonist in The Good Earth recognizes that his life is coming to an end. He walks on his land, lives again in the farm house, abandoning his mansion in town and studies the burial ground on land. He would be buried near his first wife, O-lan.
"Then he went into the enclosure and he looked carefully and he saw the place where he would lie below his father and his uncle and above Ching and not far from O-lan. And he stared at the bit of earth where he was to lie and he saw himself in it and back in his own land forever."
Buck, Pearl S.. The Good Earth (The Good Earth Trilogy Book 1) (p. 208). Open Road Media. Kindle Edition
I. too, walk on the land and then visit Joanne in the cemetery. There I see the place where I will lie and my name and birth date on the marker with space left for the date I die.
."And in this the widow’s deep grief was softened, and a sweet balm was poured into the wound which she had thought nothing but death could heal. How much kinder is God to us than we are willing to be to ourselves! At the loss of every dear face, at the last going of every well beloved one, we all doom ourselves to an eternity of sorrow, and look to waste ourselves away in an ever-running fountain of tears. How seldom does such grief endure! How blessed is the goodness which forbids it to do so! ‘Let me ever remember my living friends, but forget them as soon as they are dead,’ was the prayer of a wise man who understood the mercy of God. Few perhaps would have the courage to express such a wish, and yet to do so would only be to ask for that release from sorrow, which a kind Creator almost always extends to us."
Trollope, Anthony. Barchester Towers (AUK Revisited Book 8) (p. 10). Andrews UK Ltd. Kindle Edition.
Trollope has captured the movement of grief from acute to chronic. "At the loss of every dear face, at the last going of every well beloved one, we all doom ourselves to an eternity of sorrow, and look to waste ourselves away in an ever-running fountain of tears. How seldom does such grief endure! How blessed is the goodness which forbids it to do so!" The author is correct; the grief that begins as a knife stabbing in one's ribs subsides to a sure and certain ache. Yet, in the land of grief there is opportunity for satisfaction, meaning and even joy.
Takk for alt,
Al
"Then he went into the enclosure and he looked carefully and he saw the place where he would lie below his father and his uncle and above Ching and not far from O-lan. And he stared at the bit of earth where he was to lie and he saw himself in it and back in his own land forever."
Buck, Pearl S.. The Good Earth (The Good Earth Trilogy Book 1) (p. 208). Open Road Media. Kindle Edition
I. too, walk on the land and then visit Joanne in the cemetery. There I see the place where I will lie and my name and birth date on the marker with space left for the date I die.
."And in this the widow’s deep grief was softened, and a sweet balm was poured into the wound which she had thought nothing but death could heal. How much kinder is God to us than we are willing to be to ourselves! At the loss of every dear face, at the last going of every well beloved one, we all doom ourselves to an eternity of sorrow, and look to waste ourselves away in an ever-running fountain of tears. How seldom does such grief endure! How blessed is the goodness which forbids it to do so! ‘Let me ever remember my living friends, but forget them as soon as they are dead,’ was the prayer of a wise man who understood the mercy of God. Few perhaps would have the courage to express such a wish, and yet to do so would only be to ask for that release from sorrow, which a kind Creator almost always extends to us."
Trollope, Anthony. Barchester Towers (AUK Revisited Book 8) (p. 10). Andrews UK Ltd. Kindle Edition.
Trollope has captured the movement of grief from acute to chronic. "At the loss of every dear face, at the last going of every well beloved one, we all doom ourselves to an eternity of sorrow, and look to waste ourselves away in an ever-running fountain of tears. How seldom does such grief endure! How blessed is the goodness which forbids it to do so!" The author is correct; the grief that begins as a knife stabbing in one's ribs subsides to a sure and certain ache. Yet, in the land of grief there is opportunity for satisfaction, meaning and even joy.
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
The Good Earth
"Thus spring wore on again and again and vaguely and more vaguely as these years passed he felt it coming. But still one thing remained to him and it was his love for his land. He had gone away from it and he had set up his house in a town and he was rich. But his roots were in his land and although he forgot it for many months, when spring came each year he must go out on to the land; and now although he could no longer hold a plow or do anything but see another drive the plow through the earth, still he must needs go and he went."
Buck, Pearl S.. The Good Earth (The Good Earth Trilogy Book 1) (pp. 207-208). Open Road Media. Kindle Edition.
Wang Lung is the main character in Buck's The Good Earth, who made his wealth on the land, except for some strategic looting in a southern city to which the fled to avoid starvation. "But his roots were in his land..." Now in his old age he needs to visit his land. Ah, yes, I can relate because today I was again on the land. I, too, in my old age find comfort in the land.
With the combination of returning stability to Minneapolis and the comfort of Lisa's neighborhood community we decided it would be okay for me to return to The Little House on The Prairie. So I did yesterday and spent the morning walking in grasslands.
The link below I recommend with a mixture of feelings. In most situations I support unions and unionizing. However, the division of accountability in unionized police departments stifle attempts to discipline and reform police. Read the link and draw your own conclusions.
There’s One Big Reason Why Police Brutality Is So Common In The US. And That’s The Police Unions. https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/melissasegura/police-unions-history-minneapolis-
reform-george-floyd
Takk for alt,
Al
Buck, Pearl S.. The Good Earth (The Good Earth Trilogy Book 1) (pp. 207-208). Open Road Media. Kindle Edition.
Wang Lung is the main character in Buck's The Good Earth, who made his wealth on the land, except for some strategic looting in a southern city to which the fled to avoid starvation. "But his roots were in his land..." Now in his old age he needs to visit his land. Ah, yes, I can relate because today I was again on the land. I, too, in my old age find comfort in the land.
With the combination of returning stability to Minneapolis and the comfort of Lisa's neighborhood community we decided it would be okay for me to return to The Little House on The Prairie. So I did yesterday and spent the morning walking in grasslands.
The link below I recommend with a mixture of feelings. In most situations I support unions and unionizing. However, the division of accountability in unionized police departments stifle attempts to discipline and reform police. Read the link and draw your own conclusions.
There’s One Big Reason Why Police Brutality Is So Common In The US. And That’s The Police Unions. https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/melissasegura/police-unions-history-minneapolis-
reform-george-floyd
Takk for alt,
Al
Monday, June 1, 2020
Thoughts of Syria!
COMMUNITY! Lisa's street is organized in a neighborhood watch arrangement. Last night a schedule was arranged so that two persons were always awake and on lookout. Shifts were arranged so that pairs took 2 hours of watch each. Everyone is linked by 'text' so if a car even drove down the street its progress and description was monitored. This neighborhood is about 10-14 blocks from where George Floyd died. With random acts of mayhem, no place is totally safe but there is some "herd immunity" because there are so many houses.
As we prepared for the night I thought about Syria. What would it be like to live in a real war zone where there is no assurance of safety in your own home? How many places in the world are like Syria, where safety and security don't exist? What would it be like to have to flee your home only to be rejected at some national border?
The Twin Cities were relatively quiet last night. Law enforcement personnel are doing an adequate job of enforcing the curfew without over-reacting and making things worse. That's no easy task. Some good evening rains would be helpful. COVID, is almost certainly spreading via the protesters. June will probably be a very bad month with the spread of the virus...likely our worst yet.
Well...on that cheerful note I'll sign off, grateful for so much to so many!
Takk for alt,
Al
As we prepared for the night I thought about Syria. What would it be like to live in a real war zone where there is no assurance of safety in your own home? How many places in the world are like Syria, where safety and security don't exist? What would it be like to have to flee your home only to be rejected at some national border?
The Twin Cities were relatively quiet last night. Law enforcement personnel are doing an adequate job of enforcing the curfew without over-reacting and making things worse. That's no easy task. Some good evening rains would be helpful. COVID, is almost certainly spreading via the protesters. June will probably be a very bad month with the spread of the virus...likely our worst yet.
Well...on that cheerful note I'll sign off, grateful for so much to so many!
Takk for alt,
Al
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