Weekend Adventure

I started taking pipe organ lessons earlier this year and just had opportunity arise to buy a used practice organ for my home.  After much deliberation (especially about where we could make room for it), the decision was made to get it.  This weekend's first "adventure" was tackling our bonus room upstairs - taking everything off the shelves and moving them and other things - lots of dusting and reorganizing ensued.

 Finally a big enough space in the corner was cleared out:

ASIDE - We REALLY like games!  So that's what our shelves are full of!

 The organ arrived around 4:30pm Saturday from Patterson in a sweet ride.

Dear friends and family members arrived, ready to haul quite a large instrument upstairs.

 Banisters were protected against any untoward events.

Time to start unloading  .  .  .

 Here comes the pedal board.  Thank goodness the organ could be taken up in pieces!

Slowly the organ makes its way to the house  .  .  .  

   .  .  .  bit by bit  .  .  .  carefully all the way  .  .  .

Now to figure out how to get it up the stairs  .  .  .

  .  .  .  all 400 or so pounds of it  .  .  .

Up we go!

A little concern at the landing.

 Got it!

Settling into it's spot  .  .  .

Time for much-needed refreshments!

 Then back up for some repairs  .  .  .

   .  .  .  including the use of open flame!

  .  .  .  and then the professional showed me how it's done.

 Caleb, enjoying the concert  .  .  .

 And then it was my turn!

 And here it is in all it's glory.  The biggest game in the game room! :-)

Cross Country Awesomeness

David shared the coolest thing today.  At the end of Caleb's cross country meet, when the varsity were running the last race, it looked like it was all over - teams were gathering for the awards.  The crowd at the finish line had dispersed.  This one guy was walking on the course, and David figured it was someone who had finished and was cooling off.  It turns out he was the last runner - hadn't made it in yet - had kinda given up.  A group of guys from a different high school saw this kid and started cheering him on.  Then they headed his way, surrounded him and began to jog, and he began to jog too.  He finished with a sprint.  There were no longer any bystanders at the finish line, just one official.  It's like no one even knew this kid was still in the race, but his competitors surrounded him with support and brought him in.  I was moved to tears at hearing this and feel my faith in humanity restored!

Time o' Year for Hay

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today—
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences—
It's time o' year for Hay.

And Broad—Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil—
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile—

It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields—
The Busy Carts—the fragrant Cocks—
The Mower's Metre—Steals—

A Trouble lest they're homesick—
Those Farmers—and their Wives—
Set separate from the Farming—
And all the Neighbors' lives—

A Wonder if the Sepulchre
Don't feel a lonesome way—
When Men—and Boys—and Carts—and June,
Go down the Fields to "Hay"— 

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Recess Never Comes

J 413

I never felt at Home — Below —-
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at Home — I know —
I don't like Paradise —

Because it's Sunday — all the time —
And Recess — never comes —
And Eden'll be so lonesome
Bright Wednesday Afternoons —

If God could make a visit —
Or ever took a Nap —
So not to see us — but they say
Himself — a Telescope

Perennial beholds us —
Myself would run away
From Him — and Holy Ghost — and All —
But there's the "Judgement Day"!

-Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Unc Marv

My last three posts have been of poems about suffering and death as I've been trying to process the loss of "Unc Marv" - my husband's Uncle Marv who always signed off on emails to us that way.

We lived about 300 miles apart, and we were in different seasons of life, so we didn't get to see each other much.  But I always tremendously enjoyed any time I got to spend with him.  He was fascinating to talk with, and he had the most beautiful speaking voice I have ever heard.  I'm having a hard time processing the fact that I won't be able to hear that voice again on earth, nor will the future conversations I had hoped to have with him ever come about now.

He was a world-class scholar - holding an endowed chair at Chapman University in Southern California - and frequently consulting for the National Geographic Society.  He spent time at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton.  One of his specialties was the Coptic language, and National Geographic called him in the help translate the recently rediscovered ancient text, the Gospel of Judas.  He'd been interviewed not only on the National Geographic Channel, but also on PBS, the BBC, A&E, NPR, the History Channel, etc.

Sometimes we would turn on the TV and - surprise! - hear Uncle Marv's unmistakable voice!  What fun!

Yet he was so humble, and he would listen with great interest as I talked about my enthusiasm for mathematics and poetry.  He was very down-to-earth, was so full of life, and had an amazing sense of humor.  I can still see the sparkle in his eye.

Though he was our uncle, he was only 17 years older than us, and his youngest child is only 4 years older than our oldest.  I hurt for them and for his wife, our Aunt Bonnie.

We used to joke about David and his uncle actually being twins.  There is that 17-year age difference, but there was an uncanny resemblance.  Though they don't quite do the resemblance justice I'm going to close out with a couple of pictures of the two of them.

Elegy

Let them bury your big eyes
In the secret earth securely,
Your thin fingers, and your fair,
Soft, indefinite-colored hair,—
All of these in some way, surely,
From the secret earth shall rise;
Not for these I sit and stare,
Broken and bereft completely;
Your young flesh that sat so neatly
On your little bones will sweetly
Blossom in the air.

But your voice,—never the rushing
Of a river underground,
Not the rising of the wind
In the trees before the rain,
Not the woodcock's watery call,
Not the note the white-throat utters,
Not the feet of children pushing
Yellow leaves along the gutters
In the blue and bitter fall,
Shall content my musing mind
For the beauty of that sound
That in no new way at all
Ever will be heard again.

Sweetly through the sappy stalk
Of the vigorous weed,
Holding all it held before,
Cherished by the faithful sun,
On and on eternally
Shall your altered fluid run,
Bud and bloom and go to seed;
But your singing days are done;
But the music of your talk
Never shall the chemistry
Of the secret earth restore.
All your lovely words are spoken.
Once the ivory box is broken,
Beats the golden bird no more.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

To What Purpose?

O what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

-"Spring" by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

Response to Hard News Heard Today

About suffering they were never wrong, 
The Old Masters; how well, they understood 
Its human position; how it takes place 
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; 
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting 
For the miraculous birth, there always must be 
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating 
On a pond at the edge of the wood: 
They never forgot 
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course 
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot 
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse 
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree. 
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away 
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may 
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, 
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone 
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green 
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen 
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, 
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

-W. H. Auden

Reminder to Self - L'Chaim

O Taste and See

The world is
not with us enough
O taste and see

the subway Bible poster said,
meaning The Lord, meaning
if anything all that lives
to the imagination’s tongue,

grief, mercy, language,
tangerine, weather, to
breathe them, bite,
savor, chew, swallow, transform

into our flesh our
deaths, crossing the street, plum, quince,
living in the orchard and being

hungry, and plucking
the fruit.

-Denise Levertov

Mom and Dad's 50th Anniversary

Big event tonight - celebrating Mom and Dad's 50th anniversary (which is actually September 21 of this year).  Here are some photos from their wedding day -

Sheeple

Funny how human beings are so programmed to uphold social norms. Two of my sons, Anthony and Caleb, have taken up barefoot running for the health of it, and people sure take note - frequently yelling out of car windows: 

"Hey! You forgot your shoes!" 

Today I saw someone trot up behind Anthony with an i-phone and record him running! Is running barefoot really THAT odd? (I went barefoot everywhere all the time as a kid . . .  walking, running, whatever!) Why do people feel compelled to comment and record?

I just find it strange, because I think when eccentricity is pointed out and celebrated we all celebrate right along, and I think we all want to be unique individuals.  Yet, when we're not thinking about it, it seems it is human nature to be guardians of standard protocol and that we naturally try to get everyone to walk to the beat of exactly the same drummer  .  .  .  

Hmm  .  .  .

It Must Be Your

"though your sorrows not
any tongue may name,
three i'll give you sweet
joys for each of them
But it must be your"
whispers that flower

murmurs eager this
"i will give you five
hopes for any fear,
but it Must be your"
perfectly alive
blossom of a bliss

"seven heavens for
just one dying,i'll
give you" silently
cries the(whom we call
rose a)mystery
"but it must be Your"

e. e. cummings (1894-1962)

Card of the Day

Loving this card for my Ixidron deck :-)

25th Anniversary - Part 3 - Gran Bahia Principe Resort

Below I've posted pictures of the Mayan sites we visited during our anniversary trip.  I'll finish up with this part showing Gran Bahia Principe where we stayed in the Mayan Riviera - a place we highly recommend.

Looking back at the resort from the water.

Looking down - so many fish right there immediately off-shore.

Our room

Pasta bar at the buffet

Mariachi in another buffet

I kept wanting to say to David, "Welcome to Fantasy Island!"  The resort was so big that there was lots of tram-type transportation.

Brazilian "Parade of Swords" dinner

They had a dolphin pool right in the midst of the resort - with shows and also opportunity to swim with or learn to train the dolphins.

This place was huge!  That conical-shaped building in the distance is our lobby.  We're not as far to "this" side as we could possibly go, and there was at least as much distance on the other side.

Enjoying one of the pools.

There were iguanas EVERYWHERE!  Pretty cool!

 More images of our room.

 A game of Scribbage in our room

Our favorite spot in the buffet - near the central fountain - 

 We could take out sailboats, kayaks and other water-sport equipment -

Me by our room - bye bye!