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Adventures in Geocaching with My Cousin Part 2

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I am still visiting northwestern  Washington spending some wonderful and cherished time with my very dear cousin and a new friend. Having a desire to experience a little adventure, we’ve attempted a few geocache hunts.  My cousin uses a wheelchair and was not able to get close to our first geocache search area but, having a knack for being logical she was the first to determine where our search area would be. I had entered the longitude and latitude coordinates into my handheld GPS (Global Positioning System) unit which indeed led us to the area my cousin had already determined. At that point our  friend and I trekked through the nearby woods seeking the elusively hidden cache.  With everyone helping out, our first hunt was successful and this gave us all confidence to try it again.

Off we journeyed by foot and by wheelchair further away from home, to find another geocache located somewhere near a community college. It continued to be a beautiful and warm day; I marveled at the greenery, some wildflowers, and natural beauty around me. I had voiced my amazement a number of times about the numerous trees, shrubs, and other natural greenery in this small city. I felt sure that it is the greenest city I have ever visited.

I had already entered the needed coordinates and this led us to a sculpture of a globe. The globe was our first clue and indicated we were on the right trail. But, this second geocache was not going to be so easy. According to the directions on the geocaching.com website, we were supposed to calculate the next coordinates. I had hoped we wouldn’t need to do so. We had other clues about “Roe, Roe your boat” and “where a troll might hide.”  So we all determined to look for a nearby bridge. I was also wondering about a fish hatchery when considering the word ‘roe’. My cousin went searching in a different area and called us over because she found flowing water. We rushed to comb that area in search of a bridge. No such luck as we only found a bubbling fountain and no bridge. We returned to the globe sculpture to reconsider our options. None of us knew the area well enough to continue the hunt. Deflated for now we gave up the search for that day. But we determined to return as we each were caught up the excitement of finding that hidden container. We all sensed the challenge to find it and did not want to admit defeat. To me, this is a fun and clever way to “hunt” without shooting anything. It was also a time of enjoying the beauty of nature.

As we headed home, my cousin reluctantly commented, “We may need to perform those calculations.”

I didn’t trust my math skills with determining multiple sets of coordinates and so I answered her, “maybe not yet; I have an idea but it will take some planning.” Yes indeed, we will be returning. We all had tasted a little success in our hunt and were eager to taste it again.

Back at my cousin’s home, I went to work on the computer. I brought up an Earth Google map to study our search area. In thinking about the clue “Roe” I was so sure there had to be a fish hatchery near. I studied various structures on the 3D map but found no such thing. I commented to my cousin, “What else could ‘Roe’ mean?

She thought about it, “It could be someone’s name.”

“Well, then there could be a unique building named after someone.”

I then searched on the internet to find a map of the nearby college. The first map I found was blurry. I squinted at it until I found something that said, ‘Roe Studio’ and showed this to my cousin. I also compared it to the Earth Google map. She became excited again, “I think there is a bridge near there.”

A few days later, I found a clear and colorful campus map which confirmed what I found and it also showed a small bridge. Our friend joined us and we show her the map, memorize the route, and set off once again. We found the globe sculpture and journeyed past it paying careful attention to the building names.

“There’s a bridge.”

“And there’s a sign for ‘Roe Studio’.”

This time due to paved paths, my cousin is able to get very close to our target area and watch us continue the search. She watched us and smiled in anticipation. While I searched along one side of the small wooden structure, our friend, searched on the other side. There really was no water but it was damp like a marsh.  The grass is vividly green and we all comment on how pretty the campus was. At this point, the search does not take long as our friend called out, “I think I found it.”  And sure enough, she had.

This time the cache container is a plastic baggie containing the log to sign as proof we found it and one little ‘treasure’.  We signed the log using our geocache name. We also leave the treasure for the next geocache seeker. My cousin decided to add a little something to the ‘treasure’. It was another fun find adding a bit of excitement and adventure to our day.

I also learned that my cousin and friend are enjoying this so much that they start planning yet another day of geocaching and this time at another campus further away which required taking the city bus. They have been seriously bitten by the geocaching bug and  were eager for more adventure and more success in finding the hidden caches. They instructed me where they want to go. They also gave me the task to research for hidden geocaches on the other campus and to input the new information into my GPS. Therefore this geocaching adventure will continue one more day.

 

Adventures in Geocaching with my Cousin Part 1

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During summer of 2014, I arrived in the beautiful city of Bellingham to visit my cousins who is nearly the same age as me.  Among other things to do, we hoped to be a bit adventurous; we do have a history of going on adventures together. We have had several misadventures with the city bus system when she still resided in California. My cousin already had an idea for this and instructed me to bring my handheld GPS unit. She is aware of my geocaching ventures and wanted us to attempt to find some geocaches near her home.  For those not familiar with geocaching, it is a technology based sport which involves the use of a handheld GPS device and internet access. Having its beginning roots in the US, geocaching is now popular in many countries The cache is a hidden container and can be almost any type of container and any size. Some caches are very small while others are very large containing items for trade. One rule in geocaching is trade fair or trade higher so that there is always a “treasure” to be found by the next geocache seeker. The “treasures” are usually small inexpensive trinkets such as key rings, small toys, and tiny ornaments. Some geocache seekers will track their items via the website to see how far away their items travel.

Once a hidden cache is chosen, I record its coordinates into my GPS and note any helpful clues. Usually, I research the geocaching.com website to find nearby hidden caches. There are other sites to use. I logged onto this site and began research based on my cousin’s location. We found several hidden caches within walking distance.

The first cache we focused on was described as an easy cache. Many geocache seekers have reported success in finding it. I record the longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates into my GPS and review for clues about it on the web page. As I scanned the log entries about it I commented, “It seems to be near the co-op store.”

My logical and detective of a cousin, well versed in Nancy Drew mysteries, came to a very quick conclusion even before I finished inputting the coordinates, “It must be near that park.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

Soon we were on our way being also accompanied by a new friend. It was a beautifully warm and sunny day as we all journeyed along. I also enjoy the bright green scenery here. I scrutinized my GPS as we walked along and my cousin’s reasonable conclusion appeared to be accurate. We were headed to a nearby park. Just to test the GPS, we walked a bit past the park but, sure enough, it directed us back. We returned to the park area and found we needed to venture further into the woods surrounding the area.

That part was a disappointment because my cousin uses a motorized wheelchair which cannot travel over rough terrain. We discussed this. The fear of her getting stuck deep in the grass or other rough terrain was real. The chair was heavy and if anything happened I knew I wouldn’t be able to help her get out. She decided to patiently relax near the park while we continued the search.

Following my GPS reading, we journeyed a short way through the woods arriving at a parking lot on the other side. A few business buildings were nearby.  The readings indicated the cache was hidden in a tiny area of small bushes and slender trees.  We searched and searched the same bushes and trees without success. I have learned to check areas where the cache would be safe from the elements of weather and be completely out of sight.

After seeming to exhaust the area, we tried wandering to a different location only to be instructed by the GPS reading to return to our original search area. We rechecked and considered giving up. I didn’t like to give and tried to continue the search. In doing so, I happened to bump the heavy metallic base of a light pole. The circular base around that pole moved. My new friend stared as a strange expression must have appeared on my face. I turned my attention to the movable base and started to lift it. My friend came running to help and we found success. The cache was carefully hidden beneath it; it was a tiny camera film container with a log. As I record on the log of our find she took a picture of it to share with my cousin. We soon returned to her to report our success and show her the picture.

With one success met, we confidently continued to the next hidden cache recorded on my GPS. This one proved to not be so easy. The web page for this next cache had instructed us to find a spinning globe. The coordinates in my GPS led us straight to it. Then we were supposed to perform some calculations to continue our geocache hunt. We did not determine those calculations and were now stuck. Having no clue of what to do next we returned home unsuccessful with the second cache.

My cousin was so excited by this first find though, that she lost no time getting onto Facebook to share this with our family and friends. She very enthusiastically described my trek through the woods in search of it.  And we weren’t ready to give up on the second hidden cache. We had an idea, a new plan to implement. We all enjoyed the sense of adventure in searching for the hidden cache and were determined to try again. And I hoped to determine a way to get her closer to the next geocache site.

Assignment 13: A Baby Named Annetta (Part 2)

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From trying to remember my grandmother’s story and researching about a historical event which took place in 1911, I’ve attempted to piece together the story of my grandmother’s birth. At best, this would be a piece of historical fiction based on a true story and not a true biography because I am not 100% sure of all of the details. This story of a true disastrous event occurring so close to my grandmother’s birth is a part of my family’s history.

Timeframe: October 1911. Place: a small farm in Oakridge rural area south of Black River Falls, Wisconsin. My great grandfather Albert watched the hard rain pound the house and ground around him. It has been raining for weeks and flooding was a mounting concern. He had another worry, Bessie, his wife and my great grandmother, was pregnant with their first child; very pregnant. The rising Black River perhaps already cut him off of the main town of Black River Falls as he possibly wouldn’t consider traveling across that long iron canopied bridge stretching across the swollen waters. He devised a plan to head south; perhaps all the way to LaCrosse roughly 50 miles away. His mode of transportation was a horse drawn vehicle so it may have taken several days of hard driving in the rain across wet and slippery roads.  In the drenching rain, Albert hitched his team to and helped Bessie to safely climb inside. They endured a dangerous and harrowing journey as they traveled southward to trying to stay ahead of the rushing river.  Little did they realize at the time, they would be traveling along the crest of the Great Flood of 1911.

In the meantime the Black River was swelling; it originated in Taylor County and passed in a southwest direction through Clark, Jackson, and LaCrosse counties emptying into the Mississippi River.  According to a New York Times article, it was believed that the concrete dams in place could hold back any amount of flooding water. On October 6th, at 4am, the first dam north of Hatfield gave way and racing water flowed around the dam and then continued along the river’s path. By 10:45am, the second dam closer to Hatfield broke sending even more rushing water towards Black River Falls. Word of warning was sent the residents of the doomed town that a raging flood raced in their direction. At first the villagers and business owners did not believe they were in  immediate danger but much to everyone’s shock and dismay in about an hour’s time, the unimaginable wave of torrential water arrived with disastrous results.

The water came in great torrents and the Black River Falls power plant was first to be struck and damaged leaving everyone in darkness by nightfall. The huge wall of water took out the iron canopied bridge, businesses, and houses carrying them downstream as seen in photos posted by The Merchant General of Black River Falls. The flooding water cut through the banks carving out the ground and destroying three blocks worth of downtown business and residential buildings all along the river’s edge. According to a news report from Clark County, A number of lumber and sawmill businesses were swept away along with a shoe store, a jewelry retail store, an iron works business, a hotel, a sash factory, and hardware store. Also destroyed was the county poor house along with many homes.  Barely enough warning was given for Black River residents to evacuate although without their possessions. They just kept backing away from the rushing water and climbing to higher ground.  Black River Falls had become nearly an island cut off from the surrounding countryside. The raging flood also destroyed many farms in its wake and families were stranded on rooftops (New York Times, 1911). Although the loss of animals and property were enormous, no resident lost his or her live that fateful day (Rupnow, 2011). After nearly wiping out Black River Falls, the torrential river raced towards more communities down the river and LaCrosse was in its path.

Albert, my great grandfather and Bessie, my great grandmother, must have been terrified of the pounding, rushing water as they continued their harrowing journey. While Albert held the reigns and drove the horses, I can imagine my great grandmother praying for their safe arrival in LaCrosse.  I’m sure she cried out in pain, knowing she was close to giving birth.

As predicted, the flooding, raging river propelled its way into LaCrosse damaging the city’s power plant. Somehow, through fear and determination and by God’s loving grace and protection, great grandfather Albert and my great grandmother Bessie reached Luther Hospital of LaCrosse. No doubt, a huge sense of relief showered over my great grandparents as caring doctors and nurses aided them.

On October 7,, 1911, one day after the Great Flood of 1911 struck and devastated Black River Falls, Wisconsin , a baby girl was born, a baby named Annetta; my grandmother. While she grew up on a small farm in Oakridge, the city of Black River Falls was rebuilt as residents determined to remain and rebuild their lives (Rupnow, 2011).

Many years later she moved to Black River Falls as a teenager to attend high school. She married and raised a family. She worked as a school bus driver and later as a store clerk. She may had other jobs that I am not aware of. Today Black River Falls continues to be thriving small town in rural Jackson County Wisconsin; it is also near where I lived and grew up years later. I spent many Sundays visiting my grandmother in her tiny apartment not far from the banks of the usually gentle flowing Black River.

Reference Links about the Great Flood of 1911 which struck Black River Falls Wisconsin:

From New York Times, 1911:

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=9902EED81131E233A25754C0A9669D946096D6CF

From Leader Telegram, 2011

http://www.leadertelegram.com/news/front_page/article_fc49aa4c-eb22-11e0-bc07-001cc4c002e0.html

Clark County History Bluff:

http://www.wiclarkcountyhistory.org/3data/79/79599.htm

Writing 101 Assignment 4: A Lady Named Annetta (Part 1)

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I realize that I am doing some of the assignments out of order but I wanted to share a special piece about my grandmother whom I miss very much:

I have special memories of my grandmother, Annetta . I and all of the grandchildren affectionately knew her as Grandma Hart.  She often signed birthdays and letters with “Grandma” and then drew a heart. My grandmother was a kind, soft spoken woman who had a large family and many friends. Her brunette hair had turned gray, she was tall with hazel-green eyes magnified by her glasses which twinkled with delight at picnics and holiday events while visiting with friends and family. I distinctively remember her gentle, musical laughter. She was a quiet lady who loved her family very much and enjoyed doing quiet activities which included reading, writing, crocheting, and attending a Bible Study.

Another favorite pastime she enjoyed was watching the Green Bay Packers. Grandma was not pleased when the Packers did not play well.  When I was older and had my own car, I would visit Grandma in her small apartment in Black River Falls.  Her apartment building was situated near the banks of Black River and her first floor apartment faced the Black River Falls Memorial Bridge She and I relaxed and visited on many Sundays in her tiny living room and she sometimes told me stories about her younger self. She showed me a hint of her adventurous side but truly, I had no idea until years later.

My grandmother, Annette Marie, was born in October of 1911 to parents Albert and Bessie. She arrived in this world one day after a great flood struck Black River Falls, Wisconsin. The flood was so severe that  some did not think the town of Black River would survive However, determined residents resolved to rebuild the small town which blossoms today. My grandmother used to say, “I was born on the crest of the Great Flood”.   She grew up in a rural area south of Black River Falls known as Oak Grove.  As you may guess, the area was full of oak trees except for one lone, tall pine tree. When great grandpa Albert was clearing the land, he reached this pine tree with his ax ready; he hesitated and my great grandmother yelled to him, “If you chop down that pine tree I’m moving back to LaCrosse.” My grandmother remembered that lone tree years later and wrote a story entitled, The Lonesome Pine.  Annetta, my grandmother, and her younger sister, Lela attended the Oak Ridge country schoolhouse.

Later my grandmother and her best friend, Irene, lived in a boarding house in Black River Falls to attend high school there. As a young teenager, Annetta was a bit mischievous and she loved to run. She once told me that she and her friend at lunchtime would run a considerable distance back to their boarding house, eat lunch, and then run back to school without being late.  I tried to study and determine the route she and her friend took. My first calculations were not accurate; my brother pointed this out by explaining that the bridge she ran across was a different structure than the bridge which existed today; also it was in a different location. Additionally, the high school which she attended was not the same school that I attended; again, a very different location.

From what I could determine in studying her route, she and her friend needed to race along a road south of town, cross the sprawling bridge which stretched across Black River, dash across perhaps a busy intersection near downtown, and finally scamper up a set of double hills before arriving at the three story school building. I had asked her why she didn’t just pack a lunch and take it with her and she laughingly replied, “But we liked to do it that way!”

She was silent for a few minutes while I thought about this and finally responded, “You mean you liked the challenge of it.”

“Yes!” she answered and laughed.

“Grandma, you and your friend invented your own physical education class.”

Again, grandma’s musical laughter filled her tiny living room.

At age 17, Annetta was married. She raised a family of eight children and became one of the first female bus driver for the Black River Falls school district.  She perceived her job as an adventure but also took her work very seriously.  She had commented in a newspaper article, “I had to get my little charges home safely.” She had felt a heavy sense of responsibility as she drove the children home through a blinding snowstorm; the journey was slow and treacherous. She worried that she’d run out of gas and wondered how she would keep the children warm.

My grandmother saw her children grow to adulthood, marry, and have families of their own.  Some had very large families giving her many grandchildren and numerous great grandchildren. She passed away in 1995.  Annetta lived all of her life in or near Black River Falls, Wisconsin. She was a well-liked lady known for her adventurous spirit, her large family, her writings, her quiet, caring nature, and her faith in God.  She had a very gentle way of sharing about her faith and trust in Jesus. Almost 20 years have come and gone, and I still miss her. There is a special place in my heart where I go to remember her; I recall her stories, the sound of her soft voice, and her sweet, melodious laughter. Most of all, I remember her deep and never ending love for her family.

Guest Writer Kathy B June 21, 2014

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I am spending a few wonderful weeks visiting my cousin Kathy B.  She is a wonderfully talented writer and poet and I feel privileged that she is my cousin. As I’ve said before, she writes with her heart. She has some very special experiences in life and, as in this piece of personal writing, she has a desire to to share the special things she learns along her unique journey:

Joann

            Recently, I spent six weeks in a nursing home after a major surgery. I was afraid to return there because I spent six months at the same facility five years ago, and it was not always a pleasant experience. It caused bad, hurtful memories. However, in the last few years, I have made it a personal goal to face my fears head on; Joyce Meyers says, “do it afraid.” In other words, the only way to overcome fears is to conquer them by doing them anyway. This was my chosen profession, the age group that I wanted to work with after I finish my degree. I also decided to change my attitude about the experience. After all, it would be a great test to see if I was truly cut out for this type of work.

I was surprised that a number of the staff recalled me quite fondly; this had a way of putting me at ease a bit. As before, there were a number of sensory/social activities to engage both the body and mind such as: balloon ball, exercise group, book club, Bingo etc. After one such activity, I came across Joann while on the way to my back to my room. I immediately was struck by her look of sheer loneliness, abject terror and utter confusion. It touched me to the core of my being. I began to talk to her. I said a silent prayer that my words would bring her love and comfort. I assured her that God was with her and that she could talk to Him whenever she was afraid. God was her friend. I let her know that she was also special to me too – that I loved her and that she would be in my prayers. The last things I said to her is that I would talk to her again.

Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to fulfill that promise. The Lord took her home with Him only a few nights later. I felt guilty that I hadn’t gone to her room to visit her again. At the same time, I hoped that my words had brought her some measure of comfort in her last hours. An old lesson from youth group came to mind. Our words and deeds are like ripples in a pond; one never really knows what help or harm that they do. Try never to miss the opportunity to share God’s love when it presents itself.

Writing 101 Assignment 11: My Childhood Home on a Sandy Prairie

 

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For assignment 11 in our Writing 101 class, we were directed to write about the home we lived in at age 12. We were also instructed to vary our sentence lengths in an effort to make the story interesting. So I will attempt this:

I grew up on a small farm on a sandy prairie in west central Wisconsin in rural Jackson County. I lived in the same house from about age four until I graduated from high school and left for college. I resided there with my parents, two sisters, and one brother. The house was a large, two story home built around 1910; a typical American foursquare with a pyramid shaped roof coming to a peak, a full basement, and a large corner porch extending along two sides of the home. Interestingly, about 1/4th of the basement is built of stone with a closet sized space attached. Perhaps, that was a food pantry in earlier days but I am not sure. The rest is built of cement and appears newer. When we moved in, the house was covered in old gray tiles but later, dad had the tiles replaced with white aluminum siding.

Continuing in the foursquare theme, each of the main rooms is nearly a perfect square or at least a rectangle, and each sits in a corner with an old chimney rising through the center of the house. Additionally, the stairwell arose through the center near the chimney. The main rooms on the first floor included the kitchen, dining room, and a family room. Perhaps this room was known as the family parlor in earlier times? The fourth room, when we moved in, was a laundry/utility room which mom and dad converted into an extra bedroom. The second level consisted of four bedrooms and small bathroom squeezed between two of the corner bedrooms. A hallway extended around the stairwell connects to all the rooms. No doubt, the house was renovated over time to accommodate electrical wiring and indoor plumbing. Old style heat registers still remain in each of the upstairs bedrooms but were no longer used. We used a wood stove for years as our main source of heat. According to an old story, this present house is not the original on our farm; a previous house was destroyed by fire.

I have no idea how old the red barn is but I can tell you it is huge. The first floor, of course is where the farm animals lived. Over the years while I lived there, it housed cows, pigs, horses, and even goats at one point. We’ve also had chickens and turkeys on the farm.  We had a number of dogs over the years but two of our favorite canine pets were Boots and Bambi. Boots was a small mixed breed dog who was terrified of thunderstorms. When a thunderstorm struck, he dived beneath the couch or a blanket with his small, brown body quivering from head to toe.

The second level of the barn was the hay mow where the cats liked to live and this space alone seemed to increase the structure by nearly 2/3. Every summer, hay was harvested and stored in the hay mow which served as food for the animals during the harsh winter months. When there aren’t stacks and stacks of hay up there, I and my siblings would play in the hay mow; we invented our own version of racquetball playing against the back barn wall.  A small feed room, an old stone silo, and a white brick milk house were all attached to the sidewalls of the barn. Other buildings on the farm included a granary, garage, and a corn crib. Over the years, dad added other buildings to the farms including a large pole shed which we  used for storage of farm equipment and for outdoor parties with the extended family.

We lived on roughly 65 acres of land which is actually a very small farm. My dad also worked as an electrician at the Jackson County Iron Mine which no longer exists. Since the soil was sandy and we sometimes had very hot and dry summers, the crops and the garden did not always produce well. We had our share of hard years. As children, we biked, rode horses, and roamed all over, trekking through patches of woods, along the field road, and circling the crop fields. Summertime was especially enjoyable as we could spend all day under the warm sun shining and brightening the marine blue sky. When the fields were empty of crops, my siblings and I sometimes played our own version of softball. There were only four of us so instead of a baseball diamond, we made a triangle. Therefore, One could pitch, one  could bat, and two were guarding the bases. Obviously we couldn’t play the full version of softball and I was never very good at it. All of my classmates in grade school could attest to that.

We had our share of chores to do which included caring for the animals and helping in the garden. Mom planted a very large vegetable garden which then led to harvesting and canning for the winter. We also helped to plant and harvest strawberries and cucumbers. We had very large strawberry and cucumber patches. Pints of strawberries were sold to customers stopping by and the cucumbers were sold to a local pickling/canning factory.

Life on the farm was usually very enjoyable. I don’t get to visit it as much as I would like. There is sadness there too, as both my parents have passed away. My mom and dad poured their hearts into our little farm. They both worked hard to make that old foursquare house on a sandy prairie a home of love and a place of many cherished memories.

Writing 101 Assignment 10: Happy Summertime Picnic

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Okay, for assignment 10, we were instructed to write about a favorite childhood meal and work on developing our unique writing voice. I am not sure that I was successful with developing such a voice.  But I will add that I do attempt to create uniqueness with my blog by maintaining a sense of hopefulness and inspiration with it. My family was wonderful in being hopeful through love, encouragement,  laughter, and through numerous family celebrations. While growing up, I remember special dinners commemorating certain holidays and occasions. Such special events included Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, confirmations, and graduations. But I think I loved summertime picnics the most. Oh how I relished those picnics on the farm. We usually enjoyed picnics during the summer holidays (Memorial Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day) when weather was cooperating. Also we had picnics while camping and just because we felt like it.

We usually were blessed with beautiful weather including clear skies, brilliant sunshine, and perhaps a warm and gentle breeze. The day’s forecast was not a guarantee though as sometimes it became cloudy and colder with the threat of rain upon the horizon. That gentle breeze at times transformed into blowing gusts as we witness our paper plates, cups, and plastic utensils fly in the sudden wind.  It can be quite the challenge to eat a plate of food when a sudden gust travels across the picnic table carrying almost everything away. Oops, there went my cup and napkin.

The preparations for the picnic were enough to make my mouth water as I smelled hot dogs, hamburgers or corn on the cob sizzling on the grill. The corn was fresh from the garden, tasty and sweet enough to melt in my mouth. We had beans and salads for side dishes but my favorite was the watermelon. That too was fresh from the garden and my mom sliced in it in thick wedges. We kids ate it with such gusto that our faces and hands were covered with the sticky, oozing juice. No wonder she insisted we ate it outside. Another special treat was fresh strawberries also grown on the farm.

And it wasn’t just the food that made the picnic special; it was the relaxed and fun visiting with family which was often punctuated with friendly teasing, humorous comments and laughter. And there was just something special about spending many summer days outside and just being with family. Almost every year, I never wanted summer to end. Oh how I loved those summertime picnics.

Sunday Drive Round Up for June 8, 2014

 

 

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Finding Hope and Inspiration in Poetry, Writing, and Genealogy

Oops!! A day late but I am determined to write a little round up of some interesting blog sites and articles I visited this past week:

Here is yet another touching and self-searching poem by Source of Inspiration. The writer reminds us to look to our Creator who wants what’s best for us:

http://patcegan.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/what-does-he-want/

In relation to the art of writing and publishing, I came across this very timely and interesting article written by author David Guaghran:

http://davidgaughran.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/whos-afraid-of-very-cheap-books/

Here is another interesting article about the fun in discovering family stories in genealogy research. It also includes useful links related to ancestry research:

Genealogy with Valerie:

http://genealogywithvalerie.wordpress.com/2014/06/09/they-were-only-farmers-take-the-challenge/

 

 

 

Writing 101 Assignment 3: More Ramblings by Becky

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Humm, I am to write about my 3 favorite songs. And I am supposed to write and write without correcting my spelling, punctuation, or grammar. That drove me nuts. I went back and corrected it all because I want readers to understand what I write. So here are my latest ramblings of my mind:

What are my 3 most favorite songs? I know a lot of songs and I like a lot of songs. This is hard. Let me think on this. Well, to begin with my favorite Christmas song ever is “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”. I like the majestic sounding music of that song and the words portray hope and peace on earth and may all nations be peaceable. And it focuses on Jesus who was born in Bethlehem, Jesus the hope of Christmas.

Humm let me think of another great and favorite song, oh I know, “The Circle of Life” song featured in The Lion King and sung by Elton John. To me that song inspires one to cherish the planet we all live on. I especially love the line, “sun rolling high in sapphire skies.”…that just captures my imagination as I consider the natural beauty of earth. And we’re to not take our days, our time on earth for granted.

Let me think, another very special favorite song is “How Great Thou Art”. A very old hymn and it too is very majestic sounding. Hearing a great rendition of it by an orchestra sends chills up my spine. The words also are beautiful. The first two verses focus on the beauty of our universe and earth. The last two verses focus on God and his son Jesus.  I have loved that song since going to vacation bible school when I was a kid. We rode our bikes there to an old one room school house where all the kids of the neighborhood met up to visit, learn, and play at this old schoolhouse. The teachers were kind and very interesting. There were from Chicago and the beauty of Wisconsin really captured them. They thought our hills were beautiful mountains. I guess they never been to California or Wyoming. Now those states have mountains, I have seen them and tried to climb them. Nevertheless, I enjoyed seeing those teachers every summer and I treasured that time in that old schoolhouse.

When Dad Said No

 

Me and My Dad

A Special Tribute to my Dad on his birthday (June 4th):

My father has been on my mind. His birthday is here and soon it will be Father’s Day. He was born in 1942 and passed away at just 58 years old in 2000; his quiet voice has been silent and missing from my life for almost 14 years now. Of my two parents, my dad could be sterner and be more likely to say no when he felt that was best. Dad was also very loving and could erupt into a very hearty and jovial laugh; a laugh so contagious that others around broke into laughter with him. I also miss the sound of his infectious, bubbling laugh.

When I was an infant, Dad said I was so small that I could fit inside of his shoe box. He also said I could fit perfectly on a sofa pillow. I was born prematurely, was very small, difficult to feed, and had a serious visual impairment. I didn’t realize for years, how much this visual impairment greatly bothered my dad. I was born with a cataract in my left eye and was therefore blind in that eye. Mom and Dad took me to various doctors, including specialists at the faraway Marshfield Clinic. Doctors decided to not remove the cataract.

Just as I was beginning school, I also was found to be near-sighted in my right eye and needed glasses. I received my first pair of glasses when I was in kindergarten; I was the first kid in my class to wear glasses and I knew right away that made me different. My kindergarten picture shows the sadness I felt about this; no hint of a smile. I was also quite shy and received plenty of teasing over the years. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not pretty. I felt certain that my glasses were the cause of this.

As a teenager, I began seeing commercials about contact lens and deep inside my mind, a wonderful idea was born. Oh, contact lens, that a great solution because that means no more glasses! I began asking my parents if I could get contact lens. They said no immediately. My dad was especially stern on this matter and when Dad says no, he means no. But I was so convinced of that wearing contact lens was what I needed that I kept asking. I was very determined and was just not going to give up. My hopes were soaring high as I had visions of going to school looking like a completely different person; a person who was pretty and beautiful. How I held on to that dream! My parents finally made an appointment for me to see the eye doctor and I kept my hopes up for my first pair of contact lens.

On the day of the appointment, I found that it was my dad, not my mom, who would take me to the doctor. This was a much unexpected surprise because my mom went to all of our medical appointments and sometimes dad came too when he wasn’t working and when the appointment was for a serious illness or injury. But this time, it was just my dad and that worried me but I still was holding on to my dream of being a different person who looked beautiful because I was no longer wearing glasses. We went to the doctor where my eyes were examined. My father was quiet and waited patiently. Then much to my surprise and crushing dismay, the doctor would not recommend contact lens for me. I couldn’t believe it; I was so sure that the doctor would agree I could have them. We left the office and climbed back into the truck. I looked at the floor and wouldn’t even lift my head. I felt so defeated as my hopeful dream dissipated to nothing.

Dad took a deep breath and said in a most gentle voice, “I knew the doctor would say that.”

I burst into tears, “I don’t like my glasses, I want to be pretty!”

Dad sighed again and wiped a tear from my cheek, “You are pretty and you have a beautiful smile.” I wasn’t so sure and continued to sob. Dad was especially gentle that day as he let me cry for a while. When my tears started to subside he spoke again, “You need to keep wearing your glasses not just to see but to also protect your good eye.”

He then told me a story about his dad, my grandfather. One day long ago when my dad was young, my grandfather was chopping wood. He did not wear glasses, goggles, or any sort of eye protection. He brought down the ax splitting a chunk of wood. A wood chip flew up and sailed into my grandfather’s eye splitting his lens. My grandfather became blind in that eye.  Dad had never forgotten that and apparently always worried that something could happen to me; an unexpected mishap could cause me to lose vision in my only good eye. He did not like it when I would come home from school, take my glasses off and refuse to wear them again until the next day. He also did not like it when I would sit in the car without my glasses and have the window rolled down. He always worried that something was going to happen to my only good eye.

So after listening to my dad’s story and hearing the worry in his soft voice that day, I reluctantly and dutifully gave up my dream of wearing contact lens and to this day I never have worn them. However I still did not wear my glasses all the time either. I never thought I would meet up with an accident which would endanger my only good eye. Little did I know that over 20 years later my dad’s words would return to haunt me.

I grew up, went to college, found a job, and started living on my own. Mom and dad were only a phone call away and dad still found ways to help me. He helped me to purchase my first car, and came up with a plan for me to be safe on the road. He intensely worried when I did so much traveling alone and didn’t like the idea of me becoming stranded far from any source of help. So he came up with plan for me to be able to summon help on the road if I needed it. I still have that plan in place today and, yes, I have used it when I’ve had  emergencies while traveling.

One summer day while living on my own, a few years after my father had passed away, I was mowing my lawn. I was not wearing my glasses at the time nor was I wearing any other type of eye protection. As I mowed around a tree in the front yard, I gasped as I spotted a wood chip flying in the air towards me. My dad’s words instantly came to my mind as I thought of the wood chip that struck my grandfather. As quickly as I could, I tried to turn my face away from the tiny, flying missile propelled by the swift blade of the lawn mower. No matter how fast I tried to turn, I wasn’t fast enough. At the last possible second my eyes blinked shut. The wood chip barreled and impaled itself in the inner corner of my right eye; my good eye. I was unable to reopen my eyes and fell to the ground with my hands clutching my face in pain. I hovered on the ground in tears and in total darkness. Unbelievably, it seemed that my father’s worst fear for me would come true.

Being single and completely on my own, no one was there to come to my aid.  I sat hunched over in agony not knowing what to do. Those moments in utter and complete darkness were the some of the most frightening moments I’ve ever had as I remained curled on the ground. However I needed to quiet my tears and regain my calmness as I needed to help myself.  Taking several deep breaths, I gently felt my face letting my fingers slowly travel across my skin until I found the invading speck of wood firmly lodged in the inner corner of my right eye socket. I hesitated and then not knowing what else to do, I gripped it firmly and pulled it out. I felt for signs of bleeding but didn’t find any so I slowly opened my eyes. I was so immensely relieved that I could see. Daylight had never looked more precious. But now my eye still hurt and everything around me was blurry.

I went to Urgent Care as soon as I could see clearly enough. The doctor was very alarmed when he realized that I had injured my only good eye. He examined me and conducted deep eye scans to ensure there was no hidden damage from the accident. Although my eye was painfully sore and red, he didn’t find any signs of deep or permanent injury. It seemed that the involuntary blinking of my eyes is what saved me from serious harm. The very concerned doctor reiterated what my dad had said all those years ago; I needed to do whatever I can to protect my eye which meant I needed to wear my glasses! I was incredibly thankful for this good fortune and was sure that God in heaven had kept me safe that day.

Since that time, I have become more cautious in life to protect myself from danger and most certainly, any danger that threatened my eyes. I wear my glasses almost all the time now with the exception of taking some photographs of myself. I have learned to like and appreciate my glasses more than I used to. I now have a good understanding of how enduring years of teasing can affect someone and I have seen bullying, teasing and disparaging, hurtful remarks extend into the adult world; it is not confined to the school halls and playgrounds. I’ve especially witnessed it in various forms in the social media.

Therefore, I try to encourage others because I had been so discouraged in my own life especially through my school years. And God in his own loving way continues to be good to me by blessing me in special ways. He has led to me to a career where I help, instruct, and encourage others.  I also know now that dad was trying in his own quiet way to encourage me even when he had to say no. Furthermore, I also better understand that when my stern father said no to those contact lens so many years ago, it wasn’t just to protect my eye from sudden danger and save me from blindness.  But when dad said no, it was because he loved me so.