2011 Christmas Greeting

Hello, good friends and relatives! How fast
the months have flown since last we wrote. ‘Tis time
to be in touch, to send the annual rhyme,
a jaunty update on the year that passed.
Our work continues on the road, though less
than years before. We still enjoy each day
we spend with client-friends and so we say
we’ll keep on traveling for awhile. And, yes,
the days at home are filled from morn ‘til night.
Developing the vineyard’s Larry’s goal.
Though insects, birds and fall rains took their toll,
we gave our very best to do things right!
We can’t predict events that are in store
But count the blessings we are thankful for.

We didn’t stray too far from home, although
the trips we took are memorable. We went
to San Antonio. Four days we spent
with veterinary friends met long ago.
We drove to Outer Banks for family fun.
The birds, the fish, the water and the sand
provided joy for all our merry band.
The days flew by and soon the week was done.
Two weddings gave excuse to travel west
and celebrate with folks from far and near.
We trekked to Pine Creek as we do each year.
With safety in our travels we were blessed.
We’re glad for opportunities like these
and frequently replay the memories.

Our family all are well and working hard
in various endeavors every day.
They share their gifts with us, and I must say
we use our Doc. She’s constantly on guard
to patch us up from falls and stings and more
results from disregarding natural law--
like Larry’s run-in with a table saw,
(this year’s worst “oops” involving blood and gore).
We spoke our gratitude ‘most every day
while watching as his fingers quickly healed.
The wonder of our bodies is revealed
in these experiences, I guess you’d say,
And we affirm with, health and strength reborn,
God’s mercies freely given every morn!

A challenge I have yet to mention here
was offered by my daughters. Could we try
to finish a half marathon? Oh, my!
We did it! Not just once, but twice this year!
The benefits to life and limb abound.
It’s been a pleasant outlet, a great way
to shed all the encroachments of the day
and waken to the beauty all around.
And so in spite of news which would depress,
aware of want and sadness, folks in pain,
we hold to hope that joy and peace will reign,
transforming our surroundings, nonetheless.
We end with one last wish to all held dear—
A Merry Christmas and a bright New Year!

A Story of Letting Go

Or, alternatively, "How it happened that I once bought a gun for Larry"

I recently told this story to some friends, who encouraged me to publish it on my blog. So here goes.

You must know, of course, that I'm pretty straight forward and not the storyteller some of my friends are. Most of my stories include elements of personal growth. This one is no exception....personal growth and "letting go" but not without elements of humor and irony.

You must also realize how much I detest guns and how difficult it was for me to accept Larry's devotion to hunting. Experiencing the hunting culture of his family and community was quite a shock to me. And so every year, as Larry would take off to the mountains, leaving me at home with children and
animals, I would struggle with resentment and frustration.

Often, of course, something would go wrong while he was gone. Pipes would freeze, animals would get out. Two different years our golden retriever (I'm not a dog lover, so this was HIS dog in my mind) went up to the neighbor's and bit their dog (in our dog's defense, the neighbor's dog was an ugly little thing that probably resembled a ground hog to him). Nevertheless, I struggled with my attitude year after year as Larry would meticulously pack, and by the time he'd finally get out the door I'd be boiling inside.

It didn't help, I suppose, that I would hear stories that just inflated my impressions that hunting takes precedence over EVERYTHING else. For instance, many years ago, one local man was up at his cabin for a couple weeks when one of his sons was born, and his wife sent him a POSTCARD to inform him!

One year, (nearly 20 years ago, I suppose, because the kids were all still at home) I was determined to get past this road block, and so I sat and journaled awhile. Journaling has always brought helpful insights to the fore for me. I came to realize that it wasn't the hunting that bothered me so much, but what it stood for to me....the great white hunter, male privilege, being taken for granted, and the like. Then I
began to compare that list with who Larry actually is, what it is about hunting that is important to him: spending time away with his dad and uncles, (now it's his brothers, sons and grandsons!) just being out in the woods, and yes, a successful hunt and the
resulting venison. I also realized that he had done his best to take care of things here before he left. I also knew that to love someone is to free them to be who they are, not who we would want them to be . . .on and on, you get the picture.

Anyway, I determined that I would let go of my frustrations, let go of expectations, and "let" Larry be who he is and appreciate him for who he is (not that he was going to change anyway!!). So, then, what action could I take to symbolize this shift? How about I buy him a gun for Christmas? That would be a huge surprise! The more I thought about it the more excited I became. Again, not that it was a gun, but the message buying a gun for him would carry. So I asked Reuben what gun his dad would want, and he immediately said, "He's always wanted a .22 Hornet like Grandpa had."

Okay, so I went out to the Trop Gun Shop and sheepishly told the guys there that I knew nothing about guns but that I wanted to buy a .22 Hornet for my husband. I ended up with a Browning. I think they said it was the Cadillac. Whatever. They were quite impressed with me, though, and expressed some envy of Larry. I think they thought I am a pretty
special wife!

Of course, I had to buy the gun in my name, and along with that came a 6 month complementary membership in the NRA! The boys still like to tease me about that.

Larry was surprised and happy. And I've remained free from all the negative stuff that had clung to me for so many years. Here's some more irony. It always seemed that Larry was gone so long, at least a day
longer than he should have been. Now, when I don't care, he often comes home a day sooner than he had originally planned.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!


-- Post From My iPhone

A Bear Tale

Last weekend members of Larry's extended family gathered at a cabin along Pine Creek in Slate Run, PA, for their annual reunion, its 43rd year. We were a smaller group than usual with several cousins absent; even so, we numbered fifty, circling the yard in numerous tents and campers. Only Larry's 89-year-old mother and two others were in the cabin.

Larry and I take our gooseneck work trailer, put a mattress up top in the neck and sleep in relative comfort. Thursday night I woke to the sound of rustling in the open pavilion nearby. I finally grabbed my glasses and crawled down out of the bunk to investigate. Sure enough, I saw a black bear digging in the trashcan a few feet away. I woke Larry. By the time he got to the door, the bear had ambled down into the yard near another camper. Larry hollered at it, and it left the campsite, walking down the path that leads to the Slate Run General Store. I went out and retrieved our cooler from the picnic table. Two garbage cans were overturned, contents strewn about. It was 2:00 a.m. We went back to bed, though I didn't sleep real well the rest of the night.

In the morning, we learned another chapter. At about 1:45, Larry's brother Don had heard someone digging in one of the ice chests outside his door. The someone was actually the bear, and he chased it away. Evidently the ice chest hadn't been closed properly after the evening campfire foodfest and the bear smelled dinner. The food belonged to Larry's mom. The bear had a feast. It ate her nectarines. It poked a hole in her cookie tin, got the lid off and ate every cookie and whoopie pie. The tin was licked clean, not a crumb remained!

We expected that after such a successful forage the bear would be back again. Larry bought some pepper spray to have on hand. Friday evening Larry and I went to bed around 10. Our kids and their cousins were still around the fire. About 10:30, our son Reuben was yelling outside our door. "Dad! Where is the pepper spray?" Larry jumped down and directed him to the cartridge sitting on the counter by the door and Reuben left. I didn't get up, not wanting to get dressed again.

In the morning we heard the story--a more aggressive encounter than the night before. I wish it were captured on video!

When one of the young women left the fire and went down to her tent, she discovered the bear right by the tent. She ran yelling back to the fire. That is when Reuben came for the pepper spray. With all the commotion, the bear had already gone--temporarily.

About an hour later, after all were in their respective tents, my daughter-in-law heard the bear just outside their tent. She woke Nathan. They, in turn, got Reuben. Reuben chased the bear, pepper spray in hand. As he tells it, the bear ran back and forth a bit, ducking around campers, then headed for the stone fire place located between the pavilion and the cabin. The bear went around the fireplace one way, Reuben went the other, spraying the bear in the face when they met. Reuben says the bear sneezed or snorted a bit, hesitated, rambled along the edge of the bank, then stopped again, this time on the other side of the pavilion near the fire ring. Reuben then picked up a good-sized chunk of firewood and winged it at the bear, giving it a solid rap to the head. The bear then went down the bank, crossed the creek and went up the mountain on the other side.

We did not see it Saturday night.

And that's the story as I heard it!

We did have a good time. All of our children and grandchildren were there. The photo is seven of 17. Larry's mother is on the porch.


The weather was perfect. The creek was too low for tubing, but great for the little ones who could play and wander at will the entire width of the creek.


Levi (10) and Max (8) managed to contribute their specialty again, poor man's lobster. They found about three dozen good-sized crayfish we cooked up and served with drawn butter.


The kids were delighted. I don't care much for shellfish, but Larry said they were good, far superior in taste to crayfish he ate in a restaurant down south, perhaps because these were in a stony river bed rather than mud.

We also saw two eagles, a kingfisher, great blue heron and green heron.

Several of us ran or walked a 5K along the Rails to Trails on Saturday morning.



We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful setting.

-- Post From My iPhone