Have you ever met someone that you were drawn to, on the spot? It happens rarely in my life, but it has happened, and with no real warning.

There's a sweet, old gentleman in our church who has been coming with his wife for about a year.
I would guess that he's in his 80's. He wears yellow glasses over his eye glasses and carries a white cane. He can see, but I assume he is legally blind. He's very soft spoken and what little he says is genuine. I know very little about him, other than he's sickly, that he used to play guitar and sing bluegrass music, and that they moved here from Texas. All that being said, I will add that something about him makes me love him, inexplicably, almost the way I loved my grandfather.

They aren't always able to attend services because he is in ill health. I miss them when they aren't with us. I have developed a card ministry at church, and whenever Calvin is in the hospital or ill at home, I send him a greeting just to let him know that he's being thought about and missed. The last time he was hospitalized, we nearly lost him, but there he was, two weeks ago, coming up the aisle with his wife on his arm. I went to greet them, and he showered me with thanks for my prayers and thoughts and asked me if he could give me a hug.

Yesterday I received a hand-written thank you note from Calvin for the birthday card I'd sent him, belated due to the church calendar having his special day on the wrong date. His note is special to me. It's short and to the point, but oozing with sincerity, and I am sure that it is difficult for him to pen something when he doesn't see well.

I know that Calvin may not be walking this earth for too much longer, so I've determined to enjoy him and to cheer him with my greetings too, for as long as he is with us. I guess that's the attitude we should have with everyone, every day...for none of us knows what sand is left in the hourglass. What a pleasant world it would be if we all recognized that and acted accordingly.

Don't you just love the appliances that 'talk' to you? I'm not talking about our telephone answering machines and voice mails, which were designed for the purpose of collecting important information while we're unavailable to answer our calls. A host of other 'smart' machines speakk to us all day long.

Our coffee pot gives us a gentle 'beep-beep-beep' signaling that the brew is ready to pour. The washer gives a continuous high pitched alarm if the load is unlevel, and another when the laundry is clean and ready for the dryer. The dryer beeps when its job is finished. The microwave sings for us to remove whatever has been place in it minutes before. Even our stove calls to us when it reaches the set temperature.

Alarm clocks wake us with music. Computers offer a greeting of "You've Got Mail". Even cars have voices, in some cases. I remember the story of a friend who had rented a car to make a road trip. He was smack in the middle of NY city heavy traffic when he heard a strange voice.
"Pardon me, but your windshield fluid is low." He was somewhat taken back and, being frustrated with the traffic, he yelled at the voice, "Who the h...... cares?!" As if that had caused irritation with the vehicle, it continued to give him reminders of various things on the remainder of the trip. "Excuse me but your door is ajar." He responded, "the door is NOT a jar...it is a DOOR." It was his, and my, first encounter with a communicating mode of transportation.

My wonder is, why did the manufacturer feel that we needed to be notified that the oven had reached temperature? Did he think that we're so mindless that we'd forget to check it as we prepared our recipe? We live in a mechanically noisy world. There's enough din to make one want to wear earplugs at times. I can live quite well without the audio from my appliances. I guess my husband feels the same way because when an alarm goes off, he can't distinguish one from the other. I've actually seen him spinning in circles trying to decide which direction to go in to attend to the appliance that's demanding attention.

Personally, I prefer the song of the birds, the soft, rhythmic sounds of the sea rolling into the shore, and rain pounding on the roof.

War Dead,Veterans and Others

It is our custom to dedicate the last Monday in May to the memorializing of our Military men and women who have lost their lives in combat. This should be so, in my opinion. These days, from the voices I hear everywhere, some of the purpose of the special day has been replaced by a 'holiday' feeling. Some are joyfully planning to spend their day with parties and cook outs, parades and celebration.

You might think I'm finding fault. Maybe I am, in a way. If the celebrating is done because we are rejoicing in the freedoms we enjoy because our soldiers fought for them, fine....but I'm more inclined to think that the frolicking is due to the fact that there's no work or school that day. My mother tells me that the parades in her day were somber affairs...not fun-filled times. I'm not big on doom and gloom, believe me, but I don't propose a nationwide day of funeral atmosphere.
I do think, though, that a healthy dose of respect is due those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, whether it was as a volunteer or a draftee.

On another note, often Memorial Day is used by some to honor those who are actively involved the Military now or those who have been who are still living. It is right and good that they are honored, but there is a day set aside in November for that purpose.

While I'm at it, there are many who have been involved in the 'war effort' who are rarely recognized. Think of the many women during WWII who spent time rolling bandages for the Red Cross, or knitted socks and sweaters for the servicemen overseas, or the 'Rosie the Riveters'. I'm sure that there must be some today who are doing some service here at home that supports the men and women who are fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. How often do we hear of them? They, too, should be noticed and recognized for their work for their country. Maybe we should have
another day to truly celebrate these lives...maybe we could call it Volunteer Day. That would cover all those selfless souls who get up in the middle of the night to do EMT services, those who leave their tables to save someone's home from fire, those who read to children, those who take a child under their wing to give them guidance, etc. These are precious people who are all saving some part of our lives and country.

I offer my sincere appreciation for each one of them, and I give them a standing ovation!

AC Weather

Temperatures are predicted to be 91 degrees out there today, and I may just might have to buckle under and turn on the central air for the first time this year. I don't pay a lot of attention to the numbers, but when my bodily thermostat feels it's uncomfortably hot, I have to do something about it. We've been using our ceiling fans and have the windows open. It's been sufficient thus far, especially when there's a nice breeze blowing, even though we've reached record temperatures for the season on a few occasions.

I love fresh air and I enjoy being outside. The sun is hot in our yard, and there's little shade, due to the fact that the contractors stripped most of the trees from the area before building. Unless we sit on the porch, it's pretty unbearable out there. I've been spending a lot of the day inside, where it is cooler. I commented to Mike the other day that I always have a bit of a tan in April, and I'm still white as a sheet now, in late May. He replied, "Well, Lovey, you have to be outside to get a tan!" Yes, that's true, but I'd look like shrivelled bacon if I spent time out there these days. We had, literally, about one week of Spring weather this year, and that was mostly rainy.

There is another option that I toy with. We have a low, rectangular wading pool that we bought for the grandkids. I suppose we could blow that up and lie out there in the sun, while splashing in a foot of water. I'd be cool for a few minutes and tanning at the same time. So far, I'm not that inspired to have a tan. It's too hot out there in the sun...wading pool or not.

I must be getting old. I really do not like the hot sun. When I was younger, before the sunblock was thought to be essential, I'd take the kids to the bay and we'd stay all day long, swimming and sunning ourselves. I can only pray we'll all be spared from skin cancer as we age! Maybe I'm doing myself a favor by not worrying about a suntan.

The best solution to the whole heat/sun thing is this...staying inside the house. Of course, another option would be to install AC where we need it most....outdoors, but that idea is just plain silly. So, as the day progresses and the sun gets hotter, I may cave in and turn the AC on in the house, lay back with a glass of lemonade, and hibernate until the temperatures drop.

See you in October!

Amish Country

Once again, her blog sparked memories...and I must write about them. Lancaster County, Pennsylvania is one of my favorite places in the East. I so enjoy the the vistas of acres of rolling farmfields, being tilled by Clydesdales and other horses, the smell of the rich, fertile earth which awaits the planting of tobacco, the sounds of the old steam trains and the rhythmic 'clip clop, clip clop' of the former race horses that pull the Amish buggies.

I enjoy shopping the Amish road-side stands. In Fall we've purchased fresh vegetables and jars of preserved goods. Baked items are always available as are wood products. We've got several wooden crates, birdhouses, a toy Noah's Ark with animals, and a bench from one favorite place on a back road in New Holland. We bought an Amish-sewn quilt top in Ronks. It's dark green, burgandy and white, and is still awaiting my hand at finishing. I'm afraid I'm not as 'industrious' as the Amish are. I mean well, but...well, you know how it is. Life gets in the way.

When we pass those simple, but orderly, Amish homes in Pennsylvania, I am always amazed at how neat they are. The gardens are weed-free, the barnyards are clean. The porches and walks are well swept, even the clothes on the line are hung in order. The Amish would be appalled to hear that I am envious of their responsible use of time. As the old-fashioned windmills big paddles turn, pumping water up from the ground to the pipes that run to house, I consider the size of the homes and the families that live within the walls. Numerous generations share the building, many of which have had separate homes added on to house the newly married family members. I find myself envious, too, of the fact that those families have the multi-generational experience of living together on the same acreage. The work together, live together, pray together.

I've always wished I could experience an Amish worship service, sitting on the benches in the barn where they are meeting on that week. Of course, if I did attend, I wouldn't be terribly welcome, as I'm "English" and an outsider. I wouldn't understand a word of the worship, either, as the Amish have a language all their own....a kind of mixture of old German and some form of English. (I've heard some conversations between women in a fabric store, and what was said was not discernable to my ear.)

Aside from the intrigue I have with the Amish way of life, other things available in Lancaster County have a draw for me. There's the staying at the Red Caboose Motel which is made up of real train cars which have been turned into comfortable sleeping quarters. There's a restaurant car, too, where one can go for meals. The floor is attached to hydraulics which make it seem to be rocking and rolling along a track, all the while 'train' music is playing. (Think Chattanooga Choo Choo and the Wabash Cannonball. Out front, an old steam train stops in front to pick up passengers and take them on a scenic tour through the farmlands. there's a miniature train display running in the store, and lots of railroad memorabelia decorating the walls.

There's a fun store ....in New Holland, I believe, called "The Outhouse." There are lots of gags being played on customers while they window shop or find the perfect gift.

Lancaster County is a busy, touristy area, but it's fun to go there, and it never seems to get old for me. I hope to get back there, one of these days....Mike's running short on Amish Chow-Chow.

Caution: Serious Side Effects!

Recently a friend passed along copies of some poems I had written for her when her first child was born. It was fun reading them, and seeing how different the style I used then is from the way I write today. We had a conversation about those and other poems I'd written.

One was a favorite of some of my friends. It was written for another friend, as she awaited the birth of her first baby girl. Many of the women had asked for a copy of those words, and honored by the requests, I granted them. Before long, I was being blamed for those women adding to their families. The poem was nicknamed "the fertility poem."

Perhaps, after the first accusation, I should have added a warning. "Caution: Reading these words may produce nausea, vomiting, headache, extreme drowsiness, strange eating habits, severe abdominal cramping, ultimately ending in the arrival of new family member. Risk responsibility is entirely that of the reader and author of these words will accept no blame for readers conditions."

Maybe I'll just steer clear of writing anything that smacks of family.

A Privy

We want a 'privy'. For those of you who are too young to know what that is...it's an outhouse. We don't care to have it for it's intended use, which was, back in the good, old days, a rest room. We've used a few of them on our camping escapades, and believe me, it is an 'odiferous' experience not usually desired to be had again. However, as they say, 'any port in a storm.'

We really know we're in the country when we ride along in the car and suddenly see an outhouse on an old property. We've seen them...original ones...on properties which have newer homes and on land with houses that stand looking abandoned and delapitated. I don't know why it gives us such joy to see them still standing, but for some reason, my husband and I both are happy to see the old relics.

Now, I will go back to my earlier statement about wanting one. We don't so much want an old one, for the majority of them have seen better days, having withstood the elements for years numbering close to a century. We'd be glad to have a brand new little shack with a half moon cut into the door, maybe one that they used to call a '2 seater'. Why do we desire to plunk such a building out near our mini-barn shed? Because it would make a great little garden tool shed. It might drive some of our fussier neighbors over the edge, but they'll just have to tolerate it. We don't tell them what to place in their yards, do we?

My husband was born with, and has developed well, a very odd sense of humor. If he had his way, he would get an old toilet, and he'd plant something in it and tell everyone that it's the original 'pot plant' as we saw once in Pennsylvania. Neighbors be on alert! As long as I'm alive, there will be no visual of that sort of potted garden from your windows. However...if he outlives me, I can't promise anything. Also be notified that you may also see a life-sized, wooden cow or sheep or both standing near the barn-shed. He will probably carry out his threat of putting an old bed out in the yard to plant a 'flower bed'. He may also finally hang that huge knight on horseback plaque over the garage door, if I'm not around to stop him. So far, I've been able to prevent all this, but I cannot promise what the future holds. Perhaps you should count your blessings when you see our outhouse.