Westward, Ho!

After 3 years absence from California, it was time to make a visit to our old stomping grounds. I'd been back only 1 1/2 years ago, when I had to make an emergency trip out to pick up John, but since I only stayed overnight and saw only one of my friends (not that you weren't worth it, Ingrid) I've never really counted it as much of a visit.

Besides the fun of a visit, we were planning a(nother) memorial service for my grandpa in Lodi, the town where my grandparents lived in their retirement. And I wanted Caleb to get to visit his mom, since he'd gotten to see his dad in April. So with only a couple weeks until school started, limited funds, and a van with a disturbing habit of making terrible noises, we piled in for a daring road trip.

Little did we know. Little did we know....

Our traditional first stop in Glendive, MT.

Since my mom was along as a relief (read: primary) driver, our plan was to drive straight through to save on lodging costs and have more of our trip time to spend in California doing the fun stuff. No offense, Western United States, but the glow is off our relationship after 50,000 trips along the same route.

The kids did a lot of sleeping that first day. I could have taken an entire photo series of Devon. He elevates sleeping to a kind of performance art. Damon, Tiggy, and Devon had to share the bench seat in the back, but Devon was unfazed by his lack of space. Once asleep, the world became his oyster, and it was not uncommon for him to have a foot by Tiggy's face, one leg extended up by my mom's seat, and his head butted into Damon's side, or some such variation of his endless repertoire.

It was a thing of beauty.

"We" drove through the night, reaching West Yellowstone by 2 AM and stopping for a couple hours of sleep just before sunrise. The kids were just starting to wake up when we got to Idaho Falls, the place on our journey where we turn south and head into the blazing cauldron of Nevada.

But first we had to make another traditional stop, this time at the Perrine Bridge, a truss arch four-lane bridge over the Snake River Canyon. This bridge is an amazing thing to see, especially if you're not expecting it. The ground is completely flat around there, and you're just driving along, the town visible just in front of you. Suddenly, the earth disappears beneath you and you're suspended 486 feet above the Snake. It gives you a thrill, I can tell you!

We were fortunate enough to stop early in the morning right when a bunch of BASE jumpers were about to make their descent. I've never seen that happen in all the times I've stopped before, and it was a real treat.  There were crowds of them, some in the process of jumping, some still training on the side.

Devon chatted a bunch of them up, and we discovered that a person has to make 300-400 successful sky diving jumps (wouldn't be much point in continuing the sport if they were unsuccessful jumps...) before they are qualified to BASE jump. That made me feel a little better, because we'd already heard that this was the first jump for most of them, and I had pictured a bunch of tourists showing up and flinging themselves over the edge like so many tragic Disney-coerced lemmings. It was much better this way.

There was even an 80 year old man that jumped, and he did the best of any of them. He was a very potent reminder that you are never too old to chase your dreams. So yes, Noni, you can thank me when Devon pursues his dream of sky diving.

Underneath the Perrine Bridge.

 Of course we stopped at our favorite rest area by Jackpot, Nevada. I've stopped there every trip I can remember since Laura and John were 3 and 4, respectively and I made my first trip out to Minnesota. It's a nice place to cool off before hitting the desert.

And you have to admit, this is one cool pooch!

 
After that, it was down to Nevada. Our poor, decrepit vehicle had no air conditioning, and it was a rough trip across the blazing desert. I tried to cheer myself up by remembering that it took the pioneers about 6 weeks to do what we were doing in 6 hours, but such was my modern sense of entitlement that I still felt very sorry for myself as we sweated our way across.

At last, late in the afternoon when things were finally starting to cool off, we reached the Sierras---and another one of my traditional stops. Yes, folks, we were back in Taco Bell country again, and the restaurant in Verde, NV is a very nice one with good quality food. I'm somewhat of a Taco Bell aficionado, so you can take my word for it.

California at last.....but still about 5 hours from our destination.

We got there well after midnight, but our dear friend Elba, was such a good sport she still said she was glad to see us. That is true friendship right there! Nobody spent much time chatting, as late as it was. We needed what was left of a good night's rest to be ready to see all our old friends at church the next morning.

A Blurred Summer

Once my grandpa's funeral was over, we wended our way home-ward. Of course, we wended a bit in the opposite direction first as we headed south to the Wisconsin Dells. I'd been there once before, as a bored and unimpressed teenager, and it hadn't made much of an impression on me. In my defense, we only drove through, we didn't stop and see any sights. So to me, the Wisconsin Dells was a gas station where I'd picked up some maple fudge.

Um, if you've never been there, let me assure you, there's more there than fudge!

We were in a hurry, so I still didn't get to see much more than part of the main drag, but I was very impressed. Every square foot is devoted to huge, ostentatious tourist attractions of every kind.

Watch Genuine Lumberjacks perform!

Come see African animals!!

Experience ancient Greece! With Roller Coasters!!!

See the White house destroyed by a Tyrannosaurus Rex!!!!

Our plan was to go on the jet boat tour, but while buying tickets, my mom discovered that we could go on an earlier tour---AND take the dogs. (It was a terribly hot day, so taking them along was a perfect solution to our dilemma of what to do with them ). No jet boats, but we could ride the Wisconsin Ducks.

The Wisconsin Ducks are a fleet of amphibious vehicles left over from World War II, now used to give land/water tours of the Dells' scenic attractions. The tour itself was very enjoyable---there were the requisite corny jokes from our tour guide, beautiful scenery, and a couple of very exciting plunges from solid ground into very liquid water!

This was just after we entered the river. My, that water was close!

For those of you who've never experienced an amphibious vehicle, it's very interesting. Even though your brain tells you that it is OK for your car to plunge into the river, it never feels quite right. And having some slightly traumatized poochies on your lap doesn't help either. Their brains weren't telling THEM it was OK!

It was so much cooler out on the river, and so refreshing after the muggy heat of the afternoon. But we weren't as refreshed as the jet boat occupants we saw whiz past at regular intervals. They got very thoroughly soaked. Repeatedly.

After seeing that, we were glad we hadn't taken the more sensitive members of our family (read: men) on that tour. But the more adventurous of us (read: women and teenagers) decided we simply had to return some day and experience it for ourselves.

Well, after that, the summer just flew by, full of adventures and memories.

And lots of work.

We had a busy Vacation Bible School, a revamp of our program for campmeeting the month before. I don't know how people put on those VBS's where they have hundreds of kids---I find it sufficiently challenging to have around 20!

I helped with our usual children's booth at the fair. It's always so much fun, but VERY exhausting to sit in the heat all day and still bring the perk. This year I "happened" to need to be out of town for one of the days, so I got a little bit of a break. (Insert evil grin here)

 The theme was  "Jonah and the Whale". We had coloring, face painting, and a Jonah craft for tired-out kiddos to do. We also tried something new this year---I made up gift bags with a few ocean toys and stickers and a copy of the story of Jonah so we could hand them out to the kids. I needed to make way more of them, but I liked how it turned out. That way, even if the kids are too busy to pay much attention at the fair, they have something to take home to tell them about the Bible.

No, I did not paint the whale. It is a cut out. But thanks for thinking that...

I installed a pool. Oh, you didn't think I was capable of doing that?

Hey, there's no limit to what you can do if you get hot enough!

(You can do it, too. Just cover one old tire with some plastic and tarps. Add water and enjoy your very own butt pool.)

My home for unwed mothers received a new resident who proceeded to present me with 4 cute tabby kittens. Anyone need another little sweetie? Just checking...

I got curly hair!!!!

But only for one day, and only because I had my hair in braids.

It was still nice...

There were some great sunsets to cap off our busy workdays...

We even crammed in a trip to California, but more (lots more!) on that later...

 
 Yep, it's been an amazing summer and I can't believe it's over already. Caleb's back in school, football season has started, the days are getting shorter, and the nights cooler. It won't be long now until the snow starts to fly and I'm curled up inside for another long winter. But for now, I'm enjoying summer's gracious farewell and thanking God for a  vacation full of blessings.

Visiting My Roots

 

We had Grandpa's funeral service back at the family farm in Wisconsin. My grandpa actually came from Illinois, but Wisconsin is where my grandma was from, and where they both taught early on in their marriage. My grandparents are buried side by side in a beautiful country cemetery overlooking the fields my grandma walked across as a child, to attend the same school at which she would one day teach, and my grandpa would be the principal.

After the ceremony, we had the now-famous balloon release where the wind blew the balloons into a tree. It was a fittingly humorous send-off for a man who loved to laugh at the absurd. Even if the funeral staff probably did think we were a few eggs short of a dozen as we cackled hysterically!

It was a beautiful, restful time of family and reminiscing, visiting all the old spots and chatting with relatives we get to see every decade or so. And of course, stopping by the farm--not my grandma's farm, which burned down years ago---but the farm run for years by her niece, Dorothy, and Dorothy's husband, Charles.

My cousin is in her 80's now and most of the work is done by her children and their children, but Dorothy still comes down every day to help. While we were visiting, I was wandering around the farm taking pictures and saw, in the dim barn, a farm hand spryly mucking out the gutters. It was only later, when I saw her up close, that I realized the "farm hand" was my elderly-in-name-only cousin.

This is Exhibit A as to why I never wanted to be a farmer's wife---I'm not tough enough! Unless I had 20 kids to take over the work so I could retire early---and after 20 kids, I'd NEED to retire!

However, the farm is a lovely place to visit, especially for kids. My grandparents would always visit there on furloughs, and for my mom, "exotic" meant cow pies in Wisconsin, not the humdrum beaches of Waikiki. She passed that same attitude onto each succeeding generation and we all wear our visits to the farm as badges of honor.

Whenever I visit the farm, I always visit my namesake, descendants of my cow-sister, Tina. When I first visited the farm in the 90's, the family named a cow in my honor. She's long-since passed to her reward, but her daughters' daughters' daughters are still there and producing children every year. This year's crop was especially cute, and I do think there's a resemblance....

Going back to one's roots is a time for personal development and self-discovery. I discovered I am NOT the cow-whisperer, because young Tina would have nothing to do with me until I bribed her with some hay. And even then, you could see she considered the whole affair iffy business.

I also got to pillage a few small items from the spot where my grandma's old home used to be. My cousin owns it now, and he generously game permission for me to forage a bit. This is the old stone foundation of my grandma's barn, the selfsame rocks on which my mother mashed her foot, when the horse got too close to the wall.

 I came home with an old rusty bed, the battery case from an ancient car, and 3 classic soda pop bottles.

 
  Tiggy was thrilled to be able to carry the bed frame out of the jungle.

Thrilled, I tell you. (I'm training her to be a sherpa)

The whole family had a wonderful time, even my mom, who broke her foot 45 minutes before the funeral was due to start. A very big thank you to the wonderful friends and family who took such good care of us and generously opened their hearts and homes to us (not to mention feeding us such delicious food!). We really will have to do this again soon, preferably without someone dying first!

My Wonderful Grandpa

My grandpa died June 17, the day after Caleb and I got back from campmeeting. His death was not unexpected, due to his heart condition, blood cancer, and frequent strokes, but you're never quite ready to say good-bye to someone you love.

I'd expected my memorial blog post to center around what a wonderful grandpa he had been to me. I was the youngest of 4 kids and my parents both worked full time. For some reason---perhaps due to my youthful exuberance---my parents found it expedient to send me to stay with my grandparents frequently during school breaks and holidays. I was fine with this. I got to be queen of the roost and have fun with pretty much the world's best grandparents. Sorry about the rest of you, but I got the cream of the crop.

But what I discovered as my mom and I searched through old photos and mementos in preparation for the funeral, was a glimpse at how profoundly my grandpa had impacted my own life. My grandpa was an amazing man---anyone who knew him will tell you that---and he left a lasting legacy for those blessed enough to have him as a part of their lives. He lived a live of quiet dedication and integrity---the kind of life that impacts those around in ways they aren't even aware of at the time.

Like me, for instance.

I'd never realized before how so many of the things that make up the whole of me can be traced directly back to the unconscious influence of the wonderful, godly man that was my grandpa. I am so very, very grateful to have had him in my life.

It is impossible to isolate and analyze all of the many ways he influenced me, but here are just a few of them....


1. It's pretty obvious we both have it going on in the looks department. You have to be born with it, folks.

2. A life-long gift of reading is an amazing legacy to leave. My grandpa was always reading. My mom was always reading. She would read at stop lights. I guess it gets worse every generation, because my children get mad at me when I try to read while driving. Spoil sports!

3. My grandparents' missionary service in Hawaii has left our family culture an amazing mixture of pasty white mid-western, Asian, and Hawaiian. Our family cuisine runs the gamut from rich, brown gravies (and anything with Jello or mayonnaise) to sushi and li hing muis with lemons. (and yes, that's me on the right. It was an awkward age, OK?)

4. My grandpa is responsible for my love of all things Christmas. From a very young age I was "needed" in decorating for Christmas each year---though I'm sure at times I was more hindrance than help. Now I'm working to pass the same spirit of excitement and wonder along to the next generation.

5. An avid photographer, my grandpa had reams of slides and movies that he loved to take out and show all his grandkids. Between him and my dad, my siblings and I developed a love of photography that lasts to this day.

6. My grandpa was an amazing teacher, beloved by all his students. He knew how to make dry material come alive through humor and fun, but also inspired a respect in his students that lasts to this day. Teaching is something I love to do also---there's nothing like seeing the light click on in someone's mind as they grasp a new concept.
  

7. OK, so this one's only partly true. Grandpa wasn't all that crazy about cats, but he put up with them for the sake of those in the family that loved having them around. Thereby allowing for the growth and development of one crazy cat lady.



8.  Road trips with Grandpa! Who in our family doesn't remember at least one? Yosemite, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, the Rockies....I was fortunate to take many cross-country trips with my grandparents, igniting my love of the open road.

9. Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes! I grew up feasting on the most amazing tomatoes in the world. It's still just not summer without some home-grown tomatoes, though I have to grow them myself now.

10. Perhaps the biggest way my grandpa shaped our family was through his culture of unfailing generosity. His home was always open to those who were in need---that's just how our family IS. So it was something completely natural for me to open my own home to three little munchkins in search of a forever home.



I am so profoundly grateful for the amazing family I have been blessed with. My grandparents, my mom and dad, even my siblings (they aren't so bad now that they're grown up!), all helped to shape me and all enriched my life immeasurably. I will miss my grandpa, but I look forward to seeing him again and telling him how he changed my life in so many wonderful ways.