Westward Ho! / Day 2 ... Iowa! + Friends

Tuesday, August 16

The next morning we were finished breakfast and about to leave, when a man knocked on our camper door and asked for my husband. Turned out his name was Archie, and in a thick Louisiana accent, delivered through a wad of chewing tobacco, he managed to tell Michael that he needed help changing a tire on his 5th wheel trailer. Apparently he delivers trailers for a living, and didn't have the right tools with him. After a successful tire change, we got underway … with a small detour north.

Just in case you're wondering how big those windmill blades actually are ...

You see, my FaceBook message of the day before had announced the commencement of our trek west, and Kim (of Phil and Kim, Max and Chloe, of Iowa Falls) commented that they'd love to have us visit if we could manage it. We decided “Yes, we'll come for a couple of hours!” and hopped the hour north to get to their place.

A quick tour of their new home (orange!), lunch, the Nerf guns coming out, the ball bin getting dumped, Phil's arrival home from work getting closer …

Lunch turned into supper, dusk rolled in and a bonfire was lit … and yes, we spent the night!

previous posts : DAY 1

Churned

Two mornings ago, I came into the house where my family had gotten together for a few days (we slept in the camper in the driveway) and my sister informed me that the boys had made butter before I got up. The Boys would be Fynn and Alex, my sister's youngest son. The two that had been nearly inseparable for a month now, but periodically needed to be separated as they tend to squabble a fair bit … two last-borns competing for attention I think. But, butter! They'd made butter. I found a half pint jar on the table, with a nice golden lump swimming in some cloudy liquid. It didn't appear like they'd used any, but simply had the fun of shake/churning it before I ever got out of bed. I really wish my dreams were as efficient as that.

Not making any sense? I thought not. I haven't been for awhile now … my thoughts churning and flip flopping all over the place, without any real answers or solutions or clarity appearing at all. No buttah, just lots of queasy stomachs and cloudy hearts.

Back when I started homeschooling, my sis-in-law warned me that I'd be confronted with my own issues in ways I never had before, so be prepared. I was a bit baffled, but soon saw exactly what she meant. Time together with someone who has large quantities of the same DNA and spirit and abilities that you do can be utterly maddening, delightful, and problematic. You see yourself reflected, amplified, and not always in the best light either.  No one warned me that this trip would do that all over again, but in deeper and more fundamental ways. That I'd be confronted with memories of all kinds … things I'd buried, feelings I'd stuffed, and wounds I'd never licked. Relationships lost. People I'd loved. Personas I used to be.

Tangled together with all of this is the undercurrent of my mom's continued slide into Alzheimers, and what it means for me and my family as a whole. I'm already utterly uprooted physically, I'm watching one of my foundation stones crumble, and I'm trotting around the country throwing myself into the laps and homes of past friends, new friends, relatives, and all kinds of people who know me directly or indirectly, get a lot of my past, and often have at least a fraction of an idea of who I am and what makes me tick. Lots of mirrors, lots of shards.

Churned, but not seeing much gold yet.

…

So part of what's made me able to even articulate my current state is thinking back to the 6 weeks we spent on the East coast of Florida, in the Hobe Sound / Jupiter / West Palm Beach area (picking up right where I left off in the last post).  Michael had committed to another Sol LeWitt job a couple of months earlier, so we'd had to prearrange where we'd be when that started. I'd also been invited on a cruise with my sis and friends, leaving from Miami, so parking ourselves on the coast near friends in Jupiter just made a lot of sense.

Michael's job started first, so the day after we got set up in a campground in Hobe Sound, we shipped him off for 12 days of scribbling in NYC. The kids and I settled in, and then went to visit Rebecca and her family … the Rebecca I've known as long as I can remember. My first concrete memory of her is playing on her family's rooftop in Lima Peru, making pea soup out of the pellets we found up there … only to discover it was rabbit turd soup thanks to the abandoned hutches left by the previous owners. I could go on for days … countless long summer weekends playing on her farm in southern IL (driving 4 wheelers all over the place while our dads talked for hours), wandering San Salvador in rattletrap taxis and on foot when our families visited there together in our teens, 3 weeks backpacking in Europe, an infamous spring break in AL that resulted in spending a night stranded in a gym with the residents of an old folks home, after we tried to get home ahead of a once-in-20-year snow storm. Her gregariousness balanced my shyness beautifully … we were always friends.

We drifted apart somewhat in our 20s thanks to a split in the church, and after her wedding we didn't see each other for what turned out to be many years. A couple phone calls, finding each others blogs, and news via friends kept us up on basic life events, but we'd not had more than a cursory conversation in nearly 20 years. I missed her though, and was pretty sure our kids would get along famously if we'd give them the chance. Within 5 minutes of walking into her house, I felt right at home. Open hearts, open book, open door. Picking up for the most part right where we left off.

By the time Michael got back the kids were fast friends, and we'd been woven right into the community she and her husband John have beautifully gathered around them, including going to church with them, and meeting old and new friends there too. Waters I'd barely stuck a toe into for the previous 12 years … but ones that are a huge part of who I am and where I come from. My tribe by birth. The tribe where my real foundation as a Child of God was inadvertently trumped by Child of BTP, Daughter of Don, Granddaughter of Albert, Great Great Grand of A.H. Rule.  Shoes that pinched just a bit too much when it came to my freedom to worship, and so I'd left them on the mat and backed tearfully out the door ten years ago. A massive churning, that was.

So going to church with John and Rebecca was no little thing. Not to my gut, my heart, my history. I dipped a toe in, wondering if I'd get scalded, but trusting too that if Rebecca's heart was representative of what I'd find there, I had nothing to worry about. Love won, hands down. Hearts were just as open as I used to find them … even when my last name and history were figured out … and my fears crumbled. I was met with warmth, understanding that surpassed anything I'd expected, and offers of friendship and work and help.

Lots more Florida pics if you click this photo.

Help that I was still afraid to ask for mind you, for fear of taking advantage somehow. Need won out over fears however, and when my brakes failed as I was about to pick up Michael from the airport, I eventually called John and he came right over, diagnosed the problem, took me to pick up Michael, bought parts (and then more parts), and had the burst brake line fixed by the next afternoon. Love and kindness, that was.

Community loves on each other, helps each other, and looks out for each other. Shares when it can, builds when it can, and reaches out when it can. Knits itself into a unit of some sort that functions best when all its parts are working. The church I grew up in excelled at community, and still does in many cases. I missed that almost more than anything, after walking away … it was a huge piece of my foundation. My sense of belonging somewhere, to something bigger than myself. I've found bits of it elsewhere … in a co-op preschool the boys attended in Brooklyn, on our block in NYC in the later years, and in the delightful neighbors we had on the Delaware River in PA. Truly developed communities, that worked together like a family.

So to find community in Florida, in a group I was no longer nominally a part of, was somehow a shock. A heart-twisting one, given that I'm not willing to give up the freedom I have to worship elsewhere in order to 'belong' to that group again. But it showed me I didn't have to belong to contribute, nor do I have to give up what I believe is right. If I love across invisible fences, they have a tendency to disappear. They're only fences if I treat them as one. Love wins.

We left Florida after I got back from a week of utter bliss on a boat in the Caribbean with 3 women whom I adore, and I took with me the feeling that something had healed (in me), something had grown (my hope), and something was breaking (my heart) the more we started wandering north. Alabama and New Orleans and Mississippi and Arkansas and St Louis were all still to come, but each one was a step closer to Chicago, to my folks, and to a year's worth of changes in my Mom.

My beautiful Mom who now needs 24-hour care, is confused often, and has less and less ability to access the memories that are becoming locked in her head thanks to Alzheimers. There's been a guilt war waged in my heart for months now, as there have been hints here and there that maybe I should go be her caretaker as I'm 'free' at the moment. While I don't feel called to do that right now (and my family would have very little of me if I did), I trust that if I am hollered at, I will listen. In the meantime, my inherited and well-exercised tendency to guilt is alive and kicking … some things are hard to let go of, yes?  I'd do well to take notes from my Dad, whose acceptance of what is happening to Mom, and steadiness in the face of constant change and curtailing of his own freedoms, is rather astounding. A glimpse of that buttery gold, methinks.

Carry on, Mr. Bowditch.

(Onward)

Two States

South Carolina

We were in South Carolina and we were going to my dad's cousin George's house. We were driving and the road turned to sand.  We got to the driveway so we went down it.  There was a hill, 9% grade, filled with potholes.  So we went slowly and made our way down the hill.  We got parked and ate supper.  The next day, George's daughter Eliora got back mid afternoon from school.  When she got back we turned on the hose and put it on the trampoline, and jumped on the trampoline.

At night, we played card games.  Me and Eliora caught a lizard and made a habitat for it.  After three nights, we left, but the hill was a lot harder going up than down.  But we made it!

Savannah

When we went to Savannah it was St Patrick's day weekend.  So the first thing we did was we went to up to the Ships of the Sea Maritime Museum.  That was really cool.  The ship museum had lots of models of all the ships.  Then we walked up to the harbor and saw the US Coast Guard tall ship the Eagle.  The harbor was really crowded because there was a big party for St. Patty's Day.  Then we left the harbor and walked around the city and got some lunch.  

Then we walked back to the harbor and watched the tall ship leave.  First they got a tugboat to turn them around, then they opened the sails and went upriver.  But before that happened, a container ship came downriver and slowed the Eagle's leaving.  There are lots more pictures here.

Then we walked across town and went to a book store.  We looked for Nathaniel Bowditch's book of General Navigation.  Then we walked back and went home.

I See You

There is no more delicious feeling in the world than being truly SEEN by someone, and loved no matter what they see. Seeing love covers a multitude of sins, holes, cracks, burns, you name it. It's not blind, it sees ... and loves anyway. I find it to be the underpinning of any healthy relationship … you show yourself, trusting that you won't be rejected, but that you'll be Seen and Known. THIS is the sweetness, the very marrow of life to me.

I've tasted this at many points on this journey, and it never fails to release just a bit more of whatever it is I've spent my life guarding or concealing. Things I'm afraid I'll be judged for, or shunned for, or seen as weak for. I've got a lot of those still lurking in the depths, and they only gradually seem to see the light of day. As they do, and they're seen and not judged, I become a bit lighter, more myself, more free.

I got a very rich dose of this in NC, and I'm still musing on it a month later. Heady stuff, being seen and loved. After Knoxville and the delight of soaking up Keren and Bobby's fellowship again, we finally got ourselves to Raleigh, and the home of my Uncle Dick and Aunt Judy. I'd promised them a visit before the trip ever started, and after 18 months on the road we finally rolled up to their door and dove right into the pool of love and warmth and relationship that is their home. Judy is my dad's sister (the eldest of 7 kids) and an amazing blend of both her parents. Heart savvy, head savvy, and an expert at Seeing and Loving. Her husband is a softie hiding under a tremendous wit, with a servant's heart. I went under, and didn't come up for days.

Spending two weeks with them (camped at a nearby state park) we worked on a bunch of painting and yardwork and housework projects that were either Someday ones, or things that are getting harder for Uncle Dick to keep up with thanks to his Parkinson's disease. We worked, but the relating and talking and sharing was woven right in and around everything, and I felt it in every corner of my heart. Seen. Known. Loved. An absolutely priceless gift.

Our welcome ran out at the state park (we had to move after 14 days thanks to regulations, even though the place was nearly empty) and so we hauled ourselves to the NC State Fairgrounds just west of downtown, and set up camp for another two weeks. Up next was painting at Tim and Anita's, and that was another bit of heaven. Never enough time to talk, but we made a go of it, and managed to get a bedroom and a bathroom painted in between. Anita is Judy's eldest daughter, and knows fierce love as well as any of my Grambie's grand daughters. Her husband's listening love poured out alongside hers, and watered us all.

Our last week in Raleigh was spent getting to know the delightful Rich Bolich, and reworking a gravel pathway around his backyard pool. Rick found our blog online before we ever left on this trip, and contacted us saying he'd love to meet us and give us some work, and support what we were doing any way that he could. Finally meeting in person was a joy for all of us, and he treated us to a couple lovely meals, including one for Douglas for his 14th birthday, and gave us the run of his place and complete trust in messing around with his landscaping and walkway. Another friend for life, and another anchor in Raleigh.

We also had the delight of hanging out with Stephanie and Brandon Smith (Steph's another Rule cousin), and taking the boys to Defy Gravity (a trampoline park) for Douglas' birthday treat. Highly recommended if you've got one near you … he declared it to be the Best Birthday Ever!

Leaving Raleigh caused a lump in my throat for several days, of the very best kind. Choked up with love and kindness and fellowship. Feeling seen, loved, and blessed beyond measure.

We tacked back west after pulling out of the fairgrounds, and holed up near Charlotte for some time to ourselves. While there we made visits to my delightfully colorful ex-Brooklynite friend Carolyn, and Amanda and Jeff Orr and their boys … more open arms and hearts and homes. Amanda is Judy's youngest, and another kindred spirit for sure. Our boys had some great romps with hers, and were fun to get to know. We also fit in a gold mining trip, as there happened to be a 4th generation gold mine right next door to our campsite. A good learning experience for Fynn, whose dreams of King Midas got a healthy reality check :). Just between our campsite and the mine, there was a house with a donkey named Applejack in residence. If you've never been treated to a wakeup bray/honk/screech, it's quite the experience.

We had only two fellow campers at that campground, and both kept to themselves. An older gentleman who we'd once glimpsed washing his truck, and a woman with two huge dogs who appeared to be doing some spring cleaning. The day before we left, the lady walked her dogs past our campsite on leashes, offering a "Hello!" on her way by. I noted it as a slight bit odd, as she'd been letting the dogs roam free all week. A bit later, she came over and halloo'd the trailer (camper etiquette doesn't seem to allow knocking unless you've hollered a greeting first, from a respectable distance of 10 feet or so), and I came to the door to find her offering to show my boys a snake that she'd found by her camper. Fynn was all for it, and so he and I followed her over to find a nicely sized black snake hanging out by her fire pit. I reminded him that Michael had previously offered $5 to the first boy to come to him holding a snake by the tail, and so he picked it up, wincing a bit, and holding it as far away from himself as he could he walked it over to show Dad.

As he was walking away, she handed me a little rolled up piece of grey paper said “Oh, there's one more thing … here's a map for a little treasure hunt that can be done in the woods back here, if you think your boys would enjoy it? I hope it's not a problem … there are some knives and matches involved ...” I assured her that was no issue, and that they'd be delighted!

Fynn unrolled the hand-drawn map and started right out, as Douglas wasn't available yet. He found “Long Log” right by Applejack's fence, and “Root Dam” and “Gnome Home” were also discovered with little trouble (which suddenly helped explain why I'd seen her coming out the woods the day before with a pile of moss in her hands), but he couldn't figure out which tree had the treasure chest under it. He called in Douglas for reinforcements, and a few minutes later they emerged from the woods with a little black chest, full of absolutely perfect treasures for the two of them. It was filled with some special 50-cent pieces, a couple $2 bills, a pair of sheathed pocket knives, glow-in-the-dark pebbles, a telescope, flashlight, and some matches. The effort she went to to provide them with a fun experience, before uttering a single word to any of us, was astounding to me.

It turned out that her name was Lori and she taught dance in a nearby town, had a granddaughter nearby, and was going through some old stuff while her hubby was away on business. The cleaning turned up some treasures that she thought the kids would get a kick out of. I think Lori herself was the treasure. We had been Seen, once again, and Known, before we ever even managed to exchange a word.

wrenching the heart loose

I’ve tried to start this post countless times, and feel like a dog turning around trying to find the perfect position before settling down for a nap.  Haven’t found it, so just need to wade in …

Since Michael’s last post, we’ve spent 5-ish weeks in the Chicago area working for several families while staying with my parents, 2 nights camping near the Indiana Dunes, a week at Gary and Peggy’s place in Holland Michigan (building a fountain/waterfall feature in one of their gardens), one night at a rest area, one brief but glorious night in our old stomping grounds in Lackawaxen PA with friends, 2 hours in a parking lot catching up with adored old friends we hadn’t seen in over 10 years, and the last 5 days settling into our 3-week digs at a campground in Clinton CT, while Michael works in New Haven doing a Sol LeWitt install.   Whew.  That’s the framework … now to try and fill in a few of the holes!

Chicago was my home for 23 years, and it’s more familiar to me than almost anywhere.  Faces, streets, names, the exact speed at which you can turn left onto 2nd Avenue, where mom keeps her measuring cups, and the back of Helen Maurer’s head on Sunday morning … all pretty much unchanged.  Some folks still steady as a rock, and some wearing at the edges, as you’d expect.  We moved away 14 years ago, and despite the quick visits here and there, I didn’t feel much of the more subtle changes going on.  Until this trip.  Five weeks is long enough to be less guest, and more resident.  Less hurry, more soaking up the minutes and feeling like they didn’t need to be squeezed quite as tightly. 

Except the longer we were there, the more I felt like they did.  The more I realized what needed to be done, and how big the changes were … both what had happened quietly over time, and what was cropping up on the horizon.  The thing is, (so very sorry Dad but I’m about to ruin your ability to share this post with Mom), my mom has Alzheimers*.   She’s had the visible signs for several years now, and things are progressing pretty much as expected.  And what is now, and what’s expected, sucks in many many ways.  She’s still independent and drives to familiar places, but that window will close before too terribly long, and her sense of time is irreconcilably twisted.  She’s lost many of the abilities that have defined her character for most of her life … like being able to run an ever-changing house full of guests, feed crowds on a moment’s notice, finish the crossword puzzle for you when you get stuck, and remember to send dozens of birthday cards every month.

The tide is eating away the definition of who she’s always been, and her edges are getting soft.  The guilt is gone, her worry (about everything except time) is gone, and her epic sense of responsibility is eroded down to a nubbin.  It makes me bawl, and I want to build her back up.  Now.  Put her back together, find the pieces and stitch them into something familiar.  Push up against the beautiful castle that’s always been my Mom, and I can’t.  I have to take her hand, hold her heart, and listen for what she’s saying in between the lines.  Which I can still (now at least) see in her eyes some of the time.  

There is beauty there, achingly lovely beauty, in seeing her happy, mostly content, and depending entirely on Dad and God.  Her pleasures are simple … Reminisce magazines, going to meeting, being with Dad, watching her loved ones interact and chiming in sometimes, food in general (and more specifically yogurt before bed), and feeling useful.  She is still my Mom.  But she’s fading.  It’s a maddening thing to feel, and while Dad is accepting it completely, and slowly trading roles with her, it’s a heartbreaking dance to watch. 

So I spent a lot of time cleaning cupboards, organizing the garage and shed, making lists and calls and suggestions for the future, and furthering the work that some others had already started.  This was all woven into the things that Dad had asked to be done, but made it hard to be fully focused on the named projects, when the needs and soon-to-be-needs became so apparent.  I did what was foremost in my mind and heart most of the time, and that sometimes left Michael and the boys waiting patiently because I decided that the rest of the garage just HAD to be sorted before we left for Home Depot. 

Which brings me to a side note … we appear to be collecting loyalty cards at an almost alarming rate.  Might as well sign up if we’re going to be in and out of the local grocery/drugstore/building supply place repeatedly, and the default choices change often.  I’m also becoming rather opinionated as to who’s got the smartest layout, most knowledgeable staff, and best selection … I’ll take a True Value or Ace Hardware any day over the bigger places, if I have a problem to solve and don’t happen to need stone or lumber or pond forms.  And the fact that we all equally love going in such places is a huge bonus … just look at all the possibilities!  Power tools, new kinds of spack, funny odd little tubes and connectors, carts to ride, shelves to climb, aisles to run in, camper gadgets to check out, and Weapons of all sorts!  This is becoming a rabbit hole more than a side note …

So we built some things in Chicago, fixed some things, organized stuff, and cut down a lot of trees, and hauled a lot of things.  My folks had some landscaping to do … leftover dirt from a sewer pipe fix last year that needed moving, grass to plant, rampant groundcover to tame, mulch to spread, and an “oh there’s a pond next to the foundation!” moment after some heavy rain that resulted in some back-breaking work.  After several days of rain, we took the first dryish day and went to a building site that was offering free clay fill, and slipped and slid our way around a massive mound of clay trying to “shovel” it into the back of the truck.  Hah!  Nothing like doing the dig and twist/heave/grunt that launches what’s on your shovel far enough to land it in the back of the truck (while attempting not to slide backwards down the mound), and have every last bit of the load stay firmly attached to the shovel.  Pitchforks helped a bit, and Michael’s crazy determination basically finished the job. 

Have I mentioned how much we’re enjoying working together?  I was asked a few days ago what the best part about this trip was for me, and the first thing that popped into my head was working with Michael.  There’s something utterly delightful about working shoulder to shoulder, taking turns doing the what-do-you-need-next dance, and tackling rafter angle problems with Google (me) and analog methods (Michael) and arriving simultaneously at the same answer.  Building stuff is lovely.  Problem solving is actually fun when it’s done together.  It gets a little hairy when the boys join in, but honestly their ideas are very helpful in most cases, and sometimes downright brilliant.  Their work habits are slowly improving too, and their abilities.  Douglas has shot up in the last few months, and (shhh) appears to have just nudged past Michael in height.  He’s all leg and angles and falling hair, but has enough oomph now to truly make a difference in the hard stuff … as long as I keep him fed.  Which is more challenging that it looks, as his favorite foods are all carb based, but I’m learning to read both boys’ moods as if they have their blood sugar level tattooed on their foreheads, and so find myself buying snacks constantly. 

After the bulk of the stuff at my folks was taken care of, we moved on to Jon and Kara’s place, though we kept the camper parked in my parents’ side yard.  Jon had a summer to-do-list that included some fun stuff for me on it (outlet and fixture swaps and some rearranging of wires), a bit of yard work, and some caulking and vent work … nothing too major.  The boys came along, and were more reluctant to assist than usual as their place is a kid/teen paradise when it comes to games, toys, and entertainment options.  A lot of my work was in the basement rec room/bar area, and I had more trouble than usual keeping them at the ready.  Douglas managed to be a big help in getting the wires rearranged though, drawing me a most lovely diagram to keep it all straight. 

We stayed over one night after getting their work done, and had the most delightful and decadent Saturday morning I can remember in a very long time.  Grilled breakfast (yes those piles of bacon arejust as big as they look!) and enough laughter and conversation to take my mind completely off the pain of things at my folks for a bit, and pour in some healing salve.  Complete and utter delight, and hard to leave.  Oh, and did I mention Jon is Tina’s sister, of the Ken and Tina chapter?  Yup, we go just as far back with them too.   Deep roots, a lot of water, and a lot of laughs.  Thanks you two!

The last main project in the area was the biggest one … building a cupola, complete with bell and weather vane, on John and Olive Kaiser’s garage … but that will have to be its own post I think.  It was hot, fun, a lovely learning curve, and interspersed with therapeutic bouts of chain sawing down a pile of junk trees and clearing out overgrown brush.  Though I’ve known John and Olive almost my whole life, spending a week in and out of their home (and on their roof) I learned to appreciate them both a lot more.  Several of their kids have spent countless hours in my home and heart over the last 20 years, but in all my interactions I’d never spent much time with their parents.  It was a treat.

There’s something about being folded into other people’s households that’s starting to be a very interesting part of this trip.  We’re working for folks, but we’re kind of guests too, but not entirely … there’s no defining it neatly.   We’ve started to call the work we’re doing Busking, as in the play-your-guitar and open-the-case-at-your-feet scenario.  We ask that supplies be covered (if possible) and beyond that, there are no expectations of payment.  No fees, no hourly rates, no bills.  We do it because we love to, and if we’re paid something more than the supplies cost, that’s lovely, and if we’re not, that’s equally lovely.  Expectations seem to be a killer in many arenas, and this is one of them.  What we do expect is to work hard, finish projects well, and enjoy most of the process.  We expect to have some meals together, get to know you better, and find out what makes you tick.  We expect to get filthy, learn a heck of a lot, and probably take a little longer than we originally estimated.  (We both suck at estimating, period.)  I’m learning to expect problems to crop up, boys to need breaks, and us all to need downtime between cities. 

Speaking of breaks, we did have a few lovely ones while in Chicago.  We took the boys to the Bristol Renaissance Faire for Fynn’s birthday, where he rather obsessively hunted for weapons to buy … he’s working on a post about it so I’ll leave the details to him!  We also were invited to several delicious barbecues, loaned (and given!) stacks of books for Douglas to devour (thanks Sue!), taken to awesome fireworks, found kindred spirits for our boys to hang out with, haunted Starbucks, were treated to dinner by Mom and Dad many times, shipped the boys off with the lovely Su for a day, and to my brother’s family for couple other days (thanks Rene!).  I also snuck away for a couple evenings with friends, catching up after way too long, but picking up right where we left off. 

We ended up staying an extra day longer than our (already revised) plan, and took the boys to the Museum of Science and Industry, which delighted me just as much as it did 30 years ago when I first went.  Michael spent a crazy long time in one of the stairwells, where a little exhibit of working gears (that likely was already there 30 years ago) gave him a bunch of ideas for his birdwing project.

Every evening we could stay home was spent curled up on the couch in my parent’s living room, reminiscing over popsicles and yogurt, and staying up past everyone’s bedtime to the point that one night Mom and I ended up in giggle fits over the retelling of some trip debacle that happened in Bolivia when I was a kid, involving well-filled airsick bags and crabby customs officials … the memories are golden, and the sharing of them at this point even sweeter.  I’ll suck the marrow out of every evening that I can, and even when I’m not there physically, a part of my heart is still parked in that living room, waiting for the turn of a page, the delight of a comment or shared glance, and the chance to say “Goodnight Mom, I love you.”

* ps … please respect that if you know my Mom personally, at Dad’s request she’s never been told her diagnosis, and he wishes it to remain that way. 

Chasing Waterfalls and Shedding Past Promises

Tina wanted a shed.  This was important.  There were a lot of things to be put in a shed.  There used to be a shed in the back yard, when she and Ken moved in some 20 years ago, but it had rotted away. 

When we had supper at Chipotle with them almost 2 years ago, we told them our newly formed plan to travel the country with tools and help people out.  I believe they were the first ones we told.  They had looked at each other, “Oh!” Their eyebrows were up, “We have a shed,” Ken said.  “In the garage,” Tina said.  “That needs put together,” they said together, smiling big smiles.

“Yes,” we said, “That is the kind of project we would enjoy.”

“And …” Tina listed off about 5 other projects to be done.  “There’s also …” Ken listed another 5.

We told them it might be awhile before we got our plan rolling, but they were definitely on our list of stops, never suspecting they’d be our second.

They told us about their store.  It was moving.  A few years before, Ken and Tina quit their jobs and started a scrapbooking store called Café Crop.  Business had been scant.  The location was not good and the landlord was not cooperative.  They were just about to sign on a new location but it would be stepping out on faith.  It’d take everything they had.  For us it was great to see them doing something together.  Something life-consuming.  That was right where Bethany and I wanted to be; eyes glowing, scared to death.  It was inspiring.

We pulled up to their driveway 2 years later.  The pouring rain had just stopped, and there they were; waving and smiling.  Ken guided me in, we unhitched, and spent the evening reminiscing on the back lawn.  Ken got out his wiffle-balls and gave the kids a golf lesson.  That night we slept in the camper.

Tina had emailed us a week before to say moving the business and getting it running had occupied most of their time and the shed was still a project waiting to happen.  We were gung-ho to start in the morning.  Monday.

There was a good thunderstorm right before dawn.  The rain had quit by the time breakfast was over.  Tina went to work at Café Crop.  We staked off an 8’ x 12’ footprint of the shed and began removing the ground cover and bushes.  It was muddy work.  It began to rain again.  We looked like mud-wrestlers.  It began to pour and we could hardly stand up.  The clay in the soil was very slick.  We decided to wait for the rain to stop.  “Can we open up the shed kit, while we wait?” Bethany asked.

“Well … that might be hard,” Ken said, “why don’t you come look at it.”  We followed him to the garage and stood dripping with amazement in the doorway.  “That’s a corner of it, right there.” He pointed towards the bottom of a vast heaping of boxes, tools and equipment.  “We’d have to move the stuff off it,” he lamented.

“But,” said Bethany, walking back and forth in the 4 foot path cleared to the fridge, peering on tiptoe into the garage, “there’s nowhere to put it!”

“If it stops raining, we can move it to the driveway.” Ken suggested.

“Hang on.”  Bethany was still pacing.  Then with great formality she turned to Ken and said “Ken, may I have permission to organize your garage?”

“Sure,” said Ken, “go to town!”

“OK.” Said Bethany “Here’s what we’re going to do.  Open the awning on the camper.  All the big tools, mowers and blowers and anything that goes in the shed goes in the driveway under the awning …”  And so it began.  8 hours of hefting, consolidating, stacking, and shifting all under Bethany’s command.  By the time Tina came home, there were swept paths to every part of the garage and the shed lay fully and circumnavigably exposed.  Later in the week when Tina was hounding Ken to take out the garbage, he said “Sheesh!  You’re almost as bad a slave-driver as Bethany!”

That evening, it began to rain in earnest.  It rained all night.  By morning, it was thinning.  “We’ve got a nice lake in the yard!” Tina said brightly, as she left for work.

We went outside to look.  Sure enough, right where the shed was to go, stood a three to four inch lake.  “Hmmm,” I said, “this appears to be the low spot in the yard.”

“That would explain why the last shed rotted away,” Ken mused.  We considered building it up with gravel, but decided the water would still sit on the clay under the gravel.  We discussed drainage this way and that way for half an hour, before Ken, arms akimbo, said “Wait a minute!  I have an idea!  Now, this might sound crazy, but 18 years ago I promised Tina a pond … “ Bethany and I exchanged worried glances.  “I actually promised it in writing,” Ken confided.  “What if we dug a pond lower than the foundation, and the water could drain into it.”

 “Well,” I said slowly, “That WOULD give us the dirt to raise the shed foundation.”  We began to talk about what a pond would involve.  Bethany and I got some garden hose and made a pond shape in the grass.

“I just had another idea.”  We looked up.  Ken’s arms were akimbo.  “What if we made a waterfall with a stream that fed into the pond!  It could start there behind the shed and flow around this way!”

“Um, Ken,” I said tentatively, “We’re only going to be here till Saturday.  I don’t think we can get a pond, a waterfall AND a shed done by then.”

“You’d have to agree, though, that a waterfall and stream would look REALLY nice, and if I’m going to make a pond for Tina I want to do it right.  Because, see, what I’m really imagining is sitting over here and HEARING the splashing of water.”  I looked at Bethany and could see in her eyes that she thought it was CRAZY but that she was also half convinced.  The opportunity to play with rocks was a strong lure.

“Well,” I said, “If you’re ok with doing the shed yourself, I’m game to make a waterfall.”

Ken called Tina and told her the plan to make a pond with a splashing waterfall.  She says “OK,” Ken announced.

Ken and I mapped out the pond and stream with electric dog fence flags (did I mention they have poodles?)  We began to dig, while Bethany took her Vorpal Blade and began hacking underbrush out of what Tina called the Back 40.  Douglas and Fynn pitched in hauling tarps of weeds and breaking clods of clay.  Funny thing about clay is, the more that sticks to your shoes, the more sticks to your shoes.  Eventually we were digging in platforms too heavy to lift.  I opted to dig barefoot at this point which was pure delight to the toes. 

We dug down two feet and threw the clay in the lake/foundation.  The boys squished it flat.  The hole dug, Ken and I went to Lowes to get a liner, a pump, some hose and a wee impulse-buy fountain. 

By the time the liner was in and the pond filled, we’d missed Tuesday night bingo at Chick-fil-a, a tradition of Ken and Tina’s.  Instead, we sat on the patio enjoying a jar of Knoxville strawberry hooch to the tinkling of the wee fountain.

We’ve known Ken and Tina since way back.  Back in the days we frequented the same bible camps; back before any of us were married.  Back when love and theosophy swam unblinking wide-eyed circles in our pools of innocence.  Tina grew up near Bethany and they got along like sisters.  I was fast friends with Tina’s brother.  My brother was good friends with Ken.  My sister was BFF with Bethany’s sister.  When Ken and Tina began dating, their names became synonymous with “Moon-eyed couple,” and after a year or two it was “Couple-who-won’t-quit.”  As a 14-year-old I was fascinated.  I would splay my angst-ridden soul before each of them late into the nights, hoping their experience might gain me some foothold on the ladder of love. 

And here I was again nearly 25 years later, fascinated by their love language.  Ken was pleased as punch that he was finally fulfilling his pond promise, and Tina would not give him the satisfaction of her appreciation until she had a shed. 

Wednesday, we laid gravel on the foundation clay, and rolled it flat with a concrete roller the neighbor kindly offered.  Bethany and Ken went to get rock, while I made the stream bed and the boys chased each other around the yard with sticks they were supposedly bagging.  The cats wandered the neighborhood making friends.  We unloaded rocks, tested the stream and Ken and I left to get sand hogs for building up breached walls.  It was looking like the pump was a little too strong for the job. 

Thursday we drained the pond and cleaned it.  Some rocks we put in had muddied the water.  By afternoon we were testing the waterfall.  It was TERRIBLE.  The pump was too strong, water was coming out everywhere.  So we talked drainage this way and that way.  I thought we needed more stone for the waterfall. 

“Wait a minute.”  Ken’s elbows were out.  “I just had an idea!”  Our eyes were wide.  “If I bought a diverter we could split the line and regulate the flow to make the waterfall the right pressure.”

“And the second hose would go … back into the pond?” I asked hopefully.

“Over a SECOND waterfall, right here!” He pointed triumphantly.  I was about to say look, we don’t even know if we can build ONE working waterfall when Bethany jumped on board.

“That COULD work,” she looked at my worry, “We only need one flat stone.  It would be a small stream,” she assured me.

We spent the rest of the day cleaning stones, making sand hogs, and perfecting the flow of everything but the waterfall.  That night Bethany said to me “Ken has work away from the house till noon, and we need him to get the rest of the stone.  Let’s open the shed kit and see if we can get the base laid in the morning.  It will feel a lot better if we at least have the shed started before we leave.”  I whole-heartedly agreed.

So by noon on Friday we had the floor laid and the kids got to hammer nails.  Whee!  Ken returned pleasantly surprised, and we went out for stone.  He hadn’t been able to find a diverter.  By 6:00 pm we had stacked and restacked the waterfall many times to no avail.  It was a sloppy mess.

Ken had to take a load of grilled chicken to Café Crop and we sat down to eat some of the same.  It was really good.  We looked at going back to the waterfall.  Bethany looked like the waterfall was about to come out of her eyes.  She was spent.  I was out of ideas.  We prayed.  “Hey God, we really would like to be in Chicago for Father’s day.  Give us an idea for this waterfall, like, right now.”

We crouched by the waterfall.  Bethany lifted a stone, languidly, and set it back down.  I realized this one was on me to see through.  And then it came to me.  “OK.”  I said.  “Here’s what we’re going to do.  We’ll cut a big piece of liner, lift up the whole inner stone stack and wrap it from underneath till the liner comes above the top cascade stone, and all water exits towards the stream.”

And that was it.  I’m sure any fountain builder would look at me and say “Duh!”  Not only did it work to contain the water, we no longer needed a diverter, the pressure was fine.  With renewed energy we set to finishing by dark, when Tina came home.

Ken was bristling with excitement to show Tina the finished pond and waterfall.  Tina was bristly.  She spent 10 minutes in the kitchen talking to Bethany about her day while Ken opened and closed the patio door, saying “Can you hear that?”  Eventually we all filed outside.  Tina made a beeline for the Back 40 and began questioning Bethany about everything she’d removed.  Ken was nearly beside himself with impatience.   After another 10 minutes she sauntered over to the pond where Ken was basking in the babbling sound of the waterfall.  “What do you think?!”  Ken asked proudly. 

“It’s nice,” Tina said minimally.

This was certainly not the effusion Ken was hoping for.  He climbed on to the shed base “AND,” he spread his arms wide, “we have a shed floor!”

“Yes, but no shed,” Tina pointed out. 

“But … “ Ken was reeling.  This was so anticlimactic, it was ludicrous.  “Just listen to the waterfall!” he pleaded.  Bethany tried to help by pointing out some of the features and how we had made them.  Tina engaged her coolly, but it was clear she had taken a stance and was not going to be budged.  Ken came and stood by me.  His mind was in full gear.  He still had one card up his sleeve, if he played it right.  “Does anyone in your family like pancakes?” he asked innocently.

“Oh my, Yes!” I exclaimed.  “Bethany can’t eat gluten, but the rest of us can’t say no.”

“Well, there’s a Fireman’s pancake breakfast tomorrow morning I’d like to take you guys to.  We’d have to leave at like 6:30, but it’s all you can eat and they let you climb in the fire trucks.”

“Do they have sausage?”   Bethany abandoned her and Tina’s pond-side chat. 

“Oh, yes!” Tina joined.  “Stacks of it!”

“Why don’t we invite Lisa and Shaun?”  Ken suggested idly to Tina.

Lisa helps at Café Crop and has been invaluable to Ken and Tina.  Her husband Shaun is a veteran handyman with a lot of tools.  He helped build out the new Café.  I was told earlier in the week that he had offered some time ago to help Ken build the shed but I didn’t make the connection until I met him over pancakes the next morning.

Our plan was to go to Café Crop around 11:00 am and see Tina in her element, which we hadn’t gotten to do all week.  We were hoping maybe to try a Family Drawing with her, and get on the road by 3:00 pm.  As far as work was concerned, we were done, finished.  Kaput.

“How many pancakes?”  The unsmiling senior lady asked the man in line ahead of me.

“Three.”  She robotically moved the tongs to the mountain of pancakes.

“How many pancakes?”  She asked his daughter in the same monotone.

“Two, please.”  The tongs went for two.

“How many pancakes?”  She asked me flatly.

“Twenty,” I said.  The tongs moved automatically, then stopped. 

She gave me a big grin.  I was still chuckling over this small victory when Shaun joined me walking back to the table.

“S-so when do you want to s-start on the shed?”  Shaun had a slight stutter and eyes glowing with enthusiasm.  “I’ve got a truck f-full of tools.  I’ve got a n-nail gun.  I can start right after we eat.”  I suddenly realized how Ken had orchestrated this.  I smiled.

“Ken DID tell you we were leaving today?” I asked, sitting down by Bethany.

“What?  N-no!  What time are you leaving?”

“3 o-clock.”  Bethany’s horror-stricken face said she realized what we were discussing. 

“Well, we could g-get the walls up by then.”

I looked at Bethany.  Don’t-you-dare lasers were shooting from her eyes.  “We’ve also promised Tina we’d come to Café Crop at 11:00.”  I glanced at Ken who was studiously eating his pancakes. 

“We b-better get s-started soon then!” Shaun said, grinning.  Shaun’s drive to work had been hinted at before but facing it head-on I had no resistance.  I gave Bethany a pleading look.  She too was crumbling under Shaun’s confidence and excitement. 

“We HAVE to leave at 11:00,” she conceded.

After the kids toured the trucks, we headed back to Ken’s.

MAN could Shaun work!  The walls flew together and were ready to be put up by 11:00.  Bethany called Tina and put off our arrival till 1:00.  By 12:30, we had the walls up and were ready to start the roof.  I said, “You boys are on your own” to Ken and Shaun, and we headed off to Café Crop.

“I see you got the walls up!” Tina had received a text from Ken. 

“Yeah!”  We were exhausted and happy.

Now I don’t know much about scrapbooking, but from what I could tell, this was scrapbooking heaven.  One half of the store was dedicated to merchandise.  Hundreds of patterned paper stacks, rubber stamps of every kind, assortments of stickers, fringes, tassels, ribbons, buttons, and best of all baskets of found objects like scrabble tiles, sea shells, and small toys.  (Fynn picked out what looked like an old clasp and immediately had built an entire medieval costume in his mind.)

The other half of the store was spacious work tables surrounded by comfy chairs, a third of which were filled by ladies working on projects and chit-chatting animatedly.  The atmosphere was very conducive to creativity.  There was a side counter laid out with muffins and lunch meats and snacks, which we gladly dug into before setting up for family drawing.  Had I any mental energy left from a week of hard work I would have designed a drawing that incorporated some of the cool stuff from the store, but I opted to repeat an older drawing, modified slightly for our time constraints.  We had a great time. 

As we left, Tina let her composure melt, hugging us with tears streaming.  “Thanks guys!  You got more done in a week than we could have in a year!”  And that felt SO GOOD! 

We drove back to where Ken and Shaun had the rafters half installed, hooked up the camper, hugged Ken goodbye, hugged Shaun goodbye, and headed for one night alone together at a campsite with direct sewer hookup.  The next day we’d be in Chicago, where at least 5 people had projects waiting. 

Keren & Bobby

When we first arrived at Keren and Bobby’s, I expected to only be in their home for a few weeks, and thought I knew them both pretty well.  My relationship to Keren goes waaaay back, and Bobby’s as easygoing as they come, so that despite the fact that I only met him about 6 years ago, it feels Iike I’ve known him forever.   As our visit progressed, I was proved very wrong on all counts.

When you move into someone’s home for something longer than a week, it takes a tremendous amount of graciousness on their part, and a lot of compromise on both sides.  When you have two active boys, (and your hosts are not parents themselves) it adds a whole other level of compromise and blending of ways.  Looking back, I can’t imagine a better testing ground for what it’s like to invade someone’s space for a period of time, and coming out the other side actually loving each other more, rather than less.  I think we got spoiled this time around.

Keren’s an idea factory, amongst other things.  She’s creative, energetic, organized, and a tireless worker.  She has big ideas, and knows how to nudge/inspire/motivate/corral a group into participating in an event, having a marvelous time in the process.  She’s got chutzpa, heart, a very very underrated opinion of herself, and determination in spades.  She’s gold, through and through.  I knew her persona as larger than life, and had a good glimpse of her heart before this, but living in her home for 5+ months showed me sides of her personality that I’d never really understood well before.  We talked over many trips to Starbucks, and many late night porch sessions, and I got to know the woman underneath the red-headed yellow swallowtail butterfly that most of the world gets to meet.  It was an honor.

Bobby, gracious, fun-loving, heart-of-gold Bobby … would give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it … and basically did just that for us.  When we arrived, we slid into the driveway with our camper, a small fridge full of half-empty condiment jars, some warm leftovers, and a couple hundred bucks in our bank account.  Not exactly the means to support ourselves, provide our share of food, and contribute to household expenses in general.  Bobby wasn’t fazed at all, at least on the surface.  He opened his home, his heart, and his own strained-to-the-max bank account, because this is what you do for family.  For someone in need.  You take care of folks.

I know it was really hard on him because we arrived at a time when the new house was under gradual as-money-allows renovation, and we brought a tornado of projects and paper and mess otherwise known as Fynn.  For someone formerly known as a gracious host-with-the-most, bare floors and patched walls were really hard for him to ignore.  He felt like he couldn’t give us what he wanted to, treating us to local events and restaurants and a richly-stocked fridge.   Their situation just wasn’t there at that point in time.  So we wallowed a bit, together.  Took stock of what we had, and what we could do with it.  Made cool dining room floors out of porch paint and stencils and leftover primer.  Threw parties with what we had.   Held contests using makeup and fabric scraps.  Built woodboxes out of scavenged lumber.  Talked a lot.  Played a lot of board games.  Made family dinner an event, every single night, even when 5 nights of the week were some form of chicken.  Evolved the may-I-please-be-excused thing into a whole ritual of trivia questions and answers and eventually, sign language conversations. 

We also railed a bit, bemoaned, struggled, and fought the circumstances we were in.  Felt oppressed.  Wondered why the jobs weren’t paying much (for any of us), and why we were in this leaky boat, together.  We learned to talk through it.  Pray about it.  Confront it head-on, rather than sideways.  We all got a rather forced look at what it was like to live together, work together, communicate effectively together, and, yes, parent a bit together.  My boys learned more manners at the hand of Keren and Bobby than I thought possible.  Lovingly, firmly, and consistently.  We grew into a functional unit that knew when and how to work together, and when to separate for a time when we needed space.   We learned how much our emotions affected each other, and it gave me some new tools for labeling and confronting those pesky elephants. 

So back to Bobby … for someone way out of his usual comfort zone, and in a rather distressingly difficulty phase of his life … he came through amazingly well.   With a few realizations of his own, I think.  He learned to turn a blind eye to chaos, to take space when he needed, and to give till it truly hurt.  And never ever once begrudged it.   No measuring stick was hauled out, to determine what they might have been able to afford were we not living there.   No calculations or regrets.   Just love, piles of love, and a flood of it following us down the street when we pulled away.  From both of them.  Tears, big hearts, and big dreams … intertwined in a way I never thought possible.  Knowing what I know now, I have every expectation that the next time we spend time together, the roots will go deeper, and the hearts even tighter.  It’s a friendship that’s not found its limits, nor do I ever expect it to.  It’s just a very beautiful thing, which keeps growing the more it’s worked on. 

(xoxoxo you two)

B