ARCHIVES 2006
October 2006
Missouri Retreat
Although
I found a house in September, it's not available until late November.
What to do the weekend I had to move out of temporary digs? Weather
still mild and lovely so I headed west then south to the Missouri Ozarks
to car camp. Had every intention of setting up the tent, but the
first evening it dripped. Next day south across the Missouri River,
along mining country, past well kept churches announcing Wednesday night
meetings and roads named Hollows. Again and again, I realized I was
no longer in fast paced Idaho--rarely was anyone in the rear view mirror,
waiting to pass. I was off the beaten path in classic Ozark country--abandoned
cars and dilapidated homes, folks parked on porches, just like in stories,
interspersed with brand new homes; it was a little eerie. The next
night, when the campground on the map didn't appear, pulled onto a dirt
road in the woods. The morning scene was gorgeous. The 3rd
evening, alone in an official campsite along the Current River, was balmy,
damp and drippy again. Late in the night a barred owl called.
What'd I do these long, long nights? Bit of reading; lotta sleep
and relaxing, letting go of months of mental and physical moving; lots
of listening to night sounds; bit of hip therapy. It was a vacation
just to be away from an active train line!
The next
morning finally cooked my idea of a "real breakfast"--noodles and vegetables.
The sun burned through the fog as I hiked to the nearby spring. Didn't
like the campground enough to spend another night. Circled on north
and west. As I was glorying in the changes in fall colors with each
valley, clouds blew in and the temperature plummeted. It was finally
Wednesday, but Wednesday night meetings were no longer on church marquees;
I was disappointed--the country had changed. Car camped a final night
in a closed for the season Corps of Engineers campground near Lake of the
Ozarks. Bra. Time to head home. Got back in time for
breakfast at Perkins Friday morning. After re-establishing camp at
the rectory, turned in early after a most welcome hot bath. Enjoyed
having a good light to read by; fell asleep early like on the road, without
even hearing the hourly trains. Musta left a layer of stress in the
Ozarks.
August 2006
Ireland -- Desiccated travels abroad (me, not Ireland)
Frankly, it's all a blur!
It's all
a blur--2 weeks in Ireland. Phrases like Around the World in 80 days
altered to Lifetime of Celtic Ruins in less than 2 weeks. Much as
I love old stuff, don't appreciate it on the run. Enough's enough,
especially when we passed incredible beaches and hillsides on Dingle Peninsula
without a pause.
Knew it
wasn't gonna be easy for this independent Idahoan to join a group of similarly
stubborn folks to tour Ireland, under a triune of authority, only one of
which I'd met. Kept my nose to the grindstone, packing for Illinois
all summer, leaving maps and details entirely to email leaders. Knew
I had no idea what to expect. No research, no maps from my end, just
some reading from Fr. H; a great discomfort traveling abroad alone; a deep
love of Celtic spirituality based on listening to John O'donohue's Irish
brogue; and an awareness that dad's side perhaps came to America from County
Antrim. B&B's would be good, but I can do dorms; deferred to
"experts". In my summer busyness, sorting and packing, I ignored
the note on the final agenda saying 'you're on your own the first 4 days
and nights in Dublin'! Eek! I'm no city person.
Did it
anyway--saw Dublin on sore feet. Never got used to traffic being
reversed, or doors opening inward; heavy, heavy doors, by the way, that
slammed snug. Pedestrians walking on the left (as well as motor traffic
driving in left lane.) Got used to the food right away--cream!
But not the use of sugar substitutes. Did I really hear Ireland
banned smoking in public buildings, as in pubs!? After millennia
of changes, the euro was just another, why not ban smoking!
After coping
with Dublin, wasn't prepared to then repeatedly zigzag across the small
country, 31 of us (±2 or 3) rugged individuals, constantly piling
in and out of a chartered bus, looking at ruins, largely identified as
monastic. Crossing my legs as it were, eventually drinking nothing
at breakfast--so much for my brief caffeine/tea binge. Sorry body,
sorry Dr A! Drying up started when airlines took away our lethal
water bottles. (Crazed killer that I am, lost grandfather Mann's
tiny engraved knife I mistakenly left in my waist pack, to the first round
of security. &*()_%.) No toilet stops for hours.
By the time I got back to The States, I was thoroughly desiccated, prone
to headaches, drinking very little. Forever grateful to MacDonalds
Dublin for their public toilets upstairs.
We saw
a lifetime of visitor centers and Celtic ruins on foot, and miles of tantalizing
hillsides and the Dingle Peninsula from bus windows. Eventually when
I realized we weren't stopping for photos so I started clicking from the
bus. (Got some dandies of traffic jams by the way. Right up
their with LA or Seattle.) We bailed out to take the 10am ferry to
Aran Island; the 5pm back. (Little did I know I was expected 15 minutes
early, so I was "late"--again--shunned by furious fellow bus folks I'd
inadvertently held up. If I'm not let in on plans, that happens,
folks.)
I was hard
on my fellow travelers and they were hard on me. Fr H was so dismissive
of the Celtic spirituality that delights my soul that even catholics were
surprised. More than a couple of us so called "pilgrims" had no interest
in religion whatsoever, perhaps an understatement. Pilgrimage this
was not. Didn't notice much of the sense of shared adventure or spirit
of pilgrimage I'd expected. (My lone tender moment was a small boy
accompanying what looked like a grandfather, at St. Teresa in Dublin, handing
me a green scapular, after I smiled at him.) Returning to whining--accessible
front seats were permanently staked out by the most aggressive, veteran
travelers. These guys had been elderhostling and regularly trotting
off to Europe for decades, while I'd been driving around the boring American
West. Discussions like, "and where did you go in Spain?
Italy? London?" were common. (Beats comparing illnesses!)
Highlights
from the Emerald Isle:
· Dublin - airport.
A pair of child's blue eyes of such a different hue I was stopped in my
tracks. Strong sense of knowing people, faces, throughout Ireland.
American roots everywhere.
· Dublin - Museum with
illuminated manuscripts from all religions - Chester Beatty Library.
Simply couldn't keep quiet—gasped audibly at every beautiful page.
Incredible.
· Dublin - National
Museum. Lo, there were gold "torcs", like the one I'd read about
being hauled up in a fishing net off Scotland. Out of bogs.
Over heard a stunned Brit by a case full of gold understate, "My word".
Indeed.
· Dublin - Actor Neil
O'Shea was handing out flyers for his 1 man show on Irish Writers one evening.
Ran into WI Sue on my way there, who joined me. 5 of us in audience.
O'Shea sat and chatted with 3 of us afterwards. Alas experienced
Ireland traveler Sue and buddy didn't included others in their side excursions!
Oh, I had an attitude. NaNaNaNaNaNa, 31 control freaks abroad.
Too bad I couldn't leave myself at home and travel!
· Dublin - Marks and
Spencer Food Floor. YUM!
· Pub Famous Ireland
now "Smoke Free"! Incredible!
· Ruins - Wandering
off with Marilyn from TX to look at ruins that weren't so crowded.
· Rock of Cashel -
Local brass band playing "By the Time I get to Phoenix" on the castle grounds,
while hosts of tourists wandered about, picnicking and sight seeing, photographing
gravestones and rock walls, on a lovely Sunday afternoon. Also the
Tequila song.
· Glenstal Abbey, a
living abbey. Fr. H arranged for a monk library scholar to talk with
us. Brother Colman was the real thing--a live, teaching monk, with
all the mythical sparkle and charm of monastic lore.
· Bathtub!! Last
stay. As long as me, a tad narrower.
· Beautiful weather,
even the light rains the last couple of days. Wouldn't be an emerald
isle without showers, and emerald it was!
· Stonework - Cobblestone
streets, granite curbs, stone buildings old and new. Wonderful stone
everywhere. Not concrete, but stone! Smitten by fossil tracks
of Liscannor stone. (Flagstones from our quarries at the Cliffs of
Moher: ... characterized by the fossil tracks of a marine worm, that traversed
the sediments, which formed the rock 350million years ago.
· Survivng 7/8 hr flight
back with 4 yr old kicking from behind or terrorizing aisle (while dad
smiled and flight attendants hid out)!
I love old
walls and tombstones, green, green rock walled hillsides. We stuck
to the leaders' agendas and hurtled past old peat bogs, coastline, intriguing
road signs, over hill and dale. The skill of our bus driver encountering
another bus on a one lane roads is beyond words. Days after we returned,
Marilyn said she was still exhausted. Me too.
From reading
through Fr H's articles on Ireland ahead of time, I got the gist of Ireland's
waves of conquerors. My personal impression is that the deep, earthy
Celtic spirit remains, like the last of the peat bogs. How clerks
and Heritage site staff could remain so cheery and patient to bus loads
of tourists asking for the toilets, floored me. "Institutional" food
was delightful! Something is very right in Ireland. It was
a blessing to have ordinary, brief encounters with that remarkable Irish
flavor. Once again Eire is being swept with foreigners with new languages,
as yet another wave of immigrants is assimilated--Eastern Europeans this
time, especially Poles, perhaps just in time to revive the Catholic Church,
which appeared to this outside observer to be joining its famous monastic
ruins. As tourists, we heard everything but splendid Irish-English!
(I even noted magpies had Irish accents.)
Now I'm
enjoying my digital slide show (accompanied by music from St Patricks Cathedral,
one of my few purchases from the trip) perhaps more than the actual travels.
I can enjoy the scenery at my own speed, drink tea, and stop for the bathroom
anytime! The perfect vacation!
Post Script. Months later, the trip memory that keeps coming around is of the confident woman who told her story while we waited to fly Aerlingus at O'hare, a nurse with 2 teens, from somewhere like Arkansas. She regularly commutes to visit her Irish law student husband she met over the internet. Now there's a woman with a life! I thought, as she showed photos of her handsome Irishman (and her teens). She's determined to move to Ireland. He wants to move to the States. Bets, anyone?
Catching my breath near
Cashel
June 2006
Inspiration refill --Albuquerque
Why I got lost in Albuquerque
and why I couldn't see the River
To get through
this challenging summer, took micro break to hear Fr. Richard Rohr and
Sr. Joan Chittister at what was called The Prophets Seminar, sponsored
by Rohr's Center for Action and Contemplation the weekend before 4th (of
July). Joan and Richard were awesome, although the Albuquerque Conference
Center, downtown, wasn't exactly my cup of tea. Sitting in frigid
air conditioning, only to emerge into terrific heat, thought I'd split
like a hot rock dropped in a cold water. Over a thousand of us gathered
up, testimony to superb speakers and material. The opportunity to
hear Sister Joan brought me; lo, there she was on Saturday, standing tall
at the podium, in a striking gold/green/purple jacket with a gold or silver
chain, this life long Benedictine sister, with a mind a clear and sharp
as they get. Her sense of humor had me carefully shrieking with delight.
Hilarious. Joan and Richard model the very best in complementary
teaching.
At some
point Richard mentioned the blessing of religious freedom to have Amma
and her following concurrently meeting across the street. Saturday
night I couldn't resist the the opportunity, though I was dead on my feet,
to see if I could find the group. Followed a crowd of long haired,
white robed youngsters, to the Hyatt across the street; slipped off shoes
and kneeled in the ballroom where Amma was hugging and blessing. My smile
grew wider and wider as I experienced the bliss of her presence.
By the time I returned to the shoe room--Indian food looked terrific but
the lines were daunting--I was drunk on divine love, so I shouldn't have
been surprised to look up and see Lane from Boise. While we chatted
about life, a door person asked if I'd like to take a shortcut to meet
Amma; thanked her, said I felt fully blessed, and wondered ever since...
The other
highlight of the weekend was hearing Franciscan brother Eddie Fronske at
a session entitled "Reconciliation and Identificational Repentance".
With a heart for peace making, I was deeply moved by his work with the
White Mountain Apaches. Sat through his time slot twice, tears streaming,
as he showed faces of the teams of Indians he works with, asking forgiveness
from each other.
Didn't
meet many conference folks--brief hellos to David, Mazie and Joyce from
Twin; a Poor Handmaid sister once upon a time from Taylorville, Illinois--looked
for midwesterners. Evidently religious on task forces attended for
Richard and Joan's unusual clarity about the future of the church.
Prophets, indeed.
Outside
of the conference I chatted with care takers at the Madonna Center (where
I stayed). (Learned Rohr's books are banned!) Met a Calvary
Chapel woman when I finally got to Whole Foods for something besides burger
king and tacos. Yeah--vegetables! (Creme brule!) For
some reason there were no grocery stores between the Conference Ctr and
the Madonna Center.
New Mexico
is a red-green state, the seminar emcee kept joking. Very funny,
I yawned; I hate spicy food, chilis. By the end of the weekend I
concluded New Mexico ain't for me. With it's heat, closed off river
front, parking permits required for Sandia Mountain--who needs just another
sprawling, hot big city, unless you know someone and like spicy food!
However I spent a rather divine final evening at the airport, despite the
plane delay. Ticket agents were chatty; the handful of fellow fliers
to Denver on July 3rd were unusually warm and friendly. The airport
was eerily empty--very strange; the flight clerk took great care of each
of us through the delay and gate reschedule! Wow. The very
best of company, from Denver and Nebraska, San Jose. Returned, inspired.
June 2006
Illinois - Orange and Blue (and green) roadsides
(wild tiger lilies and flax)
Summertime in Illinois--livin' looks slower!
Weekend
back to Jacksonville (via flying into St Louis) to look at homes and visit
"isn't the weather awful" Illinois. Lucked out; weather was lovely.
True--cudda been dreadful.
Days Dianne
showed me houses I tried imagining owning/living in. Met her Saturday
morning at the Farmers Market; returned to the restored rectory where I
stayed this visit and steamed up a super Illinois summer brunch (above).
Saturday afternoon swung in the shade, with high school classmate Connie,
renewing acquaintance with classmate Eva visiting from Virginia.
Sunday 4 of us went by Shirlee's. More socializing than a month in
Boise! Evenings, stopped by Charley's to sit on his roof/ porch,
listened to tales, watched lightning bugs in giant neighborhood trees.
Jacksonville
isn't quiet--stock car races still happen Friday nights--but it sure seems
slower pace. Sigh. Get packing, Jeannie
May/June
2006
Memorial weekend at Folklife, nat
Sleeping with sand
After much indecision, drove over for one more Folklife--just 2 days worth
this time. Marli's glassblowing roommate offered to put me up; couldn't
resist her warm offer. By the 2nd day surprised myself by thinking
I'd be back. Not very good about saying good (though I never set
foot on the contra dance floor--first time in 20 years! Nearly jumped
outa my skin to hear Balkanrama Sunday night--phenomenal!! Not to
mention the gypsy buskers; and the amazing duo "Amber Tide". What
would I do without the Shape Note sing along and a few chanties?
Running into old folkies wasn't bad either--smile--pretty fun. It
didn't really ever pour, but was one of the dampest Folklifes I recall.
Reveled in sun Tuesday, when Marcy and I visited her heavy duty artist
friend Laurie on Marrowstone Island. Exquisitely beautiful day! Managed
cole slaw three meals in a row--my idea of heaven.
Slept blissfully
in the car a lot this trip while rain pattered on the roof, forever brushing
sand off the foam pad. Could understand where it came from after
walking Dungeness Spit, pantlegs rolled up a bit, but every night?
Beautiful
low tide calm morning at Clallum County Park--thought it always
stormed there. Great nights sleep with frogs in Oregon again.
Ah, the Northwest! Plus listening to terrific memoirs! Thank
you Great Spirit for this relaxing change of scene, all who put me up and
renewed my spirit.
April 2006
Illinois - Part 1 - Left, Left, Right, Left
Boxing up - of swollen ankles and june bugs
Just back from
taking a load of stuff/my life back to storage in Illinois. Surely
I'm nuts (folks not necessarily gently remind me), schlepping "stuff" cross
country rather than get rid of it and replace what's really important!
Such attachment! On the other hand, why not--I'm a worldly American!
Indeed. May not have a big screen teevee and entertainment center,
but I got stuff. So I squeezed in-between semis and joined the parade
crossing American on I-80.
Returned
3 trunks I'd brought out West, back to their origin. One still has
dad's name on it. Lotta stuff going home--high school tennis racket
and ice skates! Drew the line at taking my old braids back though!
Hammock and frame. 2 bikes; kayak; sports gear--snorkel and fins--one
never knows; books, books and more books; yoga magazines back to #1.
Now that's crazy--can't keep up with the current issue-- whenever am I
going to read archives! They look so good though! Music gear--stereo/tape
deck/ CD changer/speakers/ receiver/ record player. Teevee/vcr.
Toyota back seats. Table and chairs; 2 ladders. Bamboo poles.
Standing
lamps; 3 light weight dressers. Couple of coffee tables. Sewing
machines--5th amendment on quantity. Speaking of heavy items--cement
Buddha in a box, nose resting on toyota head rest. Shelving and bricks.
Sears stepper; ab rocker.
Several
down quilts (surprising how many one woman thinks she needs!!) Shoes,
winter clothes. Christmas stuff. Larger picture frames (for
whatever reason, packing these hung me up more than any other project).
Favorite rocks (just being honest here); sand boxes and sands (desert,
river and aeolian)--embarrassing, but true.
More boxes
of family stuff than I realized I had, back to Illinois. Lotta photo
slides and albums. Violin. Teapots. 2 mirrors.
Still to
pack--most bedding, towels, yoga stuff; CDs, LPs? ...
Not going--bed
or dining room table. For months I've worked on the To Go, Not To
Go and Maybe lists. Give away/sell list. Sorta organized.
But then, I've had all winter.
I can never,
ever wonder if there's a loving God for early Boise friend Dan reappeared
to organize the garage, boxes and load into truck. Invaluable.
More than that, he said just the right thing, or nothing at all, at the
right time. Could not have been better. He's a brilliant packer.
I was humbled. Packing and driving I couldn't help flashing back
to Richard Pryor in the film "Moving", the only comedy all winter that
made me shriek out loud (I really shopped for them). Especially the
shot of the packer from Hummingbird Movers daintily wrapping a knickknack,
or Pryor falling to his knees when the multiple personality driver appeared,
or the neighbor from hell...
And, on
the other end of the trip, Charley volunteered to help unload, without
commenting on untoward about attachment.
Divine
Oneness got me onto the interstate, across Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska
and Missouri, into Illinois on a dark and stormy night. Slept a few
hours across the front seat, in Wyoming the first night--ugh. Just
drove, drove, drove. Though mapquest was 2 pages, basically all I
did was turn left onto the freeway I-84 East out of Boise, left onto I-80
East; right to I-59 South in Missouri; left onto US 36 to Illinois!
Promised myself I'd use the back of the truck the 2nd night; found the
perfect roadside park in NB. Slept divinely in cool, damp night air.
If cops patrolled the area, I was oblivious. Yup, it was a shocker
putting $60 and $70 in the gas tank each stop, 6 or 7 times. About
the time I got the hang of using a credit card to pay at the pump, got
off the interstate and never found another gas pump that had a working
credit card system.
Rain brewed
then began the 2nd full day; by evening pulled into J'ville. Managed
to find storage and unload the first round thunderstorm and all.
Took the hint that the new Econo Lodge in the same block might be the place
to stay out of the rain--figured on camping! It was. Were these
really my legs, I thought as I felt swollen ankles or swung them
up the side of the bath tub? Forgot what happens on long drives.
Hobbled around the next few days. The night clerk, a remarkable young
woman, let me check email each evening. Learned how to use the guest
phone (duh) and pick up messages. Slept ever so well the entire trip,
until the final night, when I reverted to toss and turn in preparation
for Boise, I guess. I may look cool and calm in the truck photo--dunno
how that happened--I was beside myself about getting onto the freeway,
something of a wreck all winter, worrying about driving something I couldn't
reach across to roll down the far window. If I'd known how fantastic
the mirrors were, I might have fretted less.
Drove carefully
into town Sunday morning, truck partially unloaded. Met Connie in
her beautiful, round church. Bless Charley for volunteering his ok
back for the afternoon, while sheepdog Abby waited in his truck.
Unloaded between showers, periodically grabbing the camera and searching
for the rainbow that surely ended in the storage unit, but never found
it. Perfect welcome back to balmy, sweaty Illinois weather.
We did the deed, and were joined by Connie and Bob (Class of '63) and Howard
for the final just-put-it-anywhere. Adjourned to dinner at the diner
right across the street for reminiscing and most agreeable conversation.
Added 1500
some miles to the new Budget truck's 4000-some. Monday morning I
drove an additional 30 miles to turn it in, when it turned out the original
turn in destination was no more.
Met with
realtor Dianne--what a going concern! Either I was incapable of making
a house decision because I was done in by the drive, or I didn't see the
right house. Gotta get re-oriented to Jax. Seems I may spend
the same as booming Boise housing prices if I want to live even near the
old stomping ground. Humpf. So much for depressed economy!
Aside from
Dianne under whose feet no moss grows, had a strong sense of life being
slower and kinder. Sigh. Dare not think about life without
mountains.
My last
day in Illinois was sunny with a night starry. June bugs sat all
over the parking lot that evening and clonked off the window screen.
Just like yesterday.
The only
utter failure in the journey was my attempt to line up a PO Box.
Not without giving up one's first born would the PO hear of issuing one.
Blech. Snorted back to Idaho with my authority issues rekindled.
Shouldn't
have worried so much about making all 4 flights back to Boise Wednesday.
The door of the last plane (Salt Lake to Boise) was open at least another
5 minutes as I staggered back to the 30th row (the only plane big enough
to have that many rows)!
Thanks
much Charlene for fetching me home from the airport!
