Sounds of Iowa

One of the things I enjoy about walking is listening to the sounds. At home I hear the sound of cars on the highway, the hawk circling above with it's high-pitched cry, the crows cawing as they fly through the trees.
In Iowa the sounds are different.
Some days all I hear as I walk is the wind. It blows across the fields, whipping into my ears. It blocks the sound of oncoming vehicles so that I have to turn around frequently and look for the tell-tale cloud of dust letting me know something is coming. It silences the birds, and keeps the insects down in the grass.
If it is not blowing too hard, but in the right direction, it carries the train whistle across the fields to the house. Warren will try to look out the window to see it. He can see it after harvest, but the corn blocks the view now.
The traffic sounds are of pickups, vans, the schoolbus in the morning, the mailman. I haven't heard a siren yet. And now, as harvest begins, I hear the rumble of tractors, combines, carts, on their way to the fields and the semi's filled with grain on their way to the grain elevators.
But the sound I love the best is on a quiet evening as the sun is setting. There is no wind. The traffic is sparse. As I walk I hear the crunch of my feet on the gravel. An occasional cricket in the grass. The owl in the wood by the south lot. He hoots as I pass, and then is silent, until I return to pass by again. An occasional flutter of a bird in the cornfield trying to hide from me, or settle in for the night. The drumming of wings as a pheasant heads for a more secluded spot. On a quiet night even the corn doesn't rustle.

On a quiet evening, I stop to watch the sun set over the fields. It slowly disappears, leaving behind a horizon layered in orange, tangerine, gold, pale blue. It is so still I can hear myself breathe.
And then I continue home to the crunch of gravel under my feet, and the song of a cricket to keep me company.

Muffin Man

Last night Warren and I made banana muffins. He has had some baking experience. He makes pancakes with Daddy on Sunday mornings.

Warren was an excellent sous-chef and we had such fun.

First he mashed the bananas while I whipped the sugar and butter.

Then he helped me measure the salt and baking soda into the flour.

I added the eggs into the sugar/butter mixture and slid the bowl in front of him. He stirred as I added the flour mixture and the perfectly mashed bananas.

I was so impressed at how well he stirred. All the batter stayed in the bowl.

And here is the result! Yum!!

Evening Walk

Wednesday was one of the best days for a walk this week. It had been several days since I could get out so I braved the mist on Wednesday morning. Then it cleared off and the evening was so nice Maggie and I took a rare second walk. You have to grab them when you can. Heavy fog, rain, and high winds have all been part of the climate this week. Although the road is a rural, gravel road I keep Maggie on a leash. Gravel roads connect to main roads, and cars, pickups and semis travel at 40+ mph. When the wind is blowing, I often don't hear them approaching until they are pretty close.

The sun was setting as we started out. The sky was clear and the sunset was producing a true tangerine sky in the west. Someone had ridden a horse earlier in the day and for a ways we followed the hoof prints. Then I started noticing fresh deer tracks. The road Jan lives on is a 2-lane gravel road bordered by corn fields waiting for harvest. There are plenty of hiding places for deer at this time of year.

 As we got a bit further down the road Maggie suddenly pulled off the road and into the weeds. Her nose was to the ground and she was pretty intent, but when she got to the edge of the cornfield I pulled her back.
As soon as we got back to the road, something caught my eye in the field on the other side. A white 'flag' was waving up and down. In the declining light it was hard to make out anything else, but I could follow the white tail as the deer ran down the road. Maggie was right. The deer had been there, but it had already crossed the road.

Nice work Maggie. You scented it out!
(And thanks to our two walks, I logged 10,000 steps that day!)

Meeting Samantha

I've been busy this week. I met a new little girl and I've been trying to get to know her. I met her Wednesday afternoon but she was asleep. She slept a lot that day. Each day she wakes up a little bit more and takes in the world around her. She hasn't figured out at all who I am, but one day she will. I am her grandmother.

Newborn babies are mysterious little creatures. The come into the world already part of a family they know nothing about. The bond between them and their new family is both immediate, strong and yet a little tenuous. They have a communication system all their own and it has to be decoded. They have a mixed up sense of night and day. They wake when we are busiest, or sleepiest. Their needs are limited, but demanding. "Feed me NOW!" "Ewww! I'm wet. Do something about it NOW!!" or the ever frustrating "I have no idea what I want but I want it NOW!!!" The next few weeks will be devoted to learning about this new being.

Samantha is a sweetheart. She is so tiny compared to her 3 year old brother. She grunts when she wiggles or squirms. Her little legs pump in and out. Her arms reach out and up. She rolls her head from side to side when she squirms in her seat. In reality there is nothing that sets her apart from other newborns. Except she is OURS! That alone makes her one in a million! At first her eyes were often squeezed shut. She would open them to check out this new world, but it is obviously so much brighter than where she was just a few days ago. She checks out her mother and father, and occasionally me. Today she really began to look around the room.

Her big brother is curious and protective of her and proud. Larry arrived Friday night just a few hours after she came home from the hospital. Warren immediately said, "Paberry! Come look at the baby!", reached for his hand and took him to the crib. He checks her if she fusses, but he doesn't hover. "The Baby" is a part of the house but he continues to enjoy his own world. So far, there are enough adults to go around so he hasn't had to share the attention.

One of the joys of being a grandparent is watching a family unfold from a distance. The distance isn't marked in miles, but in years. The years between being THE Parent, with all it's fatigue, demands, hopes and expectations, and being a grandparent, an onlooker who has a little perspective, but mostly none of the demands. I am looking forward to watching this little girl grow up. To get to know her. What will her playtime obsession be? Will she love dolls? Playing house? Pretending to cook? Maybe she'll be fascinated about how things work and she'll try to put things together, play puzzles, roll around with her brother's cars, trucks and tractors. Or will she be creative, love to draw, play with playdoh, create things with blocks?

After watching 2 little boys turn into such wonderful little beings, I know how much I will enjoy watching this little girl develop.

That's the mystery of babies. They are so new, so fresh, but beneath the surface they already have qualities and characteristics just waiting to explode into real people. It was great meeting Samantha, but getting to know her is the real fun of being a grandparent. It's one of my favorite parts of living the life of an 'empty nester'.

September 11

I don't want to let today go by without recognizing it. Much has been said, and will be said. It is a day that stands in our memory. For each of us the day brings individual memories as we remember how we heard the news, but it brings similar memories of shock and heartache.

The media has had a couple of stories to focus on from the Mosque in New York to the preacher in Florida. I didn't want either of these situations to color my own feelings so for the most part I kept away from the news today.


Our town has found it's own significant way to remember and honor the fire fighters, the survivors and those who lost loved ones. The local fire department hangs a huge flag over the highway. It is the first thing you see as you come into town.

To me it is a fitting way to pay tribute to those men and honor this day.

Elephants (and Old Dogs) Never Forget

They say elephants never forget, but I think that is also true of old dogs. Tonight Maggie proved her memory is long.

Our street is currently under demolition. The much anticipated reconstruction phase hasn't begun yet. Cars carefully navigate the exposed storm sewers and bounce over the rock base the construction crew left us. Fortunately the sidewalks are ok so Maggie and I went out for a late afternoon walk. We walked the half mile to the entrance of our neighborhood. At the corner I walked around some of the rock piles toward some tall grass. Cars were passing us on the street, but one turned onto our street. Instantly, Maggie turned her whole body to stare at the car. Her eyes followed it as it went up the street. It was a non-descript older car, small, but with a triangle shaped sign strapped to it's roof. She watched until it was out of sight and then started to pull me towards the road.

The sign on the car was for Domino's Pizza! Now, we have never had Domino's Pizza delivered to our house, but there must have been an aroma around that car because she was mesmerized. Years ago though, the most exciting night in her life was Friday nights and it started by my writing a check. As soon as she saw me write the check she would sit by the front door waiting for the Pizza Delivery Man.

As we began the climb back up the hill, several cars were gingerly picking their way down the road. At the end of the line was the Domino's Pizza car. Once again, Maggie stopped and turned to follow the car. I swear, if she'd been wearing a hat, she would have taken it off and held it over her heart.

Poor girl. I know she was hoping he had stopped at our house, but the only thing waiting for her was her Denta-stix and Iams Weight Control dog food. Sorry old girl.

10,000 Steps

I've been on a quest lately. It is to increase my activity. To that end, I have set a goal of 10,000 steps a day. This is not a random number. It is one that keeps popping up in various places. One year at work someone gave us pedometers to help us track the number of steps we walked each day. That was probably the first time I heard we should try to walk 10,000 steps a day. Being teachers, and always on our feet, I am sure most of us figured that was going to be easy. I was surprised to see I didn't walk that much. Of course, at that school the library was located right next to the office, mailboxes, bathrooms and cafeteria. I soon realized that being on my feet didn't automatically translate into walking. It just wasn't happening.

After I retired and moved, it got much worse. Not only wasn't I walking a lot, I was much more sedentary. I wasn't on my feet nearly as much. I could grab a beer and a bag of chips and settle down to watch TV in only 10 steps. I didn't need a pedometer to know I was in trouble. But those fitness experts, health experts, and others kept telling me my heart, muscles, and bones needed 10,000 steps to stay fit. Well-meaning nags!

A couple of months ago I read a book called The Wildwater Walking Club. The main character was trying to do the same thing...walk more. She got a pedometer and started walking. I loved the beginning. Day 1--11,032 steps. Day 2--OUCH 232 steps. The book was a fun read but I was most impressed when I read the author's note at the end. While she had been writing the book, she managed to get in 10,000 steps every day. I was impressed.

Recently I was given a new pedometer. I decided it was time to reach the goal. I have begun walking purposefully on a daily basis. Over the years I've let Maggie's interest in checking out who's been where influence my gait. No more. If she wants to walk with me, she has to stop sniffing at every tree or mailbox. For the most part I have been successful.

It seemed to be a lot easier in the summer. I was pretty active working in the yard and keeping busy. Now with fall approaching I'm not as busy. It's getting harder. Weekends are the worst. We go, but that doesn't mean we walk. Last Saturday I counted off 4300 steps! Hmm, not good. The challenge continues. As of this writing, I'm only at 9400 for the day. Guess I'd better get off the computer and go run around the house a few times.

Half the Sky

I read a book this week that keeps me awake at night. It is written by 2 NY Times reporters and it is called "Half the Sky". The title comes from a Chinese Proverb, "Women hold up half the sky". You may be hearing more about this book from me in coming months. If you do, that is a good thing. It means it has stuck with me. If you don't that will be sad because perhaps I've let it become a moment in my past.

I thought when I started the book that it would talk about microcredit opportunities for women in 3rd world countries and how they were lifting themselves out of poverty with small loans that they were able to turn into profitable ventures. Oh, that the world should move so simply. That turned out to be one chapter, but the issues facing even those people are so much more complicated. If my oldest sister is reading this she is probably thinking, "At last, my baby sister is waking up." She has spent a lifetime being aware of the rest of the world. I have spent a lifetime being aware of myself and the world I interact with.

"Half the Sky" starts out with chilling tales of forced prostitution of young teens, by their families or by others who prey on them and promise them jobs in the city. Then it goes on to tell horrific stories of young girls raped by men in an effort to force them to marry them. If the girl marries the man he is forgiven for the rape. If she doesn't marry him she has to commit suicide in order to not bring dishonor on her family. The book continues to highlight other types of atrocities against women world wide.

As horrible as this all seems, the authors have studied, researched and reported on these issues often enough and they have wonderful, redeeming stories of how some girls have risen above each of these to become productive leaders in their world. In one case, a girl with no education, was rescued by a hospital after a pregnancy and delivery gone wrong. She stayed at the hospital and helped out as she healed. She was allowed to help in the OR and showed such adeptness she was allowed to assist during the surgeries. Eventually she was able to do routine surgeries by herself and even trained other people at the hospital! Finally, she decided it was time she learned to read so she went to school. Incredible!

The authors give the reader multiple examples of efforts that have succeeded, as well as many well-meaning attempts that resulted in fiasco's. Most often, the programs that succeed are run by the local populations, who understand the customs they are trying to overcome, but they are funded by people like you and me. They give lots of places to get involved and tell you just how your money will be used.

I read another book last year, that has also never left me. It was called "Three Cups of Tea", by Greg Mortenson. Greg was a mountain climber who became lost on K-2 in Pakistan and was found by some mountain villagers. They took him in and helped him recover. While he was there, he discovered children taking themselves to school...no building, no materials, a teacher who came once or twice a week...but they went to school everyday to do the lessons he gave them. Greg has become the single biggest builder of schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan. In fact he is one of the success stories recounted in "Half the Sky".

Both books come to a similar conclusion. The way to improve any of these peoples' lives is through education, and mostly the education of women. Time and again women go back and change the life of their village. They encourage and care for one another. Once the village learns the real impact of some of their customs and how it impacts their economy and their health, they are empowered to change.

I don't read non-fiction very often. Usually my tastes go to mysteries, the fun Stephanie Plum series by Jan Evanovich, and other escapist material. But once in awhile I am inspired to do something to improve myself. I'm not sure what will come of all these efforts to 'educate Connie', but I hope something does. For now, let's just say the heart has been awakened.

An AHA Moment

August 18th came and went. Paul McCartney did a concert in Pittsburgh, and I stayed home. What's wrong with this picture?

I struggled with this. Initially, I knew what I was doing. My daughter was expecting and although it would be early for the baby, that hasn't stopped her before. I was sure if I bought tickets I'd never make it to the concert and that would kill me. I haven't missed one of his concerts in 20 years.

Well, the 18th came. Of course the concert had sold out within minutes of going on sale, so I knew there wasn't a chance. But then tickets went on sale for the 19th. And on the 19th, there were still a few available. I was available. But I didn't buy. What's wrong with this picture? It bugged me all day.

Well, for one thing, I've been to many of his concerts, but I've only had decent, not great, seats one time. This time I really didn't want to go and sit in bad seats again. Even so I still wished I was going. And then something happened later to put all this in perspective.

After the concert, people who had gone, raved about it. And over and over I heard people say, "I'm so glad I got to see him. I've waited 30 years for this!" It didn't matter who you were, TV personality or local resident. Everyone was thrilled for this opportunity. It turns out this was the first time he'd been in Pittsburg in 20 years.

And then I had my "AHA!" moment. Or maybe it was a humbling moment.

Every once in a great while, something happens to make me take a good look at how fortunate my life has been. Many years ago when I was living in Florida the radio station I was listening to had a contest. The winner would win 2 tickets to anywhere in the world. Wow, I thought. I would go to Switzerland, or Australia! I had been to Switzerland once and really wanted to go back. I had a sister in Australia and it would be a great place to visit. The winner blew me away when she excitedly said NEW YORK!!! Huh? Anywhere in the world and she picks a city up the coast? Then she went on to say she had been in Florida for 8 years and had never been home.

Now that caught me off guard. I had to stop and let that settle in for a moment. In the 10 years I had lived in Florida I had probably been home 15 times, including vacations, weddings, and funerals. What would it have been like to never be able to go home? I was humbled. And chastised. I took so much for granted. I became very grateful.

In the last two weeks I've had a chance to re-live that feeling. In my lifetime I saw the Beatles at Convention Hall in Philly, 1964, Shea Stadium, and the Spectrum. I have seen McCartney 4 times while living in Florida. For me, it has become almost a badge of honor to go, not just a joyous event (which it always was, as well). Imagine if I had had to wait 43 years to see him!

Yes, I am a lucky person. My life has had so much good fortune in it. And for all those people who were so excited after seeing McCartney for the first time, I am glad you had my seat. Even a bad seat at his show is a fantastic experience. And the glowing faces on the news after the show reminded me once again how lucky I have been.