As I write this, David (our firstborn) is on his way for a visit. He called a couple of days ago to say he would be coming by train. I arose at 5:20 a.m. and called his cell phone to make sure he was still coming. He answered."Yes. The wheels just started turning. I am on my way."
I do not know how much life's experience he has riding this mode of transportation; however, I do recall our first visit to the "lower 48." After living in Juneau 3 years, our family of four flew to California. Mainly, the reason for this journey was so our two children could experience unconditional love otherwise known as "Grandparents." The plane we were on from Seattle to San Francisco had a scheduled stop in Portland, Oregon, where David peered out the window and noticed the sprinkler system watering the grass and asked, "What are they doing?"
We explained to him that places other than Juneau sometimes had to make certain their plants did not die from lack of rain. The way this was accomplished was to feed water to them. He thought for a second and surmised, "That is the silliest thing I ever heard!"
He did not realize that life was full of silly things. This child was too young when we moved north to recall "cows" and "sheep" and "goats" other than in books we read. In real life, he was accustomed to "seals" and "whales" and "bears." So, when riding from the airport, Grandma pointed out the sheep "over yonder" (thus earning her the title That Yonder Lady). "But where is the shepherd?" he asked. Another time, Grandpa stopped the car to point out the"horned toad" crossing the road.
After the allotted time with my parents, we decided to take the train south to visit John's family. The train left us free to point out every herd of cattle or grazing horse or bleeting sheep as we passed. Hours after John and I had tired of that game, David was still going strong, identifying every living thing God made. Somewhere around Santa Barbara, David called out "tiger" to which we started to explain that tigers don't live in California. That is...we STARTED to tell him, except that, looking out the window, we discovered that he was right. For the train was passing through a zoo!
I wonder what splendor he will discover on today's journey!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
WILLIE
John and I have attended four memorial services recently -- Vicki (King) Thompson (48) and Charles Fikes, Jr. (41) both passed away quietly in their sleep; the only diagnosis I have heard for both was pneumonia. Neither death was expected and came as a complete surprise to everyone; they will be sorely missed. The 3rd was Jeanette Dean, daughter-in-law of my good friend Ava Dean. Jeanette had not been well for some time.
Last Sunday afternoon, we joined family and friends remembering Willie Rudkin. Willie was our next-door neighbor, the owner of the 5 acres to our north. Just one year before we moved here, Willie had been given the heart of a 20-year-old motorcycle accident victim. He made certain we had a file of his medical history. At the time of his surgery, he was told his life expectancy was 5 years. He lived just a few days shy of 23 years with his new heart.
Willie was a good neighbor. We need never fear grass fires on the Fourth of July because he made certain his field was mowed. When we had a wedding in our back yard, and on other special occasions, he allowed folks to park in his field.
Willie was like a wind-up toy. If we spotted him coming for a visit, we knew to cancel any plans for awhile. He loved to talk. One of his favorite topics was his property. He told how his place once looked like a city park. He loved sharing it with families for picnics. However, because people littered and did not respect his hard work, he had to stop granting permission to use.
Willie especially loved his trees. When we first moved here, he had very recently planted a number of evergreen trees. Now, they have grown enough to obscure our view of Mount Saint Helens. When John had the greenhouse full to overflowing with bonsai miniature trees, he invited Willie over to see that 16-year hobby. Willie studied each tree or group of trees as John pointed out the manipulating skills it took to form the perfect work of art. He asked pertinent questions and was in no hurry to end the visit. When the guided tour ended, Willie summed up his feelings for John’s labor of love.
“Just think,” he said. “Someday, you could take these plants outside and plant them. Then they would grow to their intended size.”
Last Sunday afternoon, we joined family and friends remembering Willie Rudkin. Willie was our next-door neighbor, the owner of the 5 acres to our north. Just one year before we moved here, Willie had been given the heart of a 20-year-old motorcycle accident victim. He made certain we had a file of his medical history. At the time of his surgery, he was told his life expectancy was 5 years. He lived just a few days shy of 23 years with his new heart.
Willie was a good neighbor. We need never fear grass fires on the Fourth of July because he made certain his field was mowed. When we had a wedding in our back yard, and on other special occasions, he allowed folks to park in his field.
Willie was like a wind-up toy. If we spotted him coming for a visit, we knew to cancel any plans for awhile. He loved to talk. One of his favorite topics was his property. He told how his place once looked like a city park. He loved sharing it with families for picnics. However, because people littered and did not respect his hard work, he had to stop granting permission to use.
Willie especially loved his trees. When we first moved here, he had very recently planted a number of evergreen trees. Now, they have grown enough to obscure our view of Mount Saint Helens. When John had the greenhouse full to overflowing with bonsai miniature trees, he invited Willie over to see that 16-year hobby. Willie studied each tree or group of trees as John pointed out the manipulating skills it took to form the perfect work of art. He asked pertinent questions and was in no hurry to end the visit. When the guided tour ended, Willie summed up his feelings for John’s labor of love.
“Just think,” he said. “Someday, you could take these plants outside and plant them. Then they would grow to their intended size.”
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