Question Quote

The other day I wrote about questions and how important they are. Last night someone posted the following quote on Twitter.

A single question can be more influential than a thousand statements.
Bo Bennett

Isn't it interesting how that happens? You're thinking about something and then the universe reinforces it.

Tweet at 650 Feet Down

Saturday night something cool is happening in Hutchinson. The first-ever underground Tweetup. A tweetup is just an in-person gathering of people who use twitter.com.

It will be from 5-8 p.m., Saturday, November 13. Tickets are $20. That includes a t-shirt, the gallery and dark ride tours, and refreshments. Reservations can be made, and tickets purchased, online at www.undergroundmuseum.org.

Your Presence

"When you love someone, the best you can offer is your presence."
-Thich Nhat Hahn

This thought, in one way or another, keeps coming up in my life. It can be interpreted in multiple ways, but for the moment I'm choosing to be present for those I love, who love me.

I'm looking forward to being with Greg and his mom this weekend, and to seeing my family over the Christmas holidays. "Love" can be a bit hard to define with some relationships in my life, but those are straightforward. So, that's where I want to be. Fully present.

Messages Arrive about a Lasting Loss

I've been thinking a lot these days about various relationships in my life. This morning I went to a lecture by ethicist Michaal Josephson. He included a poem he wrote called, "What Will Matter."

It's a poem about what will matter once we're no longer alive. He asks, "How will the value of your days be measured?"

It has a few stanzas, but one small part jumped out at me when I read it, and again when he recited it.
"What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone."

How many people have passed through your life that you still think of every day? Other than the obvious family members, there are quite a few for me - some who are dead, and some who are just missing from my world by choice.

I can honestly say I've never ended any relationship of friends, lovers or others without making intense efforts to maintain it. But it becomes ridiculous to continue to put energy into something when its glory days, if there ever were any, are long past.

I've never understood the idea of falling out of love with someone, or just not feeling a fondness for a friend that existed earlier. I don't understand it. I don't think I ever will. If I loved you at one time in my life, I still do. If we were ever friends, I still want to be friends. I feel a loss that you are not in my life.

In many ways, I'm very childlike in that I initially think others experience the world in the same way I do. But, logically I know from observing the actions of others is that this is not true for them. They do not feel the same loss I do at friendships lost or relationships gone. Regardless, sometimes life insists I let go, and make room for new relationships, even though I feel the loss.

So, how many will feel a lasting loss when I am gone? Or when you are gone? I guess that's the billion dollar question.

I know I feel a loss for some people who are absent from my life, but it seems there is nothing to do but accept that. Maybe for me the lesson is to be smarter and not put so much energy into obviously waning relationships. I never want to let go. I always think there's possibility. And I want to continue to build relationship.

Sometimes I feel as though I must be the only person on the planet who holds onto a 40 year old postcard, written by an elderly neighbor lady to a young girl. But, those few lines, no doubt written in haste, capture a moment. There's a wedding - I hope they're still happy; a note that she hopes Johnny is okay - a reference to a young man's health issue that was a tremendous concern; a card from Niagra Falls that reminds me of a trip with people I love that I had no idea would happen when that card was received.

I remember visiting Mrs. Wildharber. Hers was one of the two houses close enough to walk to when I was a kid. It was her husband, Clyde, who drove my mother to the hospital in the middle of a blizzard when she went into labor with me and my parents' vehicle wouldn't start.

She was so very kind to me. At various times she arranged for a state legislator to write me a letter, gifted me with knick knacks I was drawn to, and she talked to me - in person and on a postcard.

Was Mrs. Wildharber someone I was really close to? No. But she was someone who mattered in my life. I wanted to be with her more than Mama allowed. I guess even as a child I was seeking relationships with people, wanting conversation, a different world view.

I still want those things, but they seem harder to find. Thankfully, I have room to carry memories of Mrs. Wildharber and many other important people who've played on the stage of my life. And I do feel the loss, but it seems there's no other option.

Inward

I am going through a period of looking inward. I'm contemplating many things, none of which is a cohesive enough thought to share yet. I have a blog post I've been working on for the past few weeks now and then, but it isn't ready yet. It may never be ready.

Suffice it to say that I haven't been able to muster much energy for recording my daily life here as I've been occupied with these thoughts. I realize I've been a fool for some time, and I'm considering how best to rectify that situation. I'm sure it will become obvious.

Quote of the Day

It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.
Eugene Ionesco

A few years ago in Honduras I was introduced to a brilliant Dutch man named Jacob. He was in San Pedro Sula for only a few days, but we were fortunate enough to visit with him just one day when our paths crossed

He told us a story of helping negotiate a treaty with a native group and a government. What I remembered most from his story was how he learned from the leaders of the native group that the questions asked were far more important than the answers. It was in the questions they found wisdom.

That stayed with me and I thought about it many times. A couple of years later, when we connected with Jacob in an Amsterdam coffee shop, again as our paths crossed in a place where none of us lived, he shared more stories. But all had this theme of asking questions.

I started to realize this tall, lanky man had made a life of asking questions - and carefully listening to the answers.

It gives a person reason to pause. And consider. What the questions can reveal, even without answers.

Buz Carpenter and Ribbit the Frog

After the presentation today, SR-71 pilot, Buz Carpenter, told Greg and me this funny story about taking a stuffed frog on a mission. Of course, Ace Jackalope inspired the story.

Buz Carpenter at Cosmosphere Nov. 6, 2010

Buz Carpenter, a former SR-71 pilot, who flew the plane housed at the Cosmosphere, will speak at 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. on Saturday, November 6. The presentations are free to the public and he will sign autographs afterwards.

I got an opportunity to have dinner with Buz and Nancy, his wife, tonight. They're delightful and Buz gives a fabulous talk about the SR-71.

See more details and photos at The Lope. Be sure and come out to see him Saturday at 1 or 3. I promise you'll enjoy it, and it's yet another cool thing you can do for free in Hutchinson.

Pensive

I'm in a pensive mood the last couple of days.

Thinking. Pondering.

Maybe I've been listening to too much Paul Thorn.

Maybe I haven't been listening to enough Paul Thorn.

Politics

Demint says Tea Party candidates will end earmarks. Although I'm a liberal, I don't think that's a bad idea. I do think it's a very naive idea. Time will tell how that works out.

It seems no one in politics - of any persuasion - can get done what they say they want to do. I think that's because the system is designed to prevent any one person from doing what they want to do. We just don't seem to understand this.

I no longer get too worked up about politics because I've realized in our current system it doesn't really matter much. I vote in every election, and I always will. But our system is designed to be totally reactive to the whims of the moment at election time, only to have those folks realize the people they backed can't really do what they said they would do because the system prevents it.

People want whatever their immediate concern is addressed. Government isn't designed to address anything quickly. By the time government reacts to whatever the immediate concern is, the immediate concern has changed.

Two years from now people will be ticked off at the people who just got elected and they'll be ousted too. I'm just not going to invest my own energy in this dance, other than to vote or speak out when it's something really major.

Anyone who really wants to effect any kind of change - on either side - needs to hire public relations professionals to change the minds of the people. Then government has to react to that. It's designed to be that way, and it seems to work quite well, but it's not the way to accomplish much in a proactive manner.

Seaons Changing

The seasons are definitely changing. I needed a jacket this morning. Of course, it is November 2. This morning I needed a jacket. This afternoon I picked four ripe tomatoes. That pretty much doubled my garden yield for the year, I'm sorry to say.

I took them over to Bob and Ruth. I didn't have anything on hand worthy of enjoying them with and it was the least I could do considering that they've been taking care of my lawn all year long. I don't know what I ever did to deserve them as neighbors, but I'm thankful. They're great.

Yesterday at the 140 Character Conference I completed the last big project I had hanging over me for a couple of weeks. I have a few days now to just focus on the tasks at hand, but nothing is critical. So, it's time to put out some feelers for other freelance jobs, and tidy up a few little things that are hanging out there undone, and get myself organized.

This coming weekend we have an event at the Cosmosphere so I'll be working. Buz Carpenter, who flew the SR-71 Blackbird that's in our lobby, will be here to speak. He was here last year and was very popular so he's coming back again. Should be good. He and his wife are really pleasant people. It will be good to see them again. He's speaking at 1 and 3 on Saturday, for free, and signing autographs afterwards, so I expect we'll have good crowds.

I'm really having the urge to work on the novel again, but that's not writing that will pay me right away, so I'm just churning thoughts away in my brain. When I do get a chance to write maybe the remaining bits will just pour out of me with little effort. Wouldn't that be great?

I spent part of the morning with a gentleman I met at the conference yesterday, giving him a tour. I do love showing off the musuem. I'm very excited the 140conf is coming back to Hutchinson next year. Quite amazing. We have work to do before then.

This afternoon I had to take some materials to Wichita to the school system. It was a beautiful afternoon and kind of nice to let my brain be in neutral while I drove. Usually I have a long list of things to accomplish when I go over so it was nice to have a simpler agenda.

A few projects I've wanted to happen for 3-4 years seem like they may come to fruition soon. That would be wonderful. I can only hope it works out.

Twitter is Today's Civic Club - #140conf Speech in Hutchinson Kansas.

Today was the 140conf in Hutchinson, Kansas. It's the first ever smalltown one, and they're making plans to return next year - tentatively on Sept. 20, so make your plans now.

I was thrilled to be invited to speak, and despite last minute editing and rewriting of my speech it went well, I think.

We each had 10 minutes, so I knew I needed a script. Generally when I speak I just use bullet points, but if you ramble when you have 30 minutes it's no big deal - there's plenty of time to get back on track. If you ramble in 10 minutes, it's bad. So, I wrote a script. And stuck to it.

I thought I'd share it with you here....

In May of 2001, I sat in Kentucky with my best friends on either side of
me. Their arms were draped over my shoulders, literally and figuratively holding me together, through my mother’s funeral. If I’d had any doubt about the importance of friends, it would have been quelled that Mother’s Day.

Humans are instinctively drawn to form bonds. Building connection made sense as a way to share the chores of hunting and gathering, and it still makes sense regardless of where we are on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

When we connect with people amazing things happen in our bodies. Our stress levels plummet, we are less likely to be depressed and we can even fight infection more effectively. Connection is a magical thing – for our physical and mental health.

Developing friendship requires two things:
1. an opportunity to meet and
2. a willingness to engage.

Opportunities often arrive through a connection – we go to the same school, live in the same neighborhood, work at the same company, believe the same things, or know the same people.

Throughout our history, we have created these opportunities. After the industrial revolution took people from rural areas to more urban ones, they created civic clubs as a way to connect. All of the major ones were formed within a few years during that time period.

They gave people an opportunity to organize around a cause, and to have a chance to interact with people they might not otherwise have met. Within that structure some meaningful friendships were formed. Not psuedo friendships that didn’t exist outside of the club, but real friendships.

Real friendships are never formed over Roberts Rules of Order, just like they’re not made because you happen to work down the hall, go to the same church, or both tweet about marketing. They’re created through repeated interactions that deal with life. And not all of life is about major events, much of it is about the daily bits - Those seemingly insignificant occurrences of day to day living are what end up creating a lifetime.

Membership in civic clubs has steadily declined since the mid 1960s. We haven’t lost the interest in bonding, but that model isn’t serving our lives well anymore. One of the new ways we’ve found to meet and connect is through social media. We don’t have to live on the same street now to have a chance to meet each other, we can search out those with similar interests and even eavesdrop on their recent conversations to see if our initial instincts about them were right. Wouldn’t that be convenient in real life, too?

We share the happenings in our daily world with hundreds of people at a time through status updates. We connect with a whole twitterverse of people and our relationships get the Facebook Official stamp of approval.

Social media allows the conversation to continue even if geography prevents a face to face interaction. It helps us stay connected to people we have a history with and to develop new potential friendships.

But, there’s a second part of friendship, beyond the opportunity to meet - the willingness to engage.

Unless both parties are willing to engage in meaningful interaction, the relationship never goes beyond the “hi, how are you?” or the “oh, you should read this” stage. Just like people who met every Thursday at noon for a civic club, friendships only deepen if we go beyond the superficial. The same skill set is required online or off. Friendships require constant care and feedingThey demand that we put forth effort to connect, engage and repeat. And some risk is involved.

And we still seek that face to face interaction. We have tweetups and social media clubs and 140confs. When we do meet, our interaction online allows our real life conversation to start in a different place. Part of the reason we are driven to meet in person is that it’s easier to engage that way, no emoticons necessary. How many times have we read or written, “things don’t always come across the right way online.”

The friendships that support you at your mother’s funeral don’t come from casual conversation about a shared interest or because you work down the hall from each other. But they may start that way. They grow through repeated, meaningful interaction.

Every friendship starts somewhere - maybe at a club meeting or maybe through a tweet. That’s the opportunity to connect. The challenge is to have the willingness to engage.

Handwriting Beneficial for the Brain

Research showing that handwriting engages different parts of the brain, and strengthens the brain, is no shock to those of us who know what we write by hand is very different from what we write on keyboards. But, apparently, it's news to other people. So much so that The Wall Street Journal is reporting on a recent study.

They quote:
"It seems there is something really important about manually manipulating and drawing out two-dimensional things we see all the time," says Karin Harman James, assistant professor of psychology and neuroscience at Indiana University who led the study.

Read the whole story at:
http://online.wsj.com/article_email/SB10001424052748704631504575531932754922518-lMyQjAxMTAwMDAwNjEwNDYyWj.html

We've known for years that different parts of the brain are engaged when we write by hand. In "Patsy World," this is common sense. I guess in the "World World," we need studies to confirm it. I'm glad there is a new one. And that the media is reporting it.

Speech writing

I've been working on a number of things today, including my speech for the 140conf. In the process I've been rereading some blog entries, including this one about Dr. Robert Putnam speaking in Hutchinson.

Whenever I make notes for a speech, I'm amazed at how many different directions it can take. Eventually I hit upon something that seems workable for the particular occasion. This one is 95% there. I'm hoping the remaining 5% comes tomorrow.

Long Day

I got up at 5:15 this morning to get to El Dorado early for a presentation I was giving at 9. I was there in plenty of time, but I needed it to get everything set up. It was an ongoing joke when I worked in radio I was never good with the mechanical stuff. Unfortunately, I'm still not.

But, I had the computer and projector going when it was time for m presentation about social media. Unfortunately, I didn't get an opportunity to hear the keynote speaker, which I had hoped to do. It was someone I met at the TIAK conference a couple of weeks ago and I wanted to hear him speak. But, I guess today wasn't the day.

Jami was there, which was cool. I hope I didn't bore her senseless. Well, I hope I didn't bore anyone.

I really enjoy doing these presentations.

Tomorrow I have to finish up my speech for the 140conf on Monday. My topic is "Twitter is the new Civic Club." Hopefully I'll have something to say that's worth hearing. I hope.

Flights of Fancy

I've had this idea in the back of my mind for awhile... to be in Paris in May of 2011. I want to be there over Mother's Day and May 11. My mother died May 11 of 2001 and we buried her on Mother's Day that year. I'd like to be in Paris on that 10 year anniversary.

The first year after she died I was in Notre Dame at the exact moment of her death the year before. It was where I needed to be. Afterwards I went to Angelina's, and wrote, over curried chicken salad and their famous hot chocolate. I walked a few blocks to one of my favorite shops in Paris for perfume. Perfume is one of those little luxuries I adore, and has always been a symbol to me of finding joy in daily living. Then I surrounded myself with Monet's final eight works in l'Orangerie and tried to pull some of that beauty into my soul.

One of the greatest gifts Mama ever gave me was to teach me to do the things that make me happy. So on that day, I grieved - intensely and painfully - all morning for the loss of her. And that afternoon I celebrated the blessing of happiness she gifted me with, and walked around Paris grateful for it. That night I slept soundly, waking to a new reality. I had to say goodbye to some other things that May 11, some possibilities, and I had to accept some new realities. It was one of those "defining moment" days in my life.

For a few weeks I've been thinking about returning to Paris next May. Tonight I even looked up one of the places I've stay and it's available over that time frame, which is somewhat surprising. But, the cost of being there for a week is almost identical to just one of the medical bills I opened yesterday. So, my current reality only allows for trips to Paris in flights of fancy.

I have myself on such a strict budget that I haven't even allowed the purchase of a particular perfume I ran out of this past summer. Of course, I have plenty of other perfume, but it's funny how those little things matter so much. It's no surprise I guess. After all, I wrote a whole "This I Believe" piece about how little things matter to me.

But, obviously, these are not life or death problems, and I don't want to give the impression I don't understand that. I do. Very well. So, I think for now I'll just have to visit Paris in my mind, in those flights of fancy.

Quote of the Day

He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.
~Friedrich Nietzsche

Better Days Ahead

The last few work days have been difficult ones for a variety of reasons. Tomorrow will be a very long day, but hopefully it will go smoothly. There are better days ahead, I'm sure. Hopefully tomorrow is one of them.

The last week or so I've arrived home most nights worn out on multiple levels. Unfortunately, I can't afford the luxury of relaxing once I come home, so I never get to let go of the stress. But I have to be working on my extra jobs, or that house of cards will tumble. For the moment, this is just the way it is, and people have far worse problems.

So, I hope the coming days bring calm and contentment for all of us. I certainly need it, and I'm guessing others do too.

I come into...

I was rereading a Wendell Berry poem recently in which he says, "I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water."

I love that phrase, "I come into..." He speaks of coming into the peace of wild things who don't think about grief. My grandmother used to say, "Don't borrow sorrow from tomorrow." That's what he's saying ... to come into peace ... to not worry about future difficulties. A worthy goal ... to have peace.

In this same poem he writes about resting in the grace of the world. I love that sentiment - resting in grace.

Grace is my constant companion. I am thankful.

Hutch Haunts was Great

Saturday night I attended Hutch Haunts, a partnership of the Kansas Underground Salt Museum (KUSM) and the Hutchinson Theatre Guild. They were kind enough to invite me so I could write about the evening. It was a very full, and very fun, evening.

We started at KUSM with a welcome from Director Linda Schmitt, and heard an overview of the findings of paranormal investigators from Kansas City and Hutchinson. In a nutshell, they found no activity at Armstrong's Antiques or Fire Station Number 1, but found much activity at the Reno County Museum. They pointed out it didn't mean there was nothing there, just that nothing happened when they investigated.

Our next stop was Eastside Cemetery, where the theatre guild was doing its fourth annual presentation of "Talking Tombstones."

It was a perfect fall evening activity.









We then convened at the Reno County Museum and began a tour of the downtown spots the investigators went to. Our group finished at the museum, but we got a bit of history about it from a vantage point across the street at Memorial Hall as we started our tour.



Next we toured Armstrong's Antiques.



I'm afraid this ghostly flag flapping in the breeze was the most mysterious thing I photographed all night. And that wasn't too mysterious.

Next on our tour was Fire Station Number 1, which has been occupied 365 days a year since the early 20th century. At one time it housed the police station, too, and they showed us the two cell jail, which was interesting.



They even played a song for us, sung by Nancy Sinatra, written by someone who spent some time in the non-climate-controlled jail. It was called, "It's Cold in the Hutchinson Jail."

One of my favorite parts of the night was hearing a ghost story from Firefighter Casanova.



I could have listened to him talk about his experience for a long time. It was a highlight of the evening. Our timing was very good, too, because just as we were leaving an alarm went off and the firetruck was on its way to an emergency.

Our tour group wrapped up at the museum. I didn't know anything about ghost hunting, but apparently the approach is to go into any investigation trying to explain away anything that has been reported as unusual.

The ghost hunters shared their findings at each place, including some photographs they took the night they were investigating.



The blue room below was one of the "hot spots" in the museum. My photo, unfortunately, has nothing unusual about it. It's just a blue room.



We then went back to KUSM for a special underground tour through non-public areas. It was too dark for me to get photos during that tour, but suffice it to say that it was amazing.



Myron Marcotte, who oversees the mining operation, led us on a hike through the underground area, and shared some stories with us about miners who've died. I really, really enjoyed his tales of Lloyd Lightner.

Everytime I'm down in the salt mine I want to explore more and more. I've written about it before. We're so very fortunate to have it and the Cosmosphere in town - two world-class attractions right here.

Meaningful and Productive

I've noticed lately that two words keep coming up in my conversation - "meaningful" and "productive."

"Meaningful" is something I've been aware of for a long time, but "productive" is one I've not noticed so much.

Both of these are related to time, I think. I've always felt that time is short, very limited, and I'd best live fully every day because I don't have enough days to do all I want to do. That's not meant to be morbid - I expect to live a good, long time. But there's so much I feel driven to accomplish that I think there won't be enough time unless I'm cautious in how I spend it.

We talk about "spending time," but I think few people realize what it really means. We're spending it. We can't ever get it back.

So, because time seems so fleeting to me, I strive to make life meaningful - meaningful interaction and conversation. And by creating meaningful things. That's where the productivity comes in.

Have I actually created anything meaningful? Well, that remains to be seen and/or is in the eye of the beholder. But, I'm sure being productive is part of the process of working toward that if it hasn't yet happened. The idea of "paying your dues" is one that's really true. We have to have enough hours of practice to really get proficient at something.

That could spin off into a long, rambling, questioning series of paragraphs about what I'm proficient at. But, I'm going to spare us both - you from reading, and me from the inevitable conclusion that I'm not yet proficient at much.

So, there you go. All the more reason to be productive... to get proficient... to create something meaningful.

Written Right

Don’t get it right, just get it written.
James Thurber

This is great advice for writers - except those specializing in journalism. But the idea to get your fiction stories written - and fix the problems later - is sound.

When I ran across this quote tonight I was reminded of a conversation earlier this week with a young writer.

During the conversation I suddenly found myself sounding like one of those obnoxious old people dispensing advice. I think it was because I was giving advice. Who does that? Only old people. Obnoxious, old people. Well, at least any advice anyone would pay attention to. And this writer was listening, like I might know something. No doubt, she just didn't know anyone else to discuss such things with. That's the only logical explanation.

While I was enjoying the conversation, a part of me was screaming, "No, No, No... this can't be happening... I'm now *that* person... blathering on about how important it is to be able to write to time, space and deadline... Who's saying that? Oh my gosh, it's me... It can't be me... surely not... No, no, it's coming out of my mouth. It *is* me... Have I been reduced to this? Really? When did that happen?"

Unfortunately, it was hard to deny when, despite this conversation going on in my head, I did not stop talking. Oh no I didn't. I kept on going. Just like old people do when they're giving advice people have stopped listening to a few minutes before they stop talking. At that point you're just being indulged.

I prefer to think of this as a momentary lapse, and not a new pattern. I can't be that person. Not yet.

Spirit Day Vigil

Tonight I attended a candlelight vigil held for young people who've committed suicide as a result of bullying.



I believe all people deserve respect.



GLADD suggested people wear purple today to show support for anti-bullying. This was spurred by the recent suicide of Tyler Clementi, who killed himself after a roommate broadcast a sexual encounter Clementi had with another male student. I know from my years in the mental health field that the suicide rate for gay and lesbian teens is four times what it is for other teenagers.



This is not a gay issue as far as I'm concerned. I'll happily wear another color to show support for another group to raise awareness about bullying. Everyone deserves respect.



It was a good turnout tonight. I didn't count, but there were probably 30-40 people there. Considering it was just a couple of days notice, that's great.



I do not think people "choose" to be gay, any more than they choose to have blue eyes. I certainly don't remember a day when I woke up and chose to be straight. I just was. I can only assume it's much the same for everyone. We are attracted to who we are attracted to and there's not a lot of decision-making involved.

Obviously, not everyone feels the same way. And that's fine. But I want everyone to be free of bullying - gay or straight.

Hutchinson Happenings - Cosmosphere, Downtown, Underground Salt Museum and Hutchinson Theatre Guild

I often hear people say, "There's nothing to do here." Imagine a whining child, stamping a foot, while they say it, and you have a fair picture. Well, here are a couple of things to get on your calendar. Two things on Thursday, two on Saturday, with a day of rest inbetween. I can't arrange it any nicer than that for you. I'll be looking for you somewhere along the way...

Thursday
October 21 - Thursday morning at 9 a.m. - Coffee at the Cosmo - free presentation, free donuts and free coffee at the Cosmosphere - the topic will be about Lunar Rovers

October 21 - Thursday evening from 5-9 p.m. all of downtown will feature live music, artists and goodness knows what other fun during Third Thursday. It's all free, too. At 6 p.m. attend a free Ukelele workshop at Spark's Music. Where, I ask, are you going to find another offer like that?

Saturday
October 23 - Rocketober-Fest at the Cosmosphere from 1-4 p.m. Some free activities and some very reasonably priced fun as well. Kids will have a blast making buttons, solar system bracelets and setting off air rockets in addition to other things. $1 gets you seven tickets for different activities, including liquid oxygen ice cream. There's a costume contest for adults and kids in your space and alien-themed costumes.

October 23 - Hutch Haunts - perfect for the Halloween season, learn results of the paranormal investigations done at the Kansas Underground Salt Museum, as well as some downtown buildings. You get to go underground. You get to go to a cemetery. You get to even SPEND THE NIGHT UNDERGROUND if you want to. No one's gonna make you, but of course people might think you're a scaredy-cat if you don't. It all starts at 5:30 and goes until midnight - or the next morning - depending on your fortitude! Make reservations with the Salt Museum at 620-662-1425.

Good Timing

My new 2T external hard drive arrived today. I took a very late lunch so I happened to be home when the driver arrived. It is already engaged, backing up my files. Very happy I was home so it didn't sit on the porch all afternoon.

The Day

I had a regular appointment with my cardiologist today. I see him every six months because I have atrial fibrulation, otherwise known as afib, which is an irregular heart beat. I've had it for a long time and it's pretty controlled by medication.

I have three main triggers for it - caffeine, stress and being tired. I don't drink any caffeine so that removes one. Tired is something I can have some control over. Stress is a bit harder. Lately my job is much more stressful and that has not been good for me. Ironically, one of my biggest stressors is trying to make extra money to pay off my medical bills.

Today, he told me to start thinking about having an ablation at some point in the future. It's a technique to address the afib, but it's something they're still perfecting for my kind of afib. He said he'd recommend I go to the Mayo clinic to have it done. Hopefully that's something that's a long way in the future.

Magic Light

October skies are the bluest of the year. The light also has magic in it, as was evident the other morning on the side of this house.

Quote of the Day

You gain strength, experience and confidence
by every experience where you really stop
to look fear in the face.
You must do the thing you cannot do.
--Eleanor Roosevelt

Holy Ground at River Confluence

When you stand on holy ground you feel it.

A place that has always been holy ground for me is where the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers run together near Cairo, Illinois. That confluence provides me with a place I can go to reset my compass when I've lost my way in the world. It is sacred. Essential.

Recently, a friend mentioned that in some cultures confluences are important religious sites. This made me start thinking about my attraction to the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio, just across the river from Kentucky where I grew up. I couldn't think of any other times I'd noticed confluences.

Less than two weeks later I was away from home and an offhand comment was made to a group about a confluence that was nearby. I made it a point to visit, to see if it felt the same to me as the confluence I'm familiar with.



You can see ridges where they run together. The river on the left is much faster, with a much greater current than the calmer river on the right. So, it makes a significant ripple where they come together.

I feel certain I'll be visiting other confluences.

Homecoming Memoir

A few weeks ago I attended a memoir writing workshop with Lisa Dale Norton. We went through a series of exercises that resulted in a short memoir. My theme was "Homecoming." I promised to share it here, and realized I had not done that. Until now...

*****

Homecoming
by Patsy Terrell

I didn’t want to go in the first place. I was tired after a 14-hour travel day that had started in another country. It had involved drunk Germans, fresh-faced South Africans and rude British. Finally, after using my limited French, we had landed ourselves in a nice, comfortable hotel room and I had no great desire to leave it.

But Greg was going. And even as I was saying, “no,” I was reaching for my sweater. Because something interesting might happen, and I’d miss it, and I never want to miss anything. So, out into the chilly May night we went.

The narrow, wet cobblestone streets were lined with buildings that prevented us from seeing beyond the next curve. History was surrounding us on all sides. We were headed to the river.

After a few twists and turns, we found ourselves going through a long passageway. As we neared the last arch, I could see a glimmer ahead. Then, there it was, in all its glory, IM Pei’s Pyramid marking the entrance to the Louvre. At the late hour there were few other people around, except in cars whizzing by, seemingly oblivious to what was in front of them.

I was stopped in my tracks. Not by the building, but because it was the gateway to the Art. Famous Art. Art that people had been inspired by for centuries. Finally, it was my turn to worship in its presence.

I hadn’t grown up an art lover. Kentucky farmers don’t spend a lot of time at the dinner table discussing the finer points of Da Vinci’s talents. Had I expressed an interest, my mother would have found a way to satisfy it, but having no exposure to art I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

A serendipitious experience in college had resulted in me seeing the Armand Hammer collection, one of the finest private art collections in the world. That night I discovered this was something that had been missing in my life. I knew I could never be whole without this beauty. I would never feel at home in my own skin without knowing more.

I was ignorant about art. I had never even been to a museum. Since I couldn’t go to a museum then, I went to a library instead. I started reading and learning. I didn’t know how to say the names of various artists, but I soaked up the information. Whenever possible I visited museums. The next few years became a series of trips that were a dot to dot of museum visits. It had all been leading up to this moment. To be in Paris, where museums lay on either side of the Seine.

That May evening as we stood on the plaza around the Louvre, Greg clutching his Paris Plan 11, ecstatic that everything was exactly where the map had indicated it would be, I knew I had come home to a place I’d never been.

Across the Seine, Greg pointed out the Musee d’Orsay. The glowing clock reminded me I didn’t have enough time. I had been in Paris less than an hour, and had a week stretching out before me, but I already knew it wasn’t enough time.

Unfortunately, I was correct about that. I’ve returned to Paris more than once, but it’s never enough time. I always want more time in the museums, gardens and streets. More time with the French people who have never been rude to me, despite their reputation.

As I stood with the Louvre at my back, looking across the Seine toward the Orsay, I knew at the other end of the gardens, blocked from my view by construction, was yet another museum, the l’Orangerie. What I didn’t know was that the l’Orangerie would be where I would fall in love, not with a man, but with something far more permanent than that – art.

I would tumble head-long into love with Monet’s final eight works. They’re huge and no photograph can give you the sense of being surrounded by them like being in their presence. I was to spend many hours in the windowless basement, contemplating brush strokes and color combinations. I would leave at closing time and be waiting the next morning when they opened.

But that night, on the banks of the Seine, I didn’t know that. I was so grateful for the chance to be there. I was surrounded by art and culture, something I wanted my life to be; and by the river, a representation of all my life had been. This was just a different river than I’d known.

I spent that week going from one museum to another, wrapped up in my own world and my desire to see everything in case I never got another chance. I was not as kind as I should have been to Greg, and his mom who had traveled with us and was making it possible for us to be in far more comfortable hotels than we would have been on our own. I was selfish. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s the truth.

Today, I’m a much better travel companion. Multiple trips to multiple countries make me believe there will be another time, another chance. But sometimes there’s not another chance with that person. The art that has survived for centuries is likely to be there the next time you visit. The rivers will still be flowing.

I’ve always heard we travel to run from something or toward something. I’ve done both, but on that night, I was definitely going toward something. I was headed home.