Where the deer roams

People sitting in The City Mission’s Crossroads dining room looked out the window today to see a deer looking in at them. Somehow a family of deer found its way into the Central Neighborhood, the doe collided with a car and was killed, and this little one remained.

It ended up in this partially enclosed area on our campus. The Cleveland police were called upon to assist, and they in turn called upon a wildlife agency to tranquilize the deer and remove it to a safer habitat.

It created quite a stir in the neighborhood and was enough to bring out at least one television station.

Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Lyrics from Home on the Range:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Home_on_the_Range

Brain muscles

It’s amazing how tiring it can be to traverse up the steep slope of a learning curve. I was among several staff at The City Mission who participated in three days of training this week on an upgraded version of our donor software. I could feel my brain muscles working hard to stay attentive to the instructor and then to comprehend, to wrap my brain around what he was explaining.

Using the computer lab in our youth building, each of us worked at a computer station while the instructor walked us through the technical aspects of such things as data entry, reporting and security. Even though I am not directly involved in all of these things in my daily work, it’s helpful for me to know what’s involved. I took the approach that I always took in my college classes, to get as much out of it as I could. By the end of each day I was whooped. Even a coworker who just recently turned thirty told me today that her brain was “fried.”

With all the new things we learned this week, we will be able to more effectively manage relationships with our donors, now numbering about 40,000 in active status (including individuals, businesses, organizations, churches and foundations.) It’s all about respecting our donors’ wishes, letting them know how their support helps and showing appreciation for their partnership in our work.

Cleveland Botanical Gardens

I visited the Gardens last Wednesday evening in hopes of getting some good spring photos. It became overcast in the evening which actually worked in my favor as an overcast sky produces a softer light with more even distribution. On just about any day, the quality of light is best before 10 a.m. and after 4 p.m. Photography lesson 101, be cognizant of the quality and direction of the light and use it to your advantage. Meanwhile, enjoy some of the natural beauty planted in the middle of the city!

Remembering Memorial Day 2008

The day began with breakfast at the Legion at 8 a.m. Dad is talking things over with another veteran. He says that only one month passed between when he enlisted and when he sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge. With passage out of the country, his monthly pay increased by five dollars. He also recalls that for all the time he was in the service he never saw anyone he already knew.

Mom looks over portraits of all the World War II veterans. She only finds a handful of women veterans, of which she was one.

Officer of the day, Marvin Randleman (my high school classmate) escorts the young lady that will lay the wreath at the monument.

A gun salute in the park by the library in New London.

The gun salute at the Fitchville Cemetery.

Remembering Pt. 3

[See my April 6th and 9th posts for Parts 1 and 2].

There was an e-mail circulated among staff this week pertaining to the ways that veterans have helped to assure our many freedoms. In that e-mail is a memorable photograph of people watching a parade. The only person standing as the flag passes by is a man bracing himself in front of his wheelchair.

It was that photograph that compelled one of my coworkers to announce that she intended to commemorate Memorial Day in a meaningful way, not just with the traditional barbecue. She reflected that many of us tend to take our freedoms and our flag for granted. I would agree. Most of us go about our daily lives without much thought of the conflict in Iraq, unless we know someone who is there.

I am proud to say that both of my parents served in WWII. Mom was stationed stateside in Topeka and Dad in the South Pacific.

Here's my Grandpa Hester with two of his sons in uniform. He had a world map on his wall and kept track of where everyone was. Thankfully my uncles Jim and Finlay survived the war as well.

I can only imagine that probably the greatest hardship of being in the military is the lonely separation from loved ones. My Great Great Grandfather Loren expressed such thoughts in his Civil War diary.

December 4, 1861... Having received a letter from home, I learned that my mother is nigh unto death. I therefore wrote this evening a farewell letter to her, bidding her a final adieu. I find it a hard task and it gives me much pain.

Here is an excerpt from an old Civil War song:

Our weary hearts, a song of home,
And friends we love so dear.
Of the lov'd ones at home that gave us the hand,
and the tear that said, "Goodbye!"
Of the brave and true who've left their homes,
Others wounded long. Some are dead and some are dying,
Many are in tears.

Chorus:
Many are the hearts that are weary tonight,
Wishing for the war to cease;
Many are the hearts looking for the right
To see the dawn of peace.

Giving back

Those of us in the Development Department at The City Mission have the unique opportunity and purpose to connect with people in our community who want to "give back" whether as a volunteer or as a contributor of goods, services or finances.

On Monday we learned that a grant request I had submitted to a foundation in January was going to be funded for the full amount of the request. This particular foundation was started by a family who had done very well in business. I can't give too many details here for sake of confidentiality but suffice it to say that they have provided very generous support to the Mission over the years. It has all been based on relationships that have been cultivated for a long time.

On Tuesday the founder of another family foundation and one of their staff members visited our campus for a tour and a meeting to discuss their potential interest in funding a special project. This particular family also has done very well in business and has provided very generous support to a variety of nonprofits. They invited us to submit a proposal for the full cost of the project.

While touring the campus with this foundation, one of residents in the men's program shared how his life had been transformed. He had come in "off the street", an addict, without hope. Today he's enrolled in classes at a local community college and hopes to get into the computer field. He's been helping out in our adult learning lab, saying its his way of "giving back." He had no idea that he was talking with a man of great wealth who also wants to give back.

On Thursday we had a lunch event highlighting our Laura's Home program for women. We were true to our promise to end the program promptly at 1, but many became engaged in conversation which went on for another hour, mostly around the idea of "giving back."

Today I had lunch with one of our two new board members, a woman whose professional expertise has particular relevance to my work. I came away from that time feeling so appreciative of her and our other board members who give so much of themselves to our work.

This evening one of my coworkers called to say that members of the community came out in full force today to help us fill one of our buses with food supplies. This was a special drive to restock our emergency food pantry which has been running low for weeks.

It's a good kind of tired that we all feel at the end of this busy week, and its a deep sense of gratitude that propels us into the weeks ahead.

"...And when we take your gifts to those who need them, they will thank God. So two good things will result from this ministry of giving—the needs...will be met, and they will joyfully express their thanks to God." 2 Corinthians 9: 11-12 NLT

Unsung hero

While I consider myself a journalist, I don't think I'd ever want to work in mainstream media as it tends towards the negative, presumably because that's what sells. But since this blog is not a profit-making venture (at least not for now), and since we could all benefit from an uplifting story now and then, I will try to do my part to give people some positive things to think about.

Crystal is the subject of this story. She goes to my church, plays bass guitar in our worship band and is married to professional drummer, Billy. Among other things she's been a cab driver, proprietor of a vintage clothing shop and guitar player for a rock band. I'm convinced that she has the creativity and talent to be an interior decorator, and the know-how and business sense to be a realtor. She and her husband had the foresight to buy a house in a somewhat run-down area of the Detroit-Shoreway neighborhood and fix it up real nice. The area is now the latest hot-spot for urban re-development. Their property has appreciated substantially as a result.

One of the things I admire most about Crystal is that she simply adores caring for older people who need nursing care. She's been serving as a nursing assistant at a care facility in her neighborhood. She's the one who takes care of the rather unpleasant tasks, in a matter-of-fact way, yet with the utmost dignity and respect.

She was once assigned to an Alzheimer's unit. One of the first things she did was turn off the tv and replace it with some gentle music, using cd's she had brought from home. The agitation and confusion so often seen in such patients quickly diminished. One man who initially kept pleading, "Help me. Help me," soon quieted and he could be heard to say in a soft voice, "Hold me. Hold me."

Crystal loves to provide those extra touches, taking the time to hold someone's hand for a few moments, or rubbing lotion on their feet, or simply listening patiently to the same story over and over again. But she's been assigned so many patients that she barely has had time to cover the basics. It's been sucking the life out of her to work that way, enough so that she just asked to go on "prn" status (meaning "as needed") and will likely work only one weekend a month. She likes the idea that she'll still have a staff ID badge which will give her some freedom to go in (even on her own time) and provide some of that extra care that she's not been able to do. Meanwhile, she intends to look for a place where she can fulfill her natural calling to provide loving care for those who are too often passed quickly by.

"Fix your thoughts on what is true and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise." Philippians 4:8 NLT

It's a vast world...

After the last post about Studs Terkel and Ernie Pyle, I was compelled to read some of Ernie's 1930's travel dispatches yesterday (Ernie's America: The Best of Ernie Pyle's 1930's Travel Dispatches, edited by David Nichols, Random House, 1989).

In September of 1937 he found himself in the Aleutians, specifically on St. Lawrence Island in the Bering Sea. He was invited into one of only two Siberian-type houses left, that inhabited by an old Eskimo, made of walrus hide. The only light came from a flame on a seal-oil stove.

"...We just sat and said nothing for quite a while, but there was a friendliness, and a feeling of welcome, in the room. And I thought to myself: How far this is from my world, which I always thought was the whole world. How strange, my sitting here at midnight, in the dimness, within these walrus walls. It is a vast world, and I don't understand it.

"...And I thought: If we could all come and sit in each other's houses for a minute, maybe it would be better. No, I don't know what it's all about. But the old man smiles, and welcomes me---and he doesn't even know my name, but he smiles, the brown old man who has lived out his days and is soon to die in this little world of his, here in the faraway Bering Sea."

Although I've never been so faraway as the Bering Sea, I have felt that "vastness" when I find myself at a connecting point with people of varied cultures and backgrounds. In the midst of that encounter it strikes me that these very different lives have converged for this moment and we share in the rich commonness of our humanity. In the home of a Hungarian seamstress. An African-American church service. A homeless shelter. Or in conversation with an Israeli merchant at the West Side Market.

It reminds me of the story my brother Bob told me about some New York City paramedics who went to Pakistan to help with the relief from a massive earthquake. One medic said an Pakistani came up to him and held up both of his hands to him and gestured in attempt to communicate "Look, we both have two hands, two arms..." ...an unspeakable, wordless moment when the common bond of humanity crossed light years of disparity.

"It is a vast world and I don't understand it."

Two great journalists

Today is Studs Terkel's birthday, and he's still living at 96. He is best known for collecting oral histories and publishing them in books, such as "The Good War": An Oral History of World War II. He said his wife insisted that he put the words 'good war' in quotations because no war is good. He also had a long-running radio program on which he interviewed a variety of people.

I made a mental note to look up a book of his I thought I had on my shelf. But I was mistaken as the book I had pictured in my mind was by Ernie Pyle, also a journalist, who also covered World War II but from the front lines. Before the war, Ernie traveled across the country (during the 30's) collecting stories of ordinary Americans and having them published in a nationally syndicated newspaper column. Ernie died in combat in 1945.

You might wonder how I knew about Studs' birthday. I'm not usually much into trivia but I'm really enjoying the daily dose I'm getting via The Writer's Almanac, an e-newsletter that comes with a 5 minute audio clip in which the highlights of the day are read by one of the greatest story-tellers around, Garrison Keillor. There's something about hearing him tell it, versus reading it myself that makes it particularly enjoyable.

You can subscribe to Writer's Almanac here: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/ Who knows, you might learn something valuable. For example it was May 12 in 1804 that Lewis and Clark set out from St. Louis on their expedition to the Pacific Ocean. May 12 was also Katharine Hepburn's birthday (1907) and May 14th was the 60th anniversary of the proclamation of the state of Israel. As Studs would say, "... knowing our past more is what we need..."

Good medicine

I didn't sleep good last night so I was feeling tired and kinda grumpy this morning but the conversation we had over lunch flipped the switch on that.

I think it started with the bemoaning of the current state of television and that launched a reminiscing of our favorite television shows from decades past. The four of us at the table were close enough in age to remember most of the same shows.

When I was growing up we weren't ones to sit in front of the tube dopey-eyed for hours on end but there were some favorites. It seems like there were two or three good ones on Thursday nights when Mom was out for her bowling night. She'd generally fix a yummy meatloaf with baked potatoes then we'd settle in for the night. "My Three Sons" was one of them, but what were the others? I can still hear the theme song to that show and see the opening graphics in my mind's eye. Bonanza was on Sunday nights and who could forget that theme song!

I recalled how Dad got a kick out Sanford and Son (which I mistakenly called Samson and son and we all got a chuckle out of that). We searched our memory banks for the trivia... "What was the girl's name on that show... you know, the one with the curly hair and..." and on it went.

M.A.S.H. came up in the conversation and one person admitted still watching re-runs. I recall that the last show came on when I was in graduate school and a bunch of us got together for a "final MASH episode" party, and one of the guys present figured out what it was that caused Hawk-eye's temporary memory loss before any of the rest of us and he blurted it out... Remember what it was?

Then there's the western genre--like Gunsmoke and The Lone Ranger, but I'm going to save those reflections for another post.

I recalled how Mom wouldn't let us watch the Three Stooges when we were younger because it was too violent. And remember how the Star Spangled Banner would play at midnight and then a test pattern would appear on the screen for the rest of the night? Seems like there was a family joke about how if you dozed off during the last show, the playing of the Star Spangled Banner would jolt you awake and you could jump up, salute the flag and go to bed.

Well, the day's about over and I'm still feeling the results of last night's restless sleep, but I've had several good laughs today, one of the best forms of medicine around. All that comedy dispelled the grumpiness, got the endorphins flowing and sustained me through those late afternoon hours. I expect a sound sleep tonight....

A cheerful heart is good medicine..." Proverbs 17: 22 NLT

Shoes and other ephemera: at tribute to my Mom

Ephemera… fragments from life, tucked away in drawers and boxes. Book reports, ticket stubs, school play programs, grade cards, newspaper clippings, baby shoes…

I can’t look at these shoes without thinking about all that they represent… the days and weeks and months I was learning to crawl and walk and explore my world. And for nearly all of that time my mother was close by, spurring me on, keeping me safe.

There’s the Alice and Jerry pre-primer workbook, a place for little hands to learn how to print letters, a place where my mind awoke to the wonder of reading. The summer reading certificates… how much I enjoyed the reading programs at the library, with each book completed I added another sticker to my certificate.

Then there’s the certificate for a perfect score for all of my 6th grade spelling words. We practiced every Thursday night for the Friday test. The yellow and white striped draw-string apron (one of my first 4-H projects) and the many other sewing projects…. Mom was there helping me pick out the fabric and thread the needle. In my collection I find a blue ribbon for a 4-H project displayed at the county fair, but I’m not sure what it was for.

There’s the Girl Scout sash, filled with badges, each one representing projects and assignments completed. The clarinet sheet music, representing hours of squeaky practice starting in sixth grade, and the annual spring concert in a stuffy gymnasium.

I still use the sewing machine I received at the age of 16. Unlike most of my other ephemera, it still serves a practical purpose but holds plenty of memories. The same holds true for my Betty Crocker cook book.

Then there’s a sizable collection of family photos (most taken by Dad) each with its own story… riding my tricycle, playing in the sand box, cooling off in the wading pool, opening Christmas presents, graduating from kindergarten….

Each of theses "fragments" of my life reflects the qualities of mothering that my Mom exhibited…her nurturing, protection, provision, instruction, correction and most of all her presence.

One of my Dad’s favorite sayings is "Mothers make a difference."

This is only a token of my deep gratitude. Thank you, Mom. I love you.

Making faces

I add one more blog posting for today as I think these photos won't need much explanation. This photo of my brother Dan displays his ornery streak.

A couple decades later the following scenario played out with Dan and his two boys. I saw Craig holding his ears and I encouraged them to replicate the "hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil" monkeys. As you can see it took a little coaching but we got it.

It must be a guy thing

Even growing up with two brothers I never became a tomboy. I never fared too well in the family wrestling matches. I just was never much of a fighter. I think the wrestling started with a race to the couch after Sunday dinner. One of our earlier couches sustained a broken back leg and had to be propped up with blocks. Eventually after things settled down and Dad would stretch out on the couch, sometimes I would get to crawl in the "back seat" behind him. It felt so snug and secure in there!

The family wrestling tradition was passed on to my brothers' boys as is so evident in these photos. What amazes me is it always looks like they're having a blast. Whenever the 3 nephews got together it wouldn't be long before they would become a tangle of arms and legs. I'm not sure what to expect the next time they're together. The youngest is now in graduate school for civil engineering.

No matter what the outcome it never seems like anyone came away with hard feelings. Here we see cousins Nate and Craig sharing the couch space to intermittently snooze and watch football on TV.

The Boys

Introducing my two brothers, Bob (the elder) and Dan. I was the middle child, a girl between two boys. I've never thought much about whatever significance there might be to the birth order. At some point the boys got their own room and I got mine. To this day my parents still refer to their room as "the boys' room."

My brothers learned all about repairing and constructing things and they both are still very adept in this respect. I acquired a great number of domestic skills which have continued to serve me well. I sometimes helped my brothers with their neighborhood lawn mowing jobs but I'm not much into loud machinery and power tools.

While I’m sure we had the usual scraps that siblings have, they must have not been too serious as I don’t remember any of them. What I do recall is how my mother handled one particular situation. She had Bob and I washing a window, me on one side, Bob on the other. It wasn’t long before we were making faces at each other and giggling.

One of the greatest achievements anyone could ever attain is in successfully raising children. They both, along with their wives, my sisters-in-law, did a fine job is in this regard. You will hear more about my three nephews and niece as I have claimed bragging rights, perhaps because I’ve taken so many photos of them.