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Showing posts from July, 2024

The Power of Summer Memories

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My mom and her sister spent many childhood summers at a small rustic cabin deep in the woods next to a pristine lake. They hiked, fished, read books, and played lots of board games.   Those summer memories lasted their lifetimes.  And they helped give me memories in the same place. I remember one summer when my aunt latched together three small logs, covered them with leftover plywood, and made me a raft to explore the lake shoreline. I had a big stick to push myself along and spent hours on the water. That was nearly sixty years ago, and I can still recall the glittering sand and pebbles as I peered over the edge of the raft. I can feel the stick in my hand and the sun on my face. Thatā€™s the power of summer memories. Each generation can pass along summer memories. When my nine-year-old grandson was visiting, I found a piece of driftwood that would float in the creek. I gave him a large stick to propel himself, and he was soon barefoot pushing himself along. More ...

Held by a Strong Frame

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Weā€™d been storing the huge window panel in our shedā€”it was being kept for ā€œone of those daysā€ when it could be used for a greenhouse.    So, there it stood waiting for one of those days to arrive.   But during our recent clean-up effort, my husband accidentally tapped the bottom corner of the large window. It was such a slight tap that he didnā€™t even turn to look, but then he heard the distinctive cracking sound of the tempered glass slowly breaking across the entire panel.   Once perfect, now it seemed to have a million interwoven lines.    It was a beautiful masterpiece of tiny glass fragments.   Thousands of pieces could have gone everywhere, but one sturdy frame held it all together.    I was thinking about our nation and the framework around us that holds us together.    We are free to have our own ideas, and like our glass panel with a million tiny linesā€”our personal fragments create a unique design.  ...

Summertime Music

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During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, ā€œPlay meā€.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. Itā€™s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isnā€™t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clappingā€”I guess I wasnā€™t alone, after all.

Dr. Bundyā€™s Curtain

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I was visiting my grandparents at their remote cabin, deep in the woods of Northern Idaho. Read: no electricity or indoor bathroom.   They were trying to fix the leaky roof. But all cabin repairs needed to wait until next door neighbor, Dr. Bundyā€™s curtain was openā€”a sign that he was awake.    Without electricity, all the construction tools needed to be powered by a loud generatorā€”and Dr. Bundy ā€œDidnā€™t come here to rest and listen to that confounded noise.ā€   My grandparents would only do quiet work before his curtain opened. They respected his requestā€”but a failing roof, and fixing a sagging porch required daylight hours and some significant sawing and hammering.   Construction was limited to the hours between 10:30am-and 3 pmā€”which meant the project took at least twice as long but gave those adjacent to the work a respite from the noise.   Even though I was only seven, I remember watching my grandparents wait for the daily curtain opening. When ...