New year, new adventures...

On the first weekend of the year we decided to take a little field trip--both as a way of taking advantage of the last couple "Christmas break" days and as a way of setting the tone for the things we want to do as a family this year. (One of our goals is to take trips, even short ones around Ohio, to places we like and places we've been wanting to see...)

So our first trip of the year was to the Great Circle Mound in Newark, Ohio. Did you know that central Ohio has some of the oldest and most important mounds built in North America? I sure didn't, at least before a few years ago. (Just a mile down the road is the Octagon Earthworks, which has been made into a golf course. Don't ask. The most amazing discoveries are being made about that place--about how it aligns not with a solar calendar but a lunar one... I'll write about that another time...)

(Here's a view from one section of the wall that people are allowed to stand on top of, near the entrance...)

The Great Circle Mound is gigantic. Its entrance is aligned to the east (just like many native structures through time, down to today), and at its center is a mound shaped a bit like an arrowhead or cross with its arms tilted down, so that the center mound points east.

(This oak stands near the center mound...)

(I like to look up into its branches!)

Nowadays there are trees inside the circle--my favorites are the gigantic oaks--though archeologists say there probably would not have been when it was in use. There's lots of discussion and disagreement about how the Great Circle Mound functioned--a meeting place, a place to do ceremonies, a place to trade, etc. And the archeological findings are ambiguous. No one right story seems to be emerging about it.

(Another view of the walls... Some people speculated at first that the structure was for defense, but that doesn't make much sense with the trenches on the INside...)

And yet when you're there, you feel its power. It was an important place. And is.

Several groups are trying to have the Earthworks added to UNESCO's list of World Heritage sites--as a way to protect them and increase awareness about their significance. (The Ohio Historical Society has charge of caring for several of the nominated sites now, and of course, like most other things Ohio, their budget has been decimated the past few years.)

We always take tobacco with us and make an offering on our way in. And then we walk around in it. And something odd happens with time and space...

I think I've read somewhere that you could fit four football fields inside the circle. The earthen walls that form the circle must be a least 12 or 14 feet high. The place is absolutely giant. It dwarfs the giant oaks. And it was built by hand.

(Okay, to see how giant this oak is, look for me on the bottom left, giving the tree a hug...)

(... and yet those same trees look small in the circle... here's a little section of the curved wall...)

I noticed on this trip that when Patrick or Dexter would walk out on their own, within what seemed like only a few seconds they looked tiny, far away.

And time just sort of disappeared, on this visit. The world seemed to fall away from our attention. The Great Circle is surrounded by highways, and yet you can't hear the cars when you're inside it.

It seemed like we were in there for maybe 10 minutes, just walking around and saying hello to the trees, looking at the sky, exploring. And when we emerged, we found that an hour had gone by.

(There's a small "garden" there of native Ohio plants; this one is milkweed, whose stems provided the ancient people with fiber to make string and rope. Is it a surprise that I seek out--and find--fiber sources everywhere I go?)

One of my favorite memories of being at the mound was when I attended a conference about the similarities between the mounds in Newark, Stonehenge, and the Great Pyramids in Mexico. A group of Aztec dancers came, people who dance as a form of praying at the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon in Mexico. We danced with them, and the heavens opened and poured down rain on us, and we kept on dancing. I talked with a man who's danced inside Stonehenge at the solstice. It was a magical time!

So our little family started the year at a magical place, giving thanks for the people who have walked this land before us, asking for strength to face our challenges and mindfulness to notice beauty and peace.


I'm sure we'll be back before too long. May you find magical places where you live!

Cheers,
Karen

Rest in peace, Grandpa

(Alice & Don, 1986)

We are mourning the passing of Patrick's dad, Don.

He lived an amazing life. He was orphaned in the 1930s in South Dakota. He had older siblings (the closest one was much older and had a family of her own), but the Depression hit very hard there, and families literally could not feed one more person. Don told us stories about living at the orphanage for a while, then a sibling's house, then the orphanage; it was a difficult life. A couple summers ago we went to his hometown and he told us stories about being there, about working in a factory making wooden boxes when he was about the age my son is now. (I marvel at the strength it took just to get by back then.)

(Don & Alice during their dating days)

When he reached adulthood, he served in World War II in Italy and North Africa. He developed a talent in photography, which served him well after he came back home; he went to college, and then went to work for South Dakota Game, Fish & Parks. He eventually became the state parks manager. Patrick tells stories of his dad creating parks (like the one at Sandy Shores), and of taking the family out to take photos for the brochures that would promote the various state parks.

He and Alice were married for more than 60 years, and together raised four kids.

(The Allen family in 1963)

I met him when he was retired, and was lucky enough to go on a few hikes with him and Alice (my mother-in-law) at Farm Island, near Pierre, South Dakota. And I use the word "hike" advisedly: the first time we went with them, I thought I was going to be taking a lovely stroll with this retired couple and that I'd have to be patient with the slow pace. But when we got out there, they were moving FAST and I had to work to keep up! Don could identify every tree and every plant we came across. When I picked up a feather that was lying on the trail and wondered out loud what kind of bird it came from, he knew right away what it was.


I'm sad for the fact that he will not see Dexter as he grows into a man. But I'm also grateful that we managed to go out there every summer for the past few years, and that Dexter knows his Grandpa and Grandma so far away.

And I'm really sad for Alice. She and Don were inseparable for more than 60 years. They were each other's best friend. They understood each other in ways no one else could. In the end, she knew it was selfish of her to want him to stay--he was having difficulty breathing, and was really working hard and was tired. But she couldn't imagine him not being here.

(Gone fishin', August 2010)

And I suppose that's the other part that's hard to deal with: He is just not here anymore. He will live on in our stories and memories and photographs; but we will miss him.

Please hold us in the light, friends, and help us pray for his crossing.

Love,
Karen

Holiday report

I've been remiss in sharing our holiday update--partly because it was a mixed bag this year. Various personal issues plus the crazy weather meant that we didn't get to see family, and other personal issues made the holiday kind of difficult. Without going into all the details: it was not all sweetness and light this year in our household.

But we survived, and there were some sweet moments as well as funny ones, so that's what I'll share. Sit back and enjoy the photos, 'cause here they come!

First off, I didn't post anything about Thanksgiving... I have such conflicted emotions about that day. I have always wanted to go to Massachusetts to participate in the National Day of Mourning, a protest staged every year by the United American Indians of New England (a controversial group, to be sure). But we stay home, our time off and traveling funds being limited, and I teach my students about our Thanksgiving myth being a myth, and at home we talk about the realities of early American life and intercultural relations. I definitely engage in some myth-busting.

And yet I am also glad to have a holiday where we get to realize that we are truly thankful for the good things we enjoy. This year, one of those things: Dexter helped prepare the meal. Woohoo! Here are the cranberries he made:

(They were delicious!)

Dexter also brought us Christmas joy with his violin-playing. For the second year, he joined our friend Jonalyn's cello choir and they played the nursing-home circuit here in our town, where everyone taps their toes and sings along.

(You can't really see the musicians in this shot, but I rather liked experiencing the evening this way...)

(Here are some of the musicians; bad shot, but you get a sense of how large the group is!)

(Here's a smaller subset at another nursing home. There were some GOOD singers at this place! Plus, they fed us cookies afterward--score!)

(And here's a smaller subset still, after their short performance at the Presbyterian church. They are awesome and goofy and made my day.)

As per usual, we got a real tree this year. The place where we get it had Holiday Goings On that day; I didn't get a photo of the Grinch & Max, but here's something neat:

(Ice sculptor! Noisy but impressive!)

As we were looking at this one tree, Dexter noted how crazy the top looked with one spike sticking way up, and BINGO, that was our tree.

(Here it is, perhaps in a nostalgic mood? We couldn't fit the topper on the top, so it's kind of hanging off the side there.)

We went to the Big Malls, which we typically try to avoid. These two, a father-and-son duo playing Celtic tunes, were definitely the best thing about Easton on the night we shopped there:

(Easton has faux streets, but at least real street musicians...)

With finals and grading, violin rehearsals and performances, and whatnot, everything seemed to be on the last-minute schedule this year. I finished my shopping on the 23rd, and finally baked cookies (my favorites) on the 24th--we had to have cookies for Santa! (I tried to get Timbits when it looked like the cookies might not happen, but Timmy Ho's was closed!)

(The first couple dozen; we ended up with at least 8 dozen, I think.)

And Dexter decided that, in addition to cookies, Santa probably needed something healthy. Plus a beer.

(I think this is actually a nicely balanced snack for Santa...)

We all enjoyed our presents, including the cats...

(Pirate unwrapped his all by himself!)

(Peaches can play with two at once!)

... and it was cold out, so Baby Jesus enjoyed the extra straw, I think...

(I've had this manger set for years! We always give Baby J. extra straw at the end of Wigilia, our traditional Polish dinner on Christmas Eve.)

... and what could be better than new Wii games AND a psychedelic snuggie?

The guys spent much of the break flying planes (Blazing Angels) and I even got into throwing things at the teevee (Boom Blox).

(It's hard to fly a plane with a cat in your lap...)

And, apropos of nothing, I'm pretty sure these are the best $10 New Year's Eve shoes EVAR:

(I enjoyed wearing them!)

I have a bunch of Christmas Weirdness photos from around our little town that I'll post separately soon. For now, I'll end this post with one of my favorite Dexter presents from this year:

So cute! And yet so gross! (Which is, incidentally, the perfect combo. for a 12-year-old boy...)



Hope your holidays were good, y'all!

Cheers,
Karen

Preservation

The park system in our area is called Preservation Parks. I always used to think that the thing being preserved was the land--small bits of it being set aside from the rampant development that appears everywhere north of Columbus.

A farmer friend of ours explained why many of the farms end up as housing developments or strip malls: the farmers here spend a lifetime just getting by, and when retirement age comes, they have the choice of either living on not enough money or selling their land to developers and not worrying about who's going to take care of their financial needs (chief among them being health care). Faced with those options, I'm not sure I would be able to do things any differently than those who sell.

But a couple of families near here were lucky enough (I have no idea how) to be able to donate the land to the Preservation Parks system. And boy am I grateful!

Lately, I have decided that it's more accurate to say that the land is preserving me. We walk out on these trails--most of them easy enough for kids, but if you walk two or three you can usually go for a couple miles--and I am so thankful for the access to woods, and creeks, and fields. I think there's something in me that needs to be with the trees and grass. I'd rather not camp, no (especially at this time of year!). But I need to go walking out there.

(A creek winds through Deer Haven... we must have crossed it at least three times)

The most recent park to open in our system is called Deer Haven; we went for a walk there during Thanksgiving break and I took some photos...

(Even the sidewalk between the parking lot and the nature center has leaf shapes pressed into it... cool!)

(This big old tree was leaking sap...)

(See?)

(Family plus one, walking quickly because it was chilly, noses running...)

(We kept having weird warm spells in November, but it had finally gotten cold over Thanksgiving--cold enough for us to spot the first ice of the season, a delicate edging around a puddle or two...)

(late fall palette... and an accidental self-portrait... I can't even explain how beautiful these colors are...)

I LOVE this place! I am hoping for a walk again at Deer Haven soon--when it's not quite so cold out as it is today. After a rough end to the semester, the busy-busy of Christmas, and some other unnameable stresses, I feel the need for some preservation.

I hope you find a place near you that soothes your soul!

Cheers,
Karen

No! Sleep!

Til Brooklyn!

This is what I've been thinking of in my head for a week and a half as I face down the last week of classes this semester.

It's a challenging time: the last week of classes means it's time to return all the papers I collected just before & just after Thanksgiving break as well as teach the last few texts of the semester and review for final exams. The committees & groups I'm in are trying to have one last meeting or two before the end of the semester. I've got senior portfolios, and freshman paper revisions come in soon. On the assessment committee we're doing the university writing assessment (part one earlier this evening, part two next week, both multi-hour meetings).

Add to that a partner whose final exams have been moved up this year so that we're both super-pressed for time at the same time. PLUS Christmas--shopping, planning, concerts and rehearsals for the boy...

It's all a bit overwhelming! Not necessarily in a bad way, of course--I'm proud of Dexter, and the Christmas songs are wonderful to hear, and I'm excited to be finishing the work of teaching a class (or three), and it'll be good for Patrick not to have exam week hanging over him during the break. It's just a bit much when it all comes at once.

So I haven't been sleeping as much as I need to. Thus the Beastie Boys, shout-singing with me:

NO!

SLEEP!

TIL BROOKLYN!

(Brooklyn being a metaphor here for the Promised Land of the day grades are turned in? Whatever it stands for, it feels right.)



I posted this video on my FB status today (and I actually get a kick out of it, but only if I overlook the silver-bikini-clad dancer). Other songs that have been appearing in the playlist: "I'm a Survivor" (by Destiny's Child) and "2 Legit 2 Quit" (by M.C. Hammer).

I've never owned any of these songs, so I have no idea why they're coming to me, but I'm grateful. Their inspiring and affirming choruses have been drifting into my consciousness, lending me a little boost, I think. Thank goodness! Plus I'm a sucker for a good beat. (Does anyone else out there remember American Bandstand?)

Hope you're getting some good sleep this week.

Sweet dreams,
Karen

Dream a little dream...

So, full disclosure: my spiritual beliefs are pretty... well, what some would call "woo-woo." I believe in ghosts, and that there are spirits all around us. I believe, like many of the authors I study, that the trees and grass and wind and sky and all living beings have a spirit. Given this worldview, perhaps it's no surprise that I would think of dreams as being special.

Except I've never been one of those people who has deeply symbolic, rich, or prophetic dreams on a regular basis. To be honest, most days I can barely remember my dreams within five minutes of waking up. I'm a bit envious of folks who have rich dream lives and who can talk about their dreams the next day.

A few years ago I did an exercise: as soon as you open your eyes, start writing what you remember of the dream you've just had, and keep writing until you feel your consciousness kick in. Once you stop, put that piece of paper away and get the next day's blank sheet ready. At the end of the week, look at what you've written.

It worked amazingly well--each day, I had something to write down, and I was able to tell when my consciousness would wake up and make itself felt, usually in the impulse to edit or correct punctuation or something like that. And at the end of the week? I could barely recognize my dreams as my own. They sounded like some strange fiction someone else had imagined. With one or two I could remember the image I woke up with, but these were hazy; it felt like I was trying to grab hold of fog. It was amazing! I'd like to try it again sometime...

For the most part, I think those of us under the influence of western thinking tend to think of dreams as being a key to our psychology: if we just interpret them correctly, we will understand something of our deeper (sometimes darker) thoughts. A dream becomes a key to unlock something--a utilitarian tool, really.

But I kind of like the idea of dreams as prophecy, as vision, as second sight. Sometimes I wish for that kind of dream...

Recently I remembered a ring that we bought for me years ago, when we really couldn't afford it; it's a round opal in an unusual setting, pretty as can be. Back when we bought it, I'd heard it was bad luck to wear an opal if it wasn't your birthstone, and it's not mine, but I'd just had a baby in October, and I figured I'd earned a special dispensation. I loved that ring, but was afraid to wear it for fear of hurting it. And just recently I decided that we didn't buy it so it could spend the next 10 years hidden away somewhere.

But where was it?

I looked in the jewelry box, the other jewelry box, the sock drawer, the bowl of treasures; everywhere I could think of to look, I searched twice and three times, emptying everything out, to no avail. I even checked the dresser we moved to the basement years ago. Nothing.

So I decided to ask for a dream to help me. As I fell asleep one night, I asked whatever spirits might be able to help to show me some clue to finding the ring. I woke up seeing a gold coin purse--the one my grandmother had given to me some years before she died; it had belonged to her mother, and she was giving it to me. I kept a pair of earrings and a pin in it that my grandmother had worn, and that I'd been given after she died--they were just costume jewelry, but they reminded me of her, and so they were precious. I hadn't seen the coin purse in my searches, either; where was it? I was given the idea that the ring and the coin purse were together; time to take one more look.

Back into the closets and the places I'd already checked. Except this time my eyes laid on a little drawer I used to keep on top of my dresser (before we'd had our remodeling). I opened it, and there was the coin purse. I took out its contents, thanked my grandmother again--for the best hugs in the whole world, and for letting me know she was looking out for me. But where was the ring? I had nearly emptied the little drawer of its contents when I finally spied it. Just as promised, the ring was with the coin purse. And I'd dreamt it. Cool.

Thanks, Grandmom!

(knitting and reading; what could be better?)

I'm wearing it every day now, taking it off sometimes (to wash dishes and such), but really enjoying it. I was never much for pastel colors, but I love the way it seems pink sometimes, blue sometimes, green sometimes. I love the way the white surface just barely covers all those colors waiting underneath, the colors that come alive when you look at them...

(Can you see the setting? I was having trouble zooming
and taking a photo with my left hand...)

May you find something lost, and may you have interesting (in a good way) dreams!

Cheers,
Karen

Scatterbrained!

I've been feeling lately that I want to post to the blog, but don't have something sustained to say. I have a million thoughts running through my head on a daily basis, and every once in a while think, "oh, I ought to write about that on the blog." But then what I have to say only turns out to be a couple sentences. Not so much a post.

So I was wondering this morning: what's up with my brain? What seems to have caused this lack of ability to sustain a complex or deep thought?

I came up with a couple possibilities: I've been grading a lot. My students' papers, depending on the class, do indeed contain deep thoughts, but I have to move on relentlessly to the next paper, not dwell on anything for too long.

The more likely culprits seem to be Facebook and Twitter, and web-surfing in general. I have been nearly compulsive lately in checking FB & Twitter--and for no better reason than "what's new since the last time I checked?" I'm not even sure I enjoy it anymore. So they're going in time-out. Or at least in slowdown mode--I'm going to try to make a point not to check them more than once a day. I have a lot of reading that I had put aside because it's hard to read anything long during the semester (I'm usually reading boatloads for homework); perhaps it's time to give that material some attention. Sustained thoughts, sustained ideas--that feels like what I need right now.

In the meantime... here are some scattered photos from the past week or so, and some scattered thoughts to go with them.

Out and about
Recently we went to two events at my school that we really enjoyed: one was a fundraiser for the Bodo Initiative, part of Education for the Future Foundation. My dear former student Lydia Spitalny created Bodo after she spent a semester abroad in Kenya; Lydia is inspiring, and her work is changing lives. Here is a picture of a drum circle, at the end of the evening, that Dexter actually got brave enough to participate in. More cowbell!


And here is another evening in the same space just a week later: the annual Culture Fest. In this piece, our campus group Wafiki wa Afrika were presenting a song...


... and there was also some wonderful dancing from Pakistan and India!

(My photos are bad, but the events were fun.)

At Dexter's school, the students presented a Veterans' Day concert that was quite nice. My favorite part was where they invited all the veterans in the auditorium to stand up, introduce themselves, and tell what branch of the service they were in and when...

(This is the stage before the kids arrived.)

I'm as liberal as they come, and yet events like this get me every time. After we got home, Dexter called Grandpa, Pop-pop, and Great-Granddad to thank them for their service.

Closer to home
Dexter must have had a growth spurt; either that or we haven't bought him clothes in a long time (distinctly possible). It seemed like he grew out of everything at once. So I've set aside the too-small stuff to take to the rez when I go back in March. Pirate has decided that Dexter's old socks make a lovely nest:

He's a sock pirate!

And speaking of happy, here's my teacup, complete with bloom:

Such a nice way to be greeted at breakfast time!

Let's talk about...
The weather here lately has been really weird. Warmer than I ever remember fall being, with three-ish-day spots of cold every now and then. And dry as a bone. Every time we get a little rain, with that warm weather, a couple flowers in the garden come back. They look confused.

Anyhow, here's a tree on campus that one day seemed to drop nearly all its leaves at once:

I was happy to catch sight of it before the leaf-blower crew came by, to have a chance to see the carpet of yellow leaves that belonged to that tree.

Look who I found in our driveway!


I can't remember whether a wide middle stripe means a long winter or not. And: is this wider than usual?

I have no idea...

Back out again
And, lastly, we are indeed turning toward winter, despite the weird warm temperatures. We went walking in a local park that features some meadows--places where the park folks are working on establishing some tall-grass prairies. I liked the splash of red we saw every once in a while among the blonde stalks:


Isn't this a beautiful color palette? We pay so much attention to the trees, but this field, it seems to me, was celebrating fall, too.

I hope you have a chance to celebrate fall, and to gather your thoughts.

Cheers,
Karen

Edited to add: the group's name is Rafiki wa Africa. I am a doofus.