Today we began what is to be known as “The Great Experiment.” Or, according to our youngest, “The Very Bored Experiment.”
It started at lunch. We began a discussion at the dinner table about what our life would be like without electricity – no TV, no video games, no lights, no microwave, no computer, no electronics of any kind. What would we do?
So, we decided to try it for one week and see what happened. We spent quite a bit of time discussing the “rules” of our experiment. We decided that there was really no way to go completely cold turkey – there are some things where the old technology simply does not exist in our home anymore or things that would make our lives unnecessarily difficult (i.e. cooking on the stove, typing, researching, task lighting). But there are other electronic things that simply serve as life clutter (i.e. electronic games, TV and lighting for the purpose of turning night into day.) We did, also, decide that music is allowed in any of its electronic forms because music feeds the soul.
At first, the boys were pretty excited. We got home and changed and began our normal routines. Mine – watching a little TV while my husband naps – was slightly disrupted, but not horribly. I visited the library and had some quiet time on the couch while the boys played outside with their toys. But after an hour or so of that, they were back inside.
“Mom, I’m bored,” said the seven-year-old slumping in the chair across from me. The ten-year-old, meanwhile, sat head first in the other chair performing a perfect, suspended somersault with his rear and sock feet out for the world to see.
“Well,” I said seriously, “I can think of something for you both to do.”
“What?” they said.
“Your homework.”
I also made a new rule. This rule was that anyone who said they were bored would be given a chore that they would have to perform. I asked them to confirm that they had heard me.
“I never said I was bored, mom,” the rear and socks clarified quickly.
And then they disappeared. Ha-ha! Peace in the living room again.
Things got interesting as dinner approached. We took our food and homework to the patio because we discovered that the house is actually darker inside than it is outside in the evening. We ate and talked and finished homework and then picked up our dishes and put them away in the candlelit kitchen.
After that, we retired to the living room and listened to our youngest practice the piano by lantern light. My husband actually got out the guitar and joined him in playing “Ring Around the Rosy.” Following the performance, my oldest and I played “spell and catch” with his spelling words while the youngest and dad did a little cleaning and organizing. After that we all gathered in the living room to read, draw and write.
As this evening draws to a close, I will say that I am enjoying the ambiance created by the candles and lantern light. And I am REALLY enjoying the silence punctuated only by the waterfall in the backyard, the frogs, the cricket and the occasional distant vehicle noise that seeps through the trees of our quiet, little cul-de-sac.
To be continued….
September 21, 2008
Unofficial Report of the 37th Annual Walnut Valley Festival
What is it about good writing – really good writing – put to music and sung for all to hear that puts me in a pensive state of mind?
This is, after all why I go to the festival. For me, the festival is not about the music – although that is undeniably an important element. No, for me, the festival is about the weaving of stories – the passing of truths through poetry and verse.
My youngest son shares this love of the Festival with me, although I am yet to discover what he enjoys the most. If close observation renders any hints, it is the food, the organization of the schedule and the music – not necessarily in that order. He likes his music fast and energetic – a speed to which Bluegrass and Irish reels certainly cater. He spent hours reading and re-reading the schedule for names he knew and checking out the Festival map for the placement of the stages and the bathrooms. Finally, he spent an annoying amount of time marking the hours until it was time to purchase a funnel cake.
No matter what our motivations for attending, we both agree that the main reason to attend is, and always will be, Tom Chapin and Michael Mark. Tom, like his brother Harry, is a master at storytelling. He also just happens to be a Grammy winning children’s songwriter. When Tom and Michael pair up with John McCutcheon – another master at telling stories – it is pure magic.
This year, the song that hit me was called “Doing My Job” written by John McCutcheon. This song was written during the 1995 Festival shortly after Cal Ripken Jr’s record-breaking stretch of 2,131 consecutive games on September 6, 1995. John sang it at this year’s Festival during the show that Tom and John always perform together on Saturday afternoon. They were singing songs from their collaborative album entitled, “Doing Our Job.”
The song goes like this:
It was one for the ages, one you just had to see.
So we sat on the sofa, my two kids and I and we watched on TV.
It was in the fifth inning, the game had to be stopped.
The whole ballpark went nuts when the number was dropped.
My kids they clapped and they hollered. Me, I choked up with tears
Thinking back on the grace he brought to that place for over thirteen years.
And as he stood in the spotlight, he looked so awkward and shy
When they asked him to say a few words on that day, this was his reply.
Chorus:
“I’m only doing my job like folks everywhere.
Where I come from, it’s just how things are done, doing my share.
I did not love every part, still I don’t think it odd.
Give your best and to hell with the rest, doing my job.”
I’ve heard that song many times before at previous festivals. But this year, it reached out and grabbed hold of me like never before. And this, my friends, is what makes a good song great. This is why I keep shelves full of stories that I have read and enjoyed many times. This is why verses in the Bible continue to inspire no matter how many times you hear or read them.
The words of a song or a book are enduring, fixed letter combinations delivering their message to those who know how to translate them. We, the translators, bring to those words our rich and constantly changing context. And the context that I brought to this year’s festival was one of searching, of impatience, of frustration. And into this fertilized field, the words of this song added to some words from Philippians and a dash of the Holy Spirit fed my soul.
I suppose that some of the magic of the Festival is also in the music. For it was during those times – the times when there was just music and no words – that I allowed my mind to wander down new and narrow paths so that I could eventually sit back and study the map it drew for connections and new discoveries.
And finally, during one of these non-word times, I sat with a warm, peacefully sleeping child in my arms, the acoustic sounds of the guitar, violin, mandolin and banjo quenching my ears, my view overflowing with stars that only a Kansas night sky can hold and I received peace – God’s peace – and I was filled with joy.
“And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again.” Philippians 1:6
This is, after all why I go to the festival. For me, the festival is not about the music – although that is undeniably an important element. No, for me, the festival is about the weaving of stories – the passing of truths through poetry and verse.
My youngest son shares this love of the Festival with me, although I am yet to discover what he enjoys the most. If close observation renders any hints, it is the food, the organization of the schedule and the music – not necessarily in that order. He likes his music fast and energetic – a speed to which Bluegrass and Irish reels certainly cater. He spent hours reading and re-reading the schedule for names he knew and checking out the Festival map for the placement of the stages and the bathrooms. Finally, he spent an annoying amount of time marking the hours until it was time to purchase a funnel cake.
No matter what our motivations for attending, we both agree that the main reason to attend is, and always will be, Tom Chapin and Michael Mark. Tom, like his brother Harry, is a master at storytelling. He also just happens to be a Grammy winning children’s songwriter. When Tom and Michael pair up with John McCutcheon – another master at telling stories – it is pure magic.
This year, the song that hit me was called “Doing My Job” written by John McCutcheon. This song was written during the 1995 Festival shortly after Cal Ripken Jr’s record-breaking stretch of 2,131 consecutive games on September 6, 1995. John sang it at this year’s Festival during the show that Tom and John always perform together on Saturday afternoon. They were singing songs from their collaborative album entitled, “Doing Our Job.”
The song goes like this:
It was one for the ages, one you just had to see.
So we sat on the sofa, my two kids and I and we watched on TV.
It was in the fifth inning, the game had to be stopped.
The whole ballpark went nuts when the number was dropped.
My kids they clapped and they hollered. Me, I choked up with tears
Thinking back on the grace he brought to that place for over thirteen years.
And as he stood in the spotlight, he looked so awkward and shy
When they asked him to say a few words on that day, this was his reply.
Chorus:
“I’m only doing my job like folks everywhere.
Where I come from, it’s just how things are done, doing my share.
I did not love every part, still I don’t think it odd.
Give your best and to hell with the rest, doing my job.”
I’ve heard that song many times before at previous festivals. But this year, it reached out and grabbed hold of me like never before. And this, my friends, is what makes a good song great. This is why I keep shelves full of stories that I have read and enjoyed many times. This is why verses in the Bible continue to inspire no matter how many times you hear or read them.
The words of a song or a book are enduring, fixed letter combinations delivering their message to those who know how to translate them. We, the translators, bring to those words our rich and constantly changing context. And the context that I brought to this year’s festival was one of searching, of impatience, of frustration. And into this fertilized field, the words of this song added to some words from Philippians and a dash of the Holy Spirit fed my soul.
I suppose that some of the magic of the Festival is also in the music. For it was during those times – the times when there was just music and no words – that I allowed my mind to wander down new and narrow paths so that I could eventually sit back and study the map it drew for connections and new discoveries.
And finally, during one of these non-word times, I sat with a warm, peacefully sleeping child in my arms, the acoustic sounds of the guitar, violin, mandolin and banjo quenching my ears, my view overflowing with stars that only a Kansas night sky can hold and I received peace – God’s peace – and I was filled with joy.
“And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again.” Philippians 1:6
September 14, 2008
Food
My husband and I have seen the future and it isn’t pretty.
I was thinking, today, about food. When you have two children in your home it is hard not to think about food – especially on the weekend. For you see, it is the weekend when the meal plan for the week is born: recipe’s searched, options considered, daily activities listed, directions written and shopping list crafted.
In our house, this event typically takes place on Sunday afternoon while my husband takes a nap. Sometimes, I try and get the family involved. But, because I like a little variety in my diet, they are limited to suggesting meals for only one or two nights a week.
Our oldest is the healthiest eater of the bunch. This one will actually order side salads and apple dippers at McDonalds instead of fries. I still credit this to the fact that added sugar did not cross his lips until he was two years of age. He is, however, not a big eater. Never has been. He makes up for it by drinking his weight in liquids. Give that boy juice, milk, water or G2 and he’s got the bottle or glass gone in the first 2 minutes of the meal. We give him lines on his glass so that a drink will last through the entire meal.
My husband is our pickiest eater. He will not eat anything with cheese or milk in it – a flu in his early twenties ruined his body for anything containing lactose. He does not like spicy food (except for Pizza Hut’s mild chicken wings.) He will NOT eat fish unless carefully concealed within something else or cooked on the side so he can remove it. And pretty much likes all his food in large, recognizable chunks – which means NO casseroles.
I love food and will try anything – with the possible exception of liver. Even then – I would possibly be willing to experiment if someone out there has a recipe that can mask that incredibly nasty smell that gets on your hands and lingers there. I also don’t think that I would be very good at the Survivor challenges where they have to eat worms and bugs and stuff like that.
It is our youngest, however, that this article is about.
On Sunday, we eat lunch at Southwestern College. It is, by far, the best deal in town. It is an all-you-can-eat buffet brunch featuring two entrée options, two or three hot vegetable sides, a full breakfast, sandwich bar, salad bar, wall full of drink options, and a dessert bar that always includes ice cream. With my employee discount, the cost is $5 per adult and $3 per kid between the ages of 5 and 10. Kids under 5 eat free – but we don’t have any of those anymore.
This Sunday, my husband and I watched open-mouthed as our seven-year-old sat and ate most of a chicken fried steak, half of a pile of mashed potatoes, four raw carrots, two large pieces of raw broccoli, two link sausages, a bowl of applesauce, two cookies and topped everything off with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. My only solace was that all four food groups were represented.
Moving forward, we will not be sharing this information with the people who run the food service – they might change their prices.
I was thinking, today, about food. When you have two children in your home it is hard not to think about food – especially on the weekend. For you see, it is the weekend when the meal plan for the week is born: recipe’s searched, options considered, daily activities listed, directions written and shopping list crafted.
In our house, this event typically takes place on Sunday afternoon while my husband takes a nap. Sometimes, I try and get the family involved. But, because I like a little variety in my diet, they are limited to suggesting meals for only one or two nights a week.
Our oldest is the healthiest eater of the bunch. This one will actually order side salads and apple dippers at McDonalds instead of fries. I still credit this to the fact that added sugar did not cross his lips until he was two years of age. He is, however, not a big eater. Never has been. He makes up for it by drinking his weight in liquids. Give that boy juice, milk, water or G2 and he’s got the bottle or glass gone in the first 2 minutes of the meal. We give him lines on his glass so that a drink will last through the entire meal.
My husband is our pickiest eater. He will not eat anything with cheese or milk in it – a flu in his early twenties ruined his body for anything containing lactose. He does not like spicy food (except for Pizza Hut’s mild chicken wings.) He will NOT eat fish unless carefully concealed within something else or cooked on the side so he can remove it. And pretty much likes all his food in large, recognizable chunks – which means NO casseroles.
I love food and will try anything – with the possible exception of liver. Even then – I would possibly be willing to experiment if someone out there has a recipe that can mask that incredibly nasty smell that gets on your hands and lingers there. I also don’t think that I would be very good at the Survivor challenges where they have to eat worms and bugs and stuff like that.
It is our youngest, however, that this article is about.
On Sunday, we eat lunch at Southwestern College. It is, by far, the best deal in town. It is an all-you-can-eat buffet brunch featuring two entrée options, two or three hot vegetable sides, a full breakfast, sandwich bar, salad bar, wall full of drink options, and a dessert bar that always includes ice cream. With my employee discount, the cost is $5 per adult and $3 per kid between the ages of 5 and 10. Kids under 5 eat free – but we don’t have any of those anymore.
This Sunday, my husband and I watched open-mouthed as our seven-year-old sat and ate most of a chicken fried steak, half of a pile of mashed potatoes, four raw carrots, two large pieces of raw broccoli, two link sausages, a bowl of applesauce, two cookies and topped everything off with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. My only solace was that all four food groups were represented.
Moving forward, we will not be sharing this information with the people who run the food service – they might change their prices.
September 6, 2008
Football Season is Here
The Winfield 4th Grade Football Team won their first game of the season 13-0 against Wellington. At linebacker position, our oldest son made an interception that set the tone and instigated the momentum for the first touchdown in the first quarter. Mom, Dad and little brother all witnessed the interception from the sidelines and were extremely proud.
I try very hard not to yell too much during these games, but I could not resist after this play. “Way to get that pop tart!” I screamed from the sidelines. (Dad’s advice to our son last year about playing defense is, “Just pretend the ball is a chocolate pop tart and you are really, really hungry.”)
We also noticed that our oldest spent the rest of the game organizing the defensive line. He was a true leader – helping the other players understand where they were to stand and keeping them excited and pumped up.
It was a pretty exciting game to watch from the sidelines – but not necessarily for what was happening on the field. The Wellington coach got thrown out in the third quarter for foul language. This, of course, angered many of the Wellington fans and coaches and ended with the Winfield police making a subtle appearance.
Fortunately, our boys and coaches resisted the examples of poor sportsmanship and played an honest game. They played well, deserved the win and conducted themselves with integrity.
What was good about sports and what is bad about sports were both present on the field today. I’m just really glad that our boys were on the good side of the equation. It was a learning experience for all and we are saying a quick prayer for the other team. It’s never fun to lose – we certainly learned that lesson last year with our 0-7 season. Hopefully they can recover and, with God’s help, gain back some control.
I try very hard not to yell too much during these games, but I could not resist after this play. “Way to get that pop tart!” I screamed from the sidelines. (Dad’s advice to our son last year about playing defense is, “Just pretend the ball is a chocolate pop tart and you are really, really hungry.”)
We also noticed that our oldest spent the rest of the game organizing the defensive line. He was a true leader – helping the other players understand where they were to stand and keeping them excited and pumped up.
It was a pretty exciting game to watch from the sidelines – but not necessarily for what was happening on the field. The Wellington coach got thrown out in the third quarter for foul language. This, of course, angered many of the Wellington fans and coaches and ended with the Winfield police making a subtle appearance.
Fortunately, our boys and coaches resisted the examples of poor sportsmanship and played an honest game. They played well, deserved the win and conducted themselves with integrity.
What was good about sports and what is bad about sports were both present on the field today. I’m just really glad that our boys were on the good side of the equation. It was a learning experience for all and we are saying a quick prayer for the other team. It’s never fun to lose – we certainly learned that lesson last year with our 0-7 season. Hopefully they can recover and, with God’s help, gain back some control.
Cowley County Fair
(This post is a little late in coming. It was, however, written several weeks ago.)
The Cowley County Fair has come and gone. For the Hicks boys, it was successful. Our oldest entered in two projects – photography and visual arts. He received one purple, two blues and two reds – a very well-rounded bit of work.
The purple ribbon picture of a flower was sited with a spotlight award for “strong center of interest.” His blue ribbon photograph of a butterfly was given a blue for depth of field. He also got nice complements on his red ribbon photographs for a good job capturing side lighting.
He learned that sometimes people in a picture cause too much of a distraction. He learned to focus the camera on the subject of his photograph, not the background. And, he learned some lessons on the rule of thirds in photography. Most importantly, he enjoyed the experience.
His visual arts judge was equally as encouraging. She pointed out things in his drawing that he could have done better and encouraged him to bring more of his work back next year. I think that he will.
My youngest was entered again in the CloverBud competition. He entered a blanket that he constructed out of two pieces of fleece fabric glued together with stitch-witchery. He tied knots all around the outside to finish the edge. He is very happy with his project and has been sleeping with it for the past two nights.
We enjoyed working the food booth twice and got all the rocketry and aerospace exhibits checked in and judged. The temperatures averaged in the 100’s every day. It was hot, hot, hot. It was so hot that we weren’t totally free to enjoy the fair’s normal entertainments. I also think that the weather effected attendance just a bit. Today, we helped clean everything up.
Fair is done and its passing marks the final obligation of summer. Fall and school are around the corner. We are spending these final weeks trying very hard to forget they are coming.
The purple ribbon picture of a flower was sited with a spotlight award for “strong center of interest.” His blue ribbon photograph of a butterfly was given a blue for depth of field. He also got nice complements on his red ribbon photographs for a good job capturing side lighting.
He learned that sometimes people in a picture cause too much of a distraction. He learned to focus the camera on the subject of his photograph, not the background. And, he learned some lessons on the rule of thirds in photography. Most importantly, he enjoyed the experience.His visual arts judge was equally as encouraging. She pointed out things in his drawing that he could have done better and encouraged him to bring more of his work back next year. I think that he will.
My youngest was entered again in the CloverBud competition. He entered a blanket that he constructed out of two pieces of fleece fabric glued together with stitch-witchery. He tied knots all around the outside to finish the edge. He is very happy with his project and has been sleeping with it for the past two nights.
We enjoyed working the food booth twice and got all the rocketry and aerospace exhibits checked in and judged. The temperatures averaged in the 100’s every day. It was hot, hot, hot. It was so hot that we weren’t totally free to enjoy the fair’s normal entertainments. I also think that the weather effected attendance just a bit. Today, we helped clean everything up.
Fair is done and its passing marks the final obligation of summer. Fall and school are around the corner. We are spending these final weeks trying very hard to forget they are coming.
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