Today was a driving day. We left Winfield at about 8:45 a.m. and headed east through Dexter to hook up with Highway 166 which we drove on for the remainder of our stay in Kansas. We drove through Coffeyville and got to see the flood damage from last year first-hand. It appears that the cleanup is progressing and there is quite a lot of new construction on the west side of town – above the flood line.

Our first stop was in Chetopa – the catfish and pecan capital of Kansas. The car needed some food ($3.99 per gallon), and so did the boys. We snacked on beef jerky, apples, plums and water on the banks of the Neosho River.

After our snack, we got back in the car and headed to I-44 and Missouri. On the very edge of Kansas the empty skyline was interrupted by a tall, pink 15-20 story tall hotel. Turns out it was the brand new Downstream Casino and Resort run by the Quapaw Tribe. It was by far the most unusual sight of the day.

We hit Springfield, Missouri at lunch time and stopped at Nathaniel Greene Park in the middle of town (just a few blocks west of the Bass Pro Shop). This is an out-of-the way park that has several gardens managed by the Botanical Society of Southwest Missouri. After sandwiches, we paid a small admission fee ($3 per adult) and toured the 7.5 acre Mizumoto Japanese Stroll Garden.

Springfield’s Sister City – Isesaki, Japan – assisted with the development of the park which was started in 1985. The garden uses stepping stones, lanterns and a very cool tea hut as decorative elements. The tea hut reminded the boys of the Kung Fu Panda movie which instantly threw them into reenactments of several of the karate moves from the movie. The garden surrounds several ponds and islands and uses what is called the “hide and reveal” concept that hides pieces of the garden from view until you round the next curve on the path.

Needless to say, we had a blast discovering the many hidden aspects of the garden. Of particular note was a rock pathway across one of the ponds to a grassy island in the middle. The five, rock stepping stones were approximately two feet in diameter and spaced one foot apart. The water was very deep around them so getting out to the island felt very much like we were taking part in an Indiana Jones blockbuster. On another side of the pond, our six-year-old discovered a small, wooden fishing dock tucked in amongst some trees and cattails – very, very cool. If you are ever in Springfield, you need to look it up.

After this successful lunch break, we jumped back in the car, beating a rainstorm by about 30 seconds, and transferred to Highway 60 to continue east across Missouri. We got as far as Van Buren before feeling the urge to get out of the car again for a snack. (It was about the time the boys woke up from a blissfully peaceful nap.)

The town of Van Buren holds a public access ramp to the lazy Current River which meanders its way through the Ozarks from headwaters in Dent County to the southern Missouri border and on south. We got out of the car to eat a snack and watched several vacationers float by on canoes and inner tubes. Nearby, was a pebble beach with a party of beer guzzling natives entrenched upon it – we stayed away from that area.

It was easy to see why the spot was so popular. The water was the clearest that we had seen in a while – a stark contrast to the muddy Neosho. It looked so good that we cut our stop short so we didn’t have to haul two boys from Kansas out from the rocky regions near the shoreline. They were not happy with us.

And so it was on to our first location for the evening – the Super 8 at Poplar Bluff. We got there at about 5:30 p.m. Not too fancy, but serviceable and quiet. We went out to eat at the 5 Star China Buffet. Kids buffets were $1 and there were endless amounts of food.

We all tried something that we had never eaten before. My husband choked down some sushi and a baked mussel. (This is the same man who’s idea of going to a fancy seafood restaurant is eating the shrimp & fish platter at Long John Silvers. I told him that I was proud of him for trying something new.) I also had sushi for the very first time. (Loved it – and unlike the person beside me – I did not entertain the table with funny faces while chewing and swallowing.) Our youngest tried sushi and, on a dare from his older brother, seaweed. Our oldest ate sea weed for the first time. Two of us will probably continue eating what we tried. The other two – not so much.

Most of the day was overcast and marked by low hanging rain clouds. The rain was intermittent and seemed to stop for us just long enough for us to take our breaks. It was a good day, we ended it with a very peaceful evening at the hotel.

Yoda

Tomorrow’s departure for vacation was somewhat dampened by tragedy tonight. On my way back to work from lunch, I received a call from the sitter, “Uhh, we have a situation here.”

It turns out that God decided to call our good old friend Yoda, the pet hamster, back home. My oldest son had gone upstairs to clean out Yoda’s cage before taking him to our hamster sitter. He discovered Yoda’s body shortly after I left the house.

Yoda lived to a ripe, old 2.5 years. He was curious. He was friendly. He loved to be held cupped between your two hands with his head sticking out between your thumbs and index fingers. He loved exploring the dark corners of the house in his hamster ball. He loved to eat fresh peas and corn, scurrying to the top of his cage whenever either one entered the room.

Yoda lay in state in a shoe box in our living room for the remainder of the afternoon. My son had fashioned a cushy bed out of some toilet paper with a cotton ball pillow. When we got home from work we held a brief service in the back yard. We read from Psalms 50:10-11 and Psalms 136:25. We each said a few words about Yoda. We wished him well in the afterlife. We said a short prayer thanking God for allowing us to take care of him while he walked the earth. We laid him in the ground.

Now, in our backyard flower garden, behind the day lilies and not too far from the sound of the waterfall is a small mound of dirt. My husband helped my son fashion a grave marker for Yoda out of a 1 by 4. It says, “Yoda, a happy pet,” on the front and the year of his birth and death on the back. A small bouquet of pink tulips decorates the humble grave.

We will miss him.

“For all the animals of the forest are mine, and I own the cattle on a thousand hills. Every bird of the mountains and all the animals of the field belong to me.” Psalm 50:10-11

Vacation Pre-Game

Vacation Journal – PreGame

Did I tell you we are going on vacation? I am sooooooooo excited. I’ve been excited for a year now. I almost have as much fun planning for the vacation as I do going on the vacation itself! My itinerary is done. Roads and stops are calculated and marked. Reservations – where necessary – are made. Tickets are bought. Car is confirmed. Look out Smoky Mountains, here we come!

Three days and counting:
I’ve charged the boys with thinking about what they want to take in the car for entertainment. We’ve narrowed it down to their electronic, handheld game systems, DVD player, three movies a piece and a good book. My youngest also wants to take his coloring books and markers. My oldest wants to take his art set and sketch paper. Done.

I just talked my husband down from the purchase of a new suitcase just for the novelty of it. (See previous post about WALL E.) Have clarified that we will need two suitcases for the boys and one big one for the hubby and I. We will probably also take a smaller one for the trip down and back so we can leave the big one in the car.

I learned my lesson on taking tons of food to Yellowstone. I’ve located a grocery store near our cabin and we’ll stop there on the first day. For the trip down, I’m taking enough snack food and water for four days and packing a lunch and dinner for the first day.

The state books and maps are stowed in a bag. I’m working on my entertainment bag. I checked out three books from the library and bought the latest Janet Evanovitch. I ran across mom’s knitting bag that she always took on trips. My oldest wants me to finish the Steelers scarf that I started for him to teach myself how to crochet. I’ve made my list and I’m checking it twice. Three days to go.

Two days and counting:
Worked all day to get ready for the auditors. They will be showing up a couple of days after I return. Had a couple of meetings too. Tonight is 4-H. Fair entries are due this week so we’ve got to get those handed in for both boys. My oldest will be entering a photograph and a drawing this year. My youngest is making a blankie replacement for the one we lost at DisneyWorld.

One day and counting:
Today is laundry day. Laundry, laundry, laundry. More and more laundry. I had no idea how much laundry boys can produce….but they can really produce it, let me tell you. Tonight is church council. We have a new pastor and this will be the first time that I get a chance to really meet him. The boys are getting their football gear for fall while I’m at the meeting.

Done with counting, vacation begins tomorrow!
Today I picked up the car at Enterprise. We will be representin’ in a black Ford Edge. The gauge on the dash says that it gets about 23 miles to the gallon in town. Hopefully we can do better on the highway. Went to the grocery store to pick up the food. Stopped by Walmart for tic-tacs and gum. Tonight we packed, packed and packed and packed again.

WALL E

Irony. Definition: 1) Humor based on opposites, 2) something humorous based on contradiction, 3) incongruity

We just saw WALL E Fantastic movie, everyone should watch it – an honest to goodness, against all odds, unlikely, underdog kind of everyman hero movie. I laughed, I cried. The boys had a great time. I was glad we spent the $18 after the short cartoon about the fight between the prestidigitator and his bunny. Pixar has done it again. They rock.

And, the movie definitely had a message. You have to be pretty dim to not be slapped sideways on the face with a futuristic – but not all that far-fetched – kind of vision of the future. How scary. A future where earth is so trashed, we make it inhabitable. We have to evacuate and leave the clean up to WALL E robots. And then we become a race of blobs totally absorbed in electronic worlds – so absorbed we loose touch with our surroundings. Living our whole life on a spaceship and not even noticing that it has a pool, constantly sucking dessert through a straw.

As luck would have it, this time we didn’t have time to stop at the refreshment counter to get our normal gob of candy, popcorn and soda before the movie. When the lights came up in the theater, I was able to walk out with some of my dignity intact.

I noticed every single piece of trash on the road back home. I drove by Walmart and thought of all the ridiculous, unnecessary “stuff” that comes back to our house from that location. I stopped myself from saying “no” on principle to a Sonic stop for a sundae for the boys – calculating just how much exercise that they had gotten in the past couple of days. When the treat came, I was relieved to see it was served in recyclable plastic as opposed to the normal Styrofoam that comes out of those doors.

And then I looked at the dash of the car. Sitting there, larger than life was a blue, plastic, “WALL E” watch that both boys got on the way into the theater. “A gift,” the lady behind the counter said. “Thank Disney.”

My oldest was trying to set his to the right time – couldn’t get it to work. “This is a piece of junk,” he said. “Look mom, it’s made in China.”

Did they do it on purpose? I wonder…..

Fire Cracker

“Mom, last night was a blast!” said my son as we were driving this morning.

Last night was July 4, 2008. My son and I were headed to Humboldt to set up for a family reunion dinner. We had spent the night before at my aunt and uncle’s farm where he and his brother got to shoot fireworks – real fireworks – for the first time.

My oldest son has had an uneasy relationship with fireworks. He spent the first five years of his life watching our hometown’s celebration from the cab of our truck with his hands over his ears. They were bright. They were loud. He wanted no part of them.

But that was then. Now, he is 10 years old and experienced in the ways of the world. He’d just spent three days at 4-H camp where he fought caterpillars; did KP duty; even danced with a girl. He was ready.

And, to be honest, isn’t shooting off your own personal fireworks on the 4th of July some kind of rite of passage? Really, a person has not truly experienced Independence Day until you’ve felt the adrenalin rush as you run from the spitting fuse of a freshly lit firecracker.

From a purely parental and fiduciary responsible position, shooting off fireworks is really stupid. You spend way too much money purchasing gunpowder dressed up in cardboard tubes with names like “Golden Flower,” “Armageddon,” and “The Hulk.” You wait, until things are really good and dark so that you cannot properly see. And then, surrounded by excited children armed with slow burning sticks, you light fire to these creations and watch the money that you spent blow up into light, smoke and noise.

I wonder, is there a reason they call the sticks “punks?”

But, you do it anyway. You do it because of the light in your child’s eye that has nothing to do with the fire or the evening light. You do it because you remember what it felt like to be 10 on a warm summer night hanging with your family in the starlight. You do it because the next day, you get to drive in the car with your son and hear him say with sincerity that embraces your heart, “Mom, last night was a blast!”

Camping Out

Last weekend, we celebrated our oldest son’s birthday by taking him, three of his closest friends, and our younger son camping. I can imagine what you are all thinking…I can also imagine what someone like Dave Barry might even write about this experience. But, the long and short of it is, it was by far birthday party that we have planned to date.

We started with pizza and birthday cake at our house while people gathered and we packed up the truck. Before we left, we gave the boys their own, individual mess kit and spork, a compass, a camouflage flash light, and a bag of trail mix for hiking (or at least for the drive to the lake). We handed these out and went over the rules for the night out. They were simple: 1) As parents, we are in charge. 2) Do what we say.

After everyone’s gear, sleeping bags, the tents, a bucket, shovel and wood for the fire, various snacks (which, of course, included ingredients for S’mores), two coolers containing food for breakfast and lunch the following day, bug spray, and sunscreen were stowed away – we took off for the lake.

We had scouted out three potential camping spots earlier in the week and when we got there, our first choice was available – a flat, football field sized peninsula surrounded on three sides by the rain swollen lake. An existing picnic table and fire pit silently gave testimony to the fact that we weren’t the only ones who realized this was a perfect spot. We set up our tents about 20 feet from the place where the land gently evolved into water. There were no trees to block the view. There was only sky, soft green grass and 5 very excited boys.

First task? Set up the tents. My husband threw the smaller tent we were going to use for clothing and storage into the middle of the group of boys and said, “Figure it out.” He is a man of few, but ingenious, words. For a while, they stared at the tent bag like it was a strange and beautiful fish. Then slowly, while we set up the larger, 8-man tent, the boys began a textbook experiment in group process.

The next time I looked over, two poles were half-way threaded, one boy was trapped on the inside of the completely zipped tent, and the rest of the boys were arguing heatedly about whether a third pole should start from the middle or from the edge. My husband intervened and gave a few, enlightened suggestions. After about 30 more minutes both tents were up and the boys were ready to move on to something else.

So we went swimming. I don’t believe that I could have said anything else that would have brought more pleasure to the group. From the boy’s faces and heightened conversation I could tell that the slight possibility of getting their toes nibbled on by lake creatures added that extra-special zing to an otherwise ordinary experience. It was also NIGHTTIME. I was taking them swimming at about the same time that they were normally being told to get in their pajamas, brush their teeth and say their prayers. This was great stuff. They swam, tackled waves made by passing boats, squished mud between their toes, packed sand on their bodies, and argued about whether or not it was safe to open their eyes under water. At around 9:15, I pulled them out, sent them to the shower house to hose off and we headed back to camp.

By the time we got back, my husband had a nice campfire going. The boys changed while I set out the snack food and we all warmed up by the flames. While the bugs swarmed around a couple of lanterns we had set up around the sunshade, the boys swarmed around the fire pit – poking sticks around, seeing how close they could get before getting too hot, asking my husband what they could and could not throw in there to watch burn. Suddenly, one of the boys said – “Let’s play ‘Would you rather?’”

And so we did. The fire was bright, the S’mores were sticky and warm, the lake was quiet, and the stars were out. “Would you rather be a Boston Celtic or a Los Angelos Laker?” “Would you rather be a chigger or a mosquito?” “Would you rather be a booger or a scab?” The possibilities were endless, and we all took turns.

It wasn’t too long after that that the boys – who I must admit had been very patient up to this point – were dying to get inside the tent. We sent them on ahead while my husband and I stayed by the fire to clean up, tend the fire and – let’s face it – eavesdrop on their conversation.

It was magical. I sat with my bare feet on the warm stones surrounding the orange-red embers of the dying fire watching the slick, still water, white with moonlight. The chorus of frogs surrounding us was occasionally joined by the soft, low call and answer of two bullfrogs. And soft, giggly 10-year-old voices were discussing Superheros, sports and girls in a tent gently glowing with the soft beams of flashlights. My husband and I were silent, talking only when necessary and then very, very low – both realizing the gift that we were being granted that evening. I didn’t want it to end.

The Golden Rule

I spent Thursday morning at a retention conference. I’m not talking about water retention – although that is something worth conferencing about. I am talking about the kind of retention concerned with keeping students in school.

To those of you who aren’t family, you need to know that I work at a college. In college, student retention is a big deal. We spend a lot of time talking about student retention. We are, after all, in the business of educating students. We would like these students to enter, stay, graduate and (the President would like me to add) turn into happy, generous donors – the circle of life, so to speak.

In the course of this morning’s discussion, we were talking about service, students and issues related to the millennial generation. What ensued is what typically ensues in any of these dialogues – a rant about helicopter parents, feelings of entitlement and student irresponsibility. One might call these things the joys of our job.

After several slides and much discussion about this topic, I leaned over to a colleague and said, “It’s all very simple really, all you have to do is treat others as you wish to be treated.” As we shared a laugh, she replied, “Yeah…in fact, isn’t there a Bible passage about that somewhere?”

Even so, the discussion made me think about the more challenging students that our office works with on a daily basis. I can immediately think of 20 different students that are particularly challenging to deal with. Shoot, before I left the office this morning, one of these 20 had already called two times about the same issue. This particular student is emotionally challenging and can be verbally abusive.

And once again, I said the little prayer that I say whenever these situations arise. “God, you put these 20 people into my life for a reason. I pray that when I interact with them, I am accomplishing your purpose and your will.”

And I really do. I truly hope that when I am listening to a student shout profanity at me over the phone for 20 solid minutes, that I can remember that this is still God’s child. I pray I can remember that God put this person in my life for a reason. Either I am there to teach them, or they are there to teach me. And I pray that I will be able to conduct myself in a manner that is pleasing to God.

Interactions with others are easy when everyone is friendly and things are fun. I find that I learn the most when they aren’t. Trying to view interactions from this perspective is one of the most challenging paths that I walk in this life.