Happy Birthday National Forests!

This is the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the United States Forest Service, which counts its beginning as the passing of the Weeks Act in 1911, which gave the Department of Agriculture the funds to purchase 9 million acres in the Eastern states.   The Service now takes care of 193 million acres throughout the 50 states.  

Two days ago, I worked out that I wanted to stay in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest near Mt. St. Helen in Washington State during my summer tour.  I began to wonder who in the heck Gifford Pinchot was.   Then last night there was a two hour documentary on public television about the Forest Service and there he was, the first National Forester.  He was taught to love the forest by his parents.  When he went to Harvard he announced he wanted to become a forester.  The problem was there was no forestry school in the United States.

Pinchot went on to study in France and Germany and came back with the basic idea of conservation, which was to use the forests, minerals, and wildlife for the "Good of All".   That has evolved to add recreation, and even later, for the good of the creatures who live in the forests.  It is a balancing act that can never keep everyone happy.  Those of us who love the forests are never happy to see lumber trucks.  Deer hunters are not happy with wolves.   Lumbermen are not happy about the roadless rules setting some areas out of their reach.  Gary and I don't like ATVs and loud motorboats.  Somehow, the Forest Service works things out.

One of the historian presenters in the program was Professor William Cronon of the University of Wisconsin in Madison.  He is a celebrated historian who is soon to assume the title of president of the American Historical Association.  He is also under attack by the Wisconsin GOP conservatives because he wrote an op ed piece about the history of unions in Wisconsin for the New York Times.  It was pretty straightforward but was taken as an attack by the Walker Administration who have demanded all of the professor's e-mails. However, it seems he does his non-university writing on his home computer, and guess what, freedom of speech and intellectual exchange is still protected from people like our governor.

So history and the present run together in this state and in my life.

 

April Fool's Day performance

Today, I performed at the Birch Hill Care Center in Shawano.  Because it was April Fool's Day the activity director asked me to be funny.

I have some funny stories, of course, but many of them are aimed at children.  So I decided to give the residents a mixed bag.  I told two children's stories, a Gullah story about a buzzard and a Jamaican story about a race between Toad and Donkey.  I told a story based on a Jewish folktale about a piece of white satin that did service through the long life of an old woman, plus a Norwegian Ole and Lena story.  I sang silly songs about cows, love and flowers.

It went well, with laughter.  Wonder of wonder, no one went to sleep.  That happens all the time in nursing homes.  I take no offense.

I am a regular at Birch Hill, and the residents were concerned about my upcoming trip.  "Watch out for bears." "You aren't driving yourself!"  "Isn't someone going with you?"   "Visit my niece."  "Be sure you come back and tell us about it."

I promised them a photo show and more stories the next time I see them.

Dreams

This morning I woke from a camping dream. Perhaps it was the eastern sun streaming through the dark green curtains. It might have been the birds singing their spring songs just outside the window.   Maybe it was the lack of a cat sitting beside my head.  I was certain I was sleeping in my little tent.

I don't think I've completely recovered yet.  

So, I went back to my itinerary to research forest campgrounds.  This time, I worked my way through Oregon, Washington State, and Idaho, all the way to Helena, Montana.  Some of the campgrounds on my itinerary:

July 13:   Rogue River Campground in the Siskiyou National Forest near Medford, Oregon.  Near the Pacific Ocean and not far from Gold Beach, where I will perform the next day.

July 14:  Hebo Lake Campground in the Siuslaw National Forest, near Corvallis, Oregon.  I like camping beside lakes, because a refreshing morning dip is a good way to start the day.

July 15:  Forlorn Lake Campground in the Gifford Pinchot NF at Trout Lake, Washington

July 16:  Mokins Bay, in the Coeur d'Alene River NF, Idaho  (two night stay)

July 18:  Park Lake Campground (two night stay)  Helena National Forest, Montana

I've finished my camping plans for every state now except for California (waiting for a booking there), while keeping in mind that I often change plans as I travel.  Some of those campgrounds could be filled when I arrive, especially on the weekends.

 Perhaps I will stay at United Methodist Church Campgrounds.  There are some in every state in the union.  These often have bunk beds in cabins, handy when the weather turns nasty.  Or I could find a place to stay with new found friends.  One never knows.

Now I look out at the Wisconsin snow...but it is still summer in my mind.

Return of the Snowdrops

About ten days ago the snowdrops were blooming in my yard, then the blizzard came, dumping 17.2 inches in northeast Wisconsin, covering the flowers.  I worried about the little guys and wondered if they had died.  Perhaps they had bloomed too early this year.

This morning the drift at the base of the old cottonwood melted.  There, poking through the snow were my little friends.   I remembered Gordon Bok's "Turning Toward the Morning".


It's a pity we don't know
What the little flowers know.
They can't face the cold November
They can't take the wind and snow:
They put their glories all behind them,
Bow their heads and let it go,
But you know they'll be there shining
In the morning.

Oh, my Joanie, don't you know
That the stars are swinging slow,
And the seas are rolling easy
As they did so long ago?
If I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
That the world is always turning
Toward the morning.


I've been singing that all day. Funny how a song sticks in your brain. 


The flowers are back, as they have been every year in the 27 years I've lived here and will be blooming each spring long after I am gone. There's eternity for you. 

Careful or You'll End up in My Novel

I grabbed a tee-shirt out of a drawer to wear to the fitness center last night.  It was the one on top, I didn't think much about it until I got to the gym.

Over a year ago, Nikki came to the critique group wearing a shirt that read:  "Careful or you'll end up in my novel."  We were all involved in writing novels so I ordered one for myself through the Wisconsin Public Television catalog.  I used to wear it to city council meetings to aggravate opponents.

Last night at the gym, I was working out when a teenager dropped the weights he was using and came over.  "What do I have to do to get in your novel?" he asked.

"Be noisy and obnoxious," I said.

"I can do that," he said.  But he never really reached the point of being interesting so I haven't written anything about him, until now.

Gary pointed out later that the kid had to be looking at my chest which I would take as flattering at my age except teenage boys spend most of their time contemplating female bosoms.  

I've taken two classes from Nikki so far, including the one that led to this blog.  Now her taste in tee-shirts has me attracting the attention of boys in the throes of puberty.  She's a troublemaker.

The Port-a-let

One of the problems I have when doing a tour while camping is finding a place to change from a grungy camperette to a fresh clean storyteller.  Washing up and putting on a dress in a small tent is no easy thing.

Today, Gary and I picked up a cabana, or port-a-let, shaped like an obelisk.I could use it as a shower, a toilet, or a changing room.   It seemed to be similar to one he has with his camping gear, but it was supposed to be easier to put up.  It didn't work out that way.  We set it up in the living room and found it took at least two people to construct it.  There were too many bits and pieces. Taking it down was just as time consuming, and I would have to kneel to finish the job.  What shape would my performance dresses be in while I managed that?

So we went back to his storage unit to pick up his cabana and set it up next to the other one in the living room.  His is easy to set up, it pops right into place. The problem is folding it back down into its holder.  So far, I haven't been able to figure out how to do it.   It keeps flopping open again.  Think about a six foot structure opening in the back of my car as I drive through the Rockies.  That's the stuff of sitcoms.

I'll keep trying to work out the problem by watching demonstration videos on the internet and setting up and taking down his cabana over and over until I get it right.

That however, will have to wait until spring when I can do the job outside.

Easter Planning

The Seymour United Methodist Church's chancel choir is very adaptable.  Last week, I couldn't direct the choir because I was driving Caim to their next destination.  No rehearsal for two weeks, and to add to the confusion, the bell choir was playing today, and four of my singers play bells in that as well.  Their rehearsal began at the same time.

So instead of trying to practice, the remaining members and I chatted about our upcoming commitments and worked out all our music through Easter.  We have favorites that luckily are favorites of the congregation so that was easy figuring. We sing "Triumphal Entry" almost every Palm Sunday and no one objects.  Tradition makes our job easier.

When the bell choir finished, my choir had ten minutes to work out the anthem for this morning's service, "Stand in Awe", a suitable piece for Lent.  With the bell choir playing the introit and the offertory, we only had to add a brief benediction, the "Threefold Amen" and we were set.

At that point the Sunday School classes joined us to practice a joint effort, "Are You Washed in the Blood?"  You would think this would gross out our munchkins, but it is a fast paced shape-note song, and they love it.  I'll play the autoharp for the piece and I may even talk a guitarist to help out.  Deb Marsh, our organist, will do the piano.  That takes care of April 10.  Next week, we'll have two anthems, the usual one and a communion song plus an introit and benediction, but we'll have a longer practice.

Even with the morning's confusion, the service went well.  I got to play piano for the hymns with Deb on the organ.  We love doing that.

Sundays mean music, one of the joys of my life.