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.

Multi Tasking

I began this blog in a Fox Valley Technical College Course in this building in Neenah, Wisconsin. It was one of the best courses I've ever taken. By the end of that morning course, taught by Nikki Kallio, I had a blog set up and I was on my way.

But today, I am back, but taking a course on writing the historical novel which is a total waste of time. The instructor keeps talking, never involving the class. When anyone raises a hand, she snarls at the perpetrator and goes right on talking. I am learning nothing new about writing and getting no information about research, which is what I need to know before I go back to North Dakota next summer to work on a novel based on a story my Great Aunt Mabel told me.

This is wasted time, but I look at her and smile from time to time if she were imparting great wisdom, as as I write this blog entry.

It reminds me of taking classes in high school and college. I had a notebook with me at all times and while looking at the instructor with the look that indicates fascination with every word, I wrote letters to friends as if I were taking copious notes. By the end of the class, the letters were ready to insert into an envelope and mail.

Years later, my son did pretty much the same thing, sending me instant messages from his college courses. I suppose now one can hear the clicks as people tweet and text as they ignore boring professors.

The entry is finished. At least I've accomplished something this morning.

After the Snow

After two days of snow, 17.2 inches in all, I'm told, the storms are over and spring has resumed.  Over by the Methodist church there are hundreds of confused robins, looking for promised worms and finding only street pavement or banks of white stuff.  Gary sometimes puts out hamburger for them to help them through, a sort of emergency relief for the avian set, but that is getting pricey these days.  Oh well, there are robins a-plenty in this country. I see them everywhere I travel.  When I camped above the tree line in the Colorado Rockies, there were no birds except for robins on the mountaintops.

I spent two snowbound days working on the itinerary for my summer tour.  I found plenty of campgrounds wherever I plan to go but  I am choosy, looking for those with beaches on small lakes. I figured distances between towns so I could make performances on time.  I ordered a pop up cabana so I can change into dressy clothes and put on makeup in my own private loo. I began the process of finding writing outlets for travel articles.  Now I am researching better cameras so I can do a photographic essay to go with winter travelogs at Wisconsin libraries.  It isn't only the performances that make my trips profitable.

I've emerged with vigor, walking three or four miles a day.  Now is the time to take off the winter weight, to shape up for hiking season.  In another month, the spring mud will be gone and I will hit the trails, leaving Seymour's sidewalks behind.  Vitamin D rains down on me.

"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."

I sing the "Song of the Open Road" with Walt Whitman.  I'm ready to go.

Statistics

It takes me a while to catch on to technology.  It wasn't until this morning that I wandered into the stats part of this blog and discovered the geographical locations of those reading it.

To my surprise, I have readers in Russia, India, Indochina, Brazil, Canada, England, the Netherlands, Japan and other countries.  Some seem to be regulars.

I did know about at least one Russian, who not knowing that Colleen is a female name (it's actually Gaelic for girl),  tried to interest me in some photos of naked women.   But the rest?  I wonder who they are and why they check on me from time to time.

I've not missed a single day posting on this blog since I began it on October 17, 2010.  One time, it was only a few minutes to midnight, but I still got it in.  Now I can see that some folks actually like it.   Who knew?

Note from My 2010 journal

A year ago today Gary and I canoed on the Wolf River  from the River's Edge in Leeman to Koepke Park north of Shawano on an unseasonably warm day.  Few migrating birds were around but we saw that old janitor of the skyways, the turkey vulture, checking out the river for winter's carcasses.  Here and there, a turtle came up from the mud to see what was going on. We laid a tarp on the damp bank and sat there eating our lunch and then dozed with the warm spring sun clearing our souls. 

But on this day in 2011, we are stuck inside with a snowstorm outside.  It is a soup day, a nap day, a St. John's wort day, a dreaming about the river day.