~all because two people fell in love~

Good morning dear friends and family, wherever you may be on this great planet Earth.  Today would have been my parents 74th wedding anniversary and it doesn't matter how many years they have now both been gone.  I remember them this day in thankfulness that they loved one another enough to marry and later to become parents to seven children.  I'm number 6.  Last year I wrote a blog post on the occasion of their 73rd anniversary and included in it a repost of the first one I wrote in 2011.  I guess that makes this a repost of a repost or something :)  If you would care to read, they are shown below.

I miss them.  Both of them.  Each and every day.  I hope that they would be proud of me and what I made of the life that they gave me.  They could have stopped with five children, you know?  But they didn't and for that I will always give thanks.

A blog post from July 31, 2013 and another from July 31, 2011

~From a place far above us~

Early evening greetings friends and family in whatever place you might find yourselves this day.  The calendar says that it is nearly the last day of July and for the life of me, I cannot tell you where the days of this summer have gone.  But gone by they surely have.  Tomorrow, the very last day of July, is a special day for all of the members of the Scott Family, a time when we remember the day that our parents, the late John and Lois Scott, were married.  In my first year of writing this blog in 2011, I wrote  a post on what would have been their 71st wedding anniversary.  Hope you don't mind, but I'm "reposting" it, as shown below for anyone who would care to reread it once more.

My siblings I have been "orphans" for many years now with our father passing away first in 1982 and our mother, now nearly 6 years ago in 2007.  And you know, the sad truth is that I miss them and even though  I am nearing the autumn of my 58th year, even at my age I still have a longing in my heart from time to time that my folks were still here.  What I wouldn't give to call them up and visit with them on the phone.  How I wish that I could stop by Mom's house and bring her a hamburger from McDonald's once more.  Perhaps some of you reading this who have already lost your parents feel the same way.  My folks' lives ended and those of us who remained behind, well our lives continued on without them.  That's what they would have wished for us, their children~that we would go on living and living well.

I was looking back at some old photos the other day and ran across some I had taken of a special gift that I made for my mom on her very last Mother's Day in 2007.  I had really been coming up "blank" on ideas for a gift for her when I came up with the notion of making a paper quilt filled with the story of her life.  It was a lot of fun putting together the "9-square quilt blocks" and when I was finished I took it to her room at the nursing home there in Hutch and put it together for display on the wall of her bedroom.  4 months later just two weeks after her 87th birthday as she lay dying in her bed, we encouraged her to look at the quilt on the wall and told her that it was time to go and find that handsome young man named John that was shown in the photos.  She couldn't say much to us any longer but her eyes told what she was feeling as she gazed intently upon our dad's picture on the quilt.  At 3:30 a.m. on the 25th day of September, with all of us by her bedside, she slipped away to join our dad in Heaven above.  With that, the two people who had become our parents and  had raised us to adulthood, were both gone.

Shown below are a few of the quilt blocks that she looked at that night, now so long ago as well as the blog post from two years ago in July of 2011.  I loved them both, my mom and dad.  I love them still to this very day.  I will see them some day in Heaven and we will know one another right away.  I thank God for those two people that He saw fit to have made them my parents.  They were by no means perfect, but they were mine.  Have a great evening everyone and if you are blessed enough to still have your parents, never forget what a special gift that truly is.

Happy 73rd wedding anniversary in Heaven, Mom and Dad~We love you!

Sunday, July 31, 2011

71 years later-love still wins

   "All because two people fell in love"~
John B. Scott, Jr. and Lois Scott-July 31, 1940


I miss hearing Mom tell the story of how she and daddy eloped that day.  Heck, when I first heard it I didn't even know what that word "eloped" meant.  But I soon learned and every July 31st that rolled around after that, we kids would sit wide-eyed and pay attention as the story of their marriage was lovingly retold once again.


Mom and Daddy loved each other very much and by the summer of 1940 they had decided to be married.  But my maternal grandparents, Andrew and Catherine Brown, must not have liked my dad too much.  In the weeks preceding their July 31st marriage, I am sure they must have tried to dissuade my mom from making him her choice for a husband. Not sure how long it took for them to figure out that all of their pleading and begging for her to make another "choice" was not going to do any good.  Lois Scott was stubborn...yes MOM, I said that!  You WERE stubborn. LOL, and that strong will and determination was going to make the decision about who to marry.


You know, the really goofy thing about all of that was that we kids never got a straight answer as to why they felt that way.  To us, our daddy was the most wonderful man alive and we couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't have chosen him to be the "one" for our mom. 


Be all things as they may, in the early morning hours of July 31, 1940, Mom wrote a short note to her parents, dressed in her best outfit, and crawled out the window of her bedroom at the family home on the Sandhills farm.  I can't imagine that she had slept much that night before and I'm guessing that my Dad didn't get alot of sleep either.


She met Daddy at a pre-arranged time and place....6 a.m. at the very end of the lane of her parent's farm.   It brings tears to my eyes to imagine how much they must have loved one another, especially to do such a "daring deed" as to disobey their parents and run off to get married.  


Don't know how long it took for them to make the journey from the farm just between Burrton and Halstead to the Sedgwick County Courthouse in Wichita.  But they made it!  And at noon that day, the Justice of the Peace for the city of Wichita pronounced them "Mr. and Mrs. John B. Scott, Jr.". 


I would be so remiss if I told you the story and left out the BEST PART-the strawberry pop story.  After the ceremony was over, I'm sure the reality hit them as to what they had just done. They might have been married but they were still two very young people.....Daddy only 17 and Mom two years older, age 19.  They'd run off to marry against their parent's wishes and now had to go back home and "face the music".  But they didn't worry-


It was a very hot day, long before the days of AC in ANYTHING!  They were thirsty, so before they made the long journey home again, they used the money left in Daddy's pocket to buy a bottle of cold strawberry soda from a pop machine there.  And so they sat on the courthouse steps that "fateful" day and passed the bottle back and forth between themselves, sharing their own personal "toast" to a future together.  


I can't even imagine what that first meeting back home with my grandparents must have been like....but whatever was said, it didn't matter.  Eventually everyone figured it out that "love wins" in the end and in no time at all,  Daddy became a part of their family.  The seven little babies born because of their love for one another said words of "thanks" as well!

This is mom and dad and 5 of their seven kids on July 31, 1982.  Daddy was dying from cancer and we knew that his "fight" with that awful disease would soon be done.  We wanted to give them, the wedding "reception" that they never had that day.  So we kids and our spouses and children joined them for supper complete with wedding cake, mints, punch and gifts! 


 Normally, Daddy would have put up a fuss about doing something like that.  But I guess knowing that your days are "so numbered" allowed him to see how very important it was to allow us kids to honor their life together.  5 months later, he was gone and life never was the same again for any of us.  They made it 42 years~not too bad for two kids who many thought would NEVER make it together.  


Later this afternoon, their children who still remain will join together with their own families and friends to celebrate the life that they enjoyed so much during that 42 year span of time.  We'll be in a place they called "Home" for so very long....Haven, Kansas.  We surely shall say a prayer of thanksgiving that despite all they must have had going against them, that their love for each other was strong enough to survive.  Why would anyone have ever doubted?  

~the confessions of a coffee cup collector~

I am a collector of coffee cups and mugs.  Plain and simple. 
In my cupboard here in the kitchen, there are more of them than I would ever care to admit.

Ok, ok~
There are 60 more cups than I will ever use.  EVER. 

     From time to time, my dear husband Mike has asked me if I would  want to put at least a few of them into a garage sale.  My answer has always been the same one.

"No!  I need those cups.  They are all special to me and I couldn't even possibly think of getting rid of them."

All summer long I have looked at them, stowed away on the very top shelf of the highest of the kitchen cupboards.  Out of sight, out of mind. They sit there, patiently waiting to be used by someone.  Anyone.  Just one person who would need them.  The dust collects each day upon them and even if someone DID use them, they'd need to be rinsed off before anyone could ever drink from them.  Perhaps someone reading this blog post can identify with what I am speaking of and will understand.

I am a collector of coffee cups and mugs.  Plain and simple.

It was about 3 weeks ago when I got to thinking of things that I could do with my first graders this year.  I began to brainstorm ideas of how to have some type of "incentive" celebration that we could work towards.  The more I thought of good things for them to strive for, the more those unused cups kept popping into my mind.  Thoughts of the cold and wintry months that would lie ahead of us here in the mountains, combined with students doing some extra reading with their parents or other family members every evening and weekends too for a month's period of time, led me to the idea of how I could finally use those coffee mugs for something special.  And even though it might "hurt" a bit to get them down from the deep dark abyss of the cupboard with the thoughts of giving them all away, I think it will work out just fine. 

Some cold and snowy Colorado day in January upcoming, we are going to have a "hot chocolate party" and it's not going to be just plain old cocoa either.  We're going to have marshmallows floating on the top and everyone is going to get to squirt a little bit of whipped topping into it as well.  There will be no need for me to buy Styrofoam cups to drink it from. Those little six and seven-year olds will get to draw a number for one of their teacher's mugs, fill it with warm cocoa and when it's all over, they will get to take that mug home with them.  A new owner.  A new purpose.  I like that idea.  A lot!

Each of those mugs have a story to tell and before I let them take their new one home, I intend to tell each child the story of how I got it.  Some little one will get my "October" one, a mug that I bought on my birthday one year.  Another will receive the one commemorating the centennial of my hometown of Haven, Kansas.  Some child will receive perhaps the one that marks the 100th anniversary of the founding of Yoder, Kansas.  I was a teacher there for nearly 20 years.  The stories of the others are too numerous to tell here.  They have all meant something to me at one time or another.  Now I realize how silly it has been to keep them all these years.  Their time has come to be placed into the hands of others.  What better hands than those of my new class of students? 

All things considered, I suppose there would have been much worse things to collect and hang on to in 58 years of life.  Have a great day everyone out there, wherever you may be on this planet Earth.  I'm thinking of you all this morning and remembering you in my heart.  That's where I keep all of you. 

My favorite mug, of all time perhaps.  What a great place to have grown up in.   It will always be my hometown.  It's where I am from.

My kindergarten class from Burrton Grade School, 1960-1961.  The next year we too would be first graders.  Front row, far right hand side is where you will find a little shy girl with curly hair that was made with gazillions of pin curls the night before.  She is me.

~Norm's final Kansas update, saying "thank you" to a great state~

     A good Monday morning to all of you from along the Western Slopes of the Great Rocky Mountains here in Montrose, Colorado.  The house is very quiet in these early morning hours and even Sally the dog is not stirring one little bit.  The car remains to be unpacked from our five days of being gone.  When Mike and I arrived here close to 10 p.m. last evening from our journey to south western Oklahoma, we decided to just wait and do it this morning instead.  We figured all the stuff that we brought back wouldn't go anywhere overnight and as I look out the kitchen window I can see that was indeed the case.  Unpacking the car is now at the top of the "to do" list ~ #1 item.

     We have made many trips this summer as we went over the big mountain to Kansas and now to visit my sister and brother-in-law as well as Mike's aunt in Oklahoma and Texas.  All of the trips add up in the miles on the car's odometer and except for a couple of excursions that have been planned for a while, we are soon to be done with the traveling.  When we come back to Kansas to celebrate the Christmas holidays with our families back there, it will be by plane instead of driving.  Winter weather can be so unpredictable here in the mountains and who knows what the pass at Monarch might be like in mid-December.  Even if the driving conditions are acceptable at the 11,000 feet level, the prairies of eastern Colorado and the western 2/3 of Kansas can be treacherous to travel across if a winter snowstorm decides to blow through.  Just this past March I drove through one of the worst spots ever between La Junta and Lamar, Colorado as blizzard like conditions appeared out of nowhere.  So for us, this year it just seems better to fly than to drive in December and so that we shall do.

     On one of the trips back to Kansas this past June 13th, Mike and I came across a young man walking near the Morrow Point Dam not all that far from our home here.  We stopped along the roadway to visit with him for a moment because we recognized him from a TV interview that we had seen on the Grand Junction station just a few days earlier.  He was pushing a cart emblazoned with a sign that read "Fight Childhood Cancer~Coast2Coast FTK".  The Renfro Family met Norman Horn that early evening and since that time, we have been following his own personal trek literally from one coast of the U.S. to the other.  As we returned back home from Kansas, three days after meeting him, the three of us enjoyed a lunch together in Gunnison, Colorado and we were able to hear more of the reason for his journey.  Later on about 3 weeks later, we found Norm again in the far eastern Colorado town of Lamar.  We enjoyed breakfast together on that July 4th morning and made plans to meet him once again when we returned from one of our final treks back to my house in Hutchinson.  On July 6th we met up with  Norm in the town of Holly, just 4 miles from the state line of Kansas.  Between the two of us, Mike and I walked back with him to the "Welcome to Kansas" sign near the little town of Coolidge.  From there, Norm began the walk across my home state and now, 23 days later he will soon be at the Missouri border where he will continue on towards the east coast.

     It was our privilege to help Norm in securing some of the overnight stays that he needed help with as he traversed the roadway along Highway 50 going through the Sunflower State.  From Syracuse eastward to his last Kansas stop in Louisburg very soon, Kansans by the score have opened their homes and their hearts to him, set an extra place at their supper table for him, shown wonderful Midwest hospitality to him, and listened to his message of hope in bringing about awareness for the number one killer of children in this country, pediatric cancer.  They have visited his website, www.coast2coastFTK.com and made whatever donation they were able to and they didn't keep it to themselves either.  They told their friends, their neighbors, and anyone else who would listen about the mission that this 30-year old young man from Pennsylvania was on.

     After meeting Norm, a stranger along the roadway who has now become our friend, I was determined to bring a weekly update about his progress as he made it across the plains of Kansas on my blogsite.  As I think back to how quickly the days have passed by us all, I am still amazed that he did it.  It was done one step at a time and all with one purpose in mind~FTK.  To anyone who has helped Norm's mission, no matter how great or small the world would deem it to be, I give you my sincere thanks.  It might have been food or shelter, snacks or water along the roadway, a smile or a honk of your car's horn as you passed him, an encouraging word on his Facebook page, prayers for his safe passage, or a donation to his cause.  Whatever you may have done, it meant a lot to him and surely even greater it has meant a lot to any child who is living and sadly dying each day from childhood cancer.

     So to my dear friend Norman, I would leave this message~

Friend we are thankful that we met you and shared in this tiny portion of your epic journey across America.  Thank you for choosing to do this.  Not everyone can walk across America like you are but we can ALL do something.  Thanks for reminding us of that.  Each of us.  All of us.  Godspeed your journey Norm Horn.  We will be pulling for you all along the way until you reach your goal and no doubt about it.  You will!

About a gazillion steps ago~Gunnison, Colorado

About half a gazillion steps ago~Meeting up with not only Norm but the Godbey Family as well in Holly, Colorado.  

It was fun to watch these two men walk side by side along Highway 50.  The Kansas line was straight ahead.  What a hot and muggy July day that will be remembered as.

~as the do-overs are allowed~

"Perhaps it is a sign that I've grown up a bit in the years that have gone by.  Maybe I have come to realize that there are things that mean the world to me and there are just as many things that I can most certainly do without.  I guess the greatest awakening has come when a person figures out that most times in life we must lose everything that we have in order to realize just how much is really ours.  How much even the simplest of things can truly mean to us."

     My big sister Sherry and I had fun  looking through some old photos the other night.  It was an evening of cheap entertainment for two sisters from the flatlands of Kansas who do not get to spend near enough time together in this life.  The hundreds of miles between our homes in Altus, Oklahoma and Montrose, Colorado may separate us.  But at least for a couple of days now we are getting to spend some much needed time together.  Going through some of the old photos that Sherry has here brought back many happy memories of life in the "land of long ago and far, far away."  

     The dining room table and floor around it became covered with boxes and sleeves of old snapshots from days gone by.  At first, we had some semblance of order but after an hour or two it was apparent that order had been thrown out the window.  To anyone passing through, it might have even looked as if a Kansas tornado had systematically blown through and deposited them helter-skelter all over the dang place.  Pausing from time to time, we would find ourselves laughing like crazy at some of the pictures from our past or sighing a deep and heartfelt sigh when we came across images of our family members that have now gone on before us.  My heart was happy to see them and even though I felt like crying at the sight of a few of them, I did not.

     Sherry's collection of pictures went back, way back to the early 1970's.  It was a real delight, a gift to be able to see them once again.  There we all were,  frozen as much younger versions of ourselves.  What a time of innocence it ended up being and as we looked at those pictures, images of people long ago, I couldn't help wishing to travel back in time to see those people once again.  

    Photography back now 40 years ago is so much different than today.  I'd forgotten about all the advancements and changes that have taken place since we all snapped those photos with our Polaroids so very long ago.  The picture you got was the picture you kept in 1972.  There were no "do overs" if your hair was out of place, your mouth was open, or your eyes were closed.  As I looked through the stacks of pictures with my sister, I noticed that there were lots of them with heads chopped off, images that were fuzzy, or messed up exposure.  Normally back in those days we would have cringed at the sight of them and tucked them away into the dark abyss of a closet or even sent them to the trashcan for Monday morning trash day.  Thankfully these had not been and as I picked those "not so good" photos up and held them in my hands, I was grateful to see them all once again.

     In 1972 my sister and brother-in-law were married back home in Haven, Kansas.  I stood up as a witness with Sherry that cold January night in the sanctuary of St. Paul's Lutheran Church just down the road aways from our home out in the country just south of town.  One of the pictures that I found in those that we looked at two nights back shows a newly married Wes and Sherry standing alongside me after the service.  I laughed when I saw myself in the picture because of all things, my eyes were closed.  Today in 2014, a digital camera would indicate to me that the picture would need to be taken once again.  It would have been a discard immediately.   Eyes open or eyes shut, it means the world to me today to come across it here in Altus, Oklahoma.  

     I loved the dress that I was wearing,  one that my best friend Marilyn made for me in home economics class when we were juniors in high school.  It was of corduroy material, deep hunter green and burgundy in color with little tiny burgundy buttons going down the front of it.  The peasant style dress was really popular with girls that year, with puffed short sleeves, rounded neckline and empire waist style.  I wore that dress on many occasions in the years that followed and I probably would have kept it around for a long time but unfortunately could not.  It was hanging in my upstairs bedroom closet the night that my folks' house would catch fire and burn to the ground on a Christmas Eve just four years after the photo above was taken.  

     Maybe that is why this picture means so much to me.  Everything that my parents had worked for, all the material possessions they had in their lives together was consumed in an inferno that took only about 15 minutes to spread to an entire house.  Seven people, all family members of mine, were inside the house that night and all seven escaped with their lives.  Sherry and Wes were two of them.   God provided and they made it out alive.  

     That girl with her eyes shut as she smiled for the camera had no clue what would lie ahead for her in life.  Neither did that newly married couple who were standing alongside her.  I was only 16 years old then and the greatest worry on my mind back in those days was whether or not I could earn enough money in tips as a waitress in my folks' cafe there in Haven to put gas into my car to go to Hutch with my friends on a Friday night.  Life went forward from that cold winter night and now so many of the people who were alive back then have now gone on to their Heavenly home.  Both my folks, grandmothers, my brother Mike, little niece Kimberly, most of my cousins, and all the aunts and uncles save for Aunt Beck are gone.  As I looked at their photos at Sherry's dining room table,  it was with a happy heart.  I only felt a little sad and someday we will all be back together again in a place where the picture is always going to be "just right" the first time.  I remember that always and treasure the thought.

     This is the summer before my 59th year and I will always be amazed at the speed of which our lives move by us.  I am now older than my parents were in so many of those pictures from long ago.  I have been given a good life, a very blessed one and although there are times when I say that I wish that time would slow down, I know in my heart that life moves at the pace at which God has planned for us.  Seeing all those many pictures that Sherry has kept during the last 4 decades was a blessing to me and a reminder of where I have come from.  They have shown who I really am and that's a gift that will forever remain special.  Priceless and most humbling.  

    The clock on the wall is telling me it's time to get a move on as we ready ourselves to return back home again.  It's been a great few days in Oklahoma and so thankful for the opportunity to reconnect with my family members here in the "land of red dirt."   Have a great day out there dear family and friends.  In everything, the least to the greatest, we should all give thanks to God above.  This is Sunday, the 27th day of July and a great day to be alive in.  I'm going to do as the Good Book admonishes us .....  be happy and be thankful!

From now so very long ago~
Back row, my two nieces Debbie and Shirley and my sister Cindy
Front row, I am seated alongside my brother Dick who is holding our newborn niece Brandy and our other niece Judy Lee is seated alongside him.  We were in the back dining room of Scott's Cafe and it looks like Cindy and I must have just gotten off work or something.  (geesch, I hope the tips were good that day!)

     
Fast forward into the future, 40 years later~
Still alive and well, living along the Western Slopes in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
     

     


     

~as we begin to return to the classroom~

 Haven, Kansas might have been the place that I grew up in and the locale that I will always call my "hometown" but for the first 8 and 1/2 years of life I grew up with the rest of my six siblings in Burrton, Kansas.  Burrton wasn't all that far away from Haven, just a county to the east and up the dirt road a bit.  We all  lived on our family's farm, the 9 of us,  in the sand hills about 2 miles north of Highway 50.  It was a happy existence for the little girl that I used to be.  I made mudpies with my little sister Cindy on hot summer days, watched fireflies at night while my folks sat outside with neighbors who would come over to visit us, and was entertained by the menagerie of animals that lived on our farm. Every once in a while we would go down to the Harvey County Park that was only a 5 minute drive from home.  Those 16 acres of land belonged to us and any other person on earth who visited them. It was "free"  to roam and play in the biggest park we ever knew of.  There was no "Worlds of Fun" in Kansas City  back in those days but shoot, who needed it anyways?  We had the swinging bridge to play on with our friends and if you dared, to run wildly across well at least until one of us heard our folks say "YOU KIDS STOP THAT!"  It was a good life.  A simple life and one that I sometimes miss and often times still remember.

     I have thought about the "18" in the days just now past and I'm wondering how summer time has gone for them.  Many of them have gone on vacations with their families and oh the stories that they will have to tell when school begins again in now, less than a month.  Some have gone hiking and fishing in the mountains while others have made the weekly trek to the library to pick up a good book or two for reading.  Last night I ran across several of the kids that I knew from Olathe at the Montrose County 4H Fair and I watched with delight as one of "the 18" and his little brother showed their pigs in the annual swine show there.  Both of those guys came home with a blue ribbon for all of their hard work and for that I say "a job well done Fletcher boys". 

     Yesterday I made a trip over to the school to unload my car's trunk and back seat of the things that I had stored in Kansas that I will use for school this year.  While there, I rearranged the desks in some kind of semblance of order and took a quick look at what was needed to do before school begins mid-August.  I smiled as I looked at my teacher's desk and its current state of being pristine.  I've never won any contests for the "cleanest teacher's desk" in the world and I'm sure that year #37 will not be any different.  But hey, I could try harder.  I remember as a kid back in Haven, Kansas that there was a teacher that had absolutely the most spotless desk ever and she managed to keep it that way all the time, without fail.  Miss Myers had a grand total of about 3 things on her desk in her fifth grade classroom.  Her attendance book, lesson plan book, and one plant.  That was it.  Total.  Not sure that I will ever be like her but perhaps it wouldn't hurt me a bit to consider traveling a little lighter on my desktop.  Time will tell and we shall see.

     Soon there will be "the 20 or the 21" or what ever number of students that shall be assigned to my classroom this year.  Yesterday as I was rearranging things I was imagining what it would sound like when they all arrived there for the first morning of school.  Perhaps there shall be a few tears from little ones and parents alike.   I expect that, you know?  And even though it wouldn't be too fun to experience that day in and day out during the entire  school year, it's to be expected.  We all have loved our mommies and daddies with our "6-year old hearts" and to part with them, even for a school day's time is not easy.  But we make it.  The backpacks will come off and find a place on the hooks alongside the wall and school supplies will be emptied out into desks and other storage places.  Attendance will be taken, the lunch count sent to the office and we shall begin.  I'm most ready.

     I do not know what lies ahead for me this school year but whatever it is I am ready to embrace it.  One thing I have learned, having "failed" retirement now twice is that teachers should never take for granted their position as educators.  The greatest thing I've now learned is that I am not done learning yet.  I always felt that I was a good teacher but the crazy thing is that now, nearly 4 years into the second stint of doing this I have finally become the teacher that I was meant to be all along.  It's a nice feeling, one that I have been most happy to experience.  There is much to learn for the students this year and there is an even greater amount for me to learn.  I am up for it and I give thanks for the chance so to do.

     I don't know their names yet, not even their little faces but soon, very soon, they will arrive. I will tell them on the first day, just like I told "the 18" so many times that they could recite what I would be getting ready to say, word for word. 

"If you ever have a teacher who says they don't love you, then it's time to find a new teacher."

    Maybe I don't know who they all are yet or which seat they shall occupy in the classroom but their teacher loves them already.  Unconditionally. Without fail.  Always.  Mrs. Hyla Bacon back in the first grade at Burrton Grade School loved the little 6-year old that I used to be.  I hope she would be happy that I grew up to be a teacher, just like her.  In the very least of things and of the greatest of things, this teacher shall forever give thanks.

 

~the view from 12,000 feet~

"In the beginning, it was like a sleeping monster to me.  A giant that was always on the prowl. Make one false step, just a single slip up along the way and it would awaken to reach out and devour me in one fell swoop.  I grew to have a healthy fear of it, a great respect for it, and even as time went by a sense of reverence for it.  Prior to January of 2013, this Kansas farm girl had never even heard of it.  Now, 18 months after our first meeting one another, I've passed over it too many times to count.  Way too many times to remember."    (my view of the pass at Monarch Mountain)

    Yesterday the "nine-year old girl" that still lives within me asked  if we could go out to play and I said "yes" once again.  Mike and I left in the early morning hours to head out for a day trip to Salida, Colorado to meet up with our dear friends from back in Wichita, Kansas who are now fulltime RV'ers.  Leroy and Anne Willis arranged to meet up with us for Sunday lunch yesterday and we were happy to be able to see them once again.  A person can never have too many friends in this life of ours and we are grateful to call the Willis Family ours. 


    

We paused for a moment  yesterday along the bridge overlooking the Arkansas River below.  Although the hours  together went quickly, the four of us had a great time visiting with one another.  It had been since October of 2013 back in Sedgwick, Kansas that we had seen one another. 
     Since we had taken out from home here in the Montrose area a little sooner than we had planned, it was apparent that we would get to Salida much earlier than our original "ETA" of 12:00 noon.  We arrived at the great Continental Divide over Monarch Pass by midmorning and since Salida is just down at the bottom of it, we knew there was time to kill.  Out of the blue, all of a sudden I said to Mike seventeen  words that I never thought would be spewed out of my mouth.

 "Hey, maybe this would be a good day to try riding the gondolas up to the top!"

And so we did.

     The price seemed right as we gladly told the guy at the ticket counter that we definitely qualified for the senior discount at our ages.  So after Mike gave him our $16 we found ourselves climbing into the tram car that would take us another 1,000 feet or so into the air.  Right before we took off, we asked him to take our photo as proof that we did indeed go up there.  Right before we left the departure area, I asked Mike if it was going to be scary.  He said maybe, just a bit.  Too late now because shortly after this photo was taken, we were already slowly making our way to the very top of the mountain.

     It really wasn't all that scary and as the tram slowly pulled us to the top we got to see up close and personal all kinds of  scenery that we had only seen from a distance as we speed along Highway 50 in our journeys back and forth between Hutchinson and Montrose.  There is plenty to look at from up there, a panoramic view of the Rocky Mountains as seen from over two miles, straight up.

A beautiful pond, nestled deep down on the other side of the mountain~

I was amazed to see that the "4H-ers" even have their own spot of the mountain up on top.  I thought of my very good friend, Jessica (Mandeville) Ray and all of the fun we had working with our 4H kids back home at Lincoln Elementary in Hutchinson, Kansas.

Everywhere you looked there were beautiful wildflowers growing.  Visitors at the top are reminded not to pick them as they are protected in the national park setting.

Mike chose this backdrop for his photo at the top.  Wow, not sure if there was a bad view to pose for a picture in.  God's handiwork, His creation at its finest yesterday morning.

Windy and a bit on the chilly side at 12,000 feet.  Forget about combing your hair or even worrying about what it might look like in a picture!

It brought a smile to my face to realize that I was not the only Jayhawker who had ever been there and by the looks of it, plenty of Sooners have made the journey here as well.

     In January of 2013, I came over Monarch Mountain for the very first time in my life.  It was the early morning hours and winter's darkness enshrouded everything.  I had no idea what I was crossing over.  Absolutely NONE.  Save for the snowplow guy at the very top, I was the only vehicle on the roadway that morning all the way from Salida to the bottom of the mountain on the other side of the Continental Divide.  It wasn't until I returned back home to Kansas 3 days later after visiting Mike out here for the first time in 40 years that I saw in broad daylight what I had driven on only 72 hours earlier.  My only thought, one that I will most certainly never forget was this~

"Holy cow!  Thank the good Lord above that it was dark when I came through this the first time.  I am sure glad that I didn't see what this really looks like.  Not sure if I would have been all that brave after all."

     Yesterday the visitor's center was very busy and filled with travelers from all over the place.  People were posing for photos in front of the sign that announces both the Atlantic and the Pacific sides of the great Continental Divide.  Several folks just like us had decided to ride the tram to the top and many of them opted to walk down the path to return to the bottom once again.  Motorcyclists buzzed through in huge groups and folks pulling all kinds of recreational vehicles were parked in the visitor's lot as they too enjoyed the view.  It was nice to see such a crowd there because all too soon winter's arrival will come again and all one will see is deep piles of snow hiding the building behind it.  Having been a witness to  that sight more times than not, I remarked to Mike that for a traveler in the wintertime it is such a lonely thing to see.  Words like  DESOLATE, ISOLATED, FORGOTTEN, and FORLORN always come to mind.

    You know,  I used to be afraid of Monarch Mountain.  I no longer am.  The weird thing is, the mountain didn't change a bit but I did.  The lonely flatlander, homesick for Kansas as I was last summer, has learned a few things about traveling through the mountains.  I have respect for the terrain now and realize how foolish we sometimes are to believe that we can outrun bad weather at any time of the year.  I know firsthand about being foolish.  All I have to do is to drive by the igloo 28 miles east of our home here to remember the day that I thought I could outrun a snowstorm.  You know me.  I sometimes have to learn the hard way. 

     Later this week we will climb over the mountain again and this time rather than heading towards Kansas we will be  making our way towards southwestern Oklahoma and across the border into Texas for a visit with our family there.  Not long after we arrive back home,  it will then be time to return to school and I am most ready to do so. 

     I love life. I love living.  I am anxious to see what is down the road now for me as I enter my second year of life in Colorado.  God didn't transplant me here over 600 miles away accidentally.  I was meant to be here and whatever my destiny is, it awaits me.  Perhaps we shall meet out there somewhere as you are looking for yours.

~and if you could read this~

     Yesterday seemed like the perfect day to start filling the pirate's treasure chest, the one that I bought a couple of weeks back at Grand Junction when we were shopping for school things up there.  I'd seen online that Toni, my good friend and coworker at Olathe Elementary, was having a garage sale at her home not all that far from mine.  So with money in my pocket, off I went and sure enough right smack dab in the middle of a table I found it.  A "gold mine" of sorts, a box filled with the personal treasures of a little boy who no longer needed them.  I had a great time sorting through them as I fished out one cool thing after another for use as incentives in my classroom come this fall.  Pirate guys and super heroes, dinosaurs and animals all found their way into the bottom of my black shopping bag.  It felt kind of strange to even be buying them.  Long ago when my two sons were little,  they would have loved to fill a bag with them too.

     So I brought them home, placed them into the sink and gave them a little bath and I realize now that it wasn't because they needed it.  They would have been fine to just go into the chest as they were.  I did it because the 9-year old that is still very much alive and well in me told me to. It was actually kind of fun to make some soapy water and swish them around inside the sink basin.  It was interesting to feel the different textures and to really notice all the tiny details that go into making plastic creatures such as these.  In the adjacent basin they all were put to swim around awhile in clear water as the soap suds came off.  Then I laid them all out on an old beach towel to dry in the warmth of the Colorado sun that was coming through the kitchen window.  When everything was dry, I stood them all up in one giant mob scene and took the photo above.  There is a smile on my face for a reason and the reason is a good one.  Just for 15 minutes of time yesterday, I "checked out" from being an adult and enjoyed the beautiful world that children live in and you know what?  We all should do that a whole lot more often.  

     Hey, I had so much fun scavenging through that box of discarded toys yesterday that I plan to go out and find another garage sale or two this morning to do the very same thing.  When school starts now about a month from today, I want to have plenty of these on hand to give out on Fridays when my little first grade students cash in the "chips" they have earned throughout the week for showing their "AARGH" Olathe Elementary School pirate traits.  The way I have always have looked at it is that any money spent for a child's well being, any time given on their behalf is both time AND money well spent.  

     I announced my retirement from teaching in May of 2010 and that managed to last all of 5 months.  I returned to the classroom for another 3 years as a Title I teacher at Lincoln Elementary.  When Mike and I got married on the last day of school in May of 2013, I said that I was retiring for "good" this time and starting a different kind of life on the Western Slopes of Colorado.  That second retirement lasted for just 8 weeks as I found a new home and special purpose for being a teacher.  Olathe Elementary School, just up the road from Montrose a bit, needed a teacher in one of their fourth grade classrooms and with a grateful heart I accepted the position there.  This coming school year I am going to return to take a classroom in another hallway and do I ever look forward to the first day soon.  It would appear that God has a mighty plan in place for me here, a definite reason for being.  For whatever that would be, I go forth with faith that all will be as it should.  

     As for me, I love being a teacher.  I will never get rich financially from it but I don't know any teacher who chooses to do this with that ultimate goal in mind.  I am paid over and over again in the "bonus checks" that being an educator provides.  I could have made other choices as to what my life's profession would be but as I stop to think about it, I'm not sure what any of those options would have been in the first place.  I was born to be a teacher.

     Have a great weekend family and friends out there and remember, if you could read this blog post be sure to say "thank you" to a teacher.  

Ready to begin year number 37 and very proud to be an Olathe Pirate :)

~from somewhere just down the road~

     I think it may have all started with my bucket list trip to Maine in late May of 2012,  the one in which I drove about 4,000 miles round trip to fulfill my desire to see my very first lighthouse ever.  Leaving about 3:30 a.m. that Monday morning from my home in south central Kansas, I drove pretty much between 400-600 miles each day just to make it there and back by late the following Friday evening.  When the journey was over, I had indeed seen the Portland Headlight at Cape Elizabeth, Maine and returned back with memories that would last me for the rest of my life.  It was my first attempt ever at traveling so far away from home in Kansas "solo" and would definitely set the pace for the journeys that would follow me in the months ahead.

     I will never forget having this picture taken.  Because I was traveling alone, it was obvious that if I wanted to have a photo taken to actually prove that I made it to Maine, I would need to find someone there to take it for me.  A couple was standing near the gift shop, just across the way from this spot, so I walked up to them and asked them kindly if they would help me.  Unfortunately they were visiting from Paris, France and they spoke and understood about six words in English with only about two of them contained in the phrase "Will you please take my picture?"  But through a lot of hand gestures and smiles, we got the picture taken and because of their willingness to help this woman from Kansas, I have a lovely memory of that fine day.  I know it is hard to imagine it but I am wearing my trusty Haven High School alumni sweatshirt.  You know, the one that I seem to be wearing in about 75% of all the photos I take some days?

     That journey to Maine, one that took me through 10 states that I'd never even seen before, ended a near lifetime "drought" of traveling anywhere much outside of the state of Kansas.  I was a homebody and proud of it, I suppose.  Up until that time in life, if I went anywhere it was always to a place within no more than 6 hours' drive from home.  I had no desire to go away to see anything and if I did, I dang sure didn't want to be gone more than a night or two from the familiar surroundings of my own home.  Thankfully that has changed and as I approach the winter of my 59th year later on in October, I have begun to travel more now than ever before.  I have some regrets that I didn't do it sooner than later but at least I have begun.

     I've lost count of the times that I have needed to travel back over the big mountain to the other side (the Atlantic one) of the great Continental Divide to return back to my old home in Kansas.  Suffice it to say that if I had to use fingers and toes to keep track of it, well two hands are used up as well as the better part of my left foot.  There have been many.  The 611 miles it takes to get from Montrose County to Reno County are doable, most times in a good 11-hours' worth drive.  I'm not too crazy about traveling there in the winter but with the help of the friendly weather guys who are way better at understanding the weather than I am, most times I can plan accordingly.  I have learned to have much respect and a healthy dose of fear as I climb over Monarch Pass, about two hours away from home.  But it doesn't scare me enough to stop me, at least when the driving conditions permit.  It's actually very beautiful up there in the winter, especially after a good snow and the roadways have been cleared for traffic to pass through.

     This was the view from the top of Monarch Mountain as we crossed over last December on our way back to the Midwest for the Christmas holidays.  It almost looked as though it could be on the front of a greeting card.  Highway 50 was clear of snow and the skies were a brilliant shade of blue with not a cloud in the sun filled Colorado sky.  There is much beauty at more than 11,000 feet of elevation.  If you have never seen it, please give it a try some time and let me know how you like it.

     For a flatlander from Kansas, one who never  had been bitten by the travel bug before, I now have a desire to see more places in this great country of ours.  Since that bucket list trip to Maine two years back, I've visited the states of Washington, California, Arizona and New Mexico as well as a return trip to the beautiful New England village of Owego, New York.  I'm not sure why the desire is in me now to go and find new things to see but it surely is.  There are plenty of great places yet to visit on my life's "bucket list".  There is nothing to stop me from so doing, only myself.

     Next week Mike and I will be taking a little break from work and traveling to see my sister and brother-in-law in Oklahoma as well as Mike's aunt in Texas.  School will be starting so very soon and if we wish to go, then now is the best time.  We were there last Christmas and had such an enjoyable visit that we vowed to go back in the summer.  Now is the time  and we hope to make a lot of memories as we travel along the way.  During out last visit out there we came home via New Mexico and found the most unusual sign at one of the local restroom areas.  I had to laugh as Mike took it but now I realize that, hey that really wouldn't be all that funny if I really did have that happen to me.

     Hey, I can practice random acts of nonviolent civil disobedience as good or better than the next guy but I gotta tell you that even though I normally hate signs that tell me what I can and cannot do, this sign I paid attention to.  In fact, that was probably the quickest bathroom break this teacher ever took.  Enough said.

     It was strange during our last visit  back to Kansas in early July that I noticed something about myself as a traveler.  There are certain things that I like to take with me, in fact I have started to fill a couple of backpacks full whenever  I travel anywhere these days.  Just like kids enjoy taking their favorite items with them to stay occupied and out of trouble, I too have my personal stash that I seldom leave home without. A camera, cell phone and charger, a planner to keep track of where in the heck I'm going and what I'll do while there, snuggly socks for my tired feet, the prayer shawl that my dear friend Neva Jane back in Kansas made for me, and a journal to write down my thoughts.  I reach into those backpacks along the journey from time to time and feel around for them to be sure that they are there.  It's a comforting thing, I suppose.  When it is said that we revert back to our childhood from time to time, it would be moments such as these that would give credence to it.

     Not sure where my next big journey will take me but I know that I would like to see as much of America as I can before the time comes that I can no longer travel.  It's sad, you know?  I have known so many people who, as they got to an age where they deemed it impossible to travel far away, would sit at home or in their room at the nursing home just wishing they could visit a special place one more time.  Because of poor health, being alone, having no way to get there, matters of finance, or a thousand other reasons for not being able to, their traveling days are done.  Finished.  Through.  The time may come for me in the future to join them but until then, I intend to see as much as I can even if only for a short moment in time.

     Where would you like to go?  Any place special you want to visit?  Don't wait.  Find a way to make it happen dear friends.  You won't regret it if you do.  You may well regret it if you do not.

Alive and well, here along the Western Slopes.  Sometimes it seems so very far away from everyone and everything but in reality, it's really not the case at all.  Have a great day my dear friends and family out there.    

Norman's Reno County update

Maybe it was because of Calvin, a young Old Order Amish boy who was a student of mine at Yoder Grade School when I was his first-second grade teacher.  Or maybe it was because of Elizabeth, a blonde haired and blue eyed little girl who won my heart when I was her first-second grade teacher at the same small south central Kansas school so many years ago.  Or it even could have been because of Adahir, a young boy who as a third grader sat in my classroom at Avenue A Elementary in Hutchinson, Kansas. Adahir learned to speak, read and write in English that year now so long ago.  Three completely different students from my 37-year career of being a teacher who had one sad thing in common, they all died from childhood cancer. Their lives came to an end before they had hardly the chance to begin.  For whatever the reason, when Mike and I came across a young man pushing a cart in front of him on a section of Highway 50 just up the road a ways from our home in Montrose, Colorado, he got my attention. We have been following the journey of Norman Horn ever since that evening now a month ago.  The following is a weekly "Norman Update".

     I don't believe that I will ever again travel Highway 50 to the east back home to Hutchinson, Kansas without thinking of Norm and his incredible cross country journey, one to educate folks about pediatric cancer and the need for increasing funding to study and most certainly to conquer the disease that takes the lives of children each and every day.  It's 611 miles of Highway 50 from south western Colorado to south central Kansas.  I can drive it on a good day in just about 11 1/2 hours.  It takes just a little longer for Norman.  All the places that I have known so well in my monthly trek back and forth during the last 18 months are places that he had to travel through to arrive where he is right now.  Gunnison, Salida, Canon City, Pueblo, La Junta, Lamar, and onward into Kansas, Norman Horn has been there. 

     By the time that Mike and I came upon him again, now a couple of weeks ago, he was getting ready to cross over the border into Kansas from his last stop in Colorado near Holly.  It was a privilege that day to be able to join him on foot for the last 4 miles of walking in the Rocky Mountain state.  It was hot and humid that July 6th day but we made it with him.  In that short span of time, Mike and I learned more about his purpose in doing this and got just a tiny bit of a taste of what it is like to travel on foot.  Incredible to believe that now, 12 days later, he is soon to arrive in Hutchinson for a stay of a few days.  The good people of that town, my friends and family included, will take very good care of him.  I only wish that we could join them as well.  I am with you all in spirit :)

    The day we first met Norman up near the Morrow Point turnoff, he told us that he was heading east on 50 all the way and would be going through Kansas later on during the summer.  We told him that we knew that part of the state really well and would be glad to help him make connections to places that he could stay and receive overnight shelter.  It has been an honor to be able to help in some way with that part of his journey.  People I knew and those that were total strangers to me agreed to help, all the way from Syracuse to Hutchinson.  The places that I didn't know of anyone were filled in by a faithful group of women back on the east coast who have been helping Norm all along and will continue to do so until he reaches the Atlantic Ocean side of the country in October.  Norm has a strong support crew who will make sure that he gets home again, safe and sound.  Sylvia, Rachel, Sara and Maggie are now my friends and I like that about life.  I've never met them but it sure doesn't seem that way and I just bet you that some day we will meet one another.  Strangers no more. 

     Back home in Kansas, the sun is rising and the day will begin.  Norm doesn't have far today to make it back to the place that I called home all of my life.  For all of you who have helped Norm along the way, whether it was here in Colorado or back home in Kansas or anywhere else in between, I give you my heartfelt thanks.  To show kindness to a stranger sometimes is not easy.  Every once in a while it takes a little bit of courage, you know?  To those who have stepped up to assist in any manner, your life has been blessed.

Maybe it was because I never lost any of my six siblings to childhood cancer or perhaps it was because I did lose my father to lung cancer when I was only 28.  Perhaps it is because this is the summer of my 59th year, the same age my dad was when he took his last labored breath in the hospital that December morning.  What ever the reason was that we should have encountered a total stranger walking along the roadway pushing a cart that pronounced "Fight Childhood Cancer, FTK" maybe isn't even important in the whole scheme of life.  The fact is that we did meet and to our friend Norm, Mike and I would say that we are so glad that we met you and most happy that we could help in your journey in some small way.  From here along the Western Slopes in a place called Montrose, we send you our best wishes with hopes for continued safe passage along the way.  May the eyes and hearts of people be open to you and the message of  your mission for the children.  We cheer you on from here in a place so very far away. Godspeed your journey and may it be one of peace.

A coincidence?  Nah, not even close.

Walking with Norm~
Near the Kansas border on a hot July day.

~and his name was Darryl~

The four most beautiful words that I have heard since the saga of "old lefty" came to me over the phone just a while ago when I finally at long last  learned the first name of the man whose death 3 years ago provided the bone material that was transplanted into my very badly busted up left wrist on August 10th of 2011. 


               "His name was Darryl."

I have waited for what seemed to be  forever to learn more about him and today God saw fit that I should know at least bit more about the unknown donor whose gift of life saved mine and countless others .  Darryl was a 45-year old man, a Missourian who one day woke up with chest pains and shortness of breath.  He died in the emergency room of a local hospital but even in his death, Darryl managed to live on.  His family members decided that his death wouldn't be in vain and made the loving decision to donate what they could from his body so that others would have a chance to have a better life.  Little did they know that a 55-year old school teacher who lived in Hutchinson, Kansas would end up needing Darryl's help in the months that would follow. 

This may be the shortest blog post I ever made but for me, it's the most meaningful one.  The message I give you is short and sweet.  It's one from me and from Darryl too :)


"Donate life.  Please don't take your usable body parts with you when you go.  Your heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, corneas, skin, muscle and yes, even bone can be harvested from your body when you die and placed inside the bodies of people who desperately need them.  Donate life.  Each day an average of 20 people die while waiting for available organs for transplant.  Every 10 minutes another name is added to the list of folks who are in big trouble without a transplant.  Donate life."

Autumn of 2013~
Montrose, Colorado

Wisdom~

~and then there is the hill~

There have surely been plenty of things in life that have presented a challenge or two for me.  Being very short in stature always has lent itself to being a bit on the unhandy side.  The cupboards here at home are not very friendly towards women that stand only 5 feet tall but I have figured out how to use a pair of meat tongs to be able to grasp onto things that are just out of my reach. Wish that it could have been different but I took the 6-year plan instead of the traditional four years to get out of college, not because I got two degrees at once or anything, but simply because it just took me that long.  Had I graduated with the rest of the class back in 1977, shoot I'd be starting my 39th year in education instead of the 37th one but that's ok.  It was a challenge back in 2011 when I wanted to ride on the annual Bike Across Kansas trip, the week long journey that takes cyclists nearly 500 miles across the state.  I did great for the first half, nearly making it from the Colorado border to the central Kansas city of McPherson.  It was there that I succumbed to heat exhaustion and dehydration but not before making it over 200 miles. 

And then, well then there's the hill.

Ok, ok so it's not Mount Everest or anything. Shoot, it's not even Cerro Summit but it's there and I'm telling you that it's not flat. Not even by a long shot.  See that big cottonwood tree up there?  Well just about another 1,000 yards or so on the other side of it is our house here on the outskirts of Montrose.  If I want to go for a walk down to the 4-way stop sign then I have to be able to not only go down it with ease but to climb back up it as well.  My legs hurt just typing these words~

I remember when I first moved here after Mike and I were married in May last year, that one evening we decided to try that little jaunt down to the corner and back.  It looked like a piece of  that proverbial "cake"  for crying out loud.  I was used to walking a couple of miles each day back home in Kansas.  Back home in very flat Kansas.  So after supper one evening, off we went. 

Going down the hill was easy.  It was fun!  We were talking about life, yacking away about anything. Everything.  By the time we got to the corner to turn around, I'd hardly worked up a sweat.  Looking back and seeing what we had just come down was a sobering thought.  Geesch, that is quite a hill when you stop to consider it.  If the going down it was easy that first time around, believe you me the going back up it was polar opposite. 

OK, really polar opposite.

The first few steps or two, I pretended not to even be affected by it but Mike Renfro could tell that it was already starting to get to me.  It was turning into a "backside kicker" every step that I took.  By the time I got to the house with the red roof (kind of like a landmark on this route) I was pretty much in trouble and I knew it!  No fooling Mike now as he grabbed my hand and helped me as I climbed up it.  I will never forget what I told him as we got to the "point of no return".

"This is horrible!  It feels like I'm walking in wet cement now.  This must be what quicksand feels like.  Don't think I will make it."

But I did make it.  By the time I crested at the top of the hill and looked back at where I'd come from, I was so glad to have not quit.  Actually quitting really never was an option even though I half-jokingly, half-seriously said to Mike that he should just go get the car and I'd wait right there for him.  I promised! 

I didn't walk down the hill all that often last year.  From time to time I'd give it a try but I mostly kept my walks to the flatter part of this country.  Around the alfalfa fields or down the road a ways to the other corner.  You know, the one without the hill.  But lately things have changed and during the past few weeks, Mike and I have taken more walks together and more times than not, we've opted for the route with the hill.  I'm getting much more used to it now, acclimated to what it takes to make it up it.  I don't let Mike hold my hand now as we make our way back up it.  The only way to gain in strength is to do it on my own and I know that. 

I am with each passing day, inching closer and closer to that magically wonderful age of 59.  It seems strange to think it, to realize that next year I will have attained 6 decades of life and living.  I know how important it is to stay active and healthy as we grow older.  To have a diet of eating that fuels the body properly, not overloads it with junk is imperative.  I've shed about 35 pounds since the beginning of this year and still have a ways to go but I'm sure feeling a lot better.  I'm at the age that my father was when he passed away from lung cancer, now  well over 30 years ago.  I would like to live a while longer, you know?  Taking care of myself, eating properly and exercising regularly are great ways that I can help to ensure that being a reality for myself.  Walking the hill will help, not hurt me. 

It's dark here along our part of the world right now. The early morning hours are my favorite ones.  They are filled with quiet, solitude and peace.  Down in the valley, the lights of the city of Montrose are twinkling and here and there, cars are traveling down the highway. Some are  going west but more are going east right now.  People are slowly waking up and starting their new day.  My hopes would be that it is a good one for all of us and if for some reason it's a not so good  kind of day, that somehow or another we'd all make it regardless. 

Dear friends and family, from a place far away from most of you, may your journey be filled with peace this day.  I'm think of you.  Each of you.  All of you.