days in the life of a
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February 21, 2009
THE GOOSE THAT STARTED IT ALL
Harkers Island, North Carolina, 1987. A small isolated fishing village, where life is slow and relaxed, where people build their own boats by day and go shrimping by night. A place where the saltwater of the ocean runs just as surely as the blood does through the veins of the people that call Harkers Island home.
It's a village of modest homes and fishing shacks inhabited by generations of a few families who first settled there, with only a handful of different last names. Where everyone is related and knows the intricate details of the lives of everyone else.
Off the beaten path, on the fingertip of an island that faces a lighthouse warning of the
dangerous shoals of the Outer Banks, where tales of countless shipwrecks and stories of the pirate Blackbeard have been passed down for centuries.
Harkers Island, where decoy-making was once essential to survival, as men supplemented their seafood diets with the waterfowl they shot. Where old seadogs sit on their porches and whittle away the days, their gnarly weatherbeaten hands artistically turning chunks of tupelo wood into decoys.
On our annual beach vacation, we have always loved to visit Harkers Island. There's just something special about this community, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world and very slow to change, that brings a feeling of oneness with the sea.
Of course, many things have changed for those living on Harkers Island. It's a lot tougher than it used to be to make a living solely by boat-building, shrimping, and fishing, so most of the younger folks have regular jobs off the island. The building of a waterfowl museum and an annual nationally-famous decoy show have put Harkers Island on the map. The Cape Lookout National Park and Seashore are at the end of the Harkers Island road, and summer brings visitors to visit the lighthouse and park.
But things are still relatively unspoiled on Harkers Island. And it is where, in 1987, I saw this weathered, hand-carved Canada goose decoy sitting in a dusty display case in an almost empty shop. Outside the door was a crookedly handpainted sign that said "Decoys." I went inside and immediately fell in love.
The carver was a native of Harkers Island, a fellow named Curt Salter. We'd never heard of him, but the Salters are one of the main families that hail from Harkers Island.
We didn't meet Curt that day, but since then we have met him and bought several more of his carvings. He is one of the original seven founding carvers who started the Core Sound Decoy Carving Guild. A big, gruff, talented man, with a love for the sea and a knack with wood, Curt has since become quite famous in the decoy world and we feel honored to have one of the first decoys he sold.
$75. For a wooden goose I didn't need. But I already had visions of it roosting on my fireplace mantel, the perfect addition to my old Indiana farmhouse.
In those days, we didn't have an extra $75 to spend on anything frivolous, let alone a
carved decoy.
Kim looked at me and I looked back at him with my best puppy-dog eyes.
We bought the goose. And thus began our passion for collecting hand-carved decoys and shorebirds.
We drove 850 miles home that July in a white Chevrolet Celebrity sedan with a trunk FULL of gear, 3 toddlers (Kristoffer was 4, Emily 2, and Kamaron 11 months) in 3 carseats in the back seat, and Kim and I in the front seat with me cradling the goose all the way to Indiana.
I was protecting my investment.
And my marriage!
Now, 22 years and 120 (give or take a few!) hand-carved birds later, both are still very much intact. My Canada goose has found a new home keeping watch above the shelves in our study.
Curt Salter's decoys are worth a mint now. A decoy like this would certainly sell for
$500 or more.
But I would never sell it, because to me it's priceless. There's just something very special about the first one. The one that started it all!
February 2009
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If you look very carefully, ------->-you can see that Curt carved his name into the base of the decoy.
Harder yet to read is his
<------------carved signature
"Curt Salter
Harkers Island
N.C."
February 22, 2009
RICHARD
In the course of one's life, every once in awhile you cross paths with a unique person that is unforgettable in his own special way. However brief and casual your relationship may be, he makes a lasting impression on you.
Richard is one of those people.
I first met Richard when he was a young man, early 20s I would guess, working as a full-time employee at the Wright Quad cafeteria at Indiana University in the fall of 1975. My very first shift, I worked alongside Richard in his Dishroom.
I say "his Dishroom" because that's exactly what it was. It was his domain. Richard was in charge of washing all the plates, flatware, glasses (those were the days when people ate off real plates!), and all the pots and pans that feeding daily meals to 900 students generates. It was a big job and, however menial it may seem, an important job. Richard took great pride in his Dishroom.
The centerpiece of the Dishroom was a huge commercial dishwasher that Richard fondly named Ethel. Ethel ran continuously, slowly rotating dirty dishes through one side and sending them out clean on the other. It was our job to scrape off the food and stack the dirty dishes for Richard to load. He was very particular about how they were to be loaded into Ethel, and he liked to do it himself to assure it was done correctly. Eventually, Richard allowed me and a few others to load Ethel if he felt sure we would do it right. We worked hard to prove ourselves to Richard!
That in itself is ironic. You see, Richard would never be college material. I know he did attend high school in Bloomington with my brother-in-law, but I don't know if he graduated. And if he did, it would certainly be with special waivers or circumstances. Richard lives with the special challenge of having a child-like mind trapped in a man's body. His world is different than our world, and he sees things in a whole different light. Professional educators would have labels to describe the way Richard operates.
I label him as "special."
Richard lives with his mother (although I've never met her, I can only imagine the patience she must have!). He doesn't drive, but rides his bicycle to work every day, no matter what the weather.
He's always been a huge movie buff. While I was at IU, he used all his free money to buy movies on the big film reels, like the ones theaters showed. He had a huge collection then! Since then, Richard has collected movies on VHS and now DVDs. He may have one of the largest private movie collections in the world, for all I know. Whenever a movie is released, he's always the first to buy it and tell the world about his newest addition. He spends countless hours watching and rewatching movies for hours upon end, content in his own Truman-like universe.
Because of his passion for all things movie-related, he recreates his world around that.
He sees people he works with as alter-egos of movie stars, and often names them accordingly. When he met me, he immediately renamed me "Mae West," one of the
old Hollywood movie stars who was considered very beautiful and quite sexy! Now, I will assure you, I was neither...but in Richard's eyes I became Mae West. And he still, to this day, calls me Mae West when I see him.
How can I not adore a man who thinks I'm Mae West?!
I worked with Richard for 4 years, often not actually in the Dishroom, but when I worked the same shift as Richard I saw him a lot. Then in 1979 I graduated, got a job, said good-bye to Richard and the gang, left Bloomington, and that was that.
Or so I thought.
Fast-forward to the fall of 2001, when Kristoffer started college at IU. He got a job in what is now Wright Food Court. When he came home one weekend, he began to tell us about this crazy, entertaining fellow he worked with there.
His name was Richard. Yes, the very same!
For nearly 40 years now, Richard has worked at the same job in the same place, running the Wright Quad Dishroom. A lot of things have changed at Wright over those
40 years. But one constant remains...Richard.
When I found out Richard was still there, I called my college roomie Susie in LA to tell her. I knew she'd be tickled to hear about Richard after all these years.
Susie cried. Tears about sweet memories and a special man who had made our lives at IU a little more fun. Tears of amazement that this extraordinarily challenged man had found a niche in our society, was gainfully employed and self-supporting in a thankless job when many people would have tossed him aside without a second glance. Tears of appreciation for the faithful employee he had been in a time where loyalty is rare.
And I am so thrilled that all four of my children and both my daughter-in-law and son-in-law have had the privilege to know and work with Richard. Zach will forever be "Captain America" to Richard, and Emily went from Mae West's daughter to "Mrs. America" when she married Zach. The boys are Mae West's sons, but I think Richard does call Kamaron "Camel" (a mispronunciation that stuck!) and Kyler "Kite" (a long story...).
Oh...one more thing I just love about Richard! He's so un-politically correct and calls everything just as he sees it. Most of us have a culturally-shaped filtering system that influences what we say and do. Not Richard. He's so out there, and the thing is...he gets by with it because...well, because he's Richard and he doesn't know any better!
Every black man that works at Wright he proudly calls Eddie Murphy and every Asian man is Jackie Chan. He doesn't mean that in a derogatory way at all...he loves both Eddie Murphy and Jackie Chan! He is so raw and brutally honest in his perceptions of the world, a rare thing to see in our extremely sensitive/careful American culture, where we tiptoe around making sure than we even unintentionally offend no one.
Maybe the world could use a lot more Richards in it.
But...then again...there's only ONE! He's a true original and I'm blessed to have crossed paths with him. Twice. How often does that happen?
As Mae West once said, "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."
I'd say that Richard is living up to his potential, making the most of what God gave him!
my special friend, Richard...in 1979 and 30 years later in 2009
February 23, 2009
KITCHEN WINDOWS
Our kitchen is the heart of our home. I suspect that is true in most homes. I know it was true in our County Line home where I grew up...everything began and ended in the kitchen. And still does.
So when we were looking at house plans to build our new home, I had several wishes for my new kitchen. Beautiful cabinets, plenty of counter space, nice functional appliances, an island and bar area, and...lots of windows!
My kitchen is on the west side of the house, so the bay window is on the back side facing west, looking out on our back yard and field beyond. It is my window to our country world.
When the kids were still in school, we could watch out the window and even in the darkness see the flashing red lights of the school bus as it picked up the neighbor children on the next road down and know that the bus would be stopping at our house a couple of minutes later. Sure beat standing out waiting in the dark winter wind!
In a few months (I can't WAIT!), that crooked row of lilac bushes that Kim planted along the back edge of our lawn will be loaded with purple blooms and the air will be filled with the sweet fragrance of lilac! I enjoy the lilacs from my kitchen windows.
I've anxiously watched as ominous dark clouds have gathered in the western sky, followed the storm as it moved through the woods and over the field and eventually pelt the window in its wild, wet fury. I hate storms, but I want to be able to see what's coming.
Many birds stop by to grab a snack or sit for a spell just outside our kitchen windows.
And I've had my fill of this sight for the winter! It was gorgeous in December, even pretty in January, but now that February is nearly gone I'm STILL looking out on this! I'm definitely getting weary of the snow.
But my favorite sight from my kitchen windows happens every dusk, when I have a great view of the amazing sunsets God blesses us. Each one is a little different, but all beautiful and special, the brilliant fading light falling on our dining table.
In my cozy kitchen, out of the wind and the snow and the cold, I have my own private windows to the world.
I love my kitchen windows!
February 24, 2009
THE MAN BEHIND HOPE
Once upon a time, many years ago, a man answered a calling. A holy calling from God. Acalling to share the gospel of Jesus Christ withthe largely Hindu people of India. And he did itwell, with passion and fervor, spreading theGood News to villagers who had never heard ofthe love of God.But all around him he daily saw people living inpoverty, malnourished and uneducated, trying tosurvive the difficult challenges of life in India. Itespecially broke his heart to see the children,many of them cast aside and consideredworthless because they were born to parents ofthe lowest of the low in Indian society, the"Untouchables." Rev. P. Johnson was living a comparatively well-to-do life as a pastor in India. He was well-educated and well-spoken, pastoring churchesand eventually moving up in the ranks of thepastoral hierarchy in southern India. He wassuccessful and admired, respected and doingwell, living a good life with his family.But the faces of those children followed himthroughout his ministry. He felt a tugging to dosomething to change their lives, a way to givethem the care and love they so desperately needed. And, even more importantly, to give themthe opportunity to find Jesus and realize theirinvaluable worth in the eyes of God. He believedthat it was through these very children that thelight of God would be shed onto the spiritualdarkness in the nation of India. Little did he realize, on the other side of the world, another man had a tugging. Seeing firsthand the suffering of the poorest of the poor children and knowing he needed to do something, he partnered with other American and Indian pastors and the vision began to take shape as an orphanage. An orphanage that Rev. Johnson would give up the rest of his life to manage and direct.
In 1998, that vision became reality. Hope Children's Home opened its doors to a few children, providing them with a beautiful home, care, schooling, and the love they lacked in the lives they left behind. Johnson (as he is fondly called by all who know him) left behind his previous pastoral work to take on the very difficult task of orchestrating the building and operation of Hope Children's Home.
Johnson walked away from his comfortable home to live in this thatched hut when Hope Home was first built. He was not a young man then, but he and his wife willingly made this their home until a permanent structure could be built a few years after Hope opened.
I first met Johnson in February of 2002, on my first trip to Hope. He was so proud to have us as his special guests for the dedication of the chapel on the Hope campus.
It is a beautiful structure, but the real beauty is what happens inside those walls.
Last October, I was privileged to be a part of two Sunday morning worship services in that very chapel. Johnson, in frail health then as he had been battling cancer for several months, led the service as he has for the past 10 years for the children of Hope.
Not only did he lead the service, he prepared special musical numbers to sing for us. If you've ever heard an Indian song, 20 verses or more is not uncommon! It took a lot of stamina for Johnson to stand up there the entire time and sing for us, yet he counted it a privilege to praise God with us.
Johnson knows each one of the 120 children intimately. They adore him, and he them. He is their authority and mentor, yet grandfatherly and gentle. His poor health the past year forced him to turn the reigns of day-to-day operations over to his very capable son, but he was still very much a part of life at Hope.
Here he had introduced me to Vijila, one of my sponsored children, after the worship service.
As I was looking for photos of Johnson for this post, nearly every photo has him surrounded by the children he loves. Here he is in one of his favorite spots, sitting underneath what he calls "The Wisdom Tree," wearing his baseball cap and talking to some little girls from the home. Hope Children's Home became his life, and he himself gave life to it!
When we left India to come back to America, we all knew that we would never see Johnson again this side of heaven. He was weak and frail, and his days were numbered.
This past Saturday, after weeks of struggling in a hospital, Johnson traded in his life on this earth for a glorious eternity in heaven. He was ready to meet his Savior, and we rejoice that his pain is over and he's finished the race triumphantly.
I know that someday we will see him again in heaven.
But I can't help but mourn the huge loss to the earth of a great man. His death leaves a big hole in the hearts of everyone at Hope Children's Home, and all who have been blessed to know Johnson have lost a dear friend. But his legacy of love and sacrifice will live forever in the hearts and minds of those he left behind!
February 25, 2009
METAL PANS
When we got married 28 years ago, Kim's aunt gave us a couple of big metal pans. While they were nice, I couldn't imagine what I would ever use them for.
But I was young and innocent and in love. I had no idea what I was getting myself into!
Untold bushels of garden produce have been prepared in the metal pans.
Gallons and gallons of cider have filled the metal pans...200 gallons this year alone!
Emily and Zach just love it when we pull out the metal pans!
Probably our most "fun" using the metal pans each year is the day we butcher our chickens. Last May Kyler initiated Kara into the Gray chicken-killing experience. Kim's brother, Kent, is the designated cutter-upper.
As if that wasn't enough "fun" for us, the metal pans came out again in September when we butchered 15 turkeys. Kim is digging out the innards of the big bird.
And then, after scrubbing them thoroughly (I know...it seems a little gross, but trust me, they are VERY CLEAN!)...
...Kim used the same metal pans to mix up our candy Buckeyes for Christmas.
If I'd only had any idea 28 years ago how much WORK these pans would represent...
Sometimes ignorance IS bliss!
February 26, 2009
ALTER EGOS
During my college days at Wright Quad Cafeteria, I worked alongside several celebrities. In fact, I myself was a celebrity.
As I wrote in a previous post, one of the full-time employees Richard, was a huge film buff, and in his obsession with movies and movie stars he liked to rename people for movie stars he loved.
My friend Ralph was renamed Robert Redford. Redford was THE HOT MAN of movies back in the 1970s!
Ralph didn't mind.
My best friend Susie was Annette Funicello. She loved that comparison.
For those who have never heard of Annette Funicello, she was the most famous of the original Disney Mouseketeers, one of the most popular children's television shows in the 1950s. Because of this, Richard had a second name for Susie as well.
Minnie Mouse. She wasn't quite as crazy about that one.
When Susie and I stopped by the Wright Quad Dishroom to visit Richard a couple of years ago, Richard was thrilled to learn that Susie was married with two children and living near Hollywood, California. As Richard put it "Minnie Mouse married to Mickey Mouse, living in Hollywood with their two Mouseketeers."
The man never forgets!
And, of course, my favorite. The sultry, sexy, gorgeous, blonde-bombshell Mae West.
I can certainly see how Richard could confuse me with her. The resemblance is uncanny, wouldn't you agree?!
I loved being Mae West! I don't know if Richard even knows my real name.
But that's okay. Let him think what he wants!
As a sidenote...when I was looking for photos of Robert Redford, I was reminded of just how good-looking he was and is! Wow! Hunk Alert!!!
One of the reasons I married Kim is because he was a Robert Redford look-alike.
Talk about a Hunk Alert! Robert Redford...eat your heart out!!!
(images from google.com)
February 27, 2009
QUIET COUNTRY WALK
Wednesday evening it was 58 degrees, Kim was gone, and I had the munchies.
The perfect combination for a country walk.
So quiet. So very, very quiet. Not one single car in the 45 minutes I was out. Besides a few birds, the only other creature around was the old horse down the road.
She just wanted to see what was going on. She peeked out at me, then went back inside her cozy barn.
I was hoping to see the great blue heron that likes to hang out in this creek. No such luck this time. Just the still, quiet waters.
Every spring it seems, Kim finds a big old snapping turtle in one of our fishponds. He takes it down to the creek and lets it go. I don't know if it's the same turtle that likes to wander around, or a different turtle every year. My theory is that when this tiny creek gets very, very tiny in the middle of the dry summer, the turtle gets hungry and hot and starts searching for a new home and finds our fish pond. Just a theory...
Remnants of snow scattered along the fenceline.
Fields ready and waiting to be planted in a few weeks.
Indiana in February. Cloudy, dreary, gray, blah.
I am reminded about seeing Stephen Colbert on one of the morning news shows back in October, before the election. He was standing on a huge map of the United States, with each state being either blue or red, depending on their political leanings. The undecided states, of which Indiana was one, were gray. In talking about Indiana, Colbert jokingly made the comment that in flying over Indiana, gray was truly the color of the state. If he flew over Indiana in the wintertime, I'd say he's right. GRAY, BLAH!
But we know spring is just around the corner, when green will be the color of everything in sight.
No matter what the season, gray or green (or even white, as we've seen too much!), the sight of our place is always beautiful to me.
February 28, 2009
TEN RANDOM FACTS
Today is my dad's birthday. Tonight, we plan to go out to Red Lobster to celebrate!
If you've been reading this website very long, you know that Dad and Mama have been married for 54 years. You know that Dad was in the Marine Corps and a Golden Gloves and Marine Corps champion boxer in his younger days. You know that he and my mom have lived in the same County Line homestead since before I was born.
But there are many things about Dad that you DON'T know!
So, in honor of his birthday, I will share ten random facts about Dad that you may not know.
1. His first name is "Aubrey." But...from the day he was born, they always called him Buddy. When hestarted school, the teacher named off the roll call and when Buddy Housewas not on the list, he figured he was in the wrong class. He didn't realizehis name was Aubrey House!2. He quit school the day he started.Apparently, he didn't like school at all the first day he went, so he broughtall his books and supplies right home that night and declared he was donewith school and he wasn't going back!3. He got kicked off the school bus out in the middle of the country one day, and had to walk home.They would never allow that this day and age, would they?! Dad proclaimshis innocence to this day, convinced he had done nothing to deserve thepunishment. I'm sure he was always a little angel on the bus!4. As a child, he was scared of the dark.He used to bribe his sisters to go out to the outhouse with him after dark...which they used to their distinct advantage, as all sisters would!5. He spent many nights with over 2000 turkeys.He says it was to keep the foxes from getting the turkeys. I wonder if hehad been banished from the house for "doing nothing wrong" and ended up with the turkeys. Either way, that was a scary job for a boy frightened of thedark!6. He was a racecar driver while he was in high school.No, not the Indy 500. But New Castle's version of it...7. His hands are as thick and hard as oak boards.When it came to spanking, Dad never used a belt or switch. His handswere broad and solid as if they were made of wood, and one swat usuallydid the trick. Yes, I am talking from experience... A threat that Mama wouldtell Dad usually was all it took to get us to straighten up our act!8. He is a math whiz.When making his mortgage payments each month, Dad would sit at thetable with his pencil and paper (no calculators for him!) and do his figuring.He would calculate what his principal would be after his payment, then adda little extra to the payment so it would come out on the even dollar with nocents. He was always figuring something, and still carries in his shirt pocket a tiny spiral notebook...just in case.9. Dad is strong as an ox.This may not come as a surprise, but he is still amazingly strong. Not toomany years ago he took down a criminal and held him until the police came.I remember many family reunions where he would arm wrestle or have apush-up competition, and he could beat any of the young "pups" of the family. I dare say my own boys would not want to take him on, even today!10. As tough as his exterior is, he has a soft heart.I rarely saw Dad cry when I was growing up, but I remember two times inparticular. One was when he took our dog, Lady, to be euthanized. He cried as he told us how she licked his hand and looked up at him as shewas dying. The other time involved a kitten that had gotten wedged betweenour concrete porch steps and the house. It was severely injured and in agony, and Dad had to kill it and pull it out. He has always especially had a fondness for animals and babies. And us!Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you!!!
