Since this is a travelogue, I wanted to share my trip this past weekend.
No, we did not "go anywhere" although I want to remind you we are always going somewhere. This self contained, rock aka spaceship we travel on goes careening through space while we sit and wonder where we are going.
Our precision meteorologist, Roger Hill referred us to a great free program
Google earth
And now I can say I have seen the alps, traveled the roads, went under the ocean and down the streets of Rome without getting out of my pajamas.
What a place!
I remember spinning the globe in the school library and thinking about places like Tibet, the Alps, and the mountains I never saw as a child.
Now there is a picture and a story to each place with the click of a mouse.
Nasa astronauts downloaded pictures from space, and on and on.....
So my prescription for your winter blues is to take a virtual trip.
Make a cup of hot cocoa, sit at your flat screen and fly away.
Don't be shy, go to Katmandu and then relax on the french riviera. Check out antartica in the morning and Australia Great Barrier Reef in the PM.
(and you wonder why you didn't take a trip around the world with all the money that was robbed from your retirement account.)
When I looked where I think my ancestors came from in Germany, it was flat as a pancake. HMMM...looked like Illinois.
Today is Town Meeting day and we will go vote later.
I chose to stay at home to work on the jigsaw of the Alpine ski lift
and dream...
Best wishes on your side of the planet.
Mary
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Photo for Bear Essentials
This photo was added late.
Fred's 2 Grandmothers with Ed's Bear.
And the caption on the back. Enjoy. It made me think the thoughts that led to Bear Essentials.
Edward's Bear
Me and a friend of mine from Michigan
We had fun all dressed
up in Overalls and
hunting coats and guns.
Bear Essentials
Bear Essentials
by Mary E. Gerdt
Bear Essentials, The market's down,
We hope for more as we gripe and frown,
And wonder where all our money went,
That we know could have been better spent.
Bear essentials, They are big beasts,
Slow to move, quick to feast,
Oily, slippery lovable pets,
They turn on you, they cause regrets,
Of staying long when you should have gone short,
Of thinking fighting bear is a simple sport,
Because bears lay around until in a start,
They rear up and bite you and tear you apart.
They might sleep in winter but are known to awake,
Be careful it's not of you they partake.
Bear essentials, supply and demand
and fear makes the market,
Hang in if you can.
Bear essentials, the beast will need rest,
Then bring on the bull,
Get us out of this mess!
Best wishes on you portfolio. Hey, who robbed it anyway?
by Mary E. Gerdt
Bear Essentials, The market's down,
We hope for more as we gripe and frown,
And wonder where all our money went,
That we know could have been better spent.
Bear essentials, They are big beasts,
Slow to move, quick to feast,
Oily, slippery lovable pets,
They turn on you, they cause regrets,
Of staying long when you should have gone short,
Of thinking fighting bear is a simple sport,
Because bears lay around until in a start,
They rear up and bite you and tear you apart.
They might sleep in winter but are known to awake,
Be careful it's not of you they partake.
Bear essentials, supply and demand
and fear makes the market,
Hang in if you can.
Bear essentials, the beast will need rest,
Then bring on the bull,
Get us out of this mess!
Best wishes on you portfolio. Hey, who robbed it anyway?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Postcards from the edge
We read Meandering in South America and was thrilled at the graphic imagery Mariah detailed as she saw literally the pit of Hell. The sulfur smell was a nice touch as well as the play by play. I felt like I was there! Thanks Mariah!
Then I found this blog that is special fun:
Postcardy.blogspot.com
A wonderfully sharing woman who has images of the old postcards of yesteryear.
They are fun to just peruse and appreciate the playful artwork.
Do you remember buying postcards wherever you went and sent them home for a message, a cancelled stamp with the town and the town's symbols?
And bought a few for local pictures? We have sent some postcards, but certainly not like I did when younger. I still like to have a few from an area we visit to remember a special time. The early 1900 postcards were often like a substitute for phone, email or blackberries. Slow, very slow. Still effective in sending a message with just a few words and the energy expended by picking out the right card and the right words while you are dashing around new surroundings. Blogs are the postcards of yesteryear. The pictures, energy and messages here, I hope, will extend far into the future like the 100 year old postcards.
Then I found this blog that is special fun:
Postcardy.blogspot.com
A wonderfully sharing woman who has images of the old postcards of yesteryear.
They are fun to just peruse and appreciate the playful artwork.
Do you remember buying postcards wherever you went and sent them home for a message, a cancelled stamp with the town and the town's symbols?
And bought a few for local pictures? We have sent some postcards, but certainly not like I did when younger. I still like to have a few from an area we visit to remember a special time. The early 1900 postcards were often like a substitute for phone, email or blackberries. Slow, very slow. Still effective in sending a message with just a few words and the energy expended by picking out the right card and the right words while you are dashing around new surroundings. Blogs are the postcards of yesteryear. The pictures, energy and messages here, I hope, will extend far into the future like the 100 year old postcards.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Abraham Lincoln's birthday
There I stood in the fourth grade, my brownie camera loaded with film. Clicking pictures with excitement. Our class took a long bus ride to Springfield Illinois to the museum and state house. The brownie camera photos etched in my mind, the paper versions long lost to childish neglect. Pictures of us each holding what we bought at the museum store.
Looking at all the Lincoln memorobilia. We always had a life-sized bust of Lincoln at school. I used to run my hands over his face and head. I liked the way the smooth stone felt.
Every classroom in Illinois had Washington, Lincoln and Kennedy pictures up on the wall. I would just stand and stare up at them. Wonderment would be a good word, or Awe. Now he is 200 years old. Born in a remote cabin. Hard work, persistence and some luck I suppose brought him to be one of the all time great presidents and icon for little schoolgirls like myself.
Much older now, I also think his war changed my life in subtle or not so subtle ripples. My mother telling of my great great great grandfather who died in the battle of Shiloh, one of the bloodiest battles of the civil war. I wondered how he died. From a lead ball, infected wound, or dysentery? He likely spoke broken English and bohemian. His wife had a hard time getting widow's pension because they had changed his name to Green from Myrtengren. Eventually, Mom said, she got $5 a month for her and her 4 children. Mom still carried the pain of memories passed down about a war that left a new immigrant widow to fend for her and her 4 children. Part of me wondered how the pain could pass through the generations to my Mom. That is how war is. The pain is so severe and deep that it trickles down until later generations may wonder what was the big deal? Mothers tell children of the sorrow. loss and pain, hoping the children will make peace when they see war coming. With tears mothers send their sons and daughters to wars praying someday it will come to an end and that someone will remember their sacrifice. Men know war can be an inevitable struggle to right what can be terribly wrong.
But the war makes all suffer and the memory is important so as to prevent future war if we can.
I am sure that Lincoln, too, suffered through the war with ambivalent feelings of a man sending thousands to die for a cause he believed was worth the destruction.
Mom, I hope I got all the details right.
Looking at all the Lincoln memorobilia. We always had a life-sized bust of Lincoln at school. I used to run my hands over his face and head. I liked the way the smooth stone felt.
Every classroom in Illinois had Washington, Lincoln and Kennedy pictures up on the wall. I would just stand and stare up at them. Wonderment would be a good word, or Awe. Now he is 200 years old. Born in a remote cabin. Hard work, persistence and some luck I suppose brought him to be one of the all time great presidents and icon for little schoolgirls like myself.
Much older now, I also think his war changed my life in subtle or not so subtle ripples. My mother telling of my great great great grandfather who died in the battle of Shiloh, one of the bloodiest battles of the civil war. I wondered how he died. From a lead ball, infected wound, or dysentery? He likely spoke broken English and bohemian. His wife had a hard time getting widow's pension because they had changed his name to Green from Myrtengren. Eventually, Mom said, she got $5 a month for her and her 4 children. Mom still carried the pain of memories passed down about a war that left a new immigrant widow to fend for her and her 4 children. Part of me wondered how the pain could pass through the generations to my Mom. That is how war is. The pain is so severe and deep that it trickles down until later generations may wonder what was the big deal? Mothers tell children of the sorrow. loss and pain, hoping the children will make peace when they see war coming. With tears mothers send their sons and daughters to wars praying someday it will come to an end and that someone will remember their sacrifice. Men know war can be an inevitable struggle to right what can be terribly wrong.
But the war makes all suffer and the memory is important so as to prevent future war if we can.
I am sure that Lincoln, too, suffered through the war with ambivalent feelings of a man sending thousands to die for a cause he believed was worth the destruction.
Mom, I hope I got all the details right.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Virgil Caine
We were delighted to be co-co-adopters of a female golden eagle named Virgil Caine.
Her name is special to us as we are serious Levon Helm fans who think Virgil resembles Levon a little.
We watch her progress thanks to seaturtle.org. and friends who sent us our adoption papers as a special gift.
She undoubtedly flies very near here on her annual migration and we will be watching for her this year. I think she probably flies past Levon Helm's place in Woodstock as well, traveling up the Hudson eating trout and up the Champlain Valley eating salmon and ducks and then up the Seaway to the Bay of Fundi.
Wish her luck.
Just think...so many parents. No weaning. No custody battle. She's on her own already and has the perfect lifestyle following the nice weather from the Virginia highlands to Nova Scotia and back.
We think of you often, Virgil Caine
Friday, February 6, 2009
Notes on Plain as the Sky
Date: Eve of 2010.
Did you think we would make it? Did you think it would be like this? How is it anyway? Are you eating? Going really without? If you are not managing essential needs, seek help at your local Medicaid office. If you are eating and managing basics, be grateful. Conserve and pray for better days.
Notes on Plain as the sky.
Authors must all still have notes with scribbles, doodles, even with computers and weird looking accesories kids and some adults are hypnotized by. Thankfully I am not connected to the blackberry.
Here are my notes that I never wrote down.
The plain sky is because we have been doing old jigsaw puzzles and the sky is the bear. The worst was the Big Ben Clipper ships with huge sky and square edged pieces. With objects on the ground having colors, shapes and features, the sky can look plain at times. I like to think of clear summer days like the one in the photo. Blues and soft whites.
The light on the snow is plain. Simple light. The snow is a little glazed which makes the reflection sharper, more concentrated.
When I was shoulder height to my oldest brother David, we stood outside in the yard on 128 E. High. He shined a light up in the sky and had me do it. He said, "The light will go across the universe and someday in a long time, it will come back to you." He is now a successful and talented scientist whom I will always admire. Perhaps as much for him giving me hope and something to ponder as anything else. The rest of the poem: the thoughts of what might be and what is to many. And what do you think the light means? I leave that for you to ponder.
Mary Gerdt February 2009
Did you think we would make it? Did you think it would be like this? How is it anyway? Are you eating? Going really without? If you are not managing essential needs, seek help at your local Medicaid office. If you are eating and managing basics, be grateful. Conserve and pray for better days.
Notes on Plain as the sky.
Authors must all still have notes with scribbles, doodles, even with computers and weird looking accesories kids and some adults are hypnotized by. Thankfully I am not connected to the blackberry.
Here are my notes that I never wrote down.
The plain sky is because we have been doing old jigsaw puzzles and the sky is the bear. The worst was the Big Ben Clipper ships with huge sky and square edged pieces. With objects on the ground having colors, shapes and features, the sky can look plain at times. I like to think of clear summer days like the one in the photo. Blues and soft whites.
The light on the snow is plain. Simple light. The snow is a little glazed which makes the reflection sharper, more concentrated.
When I was shoulder height to my oldest brother David, we stood outside in the yard on 128 E. High. He shined a light up in the sky and had me do it. He said, "The light will go across the universe and someday in a long time, it will come back to you." He is now a successful and talented scientist whom I will always admire. Perhaps as much for him giving me hope and something to ponder as anything else. The rest of the poem: the thoughts of what might be and what is to many. And what do you think the light means? I leave that for you to ponder.
Mary Gerdt February 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Plain Like the Sky
Mom, This is for you
Plain Like the Sky
On a summer’s day or
The light on the snow today.
The sky today could be in June .
The light today could come back then too,
Having bounced around the universe,
Ask the light, What is out there?
Are there walls or just a curve,
Or is it all someone’s imagination?
Or is the light an emanation
From above, From some deification,
Shining down on all of us,
Plain Like the Sky
Said the light
Love, Mary
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Fred's Dad
Now I come to write of Fred's Dad's passing a few weeks shy of his 90th birthday.
Here are a few words to sum up the man as I knew him.
May Rudy Rest in peace.
Dad was a Dreamer, Inventor, Farmer, War Hero and Traveler.
Lover of sailing and the sea.
At home with his suitcase, he never failed to be ready for an adventure.
Story teller, Philosopher, a Simple Complicated Man.
Husband, Father, Grandfather, and Great Grandfather.
He lived through the depression and Wars. Good times and bad.
For those fortunate to know him, you know the sparkle in his eye and his dry wit, his stories that would catch you at the end and make you coming back for more.
We loved him dearly and
Pray he is at peace now and
By the side of
His Soul mate, his Friend, his Partner, his Confidant, and
Mother to his children,
And telling her stories of his mortal times.
And remembering the places he had been,
Things he had done, people he had met and family he raised
With a tear and a smile as he had remembered her always.
Love, Fred and Mary
Monday, January 12, 2009
Donna's Mom
Hazel and Dad,
Thanks to my Dear alte freunde Donna,
And her telling me of her Ma’s passing.
Like a Mom and Dad they were to me, Hazel and her husband,“Dad”. My frozen brain cannot recall his first name although it may come to me spontaneously later. Don?
Hazel and Dad bought the house where My Mom’s OB doctor was murdered while I (and certainly Donna) were in utero. My uncle thought of buying this discounted lovely home and yard and Dad and Hazel bought it and raised their family.
So early on, Donna and I have been connected and her Mom and I were equally a part. Her nurturing stay at home Mom attitude. Not June Cleaver mind you. She took no cr*p. She was always quite plain and to the point. Straight as an arrow.
My constant memories of her sitting on the kitchen stool smoking in long contemplative waves and taking it all in.
Just when you thought she had drifted off, she came back with a shot to set you straight. Even in silence, powerful often reserved woman.
Dad has been gone awhile but I loved them both like my parents. It kind of hit me that I have neglected visiting her on home visits but it has been harder for me to connect with others anyway and this is my tribute to Donna’s parents to me a great pair of humans and foundation for children and ancestors with great values.
One word about Dad.
When he had a heart attack Donna and I went to see him.
I was fascinated by the hospital and the technology although crude at the time.
Children under 16 used to be banned from visiting. So when we got old enough to visit it was a sudden shock. Dad looked so old and feeble all of the sudden. Now I know it was a big one. He started to cry. This man who was always larger than life. Sometimes I think that made me want to be a nurse. To comfort the man who is struck down by disease. Powerful one minute and weakling the next, ashamed because of culture. Donna and I held his hand I think. I hope we did. It was a hard moment.
But he recovered and had some good life and I loved his sharp southern language and brilliant curse word combos. I still think about how he worked for Ford and drove those big cars and would have something to say about their current woes.
So let me raise a glass to Donna’s parents and wish their entire family peace and am grateful for Mom having had such a long and graceful run.
Mary
Thanks to my Dear alte freunde Donna,
And her telling me of her Ma’s passing.
Like a Mom and Dad they were to me, Hazel and her husband,“Dad”. My frozen brain cannot recall his first name although it may come to me spontaneously later. Don?
Hazel and Dad bought the house where My Mom’s OB doctor was murdered while I (and certainly Donna) were in utero. My uncle thought of buying this discounted lovely home and yard and Dad and Hazel bought it and raised their family.
So early on, Donna and I have been connected and her Mom and I were equally a part. Her nurturing stay at home Mom attitude. Not June Cleaver mind you. She took no cr*p. She was always quite plain and to the point. Straight as an arrow.
My constant memories of her sitting on the kitchen stool smoking in long contemplative waves and taking it all in.
Just when you thought she had drifted off, she came back with a shot to set you straight. Even in silence, powerful often reserved woman.
Dad has been gone awhile but I loved them both like my parents. It kind of hit me that I have neglected visiting her on home visits but it has been harder for me to connect with others anyway and this is my tribute to Donna’s parents to me a great pair of humans and foundation for children and ancestors with great values.
One word about Dad.
When he had a heart attack Donna and I went to see him.
I was fascinated by the hospital and the technology although crude at the time.
Children under 16 used to be banned from visiting. So when we got old enough to visit it was a sudden shock. Dad looked so old and feeble all of the sudden. Now I know it was a big one. He started to cry. This man who was always larger than life. Sometimes I think that made me want to be a nurse. To comfort the man who is struck down by disease. Powerful one minute and weakling the next, ashamed because of culture. Donna and I held his hand I think. I hope we did. It was a hard moment.
But he recovered and had some good life and I loved his sharp southern language and brilliant curse word combos. I still think about how he worked for Ford and drove those big cars and would have something to say about their current woes.
So let me raise a glass to Donna’s parents and wish their entire family peace and am grateful for Mom having had such a long and graceful run.
Mary
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Crazy Quilts
I promised the crazy quilt pictures.
I only had the patience to put the front pics on. Dial up plus cold weather makes for slow connections in the north country.
Happy New year to readers of my blog and non readers and non believers.
Keep warm wherever you are on the planet Earth or off...
I made 3 lap quilts this fall out of old scraps from 20 years of quilting. This is Crazy quilt # 3 and is for a friend who made us a large quilt last year.
flying geese patttern
Crazy quilt # 1 is for Hunter's babysitter/great neighbor and
#1. Windmill pattern
# 2 is for Hunter with roads for future play with matchbox cars. 2.5 solar years from now (by current US safety standards-matchbox cars now being made in Malaysia-they might actually be lying about the safety anyway-I will have time to look for American made cars).
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