A Letter in the Mail

I am typing this entry on an iPad for the first time. This is amazing -I am not even using a traditional keyboard; the touch screen turns into a keyboard pad and I am touching the images on the screen as if typing.

There is no turning back - we must embrace change and welcome new technology. I am actually kind of enjoying this, and I really don't know much yet about what else the iPad can do - I'll be working on that later. I like how I don't have to engage these virtual keys quite as mechanically - remember the old manual typewriters and how you had too really push down to get them to leave a nice print mark on the paper? Somehow it doesn't even seem like that long ago. It mattered in those dreaded, timed typing tests in high school. The best typist I knew at the time was the lovely and talented Julie Bolerjack, who was an amazing piano player and could smoke us all and leave us in the dust, typing in Miss Harre-Blair's class.

Yet I digress. What I wanted to write about today was - not to forget to send letters in the old-fashioned mail, as long as we can. I wonder how many years the traditional postal mail will be in existence. It's still really good to get a handwritten letter; some folks, such as people in the service and those shut in or without easy access to computers, really appreciate it.

Someone sent me actual photo prints in the mail last week, and it was wonderful - with all the digital photography these days, I have a lot fewer snapshots to hold and pass around. This has really changed in my lifetime, from having lots of photo albums and scrapbooks, to most of the stuff in the last ten years or so being digital images on computers or viewed on a digital table frame. It's an interesting time - what's next, our photos will be holographic images projected in front of us? It makes you wonder.

I mailed a birthday and an anniversary card this week - somehow, it's just not as fun to receive one of those as an e:mail or digitally. I wonder if someday kids will be taught very little handwriting in school - just keyboarding, or maybe they will just think about what they have to say and it will pop up on the screen or whatever. I am not a scientist but working on this iPad is making me think like one. I think this thing might be a keeper. There won't be getting food bits stuck between the plastic keys. Boy, the old Dell keyboard looks germy (should say, is). I like how it would be possible to write in the dark with the iPad. It would be hard to read it in the sun, however, as shown on the Kindle commercial.

Fall is beginning, and a couple of squirrels were having a fight in the black walnut tree this week. One fell off a limb, fell about 30 feet nearly to the ground, sprang up, and zipped right back up the tree to start fighting again, but that's a story for another day. See you later, and I hope you have a great one. And send that old friend that letter.

King Bluestem

Technology is moving so fast, it's hard to keep up with it all. The computers get viruses when I don't buy the latest security software, I receive notices that I've been infiltrated by pirates and spyware, malicious viruses - it's all meant to alarm and scare me. There's no going back to simpler times, when the landscape was dominated by the beautiful tall grasses.

The largest grass of all is Big Bluestem - the alpha of the prairie grasses. The roots dive down as far as the grass is tall. Buffalo roamed through it, as it worked the earth and made the rich topsoil on which our farm country depends. We have planted Big Bluestem, and it has thrived in the reclaimed farm ground. It loves a cycle of fire. We burn it off every few years - it keeps volunteer trees from popping up through it and compromising it. This poem, which I wrote over the weekend, is a salute to the prairie grass. This poem didn't channel itself easily - I had to struggle with it and rewrite to get it out. Here it is.

King Bluestem

Out of the framed picture I walk, into my yard.

What is the color of this blue sky? Not turquoise, not the hue of a robin's egg - is it azure?

I don't know, and I haven't seen the shades of the Caribbean bays.

The clouds are tinged with pink. Distant trees frame the scene.

Closer, the prairie grass, invisible earlier at the height of summer, has come into its day and mounted its throne.

So alive - green lower stems,

blood red at mid-stalk joint,

green again,

and red again at its highest stem.

There is red and gold along the top stems

A feathery scythe in the wind

A stalk, a hundred, a thousand stalks reach with the wind

longing to fly. Waves of grass

giving life to the wind.

The sea of grass whispers, but uses no words.

It's dry water, taller than I.

Blood rises in the stalks, reaching to the ends,

to the grains - rich yellow grains,

and some nearly purple.

Dancing tall grass

purple stripes on the leaves

I walk down the drive

and to me, the grass bows.

-SLG

Way before the TV show "How I met your Mother"

This is not a Fort Wayne story, but it's a Midwestern story, and a love story. It was handwritten by a life-long friend of my father. Dad flew B-29s in the late 1940s, and a man named Elden was at one time his cockpit navigator and dear friend.

Years later, Elden wrote down a story and sent it to my father. Recently, it made its way into my hands. I enjoyed it so much I wanted to share it. Apparently, at a rehearsal dinner for my brother's wedding, people took turns around the room telling stories about how they had met their spouses. Elden didn't tell this story then; he mumbled something about having met through friends. He explained to my father later he was kind of embarrassed. It bothered him for a long time he hadn't told my dad the truth. He realized later he wanted to go ahead and share it. Hence the letter, which I will paraphrase a little. It's a story set in the Chicago area during wartime.

......Well, it was 1942 and the big war had started and factories were called "defense plants" and I was on the night shift, making lots of money working seven nights a week and couldn't find time to spend it. A friend and I stopped downtown after work for a game of pool and a beer. The pool hall was dark and smoky and loud, not really my cup of tea. A boy brought our beers and took our money for a game of pool, and then I saw he wasn't a boy - she was a girl.

Well, she turned on the light and racked up the balls and we played a game. Charley won and wanted to play again. I had to pay for two more beers and another game, because I lost. I smiled at the girl when she leaned over to rack the balls - girls didn't wear jeans like they do now, and her skirt didn't exactly drag the ground - she smiled back.

That game, Charley lost, and he wanted to go home but I said let's play one more and don't worry about the quarter - I'd pay it because I was working seven nights a week, I needed to relax and Charley was good company. You can guess why else I wanted to stay. I asked her name when she collected the money and racked the balls, and we got to talking- out table was about they only one still going.

I got in the habit of playing pool and we got to going out some. One Sunday morning after the tables were closed and we were on the bus going home, I said, "How about if I go home and clean up and we'll go to church?" She said she didn't have a church and I said that was ok because I didn't either, but we'd find one.

What I really wanted to do was sort of check her out in a different atmosphere because I was starting to get kind of serious.

We met and went to a big Catholic church that was close. I made sure we got there really early so we could get a seat in the back - I remembered that much from going to church as a kid. We got a seat right on the aisle and the church filled up, and it started. They had a good choir and I was watching it, and I singled out this one girl right up front. She looked just like an angel in that big robe and all - I couldn't take my eyes off her. I didn't hear much of the preaching or anything - anyway back then it was all in Latin. When it was over, I just sat there. My girl got up and left.

When this vision finally appeared in her regular clothes, she started to walk past me. I reached out and touched her hand.

That's how I met Mary.

-Elden Madden, about 1985.

Need for Inspiration

I have been feeling uninspired. It's a hard thing for me to admit. I think the best thing for me to do is go back and find a poem I had written, but haven't previously published. This poem isn't dated, but I believe I wrote it about 1995.

Radiant Dawn

What kind of dawn is this

to loom before the day, so bold?

Pink colors lure me from my bed

to greet the earth and sky, transcendent

A growing, living glow burst from blueness

becomes a scarlet ribbon on heaven's throat

A swirling comet motionless in space

A crevasse of fire in the sky.

Living dawn so wondrous and magical

that life returns to earth and heart

A day beginning as a smoky, golden tendril

orange and peach as no fruit ever is.

Most will miss it, but those who view

know all is well, that there is hope

a private dawn under the sun.

Where nothing is ever new

something is - this radiant dawn

that makes this day, mine.

-SLG

Dog Safety

Schools and hospitals hold 'safety days' to teach kids about various aspects of safety - with bicycles, fire, stranger danger, etc. Over the years, most of us have come to expect this. But, I will say I was surprised and sobered when one of my children returned home after the latest school inservice - this one had a big component about animal safety, and a large part of this was about how not to get bitten by dogs.

There is something so troubling and saddening when a child is bitten by some one's pet. It's basically the fault of the animal's owner - and if the dog hasn't been socialized well enough, or trained, it makes me think perhaps pet ownership is a privilege given too lightly. But there it is, and pets have been promoted to equal status of human family members. Maybe not in all cases, but more people, it seems to me, are willing to let their dogs go anywhere and get away with anything.

The problem with pets biting people is so widespread, our school distributed a four-page handout regarding it - how to prevent attacks and what to do if it occurs. Here's some important tips to teach kids:

1. If you see a dog running loose, leave it alone. Or call your local animal control department.

2. Ask permission before petting some one's dog or cat. And those of you with dogs that have to be watched, or they'll snip at or bite someone - why do you still have that dog? Is it worth it?

3. Be 'still like a tree' if a dog you don't know comes up to you.

4. If the dog knocks you over, roll into a ball and stay 'still like a log.'

5. Never run from, or scream around, a dog.

6. I've seen more detailed instructions, such as - if it's biting you, cover your face and ears the best you can with your arms. Ok, I understand the need to give tornado and fire drill information to kids. But have we lost this much control over a sane society that kids have to negotiate the streets with dangerous dogs? Help me out here, people. This is just not right.

There is something in this handout I like very much. It's entitled "What's he saying?" and it's an explanation of dogs' body language with pictures. It goes into detail - the first one is "Teeth are bared, lips are curled back, dog may be snarling or growling, body is fluffed out with hair to look bigger than it is", etc. Obviously, this dog is angry. But I like the idea of going through the detail with kids, who would like to disregard their logical thought and go with, 'forget all that, I'll make him like me and want to play with me.' A lot of us like to think we have some personal magic power in which we can win over many types of animals, but the truth is, we are deluding ourselves. The truth is, animals are unpredictable (as we are) and animals can, and will, bite. It happens. It sends people to emergency rooms all the time.

This picture display also shows frightened dogs (ears tucked low and back, tail tucked under, dog is crouching or shaking). And finally, happy, playful, excited dogs. Sorry, this is still no guarantee that you won't get bitten. Situations change, and chaos happens.

Sometimes kids get bitten when they are playing with a dog's food. Oh, they are just trying to connect with the dog, maybe grab a piece of food to try and hand feed it - but dogs instinctively protect things, including their food, territory and masters, and may suddenly bite if you place your hand too near the food bowl. Kids have to be taught this stuff; they simply don't have the experience to know better.

Dogs and other pets enrich our lives. I don't want that to change. I just have intimate knowledge of a child who was meeting a shelter dog that was up for adoption, and the child was bitten in the face. She had to have stitches in the emergency room. So please, be vigilant. And help me help others work on this problem. I don't have all the answers. I just want people to be responsible, and keep their wits about them.

Casa Ristoranti Italiano

If I had the pleasure of taking out-of-town visitors out to eat, and I didn't know what foods they enjoyed, I would take them to one of the four Casa Italian restaurants. A long-standing Fort Wayne family owns and runs these restaurants, and their businesses are classic traditions in this city.

The food is wonderful, and consistent. You always know what you are getting when you go to a Casa's. The restaurants (at least the two I've been in recently) are warmly good-looking - Italian title and colorful, locally produced artwork. Large watercolor and oil murals and paintings of Italian coastal scenes are well done.

And the food is tremendous. This last time around I ordered the Linguine Tutto Mare - a pasta dish with shrimp, crab meat, mussels and clams, mushrooms and a butter sauce. To me, it's also a pretty dish - mussel shells, the orange of the shrimp - different elements to look at, colors and shapes. Pleasing to the eye.

My friend ordered the breaded fillet of sole, and I tried it - fantastic. Perfectly cooked fish, crunchy on the outside, and light breading. This comes with pasta on the side and a cream or marinara sauce. My friends like their lasagna, and I think you absolutely can't beat the spaghetti and meatball - it's one large meatball. Better that what mom used to make. And most moms' homemade spaghetti is pretty darn good.

Prices are very reasonable here. Most daily lunch specials are around $7 and come with the famous Casa salad. The salad is so good it's a famous local staple in Fort Wayne - They had to start bottling and selling their own Italian salad dressing because it was so much in demand. You can also place orders for whole pans of their dishes - lasagna, ravioli, antipasto, you name it. These large carry-out pans serve 20 guests. Totally forget Olive Garden or chains like that; I'm sorry, it just won't do once you've been to Casa's. They totally have the secret, whatever the secret is. Trust me on that.

Bread at the table, and desserts - another specialty. Today I try their Torta Di Mandola, made with amaretto lady fingers, layers of mascarpone cream, crushed amarettini cookies and toasted almonds. The texture is almost too soft and creamy to be cake. It's melt-in-the-mouth wonderful.

What's also nice is this local family has given so much back to the community in local fund-raising events over the years - they get their hands (and food) in all kinds of local charities. I see they have a site at http://www.casarestaurants.net/ if you want to check out their menu. Ciao, baby!

Sculling on the St. Joe River

For about twenty years, we've owned a rowing shell, or scull. Sculling really means rowing with an oar in each hand - sweeping is what's done when the rower has both hands on one oar, on one side of the boat.

My husband's Danish grandfather brought this tradition with him from Denmark, and as an old man rowed in Michigan. He taught his grandson and I when we were in our twenties. Our rowing shell is a Pro AM 25, made by the Little River Marine Company. It's very lightweight, complete with the sliding seat (on wheels) and outriggers.

I went rowing on the St. Joseph River in Leo last night. It is a joy to row. I have canoed and done a little kayaking, but we don't live near an ocean or a fast river, so sculling is a great choice considering the conditions we have here. A river also can't be too narrow for the long oars extended fully to the sides - it reminds me of a big water-bug.

It can be quite tipsy, like balancing on a bike - but eventually with time on the water, a rower gets in touch with the feeling and has the control to keep from tipping over. When the confidence comes, you relax, you don't think about it any longer and the technique starts to get better. You learn what to do. The oars can't come in alongside the boat - you'll roll like a porpoise. You keep your body still, hands together, and the oars straight out at a right angle to the boat.

I won't lie to you - there is a lot of technique involved, and a good chance you'll roll over learning, so wear a life jacket. Plus, it's rowing yourself backwards, so you'll need a rear-view mirror and the ability to glance behind you when necessary. This is going to mess with your balance in the beginning. But when you get it, the strokes are so economical, you pull on the oars and push with your legs, the sliding seat glides back, you're right over the top of the water, skimming the surface - it's very quiet - there's nothing quite like it. Ok - maybe you've rowed on a machine in the gym.

The body must be very quiet - it's all in the arms and hands. You learn to feel the touch of the water through your hands and through the sensitive, thin wooden oars. Techniques vary, but when I do my recovery or return of my stroke, I like to leave the oars feathered, or parallel to the water, lightly touching the surface of it to get the feel of the ripple on top of the water for balance. Racers completely remove the contact with the water and turn the oar mid-stroke so it's upright or perpendicular, to be ready to cup or catch the water at time of entry.

Water with lots of fast boat traffic is not going to be ideal for rowing. It's not really suited for waves. This river, where one sees the occasional bass, ski, or pontoon boat, is usually quiet. Motorized and non-motored boats can co-exist; boaters just need to remember the non-motorized have the right-of-way.

Rowing makes for great nature watching, being both quick and quiet. If you need to adjust mirror, or sunglasses, or something, you can stop rowing and hold both oars in one hand, keeping them parallel - just never totally let go of the oars or you will flip. This is not a row boat.

Because the oars slightly overlap at the hands, one hand is actually over the top of the other when the oars are pulled into the body. I am left-over-right, even though I am right-handed. I won't go into an explanation of brain-side dominance, but people differ in that way, and I can't really explain why I slalom with the right leg in front but wake board left front, but I do. I could use a better scientist for this discussion.

We do single-man rowing because that's the type of boat we bought, but it's nice to have a partner help you set up the boat with its oars in the outriggers, and steady it while you cast off. And help you get back out of it, and know where you are on the river. Interestingly, the physics of sculling turns out to be quite faster than single-side sweeping, and boat speed increases with crew size. So all those multi-crew guys and gals are going 'way faster than me. That must feel amazing - like they're flying. It is a good workout. Not for everybody, I realize - I just wanted to share with you how much we enjoy it. Thank you, Grandpa Emil.

Grabill Country Sales

I'm back in Grabill again, and it's the cinnamon rolls that got me there. Now, I'm sure I like sweets as much as the next person. But I'm not a kid anymore, so I try to say "no" as much as I can to all the extra sugar and calories. A lot of the cinnamon rolls you buy at the grocery store are pretty 'ho hum'. As in, maybe they're not even worth it.

But there are cinnamon rolls made by the Amish folk at this new store in Grabill for which you will return. They have the regularly iced rolls, and they also have ones with a rich, brown, carmel-y icing that's different, and delectable. You simply must have these sometime. I have to fight the urge to drive to this store in the morning (just kidding), and I've always been more of a chocolate person. Simple ingredients, fresh, perfect.

They sell deli meats and cheeses, other baked items such as cakes and pies, and also prepare several dishes for a hot lunch. What I can recommend today is a chicken salad I picked up - freshly made and mouth-watering. Theirs contains chicken, onions, celery, peas, eggs, relish and the slightest bit of mayo. I toasted some wheat bread and made a sandwich. Tastier and cheaper than fast food - and still cheating a bit in the preparation. I'm not ashamed I didn't make it myself - I'll go with their batch!

This is an eclectic store with greeting cards, party-ware, all the variety of soda pop and chips you could imagine, and candy. The Amish folk, perhaps not having lots of other vices such as televisions, computers, and I-pods, dearly love their candy and sweets. It's totally part of their culture, and very important to them. Everyone seems to have a favorite type of candy, and the Amish will stock up in bulk, be it gummy bears, sugar wafers or sandwich cookies. The Amish aren't apologetic about breaking out the treats after get-togethers, meals and any occasion. In this store glass jars are filled with all these varieties, and any baking supplies as well - no matter how obscure. The Amish seem to believe part of home and love and family, is baking. And they are passionate about it, and share with one another and the store clerks what's cooking at home today.

Now, don't think me a gossip, but the Amish work hard - and aren't always clean in the way you and I (called English) would expect in ourselves. They can tend to be - forgive me - smelly. I get it, the guy looks like he's been out in the field behind the horses all morning, and the woman looks like she's been canning green beans all morning. Well, she has; she's buying more canning salts. A trip to a shower first just hasn't happened. Oh right, they probably don't have a shower - unless it's gravity operated. You also don't see "no shirt, no shoes, no service" signs. In the summertime, small Amish children go barefoot, and you see them this way all the time in stores. In contrast, we English are conditioned to struggle with our little children to get those shoes on.

They also like to send their men off to work with packed lunches, and I've noticed white sandwich bread and soda pop seem to be staples in their grocery carts. Sort of takes me back to grocery shopping as child in the seventies. Kind of pop/comfort food. C'mon, no home baked bread for every day? How disappointing.

And then, for this shopping trip - the bulk coffee. Whole beans - grind them yourself in the store. So many varieties to choose from - I go with a classic bold Colombian, and it smells heavenly while the beans are grinding - it kind of sends off an olfactory/adrenalin rush. Mmm, the smell of those fresh ground beans is almost better than the taste of the coffee itself. I have never been so excited to brew a cup of coffee. I love Starbucks coffee French Roast, but I don't choose the French roast in this store because they warn it's great for espresso or cappachino - and I don't want a hint of bitterness. We'll see - I'll have to sample some of theirs brewed next time.

Time for me to get out of this store before I buy something I regret. I think next time, I'm going to have to write about buying exercise shoes.

Random Things I Like about Indiana

The redbud trees haven't been pink (like they are in the photo) since spring. Now they are fully greened out with their heart-shaped leaves, which will soon be yellow for fall. Seed pods hang on them heavily. The late summer weather is gorgeous, spectacular. Some of the other things I like about Indiana this time of year are:

Petrified Frogs. Have you ever seen a thoroughly dried-up dead frog around a lake house shed or garage? If you have, in say, Indiana or Illinois, then I would consider you a true laker. For those of you who have not, it looks like a little frog skeleton, and the smaller the frog, the thinner the dried skin on it - they're completely dried out and charming. Most are frozen in typical frog-squat posture, but sometimes I've found them one leg outstretched and the other bent to knee, so to say. Or other variations - and I had collected these in childhood. Perhaps they hop in garage doors left open, and become trapped, and dehydrate. Now the frogs we've been finding recently are larger species - not something I want to squirrel away in my closet. But if anybody wants to lose a bet around my house, they may be challenged to chew up and swallow the dried frog.

County Road 68, northern Allen County. It goes without saying, but if the conditions are horrific, such as the congestion and smog that's part of commuting in Los Angeles, then the driving is no fun. But when one is driving on a beautiful country road, through farm fields, stands of tall trees, past horses and cows and lovely clouds, then the drive is just heaven. There is an east-west road in northern Allen County Indiana that you share with the occasional farm vehicle or motorcycle, but usually it's just you and the road, rising and falling, sighting the occasional deer. Or frog, or turtle, or woolly caterpillar, or raccoon family. Definitely watch out for the deer. You'll see me there, driving in my dreams.

You pass people tending their flowers. Fountains aerating country ponds. Walkers so in 'the zone' they don't bother to edge much over down the road. It's all peaceful and serene, a time for confiding and chatting in the car, or simply listening to the radio in silence. Sometimes sunsets or sunrises, then sunglasses and visors needed. Brilliant colors, trees showing the back of their leaves in a breeze. To be an American, and have one's own car to zip down the road - what great expression of freedom, what luxury.

West Central Neighborhood Home Tours. Fort Wayne's arts community is drawn to this downtown area with its historic homes. Many of the hundred-plus year old homes have been renovated over the years, and people have outdoor parties in their gardens. Some 2000 attend and walk through the homes featured on the tour. Tickets are $12 in advance and the hours are 11 - 5 Sat. and Sun. Check out the houses featured this year and the other events scheduled at www.westcentralneighborhood.org.

The Grabill Country Fair. This is a hokey event, but I will say the kids get a chance to decorate a float and ride in a parade, and somehow that right there is really a big deal. You see one crazy slice of life in these small town parades. It kind of leaves me speechless. You'll just have to go see for yourself at 10 a.m., Saturday morning, September 11, 2010 - Patriot Day. Lots of booths with junk for sale and junk food Friday night and Saturday. Watch out for yellow jackets going after sugar. In amish Grabill, Indiana.

That's enough for today. See you on the flip side. And the more that I think about it, breakfast in Grabill might not be that bad.

The Kruse Automotive and Carriage Museum

Some of my nephews were great comic book fans and collectors in their youths. I was not into superheros particularly, but I was always somewhat of fan of the Batman franchise. I remember watching episodes of Batman on television after school growing up - Adam West as Batman, and Burt Ward as Robin.

I saw the movies in theatres over the years; a ho-hum Michael Keaton among others as Batman, and a wonderful Jack Nicholson as the joker - but for me, the all-time greatest performance by an actor in a Batman movie was Heath Ledger's joker in The Dark Night.

I have heard people say, knowing about his unfortunate death after this movie, that his performance is hard to watch. I have still only seen it once. But I love Heath Ledger, and what he has crafted here - his broken character LOVES Batman in a way no Joker before has, and it's oddly and viscerally beautiful. Ledger is so powerful and magical here physically - it's mesmerizing to watch - his is electric, alive. I can't take my eyes off of him. He does horrific deeds, yet I find him oddly attractive in full face make-up and a nurse's uniform, of all things. What's up with that?

So I enjoyed seeing the movie memorabilia at the Kruse Automotive and Carriage Museum - adjacent to the other museums (kind of a compound) in Auburn, Indiana. There are presidential cars and old wooden carriages the 'Prezes' rode in. There are some racing vehicles and hot rods. I didn't have a lot of time to spend here, and I'd like to go back - there's a lot to see. There are celebrity cars (Elvis', for example), and multi -media displays to go along with them.

There's also a Barnum & Bailey Circus Display

with lots of old wooden circus wagons and things, beautifully painted - there is quite a variety of stuff in here. One thing I like about these museums, is they are very convenient to get to, and parking is easy. It certainly wasn't crowded at all when we were here.

Just allow more time than I did to go to Auburn and stroll through this and the military history museum. Allowing a whole day would be fine. There are vending machines and gift shops, but I'm not sure about lunch here - should have checked that out. Too bad I didn't see a Catwoman, either.