Skiing at Caberfae is the bomb in Cadillac, Michigan

We wanted to go snow skiing from Fort Wayne this holiday, and to do so driving, we needed to go 4 1/2 hours north to find snow in 2011. So we made the trip to Caberfae in Cadillac, MI. Caberfae means "stag head" in Gaelic, and this place has some old world charm. Built in 1938 as a joint venture between the U.S. Forest Service and the Civilian Conservation Corps, Caberfae was Michigan's first ski resort.

It was cut into the Manistee National Forest, and $5 contributions were collected from skiers. By 1940, enough has been raised to fund the first rope tow. Now the Meyers family of Cadillac owns the resort, and it has 34 runs on 485 vertical feet. There are four chair lifts on the 200 acres. The snow making machines keep the place busy in the early season when there's very little snow. The ski school and rentals seem to do a brisk business.

We stayed in the 36-room MacKenzie lodge, and although it was very close to the lifts, I was actually expecting something nicer. The place needs a serious update. There's no in-room coffee makers, fridges, or hair dryers. The beds are tired and springy, the drapes and furnishings worn. Be careful not to drape items over the heat registers. But the showers were warm, and I did like the in-house restaurant. I had the best fish tacos, made with tilapia, I've had in a very long time. All the food was good. We also liked their outdoor heated pool, and nice, warm hot tub with jets.

Back on the hill, some of us were on skis, and some on snowboards. All of us wore helmets. Try it, you'll like it - the helmets are actually light weight and warm, and so cosy and comfortable in the snow one forgets about wearing one. More concerning could be other people. Watch out for dangerous beginners and young kids hurdling past out of control.

It was nice to walk away from the let down of post-Christmas clean up, blast out of the Fort and head to pristine Michigan for a couple of days. Out on the ski hill a person hears plenty of quiet- the sounds of shushing snow, wind in one's face, and the muffling stillness of a light snow fall. It brings a new appreciation of the season. We had fun in sweet Caberfae, and we'll be back.

Lights, so many Lights

I write this at Christmas time, when one pastime can be watching old holiday movies. A Christmas Story, a film made by Bob Clark, was released in 1983. Not a lot of people saw it at first, but over the years it has become a modern Christmas classic. It's the story of Ralphie, a boy who dreams of nothing but a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. Set in 1940s Indiana, Ralphie tries to convince everyone the gift is perfect, and everyone replies with the same phrase, "you'll shoot your eye out."

It's a funny movie, a story well told, about growing up in the U.S. and running the alley gauntlet from the neighborhood bullies. The boys' friend Flick is the victim of the freezing flag pole-playground dare "I triple-dog dare you to lick it!". Loyal to the end, he doesn't rat on his friends even after a local fire house is called to bring a hose and detach him from the pole.

One wonders where the story is going, as the idealistic father wins a prize in a contest - when it arrives, it's a lamp in pieces in a big crate. As it's assembled, it comes together as a stockinged, stilettoed leg, and its short skirt is the lampshade. The husband is thrilled; the wife, horrified. I won't give anything away here but let me just say it becomes a point of contention.

The kids listen to radio shows and win decoder rings as prizes for sending off to Ovaltine. Ralphie's teacher only gives him a C+ on his essay about his carbine BB gun, writing in red letters at the bottom, "you'll shoot your eye out!". Ralphie even goes so far as to hedge his bet by making a visit to the department store Santa, in pursuing his perfect Xmas gift.

I like their Christmas morning - younger brother Randy gets a toy Zeppelin, the father a can of Simonize - there are paper and boxes everywhere. The story has twists and surprises up until the end, and I can see why some consider it a classic. Get your hot chocolate, egg nog, champagne or whatever helps you celebrate and sit down with the family for this one. Light, a comedy, the movie comes up with the real flavor based on a true story.

I close with a note about the photos - interior shots of the Madonna Inn in central California. Stop and see it sometime. There's a little bit of Christmas everywhere, just as long as people care.

New Harmony, Indiana

New Harmony, Indiana was founded by a group of people who had separated from the German Lutheran Church. In 1814, The Harmony Society built a communal, Utopian village and many of the original buildings are still there today. In the southwestern corner of Indiana, it's a great place to visit and explore.

The brown dome in the photo is actually part of the Altar of The Roofless Church. There are labyrinths, mazes, a museum (the white building pictured, called the Atheneum), and many historical buildings.

The Harmonists were deeply religious people, and had a very successful society at this site for about eleven years. They established self-sufficient farming on 2000 acres, a steam engine, cotton and wool factories, and a complete communal society. For reasons I do not know, the entire town was sold to Robert Owen in 1825 and the group moved back to Pennsylvania. But they had prospered in Indiana, and the town has been well-preserved.

The second wave into New Harmony attracted scientists and educators. Owen's ambition was to create a more perfect society through free education and the abolishment of social classes. The town is laid out beautifully, with simplistic lines and lots of modern art and architecture mixed in with the plain, beautiful wood.

I love to go and visit, and stay overnight. I love to wander the gardens and mazes. The town is so tranquil; yet has a positive energy. Restaurants and antique stores make shopping and dining unique and fun. It's worth more discussion, so I'll be coming back to lovely New Harmony later.

Christmas Shopping all around

Christmas shopping is happening, full-on, nationwide. Here are some suggestions of what to buy this year, some of my picks for 2011:

Caboodles. This is a line of jewelry and cosmetic cases; some sturdy and box-like and some soft-sided. It's a popular way to organize one's things, and there are many patterns, designs, and sizes available. They can be found in pharmacies and department stores.

Denim. We tend to live in denim - every member of the family (almost). This is an opportunity to buy someone a larger size, a different color or style, a fancier label for the holidays. The goal here may be to give something that is actually used (worn) a lot. If they dress down a lot, help the person "class up" their usual denim look.

Fuzzy bathrobes and footed pajamas. Footie pajamas are back in style with certain sets this year - maybe they never went out of style. Slippers, and slipper boots, go in this popular group as well. Boots in general are huge with the girls and ladies; a good thing is always in style.

I also like to buy someone one very dressy thing - a velvet dress for a little girl; a slim, flattering sweater for a man (please, no big bulky sweaters). Less can be more here.

Pepperidge Farm cookies for stocking stuffers. There are so many varieties - everyone has their favorite (unless, of course, you have home-baked cookies). Also, get at least one of those old-fashioned games - such as a wooden triangle with golf tree pegs. (A player jumps tees to eliminate them down to only one.) There has to be something for simple amusement in a stocking, or the day is not fun enough.

I usually pick up a DVD or two. Electronic toys are popular with the kids but I don't think that is all they should be given. The DVD I picked up for younger ones this year is 'Phineas and Ferb'.

For a joke, I was going to pick up a Chia pet for my spouse. The commercials; the green sprouts growing out of the clay potter, you know? But when I shopped for it, I decided to actually buy the Chia herb garden, because the spouse likes to cook and likes doing same with fresh herbs. Maybe this is just a gimmick but I like the fact the package comes with everything included.

Flannel sheet sets, and same in plaid shirts. This won't appeal to you if where you live isn't cold. But, I'm into comfort and texture this year. Go all the way and buy a microwavable neck roll a person can use to warm up. If you can find one with aromatic beads inside, that's the best, in my opinion. Less than a couple minutes in the microwave to heat and it's super soothing for any aches and pains.

There are certain people for whom I buy calendars - exactly the kind of calendars they like. I am a calendar lover, and look at one every day, so I think it's a very practical gift. What I haven't bought anyone yet this year is a book. I love to read, and I like to receive things to read, but lately I have bought fewer books and instead have read more things on my Kindle. For a gift, I have thought about picking up a copy of the new biography of Steve Jobs, founder of Apple, but so far I haven't done it.

Sure, get the large things, the toys, the bikes, the electronics, the coats. And don't forget the old adage - some of the best things come in small packages.

About Holiday shopping

What is your thought process regarding Christmas shopping?

Do you ask the recipient what they want, or do you think of something you would like them to have? Do you walk through stores to glean ideas, or do you impulse buy, do you make lists? Do you take vacations and cruises instead of shop? Do you buy only for immediate family, or wrap and mail gifts, and buy things for poor families working through social service agencies?

It seems to be different for me every year. I had no interest in the "day after Thanksgiving" ritual this year, but by December 6, I was ready to work on shopping. For years, I had people on my list for whom to buy toys, but this year, the 'toy' bracket has morphed into electronic games and cosmetic items. It's too bad, and I need to rebel against that thought process, because I think playing games and using some sort of toy is important all through one's life.

It's hard for me not to remember the stories from my childhood, in which the bachelor friend of the Ingalls family (Little House on the Prairie)walked through a Dakota blizzard to bring the nearby children a pocket full of Christmas candy, and everyone felt blessed. But sometimes repeating stories like that to children only ends up shutting off their ears and shutting down. I realize we only have the present situation to make a difference.

Already, such thought and meaning into what should have been such a simple act have made an intrusion. I have children that would love to have a dog. Much of my life, I have owned dogs, even as an adult. I don't know how to make my children understand to me owning a dog is almost as much responsibility as having a child, and they are not present enough and don't even have the skills to take on the responsibility that I am unwilling to take on for them. I can't deal with the responsibility when they are not there, which is most of the time.

But I am constantly being given guilt trips on this matter, by family, outsiders and the children themselves. That's a hard one. But more on that later -

This year, because we are not traveling, I am buying more presents to wrap and put under the tree. I plan to shop on different days, in different stores, no more than one hour at a time to remain fresh. So far, I have hit Walmart ('boo' from many of you), Meier (the local mega-grocery store that I still like) Marshall's (a discount clothing store) and CVS (my local pharmacy which has good sales-promotion items and loss leaders, look up the marketing terms if you'd like). I plan to make it to Macy's, and maybe Pier 1, and Target, and more, from which I will report later.

In this year of bad economic climate, bad mood, pre-election, and other general non-spirit, I am still trying to make something of it. Even if the best moment is my young daughter's clear soprano voice ringing out. So check back in, it may be a few days, but I promise I will have something to report. Namiste, and many blessing upon you, and yours.

The leaves are all down now

I don't have news about life in Fort Wayne, because I bugged out for Thanksgiving. It was time to use the terrific Fort Wayne International Airport and head west. Traffic was fairly light at the first rate sky port, even on the busy travel Wednesday before Turkey Day.

A connection through O'Hare was uneventful, and gave us travelers some shopping opportunities. But alas, moving on to our connection, we found ourselves seated in the very last row of the plane. This means last service for food and beverages (which really is not a problem). The worst, of course, is we are right by the bathrooms - and the line-up queue for same. For much of the flight to Phoenix, we had people standing in the aisle right by us, leaning over us, bumping into us.

The best part was I had rented and downloaded the movie Super 8 on my IPad, and could watch it on the flight. It really is a fun movie. The child actors are outstanding. The movie captures the excitement and freshness of being a kid, the wonder and social angst it means. The story involves kids in 1979 making their own movie when something quite unexpected occurs. One breakout performance is by the lovely Elle Fanning, whose skill at the craft of acting just puts most adult actresses to shame. I think many of them could take notes from the versatile Elle.

Landing in Sky Harbor in Phoenix, I felt like a mole coming out of a tunnel. The sun is so bright, and in Fort Wayne I had not seen much of it for days. All we had for the previous week was rain, overcast skies, or fog, so the brightness of Phoenix was almost blinding. The diversity of our nation is so striking on a trip such as this, where the change of landscape is like switching countries. Dramatic pink rocks and mountains at stark ankles, desert vegetation, horizons stretching across hundreds of miles. What a wonderful nation we have. We are so lucky to live here.

Phoenix has a beautiful, clean airport, spacious and full of regional shopping. Jewelry made by native Americans, art, hand crafted items. Then on to a final connection to San Luis Obispo. This small airport in central California is nestled between hills and near the ocean, which means pilots have a lot of factors to consider - ocean fog and winds, thermals off the mountains, a short runway. We circle around for an approach from over the ocean, seeing the huge rock (one of the Seven Sisters, a volcanic formation) out in Morro Bay.

We drop in, land, and stop short - the captain really had to hit the brakes. But all is well, and here we are in yet another land. There will be a time to see the large Elephant Seals, hundreds of them along the beach at San Simeon. Also a delightful dessert at the eclectic Madonna Inn, featuring plush pink decor, ornate carpets and woodwork, and themed rooms such as a cave rock room and a jungle room. It takes a whole day to fly from Fort Wayne to California, but it's doable. Tomorrow I will do the return. California, so fair, so fragile. Come on, United States, it's time to pull together instead of pulling apart. It's time to see how lucky we have it here, put aside our egos and differences and find some common ground to work from. It's time to focus and pull it together as the great nation we are.

Rich Pacula the jeweler

Rich Pacula started working in the jewelry business when he was 18, and eventually became the manager of a profitable store in Fort Wayne. Many Fort Wayne natives (and transplants) remember the Pacula and Gough jewelry business located in the Southtown Mall for years. The two men who made that partnership now run separate shops, both good places to go.

But what Rich did is unique. In 2002 he designed a business and worked from the Three Rivers offices in downtown Fort Wayne, near the confluence of the three local rivers. It was a private, "buzz you in" deal for security, and the place was intimate, awesome. The customer experienced a one-on-one meeting with Mr. Pacula. Then around 2005 Pacula moved into the lobby office of the 1st Source Center on Main Street.

Click on his website, www.paculadesigns.com, to see works of gorgeous diamonds, unique settings, and really original material. The shop does custom designs and will work with pictures, drawings, or will do sketches with the customer. I am fond of the modern look to much of his work; the boldness, clean strong lines.

I have seen his works displayed at the Castle Gallery in Fort Wayne as well. One signature thing he turns out is large colored stones mounted at rakish angles, cocktail rings, in big stainless steel settings. They catch the light brilliantly.

He likes geometric shapes, and simple brilliant necklaces suspended from wire. His pieces almost speak, have humor. Yes, I am a fan.

It's fun to meet with the attractive Rich and his assistant, who fetches pieces or other requests from the back. You have an old fashioned conversation, a rare thing in our virtual world.

Take your pick from unusual things he carries. Stainless steel shapes curved like large letters, suspending a diamond or zirconium in space. Shapes of wood inlaid with simple clear and colored stones, again on wire. Rings that float with moons and planets of stones. Earrings that hang and turn boldly.

The bracelet pictured above reminds me of a unique piece of jewelry I had in high school: it was a bicycle chain coated in a polished metal and cut to wrist length, with a toggle fastener. I swear I set it down in a music rehearsal room when practicing there one morning at the high school: when I remembered it later in the day it was gone. Too bad, but I always really missed it.

He bought a bicycle built for two

We have talked about getting a tandem bike over the years, but it seemed like an impractical toy that might just wind up taking space. You know, like the exercise equipment bought with good intentions but now just taking up room in the garage or basement? I know you have it. Yes, you.

My husband, however, likes bicycles and shopped around a little. Expensive new, it was hard to justify - but then at Summit City Bicycles a clerk said they had a used one in the back - for $250. Pretty soon he was talked down to $200, and that was reasonable for this bike in good shape. Long story short, my husband brought home the understated black bike - brand Crestline - with new tires, and black saddle seats, and 18 gears.

Handbrakes can be operated by the person in front. The two sets of pedals are connected by a single chain both riders crank. So when one person stops pedaling, the other person must also stop. It's not like say, canoeing, in which one person can operate independently. It's impossible to see the driving path from the rear seat - it takes a bit of trust of one's partner in front. I found myself becoming sea sick from not being able to see the road from the rear seat. I would have been okay, but for a while I looked down at the chain and then the ground below, and when I looked up I had motion sickness. A lesson learned.

In the movie The Quiet Man, John Wayne's character steals a tandem bike when walking with his lady friend, and the two take off down some Irish county lanes. With The Duke at the helm, the ride stays upright, yet madcap and exciting. Myself, I found laughing out loud, giggling, shrieking - as a grown up, I don't find myself actually really doing the 'lol' every day. So the tandem bike ended up being a great amount of fun, besides the exercise bonus. A little teamwork, a little couples' therapy. The question is, as the smaller person, do I dare try to steer from the front seat sometime? I think I do dare. Turnabout is fair play. And must get photos for the blog!

Saarinen's work lives on in Fort Wayne

When the World Series of baseball was televised recently from St. Louis, MO (home of the Cardinals) I was mesmerized when they would broadcast shots of the fabulous Gateway Arch, one of the most amazing pieces of architecture in this country. Is is art or architecture? It is so enormous, people travel to the top in science fiction-like elevator capsules. Four million people visit it every year. Soaring to a height of 630 feet, it is the United States' tallest man made monument.

The inspired Gateway Arch was designed by architect Eero Saarinen. This American of Finnish descent is known for many acclaimed projects, but I will focus in on his baby in Fort Wayne - the Concordia Lutheran Seminary, off North Clinton near Auburn Road.

The campus is his interpretation of a Scandinavian village. A forested, winding drive takes one past a large statue of Martin Luther. Then the plains and view open to a drive among classrooms, administration offices, dorms and library: A-shaped buildings which seem to colonize together with a fairy-tale uniformity.

A focal point of the 180-acre campus is the chapel with its strikingly steeply-sloped roof. There are diamond-patterned surfaces of brick everywhere, tying the buildings together. Minimalistic, futuristic, there is use of open space that makes sense at a school used for teaching of theology. A thoughtful pond, a beautifully thin waterfall - then one discovers a surprise, such as a large ornate mosaic of a beautiful crowned figure - the King of Kings -behind a glassed entrance way.

I will post some photos of the place when I can take some - it's been raining for two days here. In 2007, Concordia Seminary celebrated its 50th anniversary. A new library expansion was begun at that time, meticulously conforming to the vision and designs of Saarinen. The new library received an occupancy permit in September, but the 45,000 square-foot library addition is still not complete.

So as to maintain the low profile and keep from overwhelming the chapel, most of the library's floor space is below grade. Lower-level windows are at pond level to let in the light. I haven't seen the new library yet, but I want to soon. The seminary is still trying to raise private donations to complete the project. I don't think many people around the country know this place exists. So nestled in off the road, yet minutes from anywhere around Fort Wayne, it's definitely worth a stop.

Back at the Dunes

Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore runs for 25 miles along Lake Michigan in northwest Indiana. Leave the Chicago area, pass by Gary, and drive to the park at Ogden Dunes, north of Portage. There are miles of beaches, sand dunes, wetlands and forests to explore. There is even a 1830's French homestead and a working 1900s farm (I haven't seen these) to check out.

There is a large pavilion beach house that was impressive, and it was completely deserted this warm fall day. No one was swimming this time of year, of course, but the sun was out and the day was fabulous for a walk on the beach. It wasn't windy, and the Succession Trail led back into the dunes, and up the scenic dune, boardwalk and forested trail.

Photographers had tripods out trying to snap impressionist beach and dune photos. The wooden boardwalks were so comfortable, so solid; it kept one from struggling through the white sand all the time. The dunes grew to only a medium height here, but there are parts of the lake shore where the hills of sand climb to a whopping 180 feet. It seems like the ocean without the salt air, in a way. Oceans I love as well, but Lake Michigan stretches out as wide as an ocean, so the comparisons are inevitable.

There are lots of other dune plants besides the lovely grasses: there are large green ferns, pines, and deciduous trees further back. Along the beach in this area we saw polished, squarish-shaped green and brown stones - unusual and just beautiful along the beach.

On one place along the dunes, there stands Mt. Tom, a dune a website says rises to 192 feet. Kids run up and down the dunes, and it would be great for summer and bare feet.

It would be wonderful to have more time, but we have to get back on the road, and there's lots of fall foliage to see along the way. Near home in Fort Wayne is this park in Leo - Riverside Gardens. The photo to the right shows the undulating row of burning bushes here in 2011. I love the magenta glow they give off. They last a long time, and have very dimensional color. You have to enjoy it while it lasts.

Take it on the Road

Henry Knueppel retired from the Board of Directors of Regal Beloit recently, after 32 years of service. Before that, he had been CEO and a mastermind of acquisitions of other companies, building the collateral of the company and helping to put it in the solid standing that it is today. From Fort Wayne, Regal Beloit designs and builds smart motors that go into heating and air conditioning systems, among other things. We took a road trip recently from Fort Wayne to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, to celebrate with Henry at a retirement party in his honor and reflect upon what a great career, a great life, he has had, and still has.

A fall road trip is a great way to disconnect, and that's what we did, not taking the kids. Highway 30 was the way to travel across the north end of the state. The divided highway was lined with oaks, maples, and pines, their assembled colors warming the normally monochromatic roadway. Then it's I-94 and 294 around Chicago, the skyscrapers climbing up in front of us like silver and black mountains, ringing the lake with a perfect edge. We jumped off the highway and drove into downtown, and caught a glimpse of a few of the "Occupy Chicago" movement members, who were demonstrating with signs and drums in front of the Chicago Stock Exchange building downtown. We cheered for them, but it was a mess, with street crews 'conveniently' paving the street in front of them, reducing traffic. The crowd wasn't large in number, but was admirable in spirit.

Our road trip beckoned on, and we took a slight detour to bust out on a gorgeous hike in one of the Indiana Dunes state parks between Gary and Michigan City. Boardwalks keep one out of the sand, and trails both lead down to the beach and up into the trees in the dunes, allowing for spectacular views of the lake and beach grass. More to come here - I may have to dedicate a later blog post about that.

In Valparaiso, we passed the fast food joints to check out a "noodles & co.", which is a counter-order restaurant that specializes in anything noodles. They list Asian, Mediterranean, and American varieties. I chose the Pad Thai noodles from the Asian menu, and they were wonderful - spot-on spicy peanut flavor on the perfect edge of hotness. They serve a variety of Italian pastas and salads, and the American category features spaghetti & meatballs, macaroni & cheese, chicken noodle soap - yum. I think the noodles & co. restaurant chain is definitely on to something here.

I plan on loading a photo from my camera on the computer so you the reader can see the view from the dunes. I have other things to catch up on writing about - watching the Cardinals win the World Series, for example - but it will have to wait for another day. Meanwhile, the bright burning bush glows from the dock in Leo. Sometimes when the rest of the fall leaves fade, these bushes continue to glow with color weeks longer. I love how long their bright hues last in autumn. Peace to you all until next time.

It's Falling

The Tuscan Hills Winery doesn't look like it belongs in Effingham, IL. Stucco and brick walls, the tile roof, the Mediterranean fountain in the circle courtyard - they did a job job of using property near the highway frontage road, and it's quiet and secluded. Yes, it's lovely. But the grapes are southern Illinois grapes, so frankly, the wine is generally too sweet for me. I did like the Chambourcin dry red, which had a strong fruit note: cherries and blackberries, as if coming out from the oak barrels.

We sat there, on Saturday, October 22, and enjoyed each other's company. I was with some women friends for a rare get-away. We had to catch the third game of the World Series, so we trekked back to the hotel - a Comfort Suites at exit 159. The manager let us turn on the lights in the breakfast lobby, and told us if we didn't make too much noise, we could turn on the television. We watched as the ball started really flying in the warm Texas air. When the score was 11-6 Cards, a fan got ejected from the game for throwing a cup on to the field. He was trying to distract the Cards' right fielder as he went for a pop-up. The catch was made, however, and the fan was forced to take a long walk.

It seems odd to me to see the major leaguers with the funny-looking twisted cords around their necks. What is that? Bungee cords? Soap on a rope? Turns out, most MLB players are wearing these things now - they are made in Japan, and coated with titanium. It is supposed to help with fatigue, but I think it looks silly around these big, superstitious guys.

Albert Pujois smashed in three home runs in this game, becoming the first player to do so since Reggie Jackson and before him, Babe Ruth. It was a memorial, career cinching game, one for the books. Albert looks like a giant playing among Lilliputians, his quiet power overwhelming the field. Three home runs haven't be done by a player in the Wold Series since 1977. Until this game, he was 0 for homers in the first two.

After this game, it seemed as though the Cardinals were invincible, but what a difference a day makes. With the lovely Laura Bush in the stands behind home plate, the Rangers would go on to dominate game four in a 0 - 4 shutout on October 23. My blog isn't showing the last day I worked on a post, so sorry. It shows the day I begin a draft, and somehow I can't date it for Monday the 24th as I finish it. Always something new to learn. More World Series action to come - stay tuned.

Come on, Colts

A couple of years ago, the Indianapolis Colts were unstoppable as a football team. But their momentum has lost its steam this year, in no small part to the benching of famed quarterback Peyton Manning, who is recovering after neck surgery.

B-list quarterback Curtis Painter did a good job this past Sunday against the Kansas City Chiefs, throwing two touchdown passes to Pierre Garcon. The Colts were ahead 17 - 0 in the second quarter. But sometime after Colts' Joseph Addai had to leave the field with an injured hamstring, the Chiefs put the hammer down and came from behind.

The Colts' defense started taking the rap for giving up a total of 436 yards to the Chiefs. An exciting, bobbled touchdown catch by Chiefs' Dwayne Bowe turned the tide late in the third quarter. The Chiefs' win was locked in by wide receiver Steve Breaston, who made two touchdowns, one of which clinched the lead with five minutes to go in the game.

Lucas Oil Stadium was a sea of blue on Sunday. I am amazed how many fans now show up in actual replica jerseys, or at the very least, Colts' colors. It looked like a blue army, nearly 70,000 strong. Oh, the humanity!
But as it is so often in life, it was the things happening right around us that made the biggest impression of the day. There weren't many KC fans visible in the Indiana stadium. I would have thought it might be intimidating for the ones who were there. It made me wonder if the 20- or 30-something-year-old Chiefs' fan, sitting ten rows below me, had a death wish.

People from Indiana, even football fans, are generally nice. Maybe just a level or two less nice than people from Minnesota, or Canada. Don't take these generalizations too seriously, but usually, Hoosiers are quite humane. But this Chiefs' fan in the orangey-red jersey was really pushing it. With just a few likewise seatmates, and otherwise blue all around him, this guy wasn't content to simply clap or cheer for his team.

No, he had to egg it on. He stood, he made lots of drama. He kept turning around, gesturing, making eye contact, instigating the wrath of those directly behind him and on up the stands. He kept spreading his arms wide like an evil angel, pushing his hands down over and over, as if to tell the Indy fans to sit down. Smiling and grinning like a fool, a bad Jim Carey imitation if you will, he was a comedian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He must have thought he was untouchable, but in the age of cell phones, camera phones, tweeting and instant communication, he made at least one too many Colts' fans mad. Although no punches or objects were thrown, sometime in the fourth quarter a male and a female cop showed up. And asked him to leave. He couldn't believe it, and told them he would calm down. But it was too late for that, I suppose, because they ended up escorting him out.

And THAT made some the Colts' fans in front of me mad! He hadn't really done anything, they tried to interject and argue with the police. "Oh, so do you want to leave with him?", the cops countered. "Well, it was those people over there," as these the fans pointed fingers, at who they thought called to eject him from the game. The folks in front of me got mad - "but he doesn't deserve this, really," they said defending him. Colts fans turning on Colts fans. Everyone has an opinion.

Yes, it seemed like maybe he shouldn't have been pulled. But what I told my kids was, I really think it was done for the guy's own protection. Crowd mentality is a scary thing. People just don't seem to think straight in big groups like this. I have to admit even I had some fantasies of winging a bottle cap at the back of his head; something I would never do, I'm quite anti-violent. I bet this guy was really just inches away from some real altercation with the people behind him, or from someone further away throwing a bottle or pouring a drink on him.

So there doesn't seem to be much tolerance for unsportsmanlike behavior in the stands at Lucas Oil Field in Indiana. My impression now is, with a little of that, you will lose your expensive seat at the game. I felt for the cops. I told my kids never try to second-guess the police, the authority, when it really isn't any of your business, when you really don't know everything that is going on. They have a tough enough job to do; let them try to do it. And after that fifth disappointing loss of the season, it's probably good the guy didn't end up walking out among that outnumbering crowd in blue.

Yellow redbud trees, orange maples

Death is not the biggest fear we have. Our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive: the risk to be alive and express what we really are.

-Don Ruiz

A poem for today, just written. It is October, 8, 2011.

The lake is a myriad of surfaces
A weaving of wind-rippled sections
Clots of green algae, turned over
the bottom has come up. An inversion
a primal funk, now sitting on the surface

But where the wind doesn't touch it
Where the liquidity is still
The water disappears. A mirror, instead, of the trees behind
Undefined; no definition of leaves
Only pure replications of color
A patchwork of golds, orange and green
runny crayons scribbled on the water by the one with no name.
Where the swallow dives for a mosquito,
Where the fish breaks the surface
No image. Just blue brown water
No picture. No reflection. A void.
Be still, so I can have my living painting
Breeze don't blow, don't ruin my alternate universe
The smeared trees, like tears
Running down the face of the lake
The fisherman casts his line, and with the lure
My painting disappears.

-SLG

Mink goes Hunting

I saw something I never would have expected to see. I saw a mink hunt down and kill a young rabbit.

I didn't even know we had minks on the property. I had seen the elusive Mustelids a few times, but I thought they were weasels or ermine (weasel's fancier name). Who knew they were coming back. In the whole of my 50 years, minks have been so trapped, so pursued for their fur, I didn't think many were running around here wild.

But in rural Noble County, along the ponds, I have seen many. They bound like otters, but are smaller, with cute little heads and that beautiful brown fur. Last weekend, I just happened to glance out the window when I was preparing food, and I saw a sweet bunny hopping through the yard. And behind it was a little cat-like creature, which I realized later was a mink.

The bunny would hop, and then the ferret-like mink would hop up, kind of mimicking its movements. I just don't think normally a mink would hop like that - as I said before they kind of bound along, more stretched out. I saw it take two or three bounces near the innocent rabbit, which never did take off running - and then moving very near by, the mink pounced.

Its posture was totally different then - it reminded me of the way a cheetah strikes - pouncing and then rolling its prey over, biting its throat or spine. The mink held the bunny tight, biting it, and striking its stomach with its sharp back claws.

The mink just stayed in this position a minute or two, holding the bunny down, I guess while it finished dying. Then, like a mother cat carrying a kitten, it picked the bunny up by its neck and carried it down to the water. I didn't see either one of them after that. It either swam off with it or carried it somewhere past the cat tails.

That was real hunting. No shot gun, no retriever dog. It was kind of an honor to see that, when one thinks most of the wildlife has been marginalized. You go, mink. It was so much more fun to see you that way, instead of part of a coat.

No animals in this Circus

Tomorrow's life is too late. Live today.

Martial

We saw the Cirque du Soleil show "Quidam" at the Memorial Coliseum in Fort Wayne Saturday night. Amazingly, there were lots of empty seat in the large venue. The show is just so good I can't believe more people weren't there to see it. Perhaps ticket prices are causing people to hold back in this economic climate. What a pity - I wish everyone, or every child, could see this show.

The gorgeous costuming, the music, is wonderful. There is no dialogue - and certainly none in English. Imagery is used to tell the story. A child whose parents are preoccupied with the adult world begins to play and enters an imaginary world - with fantastic circus performers of all kinds. Asian yo-yo twirlers, jump rope masters, people climbing and hanging in fabrics. Clown directors that recruit audience members to put on a performance communicate in pantomime only.

There are archaic, iconic sorts of figures. There is a headless figure walking around, the top of his empty sports jacket a dark black emptiness. He's eight or ten feet tall. There are suspended ghosts of sorts, in shrouds, that don't really move. Are they corpses? White moths seem to fly out of one of them.

Of course, the performance has breathtaking gymnastics, tumbling, and people launching people up to shoulder stands. The costumes are so dreamy, the fabrics and ropes luxurious, not a detail is unattended to. The music I noticed particularly - traces of French carousel, gypsy, and Middle Eastern or Arabic themes all mixed together. Haunting, melodic, minor mode switches back and forth with major mode. The band was there on stage, in the background, in costume as well.

If you have a chance to see a Cirque du Soleil show, I think you will be glad you did. I'm ready to catch another one.

a fog poem

In dense fog

what is being shouted between

hill and boat.

Basho

There are only eleven words in this simple Haiku poem by the great Zen poetry master Basho. But in these eleven words, a great portrait, a story unveils itself to me.

The objective observation, the neutral position of the writer. The backwardness of the sentence, as compared with the Western way of structuring it. We would frame the sentence with the speakers: "A person in the boat and someone on the hill were shouting .."

So the story has to come together in our mind like a puzzle, in which we envision the thing - an unseen boat, a foggy day, the possibility of crashing into shore in the fog. What are they shouting? What is the cargo of the boat?

And since it is not framed as a question, another way the story falls for me is that they might actually shouting literally, "what?" "what?" between the boat and the shore at some part in the exchange. It seems very plausible.

I find myself imagining Basho himself, whom I have not yet googled. Is he the poor monk, alone meditating on the hill in Japan, who experiences this personally? Did he set out to write a poem that day, or not? Yet, here it is, all eleven words of it, hundreds of years later surviving so that in 2011 I am typing it into a keyboard and expounding upon it by means of the Internet. Basho, could you ever have possibly imagined?

As it turns out, he lived between 1644 - 1694, and was likely born in the class of samurai families. He was primarily a teacher and an intellectual. After gaining some recognition with the academic elite, he later spent many years on his own traveling and exploring, observing nature to write and perfect his craft.

We have occasional fog in Indiana, and it was heavy here a couple of days ago. The day will start out foggy like cold pea soup, and then be bright and sunny in the afternoon. No coastal stuff that can hang around all day.

It certainly can be dangerous, though, so let us be patient, careful and eventually, we know in time the fog will lift.

blue flowers

Summer days are running down to the end here in northern Indiana, 2011. Tomorrow is the first day of Autumn. I shot this photo of a wildflower and bumblebee last weekend. Since then the edges of some maple trees have begun to turn crimson.

Bees of all kinds are very active at this time of year, and I saw some aggressive ones yesterday, when I recycled materials at a community recycling center. This one was located on Schwartz Road Just south of the Leo-Grabill Road, and across from Riverside Park. The self-service recycling center has two cache bins: glass, and commingled. I had to slide open bin doors and read a graphic sign to accept this, but then the whole process was quite simple, but also kind of smelly and messy.

The problem was, the place was attracting the local yellow jackets or ground bees or hornets. I'm not a bee expert, which species they are, who knows - these bees which are notorious at this time of year anyway at the nearby Grabill Fair, were out in droves. An unfortunate woman who had parked in the lot before me was timidly feigning off an attack of a few of them - they wanted her plastic containers that had held strawberries. I have been stung once this summer but doggedly got out of my car determined to cast off my truck full of stuff we had saved from the landfill.

So while she was still trying to avoid the bees (I had no spray or anything with me that could have been of help), I quickly unloaded my newspaper, then plastic, etc. and just kept walking through the bees. Actually in hindsight, I don't think I would recommend doing this. One or two landed on my shirt, one on my hat - they were pretty aggressive, as I said.

The other woman decided she was not going to be able to dump her stuff. The bees had landed in the trunk of her car which she had left open and were sitting in a container of her recycling stuff there. One was also in the car front - the lady needed help.

She decided she was not going to unload - I helped her lift the one bin on the ground back into her trunk, then helped her waft and fan the bee inside the car out - she jumped in and left - so that was not successful. She said she was going to drive down the road to the attended recycling center on Maplecrest Road - windows open - if there were no more bees in the car. Poor thing.

So there you have it. Enter at your own risk. Lucky you if you have town curbside recycling, no extra charge. I sincerely hope all the efforts put into the three Rs are helping. Have you ever seen the movie Wall-E? This is a family movie worth seeing, and I won't say anything to spoil a surprise, but check it out. As far as the new site, it was nice not having to sort the recyclables (except for glass, which is easy to do). I don't know how the town solves their bee problem, but it is a problem.

Please don't get water up your nose

I can not tell a lie. There has been something on my mind, and I am going to share it with you.

It is the brain-eating amoebas lurking in U.S. lakes and rivers. Yes, three people have died this past summer from the Naegleria fowleri: a single-cell organism that commonly floats around in warm bodies of water - mostly in southern states. Every year, apparently millions of people swim among these things oblivious to the risk of infection, and rarely get sick. Scientists say they have known about the rare condition of human brain infection for decades.

Swallowing or contact through open cuts apparently has no effect, but when people get water forced up their noses (which happens a lot diving, doing cannonballs, etc.) occasionally one gets more up the schnoz than what one thought. That innocent nasal injection could be laced with the dreaded amoeba, which then can possibly find its way up into the brain.

People thus infected suffer from terrible headaches, fever, vomiting, and other symptoms. There is no known cure, although scientists are working on some trials. A person is much more likely to die in a car wreck or by simply drowning at the lake than getting infected by the amoeba. But still, between one and eight people in this country per year have died from the amoeba brain infection since it was discovered in the 1960s.

Why do I care about this? Because I have spent a lot of time swimming, skiing, and boating in United States lakes and rivers. I would like to continue to do so. I jumped off a dock a few weeks ago, and playing around unprepared I didn't get my nose pinched off with my fingers. And a slight amount of water went up (I'm sure you have all had this happen to you) but this time, I was a little alarmed! I had read about the amoeba deaths.

Well I am fine, of course, but at all the water ski tournaments we were at this summer, and things such as that - kids are splashing around, rough housing, jumping in, and probably getting the occasional nose shot. And, the water got extremely warm even in Indiana this summer. Do we need to worry any more about this?

Probably not, but I think I'd like to help spread the word, and encourage kids to hold their noses or wear the nose grips some competitive swimmers wear - the less accidental nose shots, the better. and you Netti pot users - make sure the water has been boiled and cooled or whatever. I think someone in New York City had an issue with that very thing.

Some consolation is the fact that chlorinated pools and salt water areas (such as the river inlet in Florida pictured above, where we saw Manatees swimming) are apparently free from the amoebas. So we can swim with the dolphins and do OK. But water skiing is another issue for me - sometimes getting pulled up out of the water, or falling, one can take a nose shot. Do we have to worry about that? We'll have to start collecting more data. Let's all be careful out there.

Mood quick fix on a ski

I have experienced what feels like a seasonal low pressure zone - I am unusually tired early fall, after the long hot summer and all its activities. When I feel sluggish and unmotivated, and I find myself daydreaming about lying down in the afternoon to take a nap - I know I need to find a way out of this paper bag.

Exercise is good for it, but it takes a while for most forms to re-energize me. There is a sudden solution to these doldrums -it's a bit like electroshock therapy for people suffering from debilitating depression. It is: putting on a wetsuit, jumping in the cold water and going water skiing.

One has to be prepared for this. The layering depends on the degree of cold. Today it's a thick wetsuit top, and a 3/4 farmer-john (sleeveless) over that for the hips and legs.

I know the water is going to feel extremely cold, but I don't shiver in anticipation of it. My warm body does not know the shock it is about to feel. It works well because there is no slow warm- up, no easing in - it's jumping off the back of the boat and plunging into the cool lake. Immersion is instant. There is no going back. One last check of equipment is needed. The rope is hooked on the correct length loop. The speed control is set. I have an orthopedic insert in my ski boot.

Water ski gloves are important. Clinchers - with a cheater dowel in the grip are popular, but I prefer Pro Wraps, which have a Velcro connection around the wrists. I'm breaking in a new pair, so the next day I will feel extra soreness in my triceps.

Vest tight, handle in hand, I hop off the back of the swim step. Cold water slowly, then more quickly, invades my wet suit.

In a few seconds the rope tightens up and I am pulled out of the water. There is pressure on everything - my arms, my hands, my legs - I'm weight lifting, I'm playing football - in an instant. The cold water has made me instantly awake, all my senses stimulated - I feel alive again, when I couldn't make myself wake up and shake off the funk.

The feeling stays in my body after I'm done. It has warmed my system, has made the juices flow. There really isn't anything that duplicates this feeling, this rush of energy. I will feel tired but better the next day, even with my aches and pains, sore shoulder, etc. If I didn't have this, I'm not sure what would take its place for me. Do I have some form of clinical depression? Is this just a normal cycle of ups and downs, the human biorhythm? I'm not sure, but I resist trying to find a pill for it. The sun is coming out, and it's going to be a beautiful day. I hope you, as well, have a passion for something that re-energizes you when you need it.

Where was once gravel is now concrete

The men wade in the concrete in rubber boots, less walking through mud as through butterscotch pudding. It laps in ripples around their legs, as they stand wide, smoothing the thick pool with their squeegees.

Neighborhood children pace the adjacent street anxiously, hungrily, wanting to touch it, to cleave it with a stick, to leave their marks upon it. They hang and ring around like vultures, one driving a mini John Deere gator, its motor and tires whining as badly as its driver. He outlines the edge of the street, inches from the drive, leaning in.

A dark-haired fellow on his bike, getting a tow from the gator, is also trying to get a touch. They are rebuffed, driven away, by the woman with a broom whose back is turned, looking through her third eye. No concrete demarcation for them.

The men, a generation removed from Amish, are rapt to their work. They wield their tools like spatulas, more focused than grandma, forming the concrete cake. They ice, they trowel, they spread and smooth. Pudding puddle no more, the dug up ground with all its buried treasure is a memory, invisible, preserved under the hardening composite above. A worker's cigarette butts smoked down to the filter, small leaves, gravel bits start to collect on the surface.

One neighbor child is hopeful, and has brought and offered freezer pops as a reward to the concrete crew, but the gleam in his eye dashes when kidded about the loss of a finger if the surface is compromised. He had badly wanted to write in the goo, and took off dejected. When will he ever have a chance to touch virgin concrete? Woe is he.

The children stick toes out to it, and sticks, testing. Later they try quickly jumping on and off, as if that, perhaps, would leave less of a mark. The drier, the whiter it becomes. Later, spinning, dust-smoke saws are brought to cut grooves to keep

it from cracking later.

No marks, no names, no autographs were left behind. Faceless, ageless, the concrete will stand, anonymous, no memories of families, no hands for children grown to touch later, no ghosts to see, no urges indulged.

Time to think of New York

A good craftsman leaves no traces. -unknown

One of my best memories of the whole summer of 2011 is of my time spent at the Indiana dunes lake shore by Michigan City. The colors, the light in the sky was spectacular the day this photo was taken, and the day before, in early August. Yet, the light didn't look the same away from the lake.

The shoreline in New York City will never look the same, but it has become time to reflect upon it. This coming Sunday will be the tenth anniversary of the attack on the United States on September 11, 2011. Our country has gone on to rebuild, face new problems, and come back around to reflect on what has happened since. Osama is gone, and the World Trade Center site is being rebuilt - and that's been a tremendous process.

Design contests. Interconnected, complicated authority, security, environmental, human memorial, considerations. Creative tension on a huge scale. The amazing synergy that is New York City. I stand in awe from Indiana. I had the privilege of being there one time, in about 2003, before the wreckage was even completely all gone. Security around it was tight then. But we walked into nearby Trinity Church, which had miraculously been spared of destruction that day, and many visitors were there praying and paying homage.

In the nearby financial center building, we also saw various mock-ups from the memorial design contest. They were beautiful models, dioramas or what have you, and it felt hopeful to stroll among them. I love the option that was chosen - the two reflecting pools in the Twin Towers' footprints, with tiered waterfalls cascading down inside.

The names of all the people killed in the tragedy will line this area somehow - the names will appear black by day, and lit by night. A landscape of trees and oak benches will surround the footprints - a peaceful park. The new skyscrapers will be in other places - nothing will rise in the space of the twin towers. I love the two beams of light that have beckoned out in their place - who thought of that? How perfect, as a memory.

It will be a while before the new skyscrapers will be completed, and that's a story for another day, but there's some fascinating architecture going on as a result. So many things proposed and scrapped, and so much to do - a new metro transportation center first of all, and I recently learned of the new performing arts center there somewhere also - I look forward to going back.

Meanwhile we remember and watch the news, and learn about the people again. Children born without fathers are turning ten soon. Let us help them find the joy somehow. Let us all find it. Peace be upon you.

Random Things to Like

While others deal with hurricane Irene and the resulting storm surge, we are blessed with beautiful weather - still able to swim and water ski. It doesn't do any good to feel guilty about this. One just has to count one's blessings and seize the beautiful day. We must appreciate the light in the clouds, the changing angles of the sun. The colors.

A few things I like:
Malt pancake mix from Meier. I made pancakes this morning, and the malt has a nutty richness that can't be duplicated.

Cleopatra is back in the news. One of my favorite icons, to me she never goes out of style. A great queen (by ancient standards), a lover, a mother, a style icon. Her city, Alexandria, was the wonderful intellectual gem of Egypt. Cincinnati has a traveling exhibit of statues and other art from the city on display right now, treasures reclaimed from the sea.

Hummingbirds that buzz by. The sound of one - whether in Colorado or Indiana, the rich buzzing, what joy. Who wouldn't like to have the mobility of a hummingbird? They come in different sizes, but the revving sound is still the same. Nature's fascinating mechanics.

Children that live close enough to school to be able to walk. To not have to get in a car every time you want to go somewhere. Small town mom and pop stores trying to go back in. There is one in our area called Uppity Trash that I am going to have to check out.

A clean bird bath and a gazing ball. Simple simple things. The Sunday morning newspaper. Walking to get it. Blue stem prairie grass starting to mount up.

It's high school football time. Late August, early September is great for this, while it's light later and the air is warmer. Good luck, all you boys of summer.

Poem for August

August, remembering February

The ground is too stubborn to give way. I try to spade up the red buds, as they have volunteered themselves under the giant pine.

They will not budge. I look for a new tool, but I ultimately must wait until the ground is wetter, the trees dormant. I hope I have time to dig then.

I think back, back to the day in winter, when the children built the snow fort under the sandbox lid and sleds. The photo, published on facebook. My father said, "daughter, it takes three children to raise a village."

Profound, prophetic, ironic, some of the final words. Our connection over thousands of miles; our blizzard, his California sunshine. His sunlit air, his flight.

How I wanted to fly after him, catching up with his spirit, before it ascended. Or catching it, and bringing it back.

Now I give up struggling in my yard. The trees will wait for a cooler day. Sometimes I'm looking at what he looked at, seeing it as he did. Can I bring the day back, February, commenting on my photo, change destiny? When I think of that day, I think I can. Then time slips forward again, no one stopped him to fly. So I pause somehow that day: hold it precious.

Back to the Zoo

The orangutans, or "men of the mountain", seem extremely intelligent. Of any animal at the Fort Wayne Children's Zoo, they seem strikingly the most human-like. It's fairly easy to get a close look at the pair exhibited in the Indonesian Rain Forest, as they enjoy swinging around on the artificial vines.

Also a real crowd favorite - the banded mongooses. Would that be mongeese? I think not. There are reportedly 25 in the exhibit, and they sleep all snuggled up against each other, even in the hot daytime - is that a defense position against marauding predators? Whatever it is, they really look cute snoring all piled up in a jam. They are in the Africa section. The colony began with with a party of seven adults several years ago.

The big cats - Bengal tiger, lions, a leopard - always fun to see at the zoo. I especially enjoy the many primate exhibits. The spaces around the boardwalk in Indonesia are nice - forested cages built right into the Franke Park woods, with big spaces for the apes and monkeys to climb. The siamangs bring their babies close to the fence, and they pull leaves through the bars. These animals are monogamous, and the males take over the care of infants when they are about two years old. Modern parenting, I love it.

I also loved the bongo drums set up in the Africa section - so many bolted down there's room for a whole impromptu band jam session. I'm definitely a fan, once again. I'll be going back many times if fate allows. Please come with me!

Fort Wayne Children's Zoo

It really is Fort Wayne's premier tourist attraction. One can go there time and time again and have a great experience each time. There are so many different things to do there, one blog entry can't really paint a complete picture.

But I do have some tips for a great zoo experience. One, from my years of working there, is try going first thing Sunday morning. In Fort Wayne, the zoo opens at 9 a.m. and there are relatively few cars in the parking lot. That means clearer views of the animals, the activity of feeding and energy first thing, and a clean zoo.

Our zoo is a place you can still go for a pony ride. Take your grandchildren or children, whomever they are, and let them have the visceral experience of sitting on a moving horse. This zoo also still has the old fashioned farm animal exhibit and goat pen where one can buy a cup filled with pellets and feed the goats. Little kids want to pet, touch the animals - that's how they learn, connect. One goat liked my skin lotion - he kept licking my knee. They'll eat your shirt tails if you aren't careful.

I especially enjoyed the revamped African Veldt section - they actually had honey badgers! Have you seen the viral honey badger videos over the Internet? It's all the rage. They are some impressive oddities of nature. A hugely popular display is that of the giraffes - a few young ones of various sizes, and visitors can feed them leaves of lettuce - another crowd favorite. I have only covered a few spots in the zoo, but I'll just have to revisit this another day. It's worth many more looks. Try the Dairy Queen on your way out.

Body surfing in Lake Michigan

The water was perfectly pleasant for swimming: neither too cold nor too warm, but refreshing, delightful. The winds were gusty, maybe up to 15-20 mph, and it created a fun, rolling surf that was just right to dive into and swim through. Challenging surf, but no gagging salt taste when one got knocked over by a wave; no jellyfish or anemones, or sharp coral - hey, this was not bad at all!

We were at a private beach access at Michigan City, IN - we had walked down from my friend's family condo. Lovely beach grass, beaches not too crowded - it was a pleasant surprise. There was lots to do in that area - an attractive park and zoo up by the waterfront, picnic areas, a waterside attraction. We walked out the breakwater to the lighthouse - surf was breaking over the concrete barrier a little, but we managed to get to the building to take a snap shot.

The Blue Chip Casino is nearby - I think it would be fun to get a hotel room, play a little black jack and then ride a cute cruiser bicycle the short distance down to the beach. Or find a private house to rent, or such. Usually the water is so cold - 2011 has had such a hot summer, the big lake seems surprisingly more attractive. I heard there were lots of summer vacancies what with the lukewarm economy. I can definitely say I plan to go back, and take some children who have never swam in the great lake. Doing so is quite an experience.

Run off at the state championship

The USA Waterski Association hosts state competitions for every 50 states. Indiana's was held near Danville this year - just west of Indianapolis. All ages competed in slalom, jump, and trick skiing events over two full days.

One of the most fun events this year was men's 4 slalom. Although these men are in their 40s, it's one of the toughest groupings; skiing some of the shortest rope lengths. Kevin Smith took first place in this event, and Paul Miller took second, with an exciting run into 38 feet off the line. Paul M. Is impressive, and to watch - he just hangs on to the handle no matter what, even if his body slams into the water around the buoy. He'll hold on to the handle when most of us would be finished, keep his ski under him and keep going. So exciting. I think he got 2 buoys at 38' but don't quote me on that. He had run a bunch of complete passes around the buoy before that at the longer lengths.

The thing was, three other competitors in the class all scored the next best - these men all got .5 buoy at 38' off - don't ask me to explain the weird (half a buoy) scoring now, the terms are old fashioned. There's the metric scoring used world wide but most people in the U.S. still use English measurement in common conversation. Brad Beerman, Chris Clark and Paul Goldman tied at this score, beating the rest of the field. This meant a run-off for third place statewide.

Goldman won the coin toss, and chose to go last. Beerman went out first, at 35' off. No warm up here; that is really smokin' hot at 34 mph. Brad did not make it around one ball at 38'. Clark was up next. He ran solidly through 35', and then looked strong at 38', even though he had reported rotator-cuff problems. He came up with 2.5 at 38'. Very impressive - but what it did was set a goal for Goldman to reach. He no longer had to try and run the whole pass - he just had to get past 2.5 to win.

Goldman is cool and collected under tournament pressure, about as trim looking as he was in his twenties, long-legged, a bit more slight than the other men - lean. He stayed on the back of his ski, didn't over pull and jerk himself out of position, and smoothly nailed 35'. There was lots of anticipation in the crowd before his 38'. All eyes were down at the far end, waiting for the boat to take off. And there he came, and around ball one, two, stretching out at this super-short rope length, slipping his ski around ball three, and then just back behind the boat, in control behind the wake.

He had won it. Slick as it could be, he did, and didn't risk falling and blowing it by going on and trying to run the whole pass. Choosing to go last from the coin toss had paid off. It was fun for the crowd, and a good story to report from the iPad. On to the regionals in Minnesota the competitors will now go. More challenges ahead. See you all later.

Red Cedar Center summer camp

Red Cedar Center on Hursh Road is a special place. The large horse farm offers horseback riding lessons, boarding, therapeutic riding, and recreational camps. It's so lovely - mature trees and verdant fields, white-washed fences and a swimming lake that glitters and beckons.

This week, the country park has a special mission - it's hosting disabled campers. Camp Red Cedar features different kinds of camps - allows kids in wheelchairs the opportunity to go swimming, facilitates kids with cerebral palsy in riding horses, etc. This week it's a home to another unique group of campers - teens with autism.

Autism Community Together coordinates this much-needed camp in Fort Wayne. Fine people have put on the camp for seven years now. The activities would be fun for any kid campers, but are of course tailored to the busy autism community and the stimulation the kids need.

There is music therapy, tumbling, soccer, and an obstacle course. I think the most popular activities are the horseback riding (with helmets and guides/trainers) and the swimming fun. The day is rounded out with crafts and Karate. At the end of the week, the kids will tie-dye a shirt as a keepsake.

Earlier today, I saw an anxious child tear through the parking lot, not able to patiently wait for the parent picking him up. Three counselors charged after him, moving quickly - a kid with autism on the run. It was touching- the concern, the bolting child. It's great these kids have a special place to go, where there is much compassion for them. They can just be kids, enjoying the best of summer.

For movie night, try Mao's Last Dancer

While the rest of my family is away at a waterski tournament, I'm going to take a moment to write about a film that really moved me. Mao's Last Dancer is an Australian biographical film from 2009. It's the true story of Li Cunxin, who was plucked as an 11-year-old from Shandong province in China to attend an elite ballet school in Beijing. In the 1960's and '70's, Mao was scouring the nation to find the best talent for nationalist programs to make the Communist regime look good. Children were gathered up and trained for years away from their families.

Directed by Bruce Beresford, the film starts a bit slowly and then hooks you. I rented it to see the dancing, and the technical quality of the dancing in this movie is outstanding. But this inspiring story (superbly acted by folks including Joan Chen and Kyle MacLachlin) how this dancer came to Houston and began to question his future as an artist and a Communist, is what is truly special about this film.

Li, brilliantly skilled in the classic Russian ballet technique, is chosen by the Houston Ballet for a three-month stint in the United States. Immersed in the culture, he wishes to stay longer, and marries an American. When the Chinese officials want him to return, he and Houston Ballet director Ben Stevenson go to the Chinese Consulate to plead his case. There Li is forcibly detained, and it takes high profile, high level negotiations for him to be freed from the consulate. After tense talks, he is released but his Chinese citizenship is revoked and he is banished from ever going to China to see his family. He has nightmares about how cruelly they may be treated because of him.

Even if you don't like ballet, I think you might be impressed with this story and its true history. At the end, he triumphs when China relents after five years and allows Li's folks to go to the U.S., to see him perform. Li is now married to an Australian ballerina with whom he has three children. I actually cried a couple of times during this movie, so unexpectedly. Hope my skiers are cutting it up out there. Peace.

Preaching to the whole e:mail group

What do you do when a person rubs you the wrong way?

I'm part of a group that has some common interests. One person in the group thinks she's in charge, and writes e:mails addressed to everyone in the group. She talks about various group members, reporting on them. She will address individual members one at a time, sharing private conversations with each, to the whole group.

And I've noticed, no one responds to her e:mails. She uses the public forum to manipulate, to try to pressure some in front of others in this way. She has a unique world view, at which she sees herself in the center. Thus firmly positioned, the world seems askew when I read about it through her eyes.

But the e:mails keep coming and coming, and those preposterous notions unchallenged just stand out there. Odd comparisons, judgments about people, guilt trips. Do I change my e:mail address, or do I delete the messages before reading them? Do I tell the person not to include me any more? Or do I just get over it?

Some people seem to constantly crave attention. They want everything their way, and want others to follow them. But the older I get, the less I can stomach certain things: gossip being one. I don't like people making a habit of talking about other people. Let people speak for themselves, and let their actions stand on their own. When the dust settles, the righteous will stand alone, and words won't mean much.

Not Jack Sparrow - crazy sparrow

We have lots of birds on the property and around our house. Recently I've seen Cedar waxwings, a Baltimore Oriole, a Scarlet Tanager, eastern bluebirds, and the list goes on. I adore all these beautiful birds. I recently saw a few goldfinches alighting in our catmint plants, a purple-flowering plant that attracts lots of bees. I couldn't tell if the birds might be eating pollen, nectar or what - I didn't see any insects to eat.

Yes, the birds are gorgeous, and I love the " screen door opening " sound effect made by the pheasants launching into flight. But there is one bird around the house I don't like at all. It is a plain brown sparrow, and it's not the bird's looks - it's just a crazy bird. It doesn't hang out with the other birds. It's always alone, usually flying around looking at itself in big panes of glass. If it can get in front of a picture window and sit on a chair, it will poop on the furniture (or house or window or patio) and try to attack itself (or make out with same, who knows) over and over.

It wakes me up in the mornings sometimes scrubbing along the window, not chirping but clattering its beak at its reflection. I thought maybe this spring it would not be back after the winter, being too wacky to survive. But no, there he was, so he must be well able to feed and shelter himself, unlike the lovely swallows who will bed down in bluebird nests not suited for them, and freeze to death in sudden temperature drops.

But I digress. I don't see anyone taking BB gun to this bird; they might hit the house. So I guess he'll just continue to annoy us, and I'll have to keep scraping his poop off stuff. Maybe I should go rustle up that old slingshot that came home on someone's business trip to Australia as a souvenir.

Did That Really Just Happen?

I mowed yesterday. It was an interesting experience, and at the end of it all I felt like a chimpanzee fishing ants out of a hole with a twig. Allow me to explain:

It was a lovely day in the '70s when I chose to go out in the garage and start up the old John Deere. Noticing the mower's gas gauge was reading nearly empty, I grabbed the red gas can and unscrewed its cap nozzle. Someone had replaced a center piece with a disk of black rubber - it functioned well enough in storing the gasoline; kind of a two-piece, makeshift cap for the portable five-gallon tank.

Anyway, after carefully filling the mower tank and then getting ready to reattach its black screw top, I reached over, looked in the tank and the small black disk flew out of my left hand with the breeze, kind of 'Frisbee-flew' sideways and drifted straight into the mower gas tank.

I couldn't believe it. Of all the places in the garage or around the mower that little thing could land, and it flips into the gas tank. Unbelievable. I look in there. It's there, resting on the clear plastic bottom of the gas tank. Ok, but what if it clogs the gas intake to the engine, cutting off the supply? I decide to see if I can extract it. I locate a long screwdriver and an old dinner fork from the kitchen. I attempt to get a hold on the disk, but it slips out of my grasp. I wish I had a really, really long set of tweezers.

I decide to close up the tank and go ahead and mow, and see what happens. Thankfully, I mow without incident. An hour or so later, I drive the green and yellow tractor back into the garage, and can't forget about the little intruder in the gas mechanism. I take another look.

Now the tank is much emptier, much of the gasoline having been used. I decide to go fishing again. This time this time I drag out more tools: a pair of long-handled pliers (why must it still be a PAIR), a set of bar-be-que tongs (BBQ is such an interesting word. Remind me to Google that.).

None of the new stuff works. I finally go back to the screwdriver and fork, chasing the little black disk around the tank. Finally I find I can steer the disc with the screwdriver, trying to get it to rest on the fork. Because I can't get much angle, this is tough and takes many tries.

Finally, after working bent over looking in the tank for over half an hour, I finally manage to get the little circle resting on the fork, and gently extract it from the tank. Done and done. This is why I see in mind the African primates using their primitive tools, fishing like me. I fit the little black circle onto the mouth of the red gas can, and screwed the black cap over it. Somebody needs to fix this- maybe.

By the way, google's best explanation for BBQ is a translation of "sacred fire pit.". I would take some pig roasted in the ground anytime you want to make it. I'll clean my fork and tongs first, though - or get some new ones.

Carpet cleaning day

Technical difficulties from my mobile device. So back on the old Dell with the 'tower', here's the word:

I really like Stanley Steemer carpet cleaners. My carpets looks so clean when the guys have been here. It's really a big event: when the most heavily trafficked areas finally get too grimy for me to look at, I call and schedule, once a year or so. I prefer hardwood floors, and have them, but I also have a busy area that is covered with carpet.

Picking up and moving things ahead of time makes the areas easier to see - nothing is hidden. So I end up moving nearly every chair and every object I can get out of the room. Then I vacuum. It's like prepping well for painting - it pays off.

I've heard people who have chem-dry type services, without the steam cleaning, complain about 'it not looking as good' when cleaned that way. I've also tried purchasing home appliances, and renting the big machines myself from grocery and hardware stores, but nothing looks as good as when S. S. has been there. The local office is located at 202 Research Drive in Fort Wayne.

I like the company's spray spot remover, that one uses ones self. Applied properly, it does an amazing job.

I also think their protection treatment, sprayed on after the professional cleaning, holds up well.

Metal and wood furniture is placed on foam blocks or plastic strips to protect from water damage. Meant to be left under the furniture until the carpet dries, I sometimes forget it's there and it stays for months. Ah yes, clean carpet. One can lie down, do yoga, not worry about gross stuff.