I just found out I have an appointment to see the dermatologist tomorrow morning. I had completely forgotten about it. The appointment I mean. Not the skin cancer. The last time I was in the derm clinic, I had made a bunch of appointments for the next three years, so forgetting the dates is really not unforgivable. They told me they would call me to remind me and I told them that is a good thing. Turned out I was right. Good thing they called. I almost did a radio spot for that same time.
So, just in case you have no idea what I am talking about, I posted here in my blog a copy of my recent column that appeared in the July 16 edition of the Mille Lacs Messenger.
And for a really old column on the subject, copy and paste this address into your browser.
http://www.millelacsmessenger.com/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=17926&SectionID=2&SubSectionID=&S=1
So anyway, here is the column from last week's paper. Wish me luck tomorrow!!!
Here comes the sun and the SPF45
A couple of weeks ago I introduced the Messenger readers to a new found comrade — a fellow cancer survivor, Tim Joy (a/k/a/ Captain Hook).
He was diagnosed with malignant melanoma about the same time I was. It was February. It was cold then and clothing wasn’t optional. In fact layers of clothing was the norm and accepted attire this past winter. Lots of layers.
When my dermatologist told me I would need to make changes in my life I nodded and said I would. He told me the first year after being diagnosed would be the hardest.
I had no idea.
I have always been a sun worshiper. To me, there are not a lot of things that can compare to the pure pleasure of lying on the dock or on my pontoon soaking in the sun. The heat radiates to my bones, warms my soul and I just let my mind drift away to anywhere.
I don’t take a lot of time to do nothing. Most of the time I am running in a million directions at once. Raising my son and running a household while working fulltime and trying to save the world one house at a time on my days off doesn’t leave a lot of time to do nothing.
My son is growing up now and requires less constant attention and entertainment so the last couple of years have given me more freedom to sometimes do nothing. During the three months of summer, just about any weekend (when not on an assignment) for a few hours during the peak rays of sun (10 a.m. to 2 p.m.) you could find me on my dock soaking in the sun.
In reality, sunbathing isn’t doing nothing. I am using solar energy to recharge my batteries. It works for my garden lights, so it should work for me. That and the fact that even cellulite looks better when it is a nice shade of golden brown.
So there I was last February learning that my vanity-driven-sunbathing-battery-charging days were going to have to be over. No longer will I be able to take a 20-minute vacation at the tanning salon, or spend time on the dock — or even outside — without totally covering up my skin with clothing and a big floppy hat.
The reality of that didn’t hit me until summer came. And I am not certain it has really kicked in completely. Finding sunscreen with an SPF45 or greater isn’t all that hard. It is remembering to put it on every day and keep reapplying throughout the day when I am in the sun.
I forget to cover up. When it’s hot, the last thing I want to do is wear a long-sleeved shirt. As for the hat thing — I agree with Tim Joy, I hate that hat. It messes with my hair style and I can’t take photographs with the brim of a hat getting inside my view finder. Since I physically feel fine and always did, I sometimes tend to forget I even went through the ordeal. Until I see the ugly scar on my arm. Which happens several times a day.
I agree with Tim, that hearing those three words, “You have cancer” was life-changing. Although I am working on changing my habits on the outside, it is what changed on the inside that matters most to me now. The scar is a constant reminder to not take myself so seriously, or the rest of the world for that matter. Little moments are the best and sometimes one smile means more than all the flowers in my garden.
I don’t want to hide from the sun. But I will use the SPF45.
“Just living is not enough... One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”
- Hans Christian Andersen
Vivian Clark is a Messenger staff writer. vclark@millelacsmessenger.com
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Messenger website attacked
Just in case you have been trying to access the Messenger website, and are wondering why it hasn't been updated in quite sometime, well, apparently we were attacked. Just our website, not our entire network.
So, please hang in there. Hopefully we (or our host) will get the bugs worked out and you can all be up to the minute on all the news that is new in the Mille Lacs Lake area.
Peace.
So, please hang in there. Hopefully we (or our host) will get the bugs worked out and you can all be up to the minute on all the news that is new in the Mille Lacs Lake area.
Peace.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Photos from Cedar Rapids
Here is our group from Minnesota who went down to Cedar Rapids, Iowa to help with the flood recovery. We are standing with Leonore in front of her house as we started out on Saturday, July 12.
If you haven't done so already, please read my blog posting of "Angels in Iowa." I wrote the blog first and then posted the pictures so it shows up pictures first and then the blog.
Anyway, I posted a couple of pages of photos from Cedar Rapids. They are in no particular order. So there I was, after a delightful picnic in the park, on a tour of the devastated area and me — a photographer — without my camera. I took these photos with my cell phone. Just in case you were wondering. Except for this photo. This one was taken by a FEMA photographer, Greg Henshall, who followed us around for a while getting stories and photos for the FEMA newsletter.
As soon as I figure out how to get the others posted, I will add them.
Thank you.
Peace.
Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.--Anonymous
The angels in Iowa (trip to Cedar Rapids)
“We are, each of us angels with only one wing; and we can only fly by embracing one another.” ~ Luciano de Crescenzo
We meet some of the nicest people even in their darkest hours. When all they have known is gone, there is nothing left but what is inside the heart. Their true spirit shines.
In mid-June, days of heavy rain soaked Iowa filling 9 rivers across the state which overflowed their banks.
On June 12, the Cedar River didn’t just spill over the banks, it poured over resulting in the historic 500-year flood.
Nearly 4,000 homes were evacuated and over 400 city blocks were completely under water. The historic Czech Village was under 8-feet or more of water. Hormel foods corporate offices and the Spam museum were flooded out as well as many other major businesses. A railroad bridge collapsed. And many main trunk roads to, from and within the city were closed.
And the water rose.
The Cedar River crested at nearly 32 feet — 12 feet higher than the record set in 1929.
Only one out of a dozen or more water wells supplying clean drinking water was working as floodwaters knocked out electricity that supplied the wells. Clean drinking water was nearly non-existent.
The preliminary damage was estimated at nearly $737 million.
Now one month after the flooding, recovery efforts continue.
I, and five others from Anoka, Zimmerman, Elk River, Onamia and Harmony Minnesota went to Iowa to help our neighbors.
The six of us left on Friday, July 11 driving over 6 hours to Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
We were almost to the city limits when Jenny Orsborn, our group leader, said, “Here it comes. Can you smell it?”
It is a smell that once you experience it, you never forget it and you know the instant you smell it what it is.
It is the smell of stagnant water. It is the smell of mold. It is the smell of a flood.
It is the smell of every personal photograph, kindergarten artwork, high school diploma ... gone.
It is the smell of grandmothers wedding dress ... gone.
It is the smell of everything held dear to the hearts of the people ... gone.
We, the six of us, have all smelled it before. The air smelled just like New Orleans.
It was interesting to compare and contrast the two devastating floods. But too much to do in one blog.
For now, I will say from what I observed, Cedar Rapids is already at only one month past the flood, they are already ahead of some areas in New Orleans. It appeared to me and our group that at least every house in the flooded area had already had at least some work done.
But the recovery takes time. They are estimating full recovery will take years. We know this to be true after New Orleans.
Those homeowners who can complete the work themselves are by all appearances doing so. But the elderly and others unable to do anything are having a hard time.
On Saturday we worked on one house on A street — 10 blocks from the river. Leonore had lived in her home for many years and raised her family there.
We gutted her house on the first floor taking everything out from the floorboards to the sheetrock and insulation stripping the walls to the 2 X 4's up to 4-foot on each wall.
I pounded a hammer into the sheetrock and ripped it from the wall. Next came the insulation. Fiberglass insulation works like a wick in an oil lamp for floodwater. It was all moldy and had to be pulled.
That is where the long sleeved shirts donated to us by Adidas came in handy. I itched from head to toe.
It was not easy work. And it was dirty. We did it for Leonore.
Piles grew on the front curb. A pile for wood scraps, a pile for appliances and a pile for trash.
And it smelled.
A shower has never felt so good as after working on Saturday.
Michele Schwable in our group has family members who live in Cedar Rapids. They were very kind and feed us a delicious picnic with homemade southern fried chicken, potato salad and all the fixin’s. We ate in a beautiful park, and then were given a guided tour of the areas affected by the flood. I will try to post some photos later.
Sunday, we went to the home of Becky and Fred. They were a lovely older couple and I fell in love with Becky immediately. She just shines.
Fred and Becky were not nearly as far ahead in the game as Leonore was. Leonore had family who helped her out a lot. Fred and Becky were trying to do for themselves.
They were in a completely different neighborhood that was flooded by a creek that spills off from the Cedar River near the Cargil plant. The area was never expected to flood and the couple had no flood insurance.
Water filled their basement. And a lot of it was still there.
As Dave, Gary and Jenny tore up the carpet in the living room, Anne and Michele were packing up pieces of Becky and Fred’s life from the kitchen. All of their pots and pans, dishes, utensils etc. were still occupying the cupboards and needed to be moved out.
I was trying my hardest to pack up Becky’s family China from an antique cabinet in the dining room.
Becky sat nearby me and told me tiny pieces of her family history through memories as I wrapped each item in old pieces of clothing to protect them.
When I finished with the China cabinet, I moved on to help Fred pack up the den.
Fred was a collector in his eyes — a pack rat in Becky’s eyes. He saved everything. His important papers he kept in a safe. The safe was presumably ok and protected from the floodwaters. Everything else in the room was basically destroyed.
But it was very difficult for Fred to decide what could be saved and what could be tossed.
He was also an artist. He painted mostly and a lot of his paintings were in that room. All were destroyed.
Over 30 years ago he had painted a portrait of his first wife. She passed away several years ago. The painting was destroyed. He tossed it into the trash bin.
“I guess I can paint another,” he said with a tear forming in the corner of his eye.
I picked up a small antique sewing table which stood only about thigh high. It was covered in thick green mold.
I tossed it onto the growing pile outside.
I picked up a toss pillow off the couch and water poured from the pillow onto the floor. I dropped it into the trash bin.
I picked up a throw blanket and water again poured from the blanket as if I had turned on a faucet.
Under the blanket was mold growing. Tall white fuzz like something I grew in a petri dish in microbiology class in college.
The smell was too much.
As I wheeled the over-flowing bin to the curb to add to the pile, I cried. The heat and the smell and the emotion of the day had gotten to me.
It was a difficult and dirty job but very rewarding when we finished.
We stripped down to our under garments right there in the street changing into our clean traveling clothes. Most of our work clothes were tossed into the pile on the curb in front of Fred and Becky’s house and left behind.
We gave hugs and shared tears and laughs with Fred and Becky before we left for home.
The 6-hour drive home was more subdued than the drive down there. We were all tired. We were achy. And we smelled.
When I got home late Sunday night, I stood in the shower for nearly 30 minutes just letting the water cleanse my skin and refresh my soul.
That was the best shower I have ever had. Somehow even better than the day before.
Our bodies were tired, achy, scratched and bruised. A couple of us in the group came home with sore throats and coughing. Two days after my return I could still taste mold in the back of my throat.
But our coughs and aches and pains will go away. The emotional pain felt by Leonore, Fred, Becky and the thousands of people in Iowa who lost everything will last a lifetime.
We did what we could to help ease their pain.
Jenny calls us her Traveling Angels. Her motto is “we are saving the world, one house at a time.” The group has participated in disaster relief from New Orleans, Rushford, Hugo and Iowa. And that is just the beginning.
If you would like to volunteer for clean up in Iowa there is much to do and many ways to help. Not all jobs are as dirty. Individuals or groups who want to volunteer can sign up online with Corridor Recovery at: www.corridorrecovery.org/CedarRapidsArea.asp or call volunteer hotline at (319) 540.4810.
The people of Iowa will thank you and you meet some of the nicest people. Tell them the Angels sent you.
Peace.
“Be an angel to someone else whenever you can, as a way of thanking God for the help your angel has given you.” ~ Quoted in The Angels' Little Instruction Book by Eileen Elias Freeman, 1994
We meet some of the nicest people even in their darkest hours. When all they have known is gone, there is nothing left but what is inside the heart. Their true spirit shines.
In mid-June, days of heavy rain soaked Iowa filling 9 rivers across the state which overflowed their banks.
On June 12, the Cedar River didn’t just spill over the banks, it poured over resulting in the historic 500-year flood.
Nearly 4,000 homes were evacuated and over 400 city blocks were completely under water. The historic Czech Village was under 8-feet or more of water. Hormel foods corporate offices and the Spam museum were flooded out as well as many other major businesses. A railroad bridge collapsed. And many main trunk roads to, from and within the city were closed.
And the water rose.
The Cedar River crested at nearly 32 feet — 12 feet higher than the record set in 1929.
Only one out of a dozen or more water wells supplying clean drinking water was working as floodwaters knocked out electricity that supplied the wells. Clean drinking water was nearly non-existent.
The preliminary damage was estimated at nearly $737 million.
Now one month after the flooding, recovery efforts continue.
I, and five others from Anoka, Zimmerman, Elk River, Onamia and Harmony Minnesota went to Iowa to help our neighbors.
The six of us left on Friday, July 11 driving over 6 hours to Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
We were almost to the city limits when Jenny Orsborn, our group leader, said, “Here it comes. Can you smell it?”
It is a smell that once you experience it, you never forget it and you know the instant you smell it what it is.
It is the smell of stagnant water. It is the smell of mold. It is the smell of a flood.
It is the smell of every personal photograph, kindergarten artwork, high school diploma ... gone.
It is the smell of grandmothers wedding dress ... gone.
It is the smell of everything held dear to the hearts of the people ... gone.
We, the six of us, have all smelled it before. The air smelled just like New Orleans.
It was interesting to compare and contrast the two devastating floods. But too much to do in one blog.
For now, I will say from what I observed, Cedar Rapids is already at only one month past the flood, they are already ahead of some areas in New Orleans. It appeared to me and our group that at least every house in the flooded area had already had at least some work done.
But the recovery takes time. They are estimating full recovery will take years. We know this to be true after New Orleans.
Those homeowners who can complete the work themselves are by all appearances doing so. But the elderly and others unable to do anything are having a hard time.
On Saturday we worked on one house on A street — 10 blocks from the river. Leonore had lived in her home for many years and raised her family there.
We gutted her house on the first floor taking everything out from the floorboards to the sheetrock and insulation stripping the walls to the 2 X 4's up to 4-foot on each wall.
I pounded a hammer into the sheetrock and ripped it from the wall. Next came the insulation. Fiberglass insulation works like a wick in an oil lamp for floodwater. It was all moldy and had to be pulled.
That is where the long sleeved shirts donated to us by Adidas came in handy. I itched from head to toe.
It was not easy work. And it was dirty. We did it for Leonore.
Piles grew on the front curb. A pile for wood scraps, a pile for appliances and a pile for trash.
And it smelled.
A shower has never felt so good as after working on Saturday.
Michele Schwable in our group has family members who live in Cedar Rapids. They were very kind and feed us a delicious picnic with homemade southern fried chicken, potato salad and all the fixin’s. We ate in a beautiful park, and then were given a guided tour of the areas affected by the flood. I will try to post some photos later.
Sunday, we went to the home of Becky and Fred. They were a lovely older couple and I fell in love with Becky immediately. She just shines.
Fred and Becky were not nearly as far ahead in the game as Leonore was. Leonore had family who helped her out a lot. Fred and Becky were trying to do for themselves.
They were in a completely different neighborhood that was flooded by a creek that spills off from the Cedar River near the Cargil plant. The area was never expected to flood and the couple had no flood insurance.
Water filled their basement. And a lot of it was still there.
As Dave, Gary and Jenny tore up the carpet in the living room, Anne and Michele were packing up pieces of Becky and Fred’s life from the kitchen. All of their pots and pans, dishes, utensils etc. were still occupying the cupboards and needed to be moved out.
I was trying my hardest to pack up Becky’s family China from an antique cabinet in the dining room.
Becky sat nearby me and told me tiny pieces of her family history through memories as I wrapped each item in old pieces of clothing to protect them.
When I finished with the China cabinet, I moved on to help Fred pack up the den.
Fred was a collector in his eyes — a pack rat in Becky’s eyes. He saved everything. His important papers he kept in a safe. The safe was presumably ok and protected from the floodwaters. Everything else in the room was basically destroyed.
But it was very difficult for Fred to decide what could be saved and what could be tossed.
He was also an artist. He painted mostly and a lot of his paintings were in that room. All were destroyed.
Over 30 years ago he had painted a portrait of his first wife. She passed away several years ago. The painting was destroyed. He tossed it into the trash bin.
“I guess I can paint another,” he said with a tear forming in the corner of his eye.
I picked up a small antique sewing table which stood only about thigh high. It was covered in thick green mold.
I tossed it onto the growing pile outside.
I picked up a toss pillow off the couch and water poured from the pillow onto the floor. I dropped it into the trash bin.
I picked up a throw blanket and water again poured from the blanket as if I had turned on a faucet.
Under the blanket was mold growing. Tall white fuzz like something I grew in a petri dish in microbiology class in college.
The smell was too much.
As I wheeled the over-flowing bin to the curb to add to the pile, I cried. The heat and the smell and the emotion of the day had gotten to me.
It was a difficult and dirty job but very rewarding when we finished.
We stripped down to our under garments right there in the street changing into our clean traveling clothes. Most of our work clothes were tossed into the pile on the curb in front of Fred and Becky’s house and left behind.
We gave hugs and shared tears and laughs with Fred and Becky before we left for home.
The 6-hour drive home was more subdued than the drive down there. We were all tired. We were achy. And we smelled.
When I got home late Sunday night, I stood in the shower for nearly 30 minutes just letting the water cleanse my skin and refresh my soul.
That was the best shower I have ever had. Somehow even better than the day before.
Our bodies were tired, achy, scratched and bruised. A couple of us in the group came home with sore throats and coughing. Two days after my return I could still taste mold in the back of my throat.
But our coughs and aches and pains will go away. The emotional pain felt by Leonore, Fred, Becky and the thousands of people in Iowa who lost everything will last a lifetime.
We did what we could to help ease their pain.
Jenny calls us her Traveling Angels. Her motto is “we are saving the world, one house at a time.” The group has participated in disaster relief from New Orleans, Rushford, Hugo and Iowa. And that is just the beginning.
If you would like to volunteer for clean up in Iowa there is much to do and many ways to help. Not all jobs are as dirty. Individuals or groups who want to volunteer can sign up online with Corridor Recovery at: www.corridorrecovery.org/CedarRapidsArea.asp or call volunteer hotline at (319) 540.4810.
The people of Iowa will thank you and you meet some of the nicest people. Tell them the Angels sent you.
Peace.
“Be an angel to someone else whenever you can, as a way of thanking God for the help your angel has given you.” ~ Quoted in The Angels' Little Instruction Book by Eileen Elias Freeman, 1994
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The fine art of fireworks
“You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.” - Maria Callas
Next to Christmas and my birthday, I think the 4th of July is my favorite holiday. It is just so much fun.
I have always loved fireworks. Growing up in Bloomington, my parents brought us kids to see the 4th of July fireworks every year. Whether we were at our cabin on Round Lake (near Park Rapids), or went on a picnic somewhere in the cities , or had a backyard BBQ with friends, no matter where we were, we always went to see the fireworks.
I remember one year we went to the old Met stadium in Bloomington. My dad parked the gold Ford Galaxy 500 and he pulled an old green and weathered Army blanket out of the trunk and spread it on the hood of the car and let us sit there eating popcorn brought from home. We were dressed in our jammies in case we fell asleep on the way home. I never did. I was just too excited.
I sat there on the edge of the hood with my neck cranked all the way back and my eyes on the sky waiting for 20 minutes before it was even dark. "You are going to get a sore neck" my mom said to me. I didn't care. I just didn't want to miss a thing. And I never ever did.
Fireworks have always been a wonderment for me. So when I got the idea to go behind the scenes to find out how the shows are put together, I didn't know what I would find. Exactly. Did I want to know the secrets? or keep the mystery in the fire?
Knowing the secrets and finding the truth behind the scenes is in my blood. I had to know.
It was an amazing experience for me. Being that close to the process of setting them up and then shooting them off was one to add to my “coolest experiences ever” list.
Lon Schmidt, the go-to PIC (person in charge) was very tolerant of my never ending questions. He often chuckled and I wasn’t quite sure if he was laughing at me or laughing with me. Either way is OK with me. And when he asked me if I wanted to pull the trigger to start the show I was stunned. I believe I stared with that doe-in-the-headlights look ... “Um, are you serious? Yeah! That would be awesome!”
And it was. Simply amazing.
It was an unbelievable feeling to pull that trigger and fire those explosives while standing less than 200 feet away. Lon warned me of the dangers of being so close, but I didn’t think twice. I wanted to be there. And I stayed up close when I was done.
I could not only see the fireworks I have always marveled at, but that day I could feel them. The explosions shook the ground sending vibrations through my feet that traveled through every inch of my body. It was an unbelievable fantastical sensation. Every one of my senses was alive. Smoke filled the air on the ground and above the tree-line sometimes so thick I could not see 200-feet in front of me. It was a slightly electrified sulphuric/medicinal/gun powder type of smell almost like when you blow out a Eucalyptus candle. Or 10,000 of them.
I watched more of what was happening on the ground than what was happening in the sky. A much different view of fireworks than I had ever witnessed before. And at times the pitch-black night became as bright as daylight when several went off simultaneously. Pieces of shells that resemble coconuts dropped to the ground all around me.
I could not believe Lon when he said the show lasted 24 minutes and 45 seconds. It was one of those feels-like-20-seconds-and-I-don’t-want-it-to-end moments. My heart was still pounding and I could feel my legs shaking. It was almost like landing on the ground after a parachute jump.
I did not once ever feel the danger. My brain knew it was there lingering on the edge, but I didn’t feel it. Perhaps it was because I felt comfortable after watching the way the crew worked to make sure everything went off the way it was suppose to. Murphy’s Law is always a possibility, but I didn’t think of it. And thank the Lord, nothing went wrong.
I thank Lon and the crew for putting up with me and showing me the ropes. I will never forget such an electrifying experience.
I have heard nothing but kudos from the towns-folk about the show. It really was one of the best shows Garrison has ever had. From my point of view it was by far the best on the lake and quite possibly the best show north of the Taste of Minnesota. If it were simulcast to music on the radio, it would be the best in Minnesota.
Happy Independence everyone.
Peace.
p.s.
And then Jeff Foxworthy said, "You may be a redneck if... your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand." I don't want to own one, but I do like to pull the trigger.
Check out the video at http://www.millelacsmessenger.com/main.asp?SectionID=1&SubSectionID=1&ArticleID=18754&TM=64553.52
Next to Christmas and my birthday, I think the 4th of July is my favorite holiday. It is just so much fun.
I have always loved fireworks. Growing up in Bloomington, my parents brought us kids to see the 4th of July fireworks every year. Whether we were at our cabin on Round Lake (near Park Rapids), or went on a picnic somewhere in the cities , or had a backyard BBQ with friends, no matter where we were, we always went to see the fireworks.
I remember one year we went to the old Met stadium in Bloomington. My dad parked the gold Ford Galaxy 500 and he pulled an old green and weathered Army blanket out of the trunk and spread it on the hood of the car and let us sit there eating popcorn brought from home. We were dressed in our jammies in case we fell asleep on the way home. I never did. I was just too excited.
I sat there on the edge of the hood with my neck cranked all the way back and my eyes on the sky waiting for 20 minutes before it was even dark. "You are going to get a sore neck" my mom said to me. I didn't care. I just didn't want to miss a thing. And I never ever did.
Fireworks have always been a wonderment for me. So when I got the idea to go behind the scenes to find out how the shows are put together, I didn't know what I would find. Exactly. Did I want to know the secrets? or keep the mystery in the fire?
Knowing the secrets and finding the truth behind the scenes is in my blood. I had to know.
It was an amazing experience for me. Being that close to the process of setting them up and then shooting them off was one to add to my “coolest experiences ever” list.
Lon Schmidt, the go-to PIC (person in charge) was very tolerant of my never ending questions. He often chuckled and I wasn’t quite sure if he was laughing at me or laughing with me. Either way is OK with me. And when he asked me if I wanted to pull the trigger to start the show I was stunned. I believe I stared with that doe-in-the-headlights look ... “Um, are you serious? Yeah! That would be awesome!”
And it was. Simply amazing.
It was an unbelievable feeling to pull that trigger and fire those explosives while standing less than 200 feet away. Lon warned me of the dangers of being so close, but I didn’t think twice. I wanted to be there. And I stayed up close when I was done.
I could not only see the fireworks I have always marveled at, but that day I could feel them. The explosions shook the ground sending vibrations through my feet that traveled through every inch of my body. It was an unbelievable fantastical sensation. Every one of my senses was alive. Smoke filled the air on the ground and above the tree-line sometimes so thick I could not see 200-feet in front of me. It was a slightly electrified sulphuric/medicinal/gun powder type of smell almost like when you blow out a Eucalyptus candle. Or 10,000 of them.
I watched more of what was happening on the ground than what was happening in the sky. A much different view of fireworks than I had ever witnessed before. And at times the pitch-black night became as bright as daylight when several went off simultaneously. Pieces of shells that resemble coconuts dropped to the ground all around me.
I could not believe Lon when he said the show lasted 24 minutes and 45 seconds. It was one of those feels-like-20-seconds-and-I-don’t-want-it-to-end moments. My heart was still pounding and I could feel my legs shaking. It was almost like landing on the ground after a parachute jump.
I did not once ever feel the danger. My brain knew it was there lingering on the edge, but I didn’t feel it. Perhaps it was because I felt comfortable after watching the way the crew worked to make sure everything went off the way it was suppose to. Murphy’s Law is always a possibility, but I didn’t think of it. And thank the Lord, nothing went wrong.
I thank Lon and the crew for putting up with me and showing me the ropes. I will never forget such an electrifying experience.
I have heard nothing but kudos from the towns-folk about the show. It really was one of the best shows Garrison has ever had. From my point of view it was by far the best on the lake and quite possibly the best show north of the Taste of Minnesota. If it were simulcast to music on the radio, it would be the best in Minnesota.
Happy Independence everyone.
Peace.
p.s.
And then Jeff Foxworthy said, "You may be a redneck if... your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand." I don't want to own one, but I do like to pull the trigger.
Check out the video at http://www.millelacsmessenger.com/main.asp?SectionID=1&SubSectionID=1&ArticleID=18754&TM=64553.52
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
War and peace ... peace and war
“The earth laughs in flowers.” - E.E. Cummings
Flowers are one of the things I look forward to most about summer. I don't have exquisite gardens, just a few little beds and some pots on my deck and patio. But flowers add so much with the bright colored blooms on long stems bending in the breeze off the lake sending soft gentle scents to linger in the air. It is as though the earth is if not laughing then at least smiling when the flowers are blooming.
The vibrant colors draw hummingbirds and butterflies nearer to see sometimes staying long enough for me to photograph them.
Apparently, the lovely flowers also draw other creatures.
I woke up yesterday and looked out my window at my flowerbed. I knew I would find the naked little marigolds resting peacefully on the edge of the flowerbed.
But to my extreme horror all of the bright red flowers were gone, too! Nibbled off leaving nothing but the tall stems.
I am telling you I just about cried.
I don't know the name of those flowers, but they were cool. Bright red blooms with big petals on tall stems and the broad big green leaves with rounded edges. They were just cool.
And now they are naked.
This is war.
The more I think about it the more I believe the culprits to be deer. Living by a lake surrounded by woods, this is not hard to believe. But I thought having three big dogs might discourage the wilder animals from coming into our yard at all. I guess that alone will not do it.
I enjoy living in the woods. There is so much to offer. And I don't want to fence off my yard or even the flowers. I just don't want the deer to eat them.
But then I was thinking, I had the opportunity to enjoy them for a few days. I looked at all the beauty they offered and a sense of peace they gave me. They made my home looked more alive.
I suppose I need to look at it through different eyes. If the deer needed the flowers for nourishment, then they needed them more than I did.
I don't really need the flowers to make my home more alive. There is almost always activity buzzing either in the yard or by the water. There are neighborhood kids running to and fro leaving behind a trail of bikes, hula-hoops, baseballs, basketballs, squirt guns and a slew of other toys. One look and it is easy to tell our home is alive.
Still, the flowers offer a sense of balance to the chaos that sometimes comes with so much activity. And they were beautiful to look at. At least for a little while.
Peace.
p.s. Just another way to look at it:
“I realized that Eastern thought had somewhat more compassion for all living things. Man was a form of life that in another reincarnation might possibly be a horsefly or a bird of paradise or a deer. So a man of such faith, looking at animals, might be looking at old friends or ancestors.”
William Orville Douglas
Flowers are one of the things I look forward to most about summer. I don't have exquisite gardens, just a few little beds and some pots on my deck and patio. But flowers add so much with the bright colored blooms on long stems bending in the breeze off the lake sending soft gentle scents to linger in the air. It is as though the earth is if not laughing then at least smiling when the flowers are blooming.
The vibrant colors draw hummingbirds and butterflies nearer to see sometimes staying long enough for me to photograph them.
Apparently, the lovely flowers also draw other creatures.
I woke up yesterday and looked out my window at my flowerbed. I knew I would find the naked little marigolds resting peacefully on the edge of the flowerbed.
But to my extreme horror all of the bright red flowers were gone, too! Nibbled off leaving nothing but the tall stems.
I am telling you I just about cried.
I don't know the name of those flowers, but they were cool. Bright red blooms with big petals on tall stems and the broad big green leaves with rounded edges. They were just cool.
And now they are naked.
This is war.
The more I think about it the more I believe the culprits to be deer. Living by a lake surrounded by woods, this is not hard to believe. But I thought having three big dogs might discourage the wilder animals from coming into our yard at all. I guess that alone will not do it.
I enjoy living in the woods. There is so much to offer. And I don't want to fence off my yard or even the flowers. I just don't want the deer to eat them.
But then I was thinking, I had the opportunity to enjoy them for a few days. I looked at all the beauty they offered and a sense of peace they gave me. They made my home looked more alive.
I suppose I need to look at it through different eyes. If the deer needed the flowers for nourishment, then they needed them more than I did.
I don't really need the flowers to make my home more alive. There is almost always activity buzzing either in the yard or by the water. There are neighborhood kids running to and fro leaving behind a trail of bikes, hula-hoops, baseballs, basketballs, squirt guns and a slew of other toys. One look and it is easy to tell our home is alive.
Still, the flowers offer a sense of balance to the chaos that sometimes comes with so much activity. And they were beautiful to look at. At least for a little while.
Peace.
p.s. Just another way to look at it:
“I realized that Eastern thought had somewhat more compassion for all living things. Man was a form of life that in another reincarnation might possibly be a horsefly or a bird of paradise or a deer. So a man of such faith, looking at animals, might be looking at old friends or ancestors.”
William Orville Douglas
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