Daniel’s artwork was one of only two selected from his school to go to the Indiana Statehouse for an exhibition of student art from around the State. Mom asked me to share the pictures here so she could see it.

I had a conversation with a friend a few evenings ago by telephone — actually it was two friends from the same household and one handed the phone to the other so we could say “hi” while he had me on the line.  It sort of reminded me of the calls to my Grandma when I was a child and she would hand the phone to Grandpa so that could say “hello” to him too.

It now strikes me as a little unusual for me to have an “old fashioned” phone conversation.  I mean, I talk on the phone all the time…just look at my cell phone bill.   But I haven’t taken a lot of time to think about the quality or nature of the phone calls I normally make.  It seems that most of my phone calling is business — as in the business of life – quick calls to make appointments, pass on information, check on schedules, you know, all those those “to do’s” that you need to check off your mental list.

I think that “business” is the perfect description of these kinds of calls.  BUSY-NESS.  Its a state of mind that I am in while going about so much of my day.  Which means that pretty frequently when I call someone, it is with the purpose of putting that check mark beside the item on the “to do” list.   By the time I actually get to the speaking part of the phone call I have mentally moved on and my voice is simply a mechanism responding to the computer command of my brain to pass on whatever information it has ordered  it to process.

Now I know that this is pretty much how we all operate.  We all have tons of stuff to do and calls need to be quick and efficient.  We expect that the person on the other end is just as busy as we are and so economy of words is probably welcomed.

But my old fashioned phone call to my friends reminded me how much I could be missing by not being fully engaged.  How much more can I share and receive if I am prepared to be fully present?  I’m not saying every conversation has to be lengthy, but if it needs to be, am I ready?  Do I have my “hearing aid” within arms reach?

I think I am going to put this in my keeping it simple tool box.  Hopefully  I will be able to pop it in at the first signal.

We’ve been talking about the concept of simplicity around Broadway in the last week or so. Its a theme we’re using for our Lenten experience this year and we’re using Donna Schaper’s book, Living Well While Doing Good as a jumping off point for our discussion.

The paradox of living simply in today’s complicated world hit me square in the face yesterday (and lingers still today.) For weeks, nay, months I have been trying to find a simple way to syncronize my old telephone list from my last mobile phone, an LG EnV, into my Blackberry Curve that I purchased months ago. I wanted a sync program that I could use a computer keyboard to either key in, or better yet do a direct hot sync. I bought the Blackberry because I wanted a phone that could keep and sync calendar dates so that I could change my calendar either at my computer or with my phone if I was away from my desk. On this latter task, I had my share of challenges. The reason is that I had recently switched from a PC based laptop to a macbook. So finding a mac sync program that would communicate blackberry to OS that WORKED proved difficult. The first freebie program I downloaded didn’t work at all and all the chat threads confirmed this. I tried a second one that folks on the chat threads said worked for them (I paid 29 bucks for it too!) It worked partially…sometimes it would sync and sometimes not. My calendar and notes would sync, my contacts wouldn’t…I would get wierd messages of codes giving reasons why and I had no idea what code 3.AA27 meant! And so I sort of stopped trying to make it work and dealt with the chaos for a while.

One day an advertisment (probably facebook) popped up for Google to Blackberry sync and I thought “hey! I’ll try it.” IT WORKED! Like a charm! I was ecstatic. I had kept a Google calendar in the past, but had switched to using i-cal when getting the macbook. Then I tried the Google to i-cal sync. Worked again! Heeyyyyyy, this is sweeeeett…

OK, so I’m humming along syncing my calendars, Blackerry, i-cal, Google…they’re all talkin’ the same language…at least as far as I was concerned.

Then I went too far. Remember I wanted to sync my contacts? So, I noticed that if I set up a Google gmail account, I could put my contacts online and sync with all my devices. It worked with the calendar, I thought, why not?

So I went ahead and set up a gmail account. I noticed, however, that it automatically put my primary email address as secondary to my gmail. I was concerned that it would complicate receiving my emails through the path to my computer’s inbox in the regular way and I got cold feet. I changed my my and decided to deactivate the gmail account. Big Mistake! By deactivating that new account I (evidently) deactivated the now secondary account and my Google calendar, with it! It was GONE! Dentist appointments, staff meetings, reminders to make calls… all gone!

I am thankful for redundancy. The appointments remained on the Blackberry and I have been reinstalling them by hand on to a newly set up Google calendar account and in the end, it turns out I would have been better off just doing it by hand to begin with.

Here’s the part where I should talk about simplicity. But do I need to say more? I mean, really! How much more complicated can our lives become? We are surrounded by technology that is supposed to make our lives easier but we’re busier than ever. We take our children to enrichment activities to make their lives better, but their schedules are so filled with stuff that they get tired cranky and miserable.  Our own schedules are so cram packed with work, family activities, and social commitments that we are often too exhausted to appreciate the reason why we do them.

Maybe I’m exaggerating, but I don’t think I am.  I’m hoping that I will learn something from Donna Schaper.  She’s a pretty common sense person.  I need some tips on when to say to myself “are you investing too much time into this?” or “is this really something that you need to be doing? I need to do a better job of keeping it simple.  I’ll keep you posted on how I’m doing.

Mari has been talking about getting her haircut for a long time now. Its a well known generalization that it is the Dad who is the one who doesn’t want his little girl getting her long tresses snipped.

Poor Mari, with two dads, is in double trouble when it comes to getting a hair change approval. But she made the plead for the Locks of Love donation, and how can you say no to that

Today we did the deed. Here’s the before picture:

And here is the after:

She is ecstatic…

So, ladies, tell me about your hair cut and the tears your dad shed when his little girl wanted to grow up.

The big truck just pulled away with him inside.  No black clothes, no prayers, only silent tears.  It seemed a rather unceremonious ending to a life so long lived.  Thirty seven years is, after all, a pretty long life for an animal…remarkable even.  I remember a comment Dr. Janssen, a veterinarian who was not our regular vet, made during an emergency call once.

“What’s this horse’s breeding?” 

“Uh, I can’t think of his Dam and Sires name off the top of my head, but I think it was…”

“Is he Cody bred?”

“Yes, his sire was Dan Cody or something like that.”

“Yeah, those Cody bred horses live a long time…”

That conversation was over ten years ago.  Even Dr. Janssen retired and sold his practice.  And yet Crackers seemed to go on, oblivious of the fact that time was racing by.  Someone forgot to give him the memo that horses can quit hanging on around twenty-five or so.  He seemed happy and just kept going.  We certainly didn’t have any complaints.  About the time he hit thirty, a couple kids appeared on the farm…babies actually.  And Crackers waited around to give another generation a chance to get to know the sweet old gentleman that he was. 

Twenty four years is a long time to be a part of a family and that is what Crackers has been, a part of our family.  Crackers came  into my life when I was 19 and living in my childhood home.  My step-dad, Paul, relented to our pleas to have a horse.  Crackers was 13 at the time, middle aged (so we thought) and our first venture into equine husbandry.  He was the perfect first horse, gentle, easy going, sweet natured, and a little mischievous.  On one occasion at a family picnic I remember my aunt wanting to ride.  After some cursory instruction on guiding and stopping, she mounted and took the reins.  Off they trotted to the edge of the yard, our confidence in Crackers as the perfect family packer confirmed…until they turned back toward the house.  The sight of my Tia screaming Whoa, Whoa at the top of her lungs as Crackers galloped full speed toward his stall is permanently etched in my memory (and everyone elses who was there!)  Miraculously she managed to stay on and any doubts I may have had about guardian angels were banished at that moment!  The fact that she remained atop during the hard right-hand turn around the house is what confirmed it for me, though her tenacious white knuckle grip on the saddle horn may have played a role in her maintaining her seat.  This story has risen to legend status in our family and hardly a summer picnic passes without someone recollecting Tia Mella’s harrowing ride and the ensuing laughter that always comes with near brushes of danger.

 It was shortly after that time that Crackers moved from my parent’s home to the farm where we are now and where he spent the last twenty years of his life.  Paul jokes that before I pulled out of the driveway with the horse in the trailer, he was out pulling up the corral fence.  But I know that no one had more affection for the old fellow than he did.

Over the years, legions of families and friends have petted and rode the old buckskin gelding.  Pasture-mates came and went…Chevy, Chief, Gambler, Billy and finally young Bailey, his last friend.  And Crackers finally started to give in to the inevitable ticking of time.  He lost his sight, and gradually became more and more feeble.  His teeth began to wear out and he needed special food and hay.  Bailey, despite his great size, treated him with patient gentleness as he would slowly walk his circles looking for his food and water through his clouded vision.  Every night, when Crackers came in the barn for his special senior supper, Bailey waited beside his window, his constant companion.

I think Bailey knew Cracker’s time was near even before we did.  This week, instead of his usual boisterousness at feeding time, the big, young gelding acted especially subdued.  When Crackers went down two nights ago and Todd and I struggled to pull him to his feet,  Bailey stood near, watching intently, as if willing the old fellow to come back to us.  We did get him up, and we were thankful that he ate and drank with his usual appetite, but he was also weak and unsteady.  We knew it wouldn’t be long when Crackers refused to be led inside to his stall.  The last several days had been unusually cold and the single digit, night-time temperatures must have exacted a severe toll on his old body.  On Friday morning we found him down again, breathing steadily, but with his lashes half-lidding his dim, blue, sightless eyes.  It was heart wrenching to watch him as he lay there unable to muster the strength to rise from the cold ground that imprisoned him.  I wept uncontrollably as I tried to pull him from the indignity of the mud caused by his lack of body control.  I put blankets over his cold shivering body and hay under his head and neck in a vain attempt to bring comfort to my old friend.   Bailey stood close and nuzzled his head.

The Fates for animal souls must have been in a mood to toy with us mortals on that day.  When I called our regular vet to come, I learned that he was at a veterinary conference in Indianapolis all day.  Five subsequent calls to other local veterinary practices yielded the same response and I was beginning to feel desperate.  I finally located a vet who could come, and mercifully, he was able to come right away for which I am eternally grateful.  Ironically, it was one of the vets who had bought Dr. Janssen’s practice.   

If animal doctors take courses in bedside manner, Dr. Thompson surely aced that one.  He and his assistant couldn’t have been kinder and treated Crackers with great care and gentleness.  And when his tired body refused their efforts to bring him to his feet, they supported our choice to send him on his way to a better place.

This is not the first time I have been present as an animal friend passes into the afterlife.  We have let go of two dear dogs in the recent few years and I was there both times.  It is a hard thing to do, and a harder thing not to do.  After Dr. Thompson did his part, I noticed something that I had also seen when Daisy and Brock took flight.  As Crackers took his final breaths on this earth, his four legs made minute movements, one after the other, in a running motion, the way you often see in napping dogs.  When our pets are full of life and we see this, we laugh and say they are dreaming of chasing squirrels or some other happy idea.  But when our friends are passing through the earthly veil, what do we make of such a thing? 

I am sure someone can give me a rational scientific explanation for such a phenomenon, but I don’t care to know it, at least not for awhile.  I want to believe that the spirit of my longtime friend was finally taking flight, free from the cold, atrophy and pain that had been holding him to the ground.  And as his spirit took to flight, his old body said “wait, wait! I can’t keep up, but I’m trying.”  And his spirit turned and said, “don’t try, let go, you cannot come with me now.  I am running free.  I am running without body or saddle or rider clinging on.  I am going to a place where where I cannot be stopped, full gallop ahead.  I am going to my stall, I am headed home.”

With killing frosts for the last couple weeks, I was astounded to see this tenacious bloom fighting through its dry and wilting bedmates today.  Its especially surprising since the daisies quit blooming in late August.   I guess those “Becky” Shastas I got from Kim at Garden Thyme were a good choice.

Setting the scene:  Papa and Mari are home together on a school day and have just finished lunch.  Phone rings and Papa strides quickly over to pick it up without looking at the caller I.D.

Conversation Part 1: 

Caller with mature, warm, friendly voice: ”Hello, this is Jane* with the Indianpolis Star” (*this name is changed because I simply don’t remember!)

Papa: “Hi, Jane.  I don’t think we’re interested in taking the Star.”

Jane:  “But its only $10 a month.”

Papa: (Laughing) ”I know!  You guys do a really good job of making sure we know that.” (both of us are laughing now.) “But I appreciate the offer,  thanks.”

Jane: (Still laughing) “Well thanks, you have a nice day.”

Papa: “You too, Jane. Goodbye.”

[Note: I honestly don't mind getting telemarket by the Indianapolis Star, which is a good thing because they call ALOT!  But all you have to say is "no thanks" and they don't persist.  They are always polite and friendly and I don't think its too much of a bother to be polite in return.  Every once in a while I hang up the phone feeling pretty good about having had a nice conversation with someone I don't even know and will probably never speak to again.]

Conversation Part 2:

Papa returns to the kitchen where Mari is at the table coloring.

Mari:  “Who was that who called on the phone?”

Papa:  “Oh, just the people from the paper who wanted to know if we wanted to buy the paper every day.”

Mari:  “Did you buy it?”

Papa:  “No, I don’t have time to read it.”

Mari:  “When you get retired you can buy it.”

Papa:  “Really?  Why do you say that?”

Mari:  “‘Cause that’s what Grandma and Grandpa do.  They just sit around reading the paper all the time and they’re retired.”

Papa: (Unable to contain laughter.)  ” Oh really.  I see…”

(Models shown simulating grandparent-like behaviour described by grandchild.  These are not actual grandparents.)

Last Friday night, Daniel and Mari attended the PTO movie night fundraiser at their school.  They saw Hollywood’s latest version of the children’s classic book, Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White.  I haven’t seen it yet but it looks like a well made movie and hopefully it is worthy of the huge amount of acting talent recruited for the many animal character voices.  (Can you imagine a better choice than Steve Buscemi as Templeton the Rat?)  I also hope this 2006 live action adaptation will redeem Hollywood for the sin of the saccharine 1973 Hanna-Barbera animated version which was just awful in my opinion (with the exception of Paul Lynde and Agnes Moorhead’s voicing.)

What I am glad about is that the kids got to see the benevolent personification of the lovely and useful garden spider.  Without this gentle story as back drop, I don’t think they could have appreciated the beautiful creature that made her home next to our front door a couple days ago.

When we showed her to the kids, they were initially repulsed.  But when we pointed out how beautiful her full, velvety black abdomen and legs were and how striking the bright yellow markings looked, they were more receptive to seeing beauty in this unusual creature. 

However, Charlotte’s story truly came to life when the next morning a huge egg sac appeared beside her and her body was visibly smaller.   Surely the effort to produce the thousands of eggs must have taken a tremendous toll on the living creature and I can envision E.B. White observing with inspiration this very process on his rural Maine farm in the 1950s. 

Our Charlotte is now being very still and I think is simply waiting for the fulfillment of her time.  It makes me a little sad to pass her every time I enter and exit through that door.  Yet I am grateful for this chance to see beauty in this unexpected place and, moreover, I am glad that Daniel and Mari have a chance to watch this act of nature up close. 

This pic was just developed (yes, old fashioned silver film still is made…) and I previewed it on the developers website.  I thought I would share this great pic of my two little sweeties waiting for the bus.

School started last Wednesday for Daniel and Mari.  Today was the last day of the first full week of school and I am amazed at how quickly we have settled back into the routine.  Actually, one reason for the easy transition, for me, is that this year both kids get on the bus and ride to school together (sniff, sniff, my babies are growin’ up!)  instead of going to elementary and preschool  separately like last year.  Much easier for old potterdad.

This morning we were a little ahead of schedule getting ready and had some extra time on our hands before the bus arrived.  Daniel said to me “why don’t we go outside to play while we wait for the bus, I’m a kinesthetically oriented learner!” 

I said “you’re a what?”

“A kinesthetically oriented learner” he casually replied ”I like to learn while I play.  But I think I’m a naturalist too.  We went on a nature walk with Mrs. Underhill’s class and I liked that alot.  And I think Mari is going to be a musical learner, that’s what she’s good at” he rattled on.

“Oh.” I mumbled dumbly as we went out the front door.

“Were you a kinesthetically oriented learner when you were in school, Papa?” Daniel asked as he balanced on the rocks in the perenial garden by the porch.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said “I don’t think we were taught about kinesthetically oriented learning when I was in first grade…come to think of it, I don’t think we talked much about kinesthetically oriented learning when I was in college.”

“Really?”  He looked at me in astonishment.

“Yeah, really.” I returned.

“Oh-oh!  Here comes the bus!  Gotta go!”  he said as he and Mari scampered down the driveway.  “I love you!”

“Love you too,” I called back “have a good day.”

Yipes! I thought as the bus pulled away.  And to think I was only worried about learning the new math…sigh.  (Dang that useless poly-sci degree…)