Up, Up, and Away!

In just a few days, I’ll begin my 2012 sabbatical.  The church I serve, Middleton Community United Church of Christ, included it in my call agreement in 2001—a three-month sabbatical every five years.

I certainly have some learning goals for my time away, but the more immediate and exciting one is a seven-week trip to England and Scotland.  Stephanie and I will be flying out of Chicago O’Hare Airport on June 1, arriving in Dublin, Ireland, for a brief layover, then heading to Manchester, where we’ll begin our English travels.  We’ll be visiting every part of England—north, east, south, and west—before returning to Manchester on June 29, when Steph flies back to the US.  I stay on for three more weeks—the first one with the Iona Community in Scotland and the other two in the city of Leicester, my family’s ancestral home.

I’ve been planning this trip since late in 2010, so there’s been a lot of time for the anticipation to build.  Less than two weeks until we leave—I can’t wait!

Sunday, May 20, was my final Sunday at MCC before the start of the sabbatical.  This week will be taken up with the few loose ends that remain.  Pretty soon, it’ll be the final check of our arrangements, filling the suitcases, saying goodbye to our children and families, and then—takeoff!

This blog will be my trip journal.  As often as I’m able, I’ll post descriptions, reflections, and pictures of the various destinations and experiences.  I hope you’ll be able to share the experience with us!

And So It Goes

Life has a way of surprising you.  You begin the day with one schedule and find that by lunchtime that it's out the window.  The things you thought were priorities get displaced by other things that take time and energy to resolve.  Over the last few weeks, that’s how it’s been for me.

Here’s a sampling of what's been going on:

The primary elections in the recall efforts for governor, lieutenant governor, and various state senators were held yesterday here in Wisconsin.  It has the feeling of the calm before the storm.  Last night, I heard the victory speeches of both Scott Walker, Republican governor, and Tom Barrett, Democratic challenger.  They sounded like commanders, preparing their armies for a crusade.  We’re going to be in for quite a time between now and the general election on June 5.  And even that isn’t likely to signal the end of the drama.

At the same time, I’m wrapping up things at church and home prior my sabbatical.  Starting May 26, I’ll be gone for three months, with three weeks of vacation tacked on at the end.  Stephanie and I will spend the first month traveling in England.  Steph returns to the US on June 29, but I stay behind for three more weeks, one at a retreat center in Scotland and the other two in the city of Leicester, my family’s ancestral home.  The final eight weeks will be spent back in Wisconsin, with weekend trips and other side excursions to be planned.  I'm planning to use this blog as my trip journal.  Stay tuned!

Simultaneously, my mother is in the hospital.  She’s almost 92 years old, still quite hale and hearty, but with a variety of health issues that keep cropping up.  On the one hand, it’s to be expected, given her age.  On the other, she’s my mother.  You never want to see your loved ones sick.  I’ve spoken to her several times on the telephone and plan to drive up to see her on Friday.

And as if that’s not enough, since my last post I’ve had to deal with yet another personnel matter at the church.  Those of you who’ve read this blog before know that my secretary resigned very abruptly last December.  That proved to be a major distraction for some months.  The most recent situation wasn’t a resignation, but required several meetings and consultations to be resolved.  We’re not quite out of the woods, but at least we can see the clearing.

And so it goes.  That’s how life is sometimes.  Elbert Hubbard once said that “life is just one damned thing after another.”  I believe it, although sometimes it’s one thing piled on top of several other things.

My sabbatical begins in 16 days.  I’m ready.

Mystic Chords of Memory

Whenever I see it, I know I’m home.

Castle Mound isn’t a very noteworthy hill.  It’s a long, narrow ridge, a few hundred yards long and no more than 200 feet high.  It gets its name from the turret-like rock formations that stick out about the trees at its east end.  Many travelers don’t even notice it as they speed by on the freeway below.  But it speaks volumes to me about coming home.

Last Thursday afternoon, taking advantage of an extra day off, I drove up to Black River Falls to see my mother.  I was also able to see my two brothers and their wives—Dick and Roberta for supper on Thursday, Don and Judy for breakfast and lunch on Friday.

I’ve climbed Castle Mound many times, beginning with my childhood.  We would often picnic in the park at the foot of the hill, then hike up to the observation tower.  When I became an adventurous youth, I hiked all the way to the rock turrets at the east end—a more challenging task.  Then, triumphant, we’d sit out on the rocks, looking at the cars zipping along below and gazing out across the flat, former lake bed, punctuated with similar hills and ridges all the way to the horizon.

My hikes have grown less frequent, now that my mother, nearly 92 years old, isn’t able to manage it any more.  Although Castle Mound isn’t part of her repertoire any longer, that doesn’t mean she sits around at home all day.  She’s still a whirlwind of energy, attending her bird club, Homemakers’ Club, Tuesday Club (which, naturally, meets on Wednesday), camping club, card club, church choir, and more.  I frequently don’t find her at home when I call.  Still, we all know that my mother has more years behind her than ahead of her.  That makes the time we have more precious and the need to make the trip more urgent.

I haven’t lived in Black River Falls since I finished college, 35 years ago, so that town I remember doesn't exist any longer.  Wal-Mart moved in a while back and killed the downtown--one more reason to have hard feelings toward the big, bad retail giant.  But in my mind, it’s still the same place: Ozzie Moe selling shoes, Harmie Galston selling furniture (and running a funeral home on the side), Verna Keefe directing the church choir, my Grandma Anna fussing in her kitchen.   And I think of all the generous people that have supported and enriched life there, from the major philanthropists like the Gebhardts and the Lundas to the ones whose contributions have been smaller but no less meaningful.  Lincoln once appealed to this country’s “mystic chords of memory.”  I hear that music strumming in my head whenever I walk its streets.

I recognize that my view of Black River Falls can be a bit rose-colored.  I guess that’s inevitable.  We all tend to remember the good things and ignore the not-so-good.  I’m certainly aware of the pettiness and parochialism that sometimes reared its head, making it a less welcoming, caring, and forward-thinking place than it might have been.  Still, for all its faults—if faults they be—it’s still home, and I am who I am in part because of that place and its people.  They’ll always be precious to me.

Back in the Saddle Again

I’m back!

It’s been over three months since my last post.  It was early December.  I was getting into a groove.  I had four or five good ideas for articles.  Things were great.  Things were fine.

Then it happened.

I’d taken a Thursday off as Christmas approached.  Stephanie and I were getting ready to go Christmas shopping.  I stopped by the office to pick up something I’d forgotten . . . AND FOUND THE RESIGNATION LETTER OF MY SECRETARY. 

Needless to say, it was a shock.  We'd talked about job duties and work flow only a few days before that, and she hadn’t said anything about quitting.  She’d had health issues, but seemed to be dealing with them.  Little did I know . . .

It’s amazing how unexpected events can really put you off your game.  My focus immediately changed—find temporary office help, make sure the bookkeeping is covered (one of the secretary’s duties), dust off the job description and make the necessary adjustments, figure out how to advertise, ready resumes, conduct interviews, make a hiring decision—it took a lot of energy and attention.  Although we'd hired someone by mid-January, the new secretary needed a lot of handholding in order to get her feet on the ground.  I’ve had help in accomplishing all this, but much of it still fell to me.

It reminded me of a whitewater rafting trip I went on, some thirty years ago.  The instructor told us that, if we capsize and end up in the water, just roll over on your back and float downstream, feet first, until you find a place to get out of the water.  Well, wouldn’t you know, we capsized.  I remembered my instructions, rolled over on my back, and then tried to raise my legs.  BAM—a rock hit my shins, pitching me forward.  So I tried again—BAM, another rock.  This happened four or five times.  Despite my best efforts, I never was able to get on my back with my feet out in front of me.

Life’s been like that for me over the last several months—one rock after another.  But I’m looking forward to smoother sailing from here on in.  And I’m looking forward to regular postings on my blog.  There's so much to comment on--life, family, politics, faith--I shouldn't have any trouble filling this page.

I’m back—and hope I never go away again.

The Big Move-Out--the Continuing Saga

I wrote earlier about the big transitions going on at the Iliff house.  Two of our children moved to their own apartment.  For the first time in nearly 30 years none of our children are living at home.

We made the decision to turn one of the bedrooms to Stephanie's activity room.  So, a week ago, she spent much of the day painting.  One of the bedrooms had a color scheme heavy on orange and blue—our younger daughter’s choices.  We opted for a more conservative look—cocoa brown.   That was completed and several furniture items were moved in.  It looks nice, even if the walls are a little bare at present.

While she was concentrating on the paint job, I had four jobs:

1. Cleaning the garage.  I made a good start on this, but there’s still a lot more to do.  The first task is getting the workbench into shape before attacking the various piles.  I'd hoped to get a car in the garage before the first big snowfall, but that was too optimistic.  But I’ve got all day Thursday and part of Saturday to attack it--maybe I can still make it happen.
2. Buying desks for each of us.  That’s one project I’ve completed to everyone’s satisfaction.  I found desks, both on sale, that should serve our purposes very well.  Of course, they needed assembling, my project last Thursday evening.
3. Fix the light.  There is a very nice ceiling fan with a light in that room, but the pull-string switch no longer worked.  I took it apart with no difficulty and found the broken part.  The real trick was getting it back together with a new switch installed.  I had to undo quite a bit of my work when I’d discover I left out some part or did the steps in the wrong order.  I eventually got it all together again—and the light even works!
4.  Find window coverings.  We found new blinds at Menard’s, but we’ve had a hard time finding a valance.  I guess Steph is taking this job away from me.  She said she was going to start looking online.

So on Thursday, it’s back to the garage (unless Christmas decorating, office cleaning, laundry, yard work, etc.) gets in the way.  I do have a knack for starting a job and not finishing it.  But at least we’ve made progress!

The physical rearrangement of our house has been fun, but it’s the emotional and relational rearrangement that’s actually been more interesting.  I’ll delve into that in my next post.

Christmas Curmudgeon

I’m a Christmas curmudgeon.  I am.  And I’m proud of it.  An unapologetic Christmas curmudgeon.

I see the rampant consumerism that’s all but taken over the Christmas holiday.  I see all the effort and energy expended on things that seem beside the point at Christmastime.  And I see the instances of uncivil and anti-Christmas behavior all around.

And it’s not just the pepper spray and mob mentality.  It’s the uncaring, selfish attitudes that many have, even at this time of the year.  I have three family members who work retail.  I’ve heard their stories of snotty customers who think that it’s a major crisis (and the salesperson’s fault) that the store doesn’t have the sweater they want in their size and color.

But overall I think I’ve been quite magnanimous in my curmudgeonhood.  I’ve been walking past Christmas displays for over a month and haven’t intentionally knocked over even one of them.  I’ve shown great restraint in not shouting “Turn off that crap” when I hear yet another sappy rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” playing over the store PA.  And I mostly kept my self-righteousness to myself last Friday when I drove by stores with parking lots jammed with cars.

But like most self-righteous people, I’m not terribly consistent in the application of my principles.  While I take perverse pleasure in turning up my nose at the Christmas grab-fest that began on Black Friday, I probably begin as many sentences with “What I’d like for Christmas is” as any other person.

Still, when it’s all said and done, I don’t allow myself to get too worked up about the drowning of Christmas under the tidal wave of consumerism.  I walk by the Christmas displays in October.  I close my ears to the insipid Christmas music.  Ultimately, the way I celebrate Christmas is within my own control.

I guess in some ways I’m like Linus in “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.”  In contrast to Charlie Brown’s angst and despair about the state of our Christmas observances, I try to keep as calm as I possible and proclaim in a simple and direct way the Christmas story:

“Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings

of great joy for all the people.

For unto you is born this day

in the city of David a Savior,

who is Christ the Lord.”

Hmm.  After all is said and done, maybe I’m not so much a curmudgeon as an idealist in disguise.  Joy to the world!

In the Ditch

Saturday morning, I joined eight other members of Middleton Community Church in our final roadside cleanup effort of the year.  Earlier this year, we adopted a stretch of Country Highway J a short distance from the church.  The road winds through rolling countryside, with farms, homes, woodlots, and fields all around.  It was a bit cool and overcast, but otherwise a pleasant day to be outside.

We divided into four teams.  Two teams started at the ends and worked toward the middle.  Two teams started in the middle and worked toward the ends.  When the teams met, they turned around and picked up the other side of the road.  A very sensible way to do it!

I worked with Dale Slusser, who’s been attending MCC for a number of years but only recently joined.  He went on our mission trip to Jamaica in June 2010.  He and I, along with Tim Coughlin, were roommates.  We called it the “old farts’ room” since we’re all, well, old farts!  He’s also a regular participant in our Interfaith Hospitality Network ministry, housing homeless families in our church building for a week, three or four times a year.

It was fortunate that Dale was able to be a part of our cleanup effort.  Usually, on the weekend before Thanksgiving, he’s in northern Wisconsin, hunting deer.  But the start of the hunt had to be delayed a day, since the landowner and hunting buddy had to attend his daughter’s wedding!  Poor planning on her part, we agreed!  Still, it was a small price to pay for such a momentous occasion.  Best wishes to the bride and groom in their new life together.

Dale won the award for the most trash collected.  I didn’t actually see all the other bags, but I can’t imagine anyone finding more stuff.  He picked up a lot of bulky stuff: cans, large sheets of paper and plastic, and a quart-sized beer bottle (who drinks beer in quarts?)  I seemed to specialize in cigarette butts.  I must have picked up about two dozen Pall Mall butts.  Whoever, you are: start using the ashtray in your car!

In about an hour, we were all done.  That project is done now until spring.  A small, simple way to keep God’s good earth more tidy and beautiful.

(Click here to see pictures of our clean-up on Middleton Community UCC’s Facebook page.)