Spend More

Here's how our weekend went:
Friday, Mr. Dewey and I did our errands in town - with a goal of eliminating trips near the mall between now and 2009. That evening we met some folks (including Mike and the boys) at the church and helped set up for the Ten Thousand Villages Crafts Sale that has been held here for the last 11 years. Our friend, Lisa, was in charge, and she had everything organized so well!

After that was done, Mike, the boys, Lisa, Mr. Dewey and I went up to Rico's for pizza and cards. Then it was home for hot buttered rum toddies before the fire and bed.

Saturday was cold and fresh, and the boys had a great time sledding. Check out the blog banner for a picture of Ben heading down the hill behind our neighbors' house. (We got a few inches of snow here last Thursday night, and it stayed cold enough that it stayed until Sunday morning.) They would go out for a while, come in and warm up with hot tea or cocoa, a little drawing, a little computer time, and then back out. I baked fruitcakes. Bunches of them. All three ovens were going from about 11 am until I pulled the last batch out at 7:30. During that time, Mr. Dewey got a chance to work out and do some computer housekeeping, while Mike did some reading.

Dinner was Rico's pizza again (it's just that good, folks!) and a movie, and some quiet time before bed. We needed it after watching Jurassic Park with the stereo cranked!

We had breakfast on Sunday and then all went to church, followed by lunch at the Southern, before Mike and the boys headed home to prepare for their week. It was a perfect weekend, and it felt like a holiday. It was a holiday! We celebrated family and time spent together, and I don't think it could have been better.

And that brings me to this: the "holidays" are upon us. What will you spend? You can spend your time at the mall, and your money too, or you can spend your time enjoying family and community. We've chosen the latter, and have enjoyed this time of year immensely.

Below is a great video, put together by a group called Advent Conspiracy. I just learned about it, thanks to my friend, John. He's such a rabble-rouser that he even asked a heathen like me to be secretary at his church! What a joy that's been!

Anyway, the video says what I've been trying to say for years: that consumerism is a disease that robs us of our lives. The good news is that it is the easiest thing in the world to cure! All you have to do is stop buying things that no one needs. But no need for me to blather on about it. Watch the video. It reminds me of the words to a song written for John Denver years ago. "I guess he'd rather work out where the only thing you earn is what you spend."



And remember, you don't need to be a Christian to act like one.

Now, This Is Something You Just Don't See Every Day

This is our neighbor.


Yes. He is mowing the snow.


He is from Florida. What can I say?

Philosophy 101

Not to take anything away from the sincere and honest search for meaning currently going on at my friend John's blog, but this just says it all:



Thanks, Lucky!

The Great Miriam Makeba

My mom introduced me to Miriam Makeba (and Lena Horne and Hugh Masakela and Harry Belafonte) when I was a little girl. I wish I still had her record collection! Thanks,Madame Pata Pata for bringing your voice to the world. Thanks, Ma, for bringing it to me.

No Words Needed

Mr. Dewey's Favorite Song in the Whole World is at 10:42

In the Beginning...

John and I had been married for about a year and a half in October of 1991.  We'd been in our house a little over a year and had two lovely kitties - Ivan and Bernice Kopiski.  We were pretty well established in our routine.  John was enjoying running along the Mississippi river paths after work, and I was working for Subway, gone about 9 or 10 nights a month and working long hours.  It had not occurred to us to get a third cat.

But, one evening in mid-October, we came home to find a message on our machine.  Our neighbor, Marge, had a kitten in her garage, and she wondered if we would want it.  It turns out, her son, Joel, was living with a friend in an apartment down on the river, about 6 blocks from us.  He was walking one morning when he heard mewling, and found a little striped grey kitten, bedraggled and wet, struggling on the bank.  He took it back to the apartment, only to find his friend irate.  I'm not sure what the story was there.  He may not have liked cats, but I think there was more to it.  Joel was never the most productive fellow, and I suspect he was living off the good graces of his friend.  Bringing a cat home was likely close to the final straw for him.  He told Joel to get the cat out of the place within the hour or he could go, too.  So, knowing no other options, he did what most grown-ups do when they don't know what else to do; he took it to Mom and Dad.  

Well, Mom and Dad (Marge and Bud, to us), had two dogs, and didn't think they would appreciate having a cat in the house.  They knew we had kitties, so Marge called us and left that message, then put the kitten in the only safe and comfortable place she could think of - her car.  

So, when we came over to see the kitten, she took us out to the garage.  We were expecting a mangy, scrawny, drippy little thing that would shy away from any quick movement, as strays so often do.  Instead, we saw this adorable little grey thing curled up in the front seat, as cozy as could be. I opened the car door and he looked up at me and immediately crawled up my chest and stuck his head under my chin, as if to say "Where've you been, Mama?"  Of course he came home with us.

We took him to the vet the next morning, got him all checked out, vaccinated, and cleaned up.  He was the picture of health.  It took another day to come up with the name Moses.  Perfect!  Enter Moses Kopiski.  We always like to dignify our kitties with middle names.  Ivan's was Raskalnikov, for he was prone to bouts of aggression followed by contrition.  Bernice's was La Flueur, for she was indeed our "little flower".  Moses' name proved to be a poser.  He liked eating bugs, so we often called him "Renfield", but it didn't really go with the flow.  We liked the sound of Moses P. Kopiski, but could never settle on what the P. stood for.  In the end, we left it at that, and decided Moses would let us know what it stood for when he was good and ready.  Turns out, it took a lifetime for us to get it.  But it was worth the wait.

It's easy for us to remember the general time in which Moses came into our lives.  Just about two weeks later, the five of us were sitting in the dining room on a sunny November 2nd, looking at 28 1/2 inches of beautiful snow - the Great Halloween Snowstorm had hit Minneapolis.  

That's our jack-o-lantern, sitting under the snow.

We already knew that we had a special kitty, so we were beside ourselves with joy that we had saved this little fellow from his homelessness when we did.  And I got two great Halloween Treats that year: a long, snow-filled weekend with my sweetie pie where everything stopped completely for a while, and a new kitty who would turn out the be one of my best friends.

For more pictures of Moses and his friends, click here.

Moses' Tale Has Ended

Moses the storyteller fell silent, Friday, October 16, 17 years (perhaps to the day) after we brought him into our home.  He went peacefully and easily, six days after we made the decision to let him go.  I spent a lot of time with him in the last week, even petting him through the night to comfort him.  Even at the end, when he was too weak to walk and could hardly utter a sound, just the touch of my hand would cause him to purr.

We don't know what happened, really.  After managing his blood sugar well for so long, it all of a sudden went sky-high.  A month of increased insulin saw it get worse, rather than better.  Now Moses took his shots like a star - never a problem - but he did not like going to the vet, and he would tell us so, every time.  So, the idea of more trips and more trips, and then that final trip, felt like an injustice.

In addition to the insulin, he also had some mysterious liver ailment that had been lurking in the background for about a year.  He had been sick last December, and we almost lost him.  He was in the hospital on IV for 4 days just to keep him from being dehydrated.  We were never sure what happened there, but we did learn of an elevated liver enzyme - many times higher than acceptable.  The vets wanted to do tests - even though they admitted that whatever the test results showed, there was little success in treating liver disease in cats.  So, we brought him home and started adding an herbal tincture and nutritional yeast to his food.  He loved it, and the liver enzymes reading went down from 780 or so to 72 over the course of a couple of months.  We figured we would enjoy whatever time Moses had left with us, and leave it at that.

We continued to manage his diet, and he was down to just over 9 pounds and quite svelte.  And still quite the storyteller.  And quite the snuggler.  I am going to come out and say something no mother ever should say, but here it is: he was my favorite.  He would lay in my arms all night, snuggled in like a stuffed bear.  I could always count on Moses for a hug.  I often carried him around the house with me like he were an infant, and he would respond with his arms around my neck.  Moses taught me everything I know about "snuggy bumps", and naps, and cuddling, and patience (and heaven knows, we can all use more information about that!), and relaxing.

His full name was Moses P. Kopiski.  He never told us what the "P" stood for, but I think I figured it out. It wasn't a matter of getting to the "Promised Land" for this fella.  I think he was the Promise.  He lived the idea that you just couldn't say "I love you" too much.  He embodied the notion that love received could easily be returned, and thus amplified.  He showed us that, more often than not, just sitting quietly with someone was the best thing you could do for them.

Over the next few days I will be sharing some of Moses' story.  He was an extraordinary being; sweet natured, tender, demanding, peaceful, funny, sometimes grouchy (as with humans, diabetes can cause irritability in cats, too, I found), but always a lover.  

As with our other beloved pets, Wilma, Ivan, and Bernice, we planted a living memorial over Moses.  I chose this particular plant because I wanted to connect this time of year with Moses - not when he left us, but when he came into our lives and added light and joy.  It wasn't until we were at the cash register with it that I realized the connection.  Moses now rests under a beautiful Burning Bush.  

WTF, People!

h/t Open Pie Hole.  If I were still in Minneapolis there would be 4 sweet people, a dog and a couple chickens hanging out at my house, 'cause I would have hauled ass over there to get them off the side of the freeway.  From what I understand, some of the fine attorneys who belong to the National Lawyers Guild are working on this issue.  My CARC team may have beat yours at softball once, but you guys are still Da Best!

Gee, Mr. Davis, We Were Just Starting to Have Fun!

David Davis is our Representative to the US House - well, for the next 3 months or so, anyway. Mr. Davis is a freshman rep, and he always will be. You see, he lost his bid for re-election just a couple of weeks ago - a feat that was last accomplished here in the 1950s. Well, at least we can say he accomplished something. According to Congress.org, Davis ranked 430th in effectiveness his freshman - dare I say ONLY? - term. That's 430th out of 435.

So, naturally, when those 8000 or so voters out of some 50,000 eligible declined to invite Mr. Davis back for a sophomore term, he did the only logical thing a small town politician should do: he threw a hissy fit. He claimed that the only reason he lost was because Democrats crossed over and voted for his major opponent, Dr. Phil Roe. Well, he's right about that. But what he failed to grasp, and as far as I can till, still hasn't got it quite right, is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. And that's where it started to get fun. He hired a big-city lawyer who specializes in voting irregularities; he claimed he was gonna uncover this vast left-wing conspiracy and take back what is rightfully his, namely, the right to not represent anyone who didn't vote for him.

I sent a little letter to the papers, which showed up in all four of the area dailies. Here it is.

He whined and belly-ached for a few more days and then conceded - but not before pointing out that the "law was on his side". Okay. I was hoping he'd carry on for a week or two more, just to make sure that he completely obliterated the snowball's chance in hell he had of running for office again.

Mr. Davis is not without his supporters, though. One woman wrote to the Johnson City Press, begging Mr. Davis to run as an Independent, as though he could. With all his puling about party loyalty, such a stunt would be just a little hypocritical. And I don't believe Mr. Davis is a hypocrite. I think he is completely sincere about his unwillingness to do his job for ALL the people in the First District. But perhaps an even greater hurdle for Mr. Davis to overcome en route to an Independent ticket would be his ability to act, well, independently. You see, I don't think Davis could look at a clogged drain and act on it without first getting the Bush Administration's perspective.

So, while we got a little snicker out of watching a grown man groan, the fun ends there. Here's the irony: the single brave soul who is running for Davis' seat as a Democrat (talk about a snowball's chance!) is a great local musician named Rob Russell. He and his band just finished their farewell concert as he gets ready to jump into the general election season with both feet. The name of his band? The Sore Losers, of course.

NASCAR? What NASCAR?

Well, "The Big One" has come and gone. I'm talking about the event of the year for all the big-belt-buckle-wearin', backy-chewin', boot-scootin' boogyin', American-flag-wavin', farmer's-tan-showin', NRA-sticker-totin' NASCAR fans out there. The "Bristol Motor Speedway Sharpie 500" took place just over the mountains from us this weekend. We did not attend, but some friends, Lonney and Amanda, did. Here's one of the photos they took:



Amanda said it was a good time, and I'm gonna take her word for it. I don't go anywhere near Bristol during "race weekend", which happens twice a year. You don't have to, because all the folks who roll into town for the event come to you! Now, I don't mean to disparage NASCAR, BMS, red-necks, or any of that. It just isn't my thang, as they say around here. But we have been to the BMS a couple of times, but only for their Christmas Lights extravaganza. We've even gotten to drive our extremely sedate Saturn VUE on the "fastest half-mile". That's enough for me.

Still, it is kind of neat to drive along Panhandle Road, which runs the ridge of the Holston Mountains, and look down to the right and see the BMS (it's a little hard to see in the summer, but the orange roof shows up pretty darn well in the winter, I'll tell you). I'll never go to one of the big races. Lots of folks in the area work at the beer stands or other vendors to help raise money for their favorite causes; it does make me smile to think of folks here in Carter County (where they just passed a "Drinks by the Glass" ordinance for restaurants in 2004) selling beer to make money for the Carter County Democrats, or the Moose Club. I don't know if any of the churches sell beer, but I can just picture them selling Dale Earnhart T-shirts. Some things just never go out of style.

Rainy Days and Canning Never Get Me Down

The rain fell softly and steadily all day, with just enough of a break to allow me to go outside and take a picture or two of the clouds hanging over the Holston Mountains.

John and I picked four baskets of tomatoes, which I then turned into velvety rich marinara. The garden has done nicely, this year, although the weeds are never under control enough to suit Mr. Dewey. I've told him to quit looking at Martha Stewart magazines! Actually, the garden looks pretty good, considering... .

We are in a multi-year drought, so the rain is a welcome visitor - and one we hope will stick around for a few days. These rains are the inland remnants of Hurricane Fay, and they are late. It's wondrous to think we live close enough to the coast to get hurricane rains. But we do!

It was 4 years ago this Labor Day (give or take a week) that we came down here on our whirl-wind house hunting adventure, and we were treated to rains from Hurricane Ivan: 20 inches over night out here in Carter County. It was a mixed blessing: difficult to get around in, and hard to keep the shoes clean, but it was great to see which homes passed the seal test!

Today's rains were nothing like that. We picked our tomatoes in a light drizzle which intensified almost as soon as we got back to the house. Mr. Dewey enjoyed the steady hum of rain as he snoozed, and I enjoyed the cool fresh air as I did my canning in the downstairs kitchen. What a luxury that second kitchen is! I can close off the upper level and keep the heat down here - and since there is no venting, I can have the windows open in the lower half even as the air conditioning is running upstairs. Even so, partitioning the house means we can do without the AC - we may have used it a total of 10 days all summer, and I expect there will be no more need for it, this year. That sits well with this dirt-worshipping, tree-hugging liberal couple!

Because It Just Doesn't Get Any Better Than This

It's Scotts Strawberry Time!

And I Wasn't Even Running

Well, I've had a blog for a couple of years now and this is my first time being tagged. My good buddy John tagged me. And yes, he was gentle with me. Here it is:

The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.

Each player answers the questions about himself or herself.

At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. Ten years ago I was . . .
Living in Minneapolis, working temp jobs after having quit the baking gig at the Mighty Fine, and probably waiting for the snow to melt.

2. Five Things on Today's To Do List
Actually, I don't really have a To Do list, anymore. But, these are five of the things I aimed to get done, today:
Finish the church newsletter for printing.
Call Margo.
Update the bulletin board.
Play with the dog.
Take Ruby's pan back to her.

As you can see, the opportunity for adventure is endless!

3. Things I'd do if I were a billionare
Invest heavily in this company. And this one. And this one.
Buy a mountain, build a dome home, and get off the grid.
Help others do the same.
Explore and learn all about this incredible Earth.
And have a Mai Tai, a Latte, and some dark chocolate everyday (yeah, I know, I pretty much do that now, but like those redneck lottery winners, I'll just be the same old me, rich or not).

4. Three Bad Habits
Refusing to answer questions about my personal failings, faults, tics, squeaks, and bungles.
However, I do admit to habits that others would question that don't really bother me in the least, such as belching when I need to, refusing to wear uncomfortable but attractive shoes, and rolling around on the ground with the dog.

5. Five Places I've lived
Crest Hill, IL
Argyle, WI
Valley Stream, NY
Brooklyn Center, MN
Up the Creek

6. Five Jobs I've had in life:
First of all, I have to take exception to the question. Where else would I have had the jobs? Is someone trying to tell me that we have to work in death, too? No frickin' fair, man!

Anyway, jobs:
maintenance person at McDonald's
manager of a Dairy Queen
nanny (Pardon me, I meant Au Pair!)
consultant
secretary

Now, I'm supposed to tag five other people. However, I am unable to do so, since the only friends I have in the blogosphere have already been tagged.

And so it dies here. You're welcome!

Spring is Sprung!

We've had these for a couple of weeks now

And I heard several of these today:

And noticed more of these:

Which means Spring has Sprung!!!!!

And we can expect to see these:

In about 10-14 days!

Hurray!

For My Sister, In Honor of Her Birthday, March 26

see more crazy cat pics


Happy Birthday, Dister Sear! Love You!!

This is my friend, Jason. He is my hero.

Please take the time watch more testimony from Winter Soldier. We owe them that much.

Well, Well, Look What We Have Here!

Thanks to my good friend, John Shuck, the Tri-Cities is well on its way to having its very own chapter of PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays)! I am proud to be one of the charter members of the group. The paperwork for non-profit status is complete and should be on its way to DC for the final step in the process. We have a website for local use, and about a dozen members already. I'm looking forward to being involved with this great group of people, and of helping make the Tri-Cities a welcoming, inclusive place for a few more.

I Think I Understand Britney a Little Better Now

I'm not certain who or what to blame - insane cats, menopause, Spring fever - but lately, I'm easily annoyed by the critters that live with us. In fact, I have to remind myself - and them - that they live with us, not the other way around. Still, it feels lately like I am under siege, and I've just started to understand what is happening.

MY PETS ARE TURNING INTO PAPARAZZI!

Or should I say "Petperazzi"? Lately, no matter where I go in the house, or what I do, the entourage follows. I am constantly pursued by the click and patter of nails and paws as they follow me from room to room, looking for whatever tidbits I may cast their way - like a TMZ addict. If I'm trying to cook, there they are, underfoot, in the sink, on the counter. I close the door and they paw at it like Liz Smith. If I'm trying to read, they mewl like Ted Casablanca. I throw something away and they are at the bin like a National Enquirer stringer.

LEAVE ME ALONE FOR GOD'S SAKE, WILL YOU?

The worse thing is, they just don't seem to care. It's like this, I swear:

They don't care if they walk across tender parts while you're trying to read. They don't care if you're trying to negotiate the steps to the basement with an armload of groceries. Just like Britney, if they make you fall, they are there to witness and report about it all at the same time.

HELP ME!

I feel like running away, but where? If I go outside, there's Chester, clicking along behind me, beside me, in front of me, dancing around me like I'm Lindsey Lohan on a shopping expo in Manhattan.

I MUST ESCAPE!

But how? I'm trapped. I'm as dependent upon them as they are on me. We feed each other like junkies on a road trip. I can't escape. The clicking, the scraping, the pawing, the whimpering; it haunts my dreams as well as my waking hours. The horror. The horror! Poor Britney. Poor Lindsey. If only you knew that I know what you are going through! Oh, I know. I know!

One Week of Food in Different Cultures

Japan : The Ukita family of Kodaira CityFood expenditure for one week: 37,699 Yen or $317.12














Italy: The Manzo family of SicilyFood expenditure for one week: 214.36 Euros or $260.11














United States: The Revis family of North CarolinaFood expenditure for one week: $341.98














Poland: The Sobczynscy family of Konstancin-JeziornaFood expenditure for one week: 582.48 Zlotys or $151.27














Mexico: The Casales family of CuernavacaFood expenditure for one week: 1,862.78 Mexican Pesos or $189.09














Egypt: The Ahmed family of CairoFood expenditure for one week: 387.85 Egyp tian Pounds or $68.53














Ecuador: The Ayme family of TingoFood expenditure for one week: $31.55














Bhutan: The Namgay family of Shingkhey VillageFood expenditure for one week: 224.93 ngultrum or $5.03














Chad: The Aboubakar family of Breidjing CampFood expenditure for one week: 685 CFA Francs or $1.23

We Are All Storytellers

The 35th Annual National Storytelling Festival took place in Jonesborough this past weekend. We were so lucky to get involved in this festival beginning in 2005, our first full year in Tennessee. Each year for the last three years we have had the great fortune to be able to volunteer 6 hours of our time at the event, and in return, have gotten the full weekend pass. If not for that opportunity, we would likely never go, since it costs $155 per person for the entire weekend.

It's an interesting experience, this Storytelling Festival. Somewhere around 10,000 people descend on this bucolic town of about 3400 to listen to people tell stories through words, music, sign language, dance, parable, lies, laughter and tears. It is an emotional roller coaster, but one I would gladly stand in line for. After that first experience in 2005 we knew it would be a new tradition for us, Mr. Dewey and I.

Storytelling has a long and rich tradition in Appalachia, as it does in other parts of the world. It is so important in these parts that East Tennessee State University has a Master's program in it! Along with old time mountain music, it is the lifeblood of the region. Why, there is a master of "storytelling" right here on Stoney Creek what goes by the name of Big Red. He and his buddies gather nightly at Big Red's Produce to tell whoppers. Half the fun of a shopping trip to Red's is reading the signs he has up all over the place ("All you can eat frog legs at Richard Estep's, Friday at 6:00 p.m. Call for reservations").

And half the fun of going to the National Storytelling Festival is watching the people who come to hear the stories! For instance, there are the folks who plan their vacations around the festival, and have done so for 35 years. There are the folks who come from Alaska, Arizona, California, New York, Michigan, and yes, Jonesborough, not to mention Sodom, NC and White House, TN. One of our favorite events at the NSF is dinner. Whether you enjoy it under the tent atop the hill behind the International Storytelling Center, sitting on a bale of hay waiting for the next teller, or in the Old Quarters at a table with folks from "off", you come meet new friends and share stories.

One year, as John and I enjoyed dinner at the Old Quarters, we enlightened a couple of women from New England about the topography and geology of the area. We informed them that the Blue Ridge Mountains are the oldest mountains in the world, and 500 million years ago were twice the height of the Himalayas. After these lovely people left, a couple from Harlan, Kentucky, who had been listening quietly, said "You know, that thing you were saying about the mountains here: I've never heard that before. How does that fit into God's plan?" As John choked on his pecan pie, I just said "Well, friend, I guess you'll have to ask Him!" This year we sat with a gentleman who came from my home town of Crest Hill, Illinois, and told me about the new 55-and-over housing development on Weber Road, in what was once part of the Trustee Farm of Stateville Prison, not 3 miles from the house I grew up in.

I can't help but watch the other folks at the festival. We were enjoying one African-American storyteller, Tejumola Ologboni, as he was dancing, singing, and playing a traditional African drum. We couldn't NOT move to that beat and that energy. In front of us, though, a couple who were perhaps in their early 60s, sat, unmoved, as he performed. A few others were the same, although most were jumping in their seats with the rhythm of that Djembe drum. I thought "these folks are not into this AT ALL." What a strange and wonderful surprise it was, when Teju was done, to see this couple jump to their feet and give a rousing ovation, only to sit down again just as quickly and return to their taciturn demeanor!

One of the great personal ironies of coming to this festival was seeing Kevin Kling. We lived in Minneapolis for more than 20 years and had to move a thousand miles away to finally see Kevin live. But oh! was it worth the wait! In the three years since he first came to the NSF, he has become the darling of the festival. His Midnight Cabaret event (which, in perfect Minnesota fashion began at 10:30) sold out earlier than any cabaret in the history of the festival. He brought the house down with his feverish retelling of childhood events, turned the audience over with a heartbreaking story about a couple and a train, and then brought us all to our feet - after bringing us to our knees - with his humility and strength as he talked about what he has gained from losing the use of his only good arm. Anyone who left that tent uninspired had to have come out with a white sheet over them.

The energy that flows from this festival is like food, like sustenance. It revives a tired soul and brings light to a dark room. As Teju said, "There is no performer and there is no audience; we are one". And this oneness with the performer and the others in the audience makes the festival an event like no other. Exhausted as we were, we were also energized. Like Teju said "If you aren't dancing, don't blame your shoes!"

Do You Agree?

According to my Uncle Bill, I've aged well. I'll be 46 next week. Whaddaya say?

We Took A Little Trip Over Labor Day

We had a 4-day weekend - probably the last of such for a while, as John starts training this week for a new job within NFS. That means no more 3-day weekends, and it will soon mean a real change, as John goes to the night shift. We are strangely fascinated by the idea of this possibly monumental change in our lives. Surprised? You shouldn't be. After all, our mantra has always been "We are nothing if not flexible". Soon we shall see just how well we live up to our mantra.

In the meantime, we decided to head up to West Virginia for the weekend. We had been to WVA just a few weeks before, remember, when we made the trip with June to her ancestral home in Hemlock. This time we had two goals: explore the New River Gorge and also an area quite a bit north of there in and around the Blackwater Falls State Park. Oh, it was fun!

The New River Gorge is beautiful, and boasts longest single span bridge and the second-highest, at almost 900 feet, in the US. Here is a picture of John standing in front of a massive rock with the bridge (part of it, anyway) in the background. Pretty neat, huh?

Before this bridge was built in 1977, a traveler wishing to cross the New River had to drive down a winding road to this spot and cross a single-lane wooden bridge, which still stands. There used to be a mining town there, but that is gone. The trip across the river would take about 40 minutes top to bottom to top again.

Every year, about this time, there is a festival the closes down the bridge so crazy people can bungee jump or parasail from it. We are not crazy. We are flexible, but not crazy.

This area is mostly interesting for people who like to climb rock cliffs (we don't), whitewater raft (we haven't, but may, someday), parasail (see above), and hike. So, we did a little hiking, but mostly decided to save it for the next time. It is about 3 hours from us, so it could even be a day trip.

So, we headed north toward Blackwater Falls State Park. After a few detours (Google is not perfect) and side trips, we made it. One interesting side trip was to a little town called Phillipi. It is on the Tygert River, which claims to be to only spot in the US to boast a 5.0 earthquake, a Cat 1 Hurricane and an F3 tornado in the same place (but not at the same time). It is also the spot where the first land battle of the Civil War took place. We got the lowdown from a very sweet little lady in the Phillipi Museum, which is next to the Phillipi Covered Bridge - the nation's longest covered bridge, and one that is very much still in use. The beams still have musket holes from that Civil War battle.

Along our way, we came upon a wind farm. It is not very far from Thomas, West Virginia and can be seen from the motel in which we stayed. It got me to thinking about all the hubbub about wind farms that we are hearing, these days. Ted Kennedy is against having one in his back yard, as is nephew Bobby, Jr., as is our own Tennessee Senator, Lamar Alexander (who owns property near the proposed wind farm the Kennedys are fighting to stop). Funny. I would rather see this any day:














Than this, which is the alternative that is being greenlighted by the EPA:









The funny thing is that most of the arguments you hear against wind farms are that they are ugly. Again, I offer, for your consideration: which is uglier? This:




















Or this:














I thought so.

Now the other argument, oddly enough, the one that doesn't get heard all that much, is that wind farms kill birds and bats. Now, we are bird-lovers. We are bat-lovers. We belong to Bat Conservation International, which, by the way, has a great article on this very subject. It is a problem, but it is one that they are pretty confident can be mitigated, with the proper research, which requires the proper funding. Which they aren't getting. BCI is working on it, though, and could use everyone's support - either by writing Congress to provide funding, or by donating to the organization yourselves.

We need to make wind farms a reality, and learn to love them like we love our ugly uncle, so we see more of this:














and less of this:













and no more of this:






OK! Enough with the roadside sermon, and on with the trip!

We spent the a good bit of time riding our bikes around the paved roads inside Blackwater Falls SP, saw some deer, some great waterfalls, had a few good meals, and came home. It was a great trip. We've pretty much decided that this area of West Virginia will be our new destination, as the North Shore was for us when we lived in Minnesota. It's good to have a getaway place. If you don't currently have one, I suggest you get a move on!

Old-Time Religion in Elizabethton - 225 Years Worth!

Yesterday we did something we haven't done in a long time: we went to church. It was my first Sunday service in about 35 years, and it had been probably 20 or more for John. What was it that brought us into the fold after all these years? Friendship and history.

The Reverend John Shuck has been the Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton since about the same time we moved here. We've gotten to know and be friends with John and several of his parishioners over the last 7 or 8 months, as we've worked to help build and coalesce the Peace and Justice movement in the Tri-Cities. They have been strong supporters of Concerned TN Citizens since the beginning!

Well, as you may have figured out by now, this area has a lot of history. Elizabethton and nearby Jonesborough are the oldest communities west of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Before it was Elizabethton it was the Watauga Settlement. The area played prominently in both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, and re-enactments are abundant. (Our friends Scott and Melanie Koenig, along with their daughter, Laurel, are spirited re-enactors who frequently participate in encampments, musters, and living history performances in the region.)

And not many years after the United Stated gained its independence, First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton was born. This Autumn marks the 225th anniversary of the founding of that church. It is only natural, therefore, that the church should kick off the commemoration by holding its own re-enactment. This one was done in the form of a sermon from the Reverend Horace C. Atwater, Pastor of the church in the 1870s. A hundred or so of his sermons were found and saved by a parishioner long after Atwater had died. Most of the sermons have been turned over to the Archives of Appalachia at ETSU. Five are kept at the church, however, in their own library and archives. One of these sermons was given yesterday by John, who gamely played the part of a circuit minister. The entire service was done according to what would have taken place around 1876, with old hymns, prayers, scripture readings, and even a string band (complete with washtub bass) to guide the flock through "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder", "Shall We Gather at the River", and "Amazing Grace". The service was then followed up with a "Dinner on the Ground", although that was modernized to include the comfort of the air-conditioned reception hall (for which we thank Whomever).

Many of the regular worshippers dressed in period costumes and joined in the sermon with an occasional "Amen, Brother!" and "Praise the Lord!". The sermon itself was fascinating - much was given to the notion that religion must not be controlled by government, and that people can and should think for themselves. Even 230 years ago First Pres was progressive! It is more so now, with a Peacekeeping Committee, a sign-waving protesting pastor, and a committee being formed to help guide First Pres as it strives to become a "Green Congregation". We were thrilled to count 10 Priuses in addition to our own in the parking lot! Progressive, indeed! Thanks, John and all the Congregation of First Presbyterian Church of Elizabethton!