by jphilo | Apr 28, 2009 | Current Events
One of our favorite people in the whole world ate supper with us last night. Adrian, a Romanian foreign exchange student who lived with us for several months in 2001, was back in Iowa for a week before starting his new job in Singapore. He walked in the kitchen, and it was as if he’d never left, as if we were still an integral part of his life.
The best things about Adrian remained unchanged – his enthusiasm for adventure and travel, his love for his family and his delight in the people who have been part of his life. But, as we caught up on each other’s lives, we could see how our boy has changed. His story of landing his first job showed us how determined he’s become, how serious he is about contributing to society, how sober he is about the present financial downturn.
Allen’s attitude on the phone last weekend was a duplicate of Adrian’s. He was serious about life, grateful to have found his dream job in a down economy, responsible and optimistic, apprehensive about the future, but determined to move forward.
I reflected on their similar attitudes and realized what has happened to them since 2001. In spite of the times, or perhaps because of them, our boys have become men. Unless I am mistaken, they will be fine men, the kind who not only make the world a better place, but also find joy while doing so, even when times are hard.
Our boys are men, and my heart is glad.
by jphilo | Apr 7, 2009 | Current Events
Seven inches of snow fell Sunday, the wet heavy kind that weighs down a shovel and burns out a snowblower’s engine if the person using it isn’t careful. Thankfully, Hiram was careful, and what we couldn’t scoop away is melting fast.
The storm threatened to destroy my good humor, since the only reason I have any good humor this time of year is the hope of spring being just around the corner. In a desperate attempt to maintain a good attitude, I made a what-the-snow-is-good-for list while I walked: the flowering trees are less likely to bud early and be destroyed in a late frost; ditto for the tulips, daffodils, and other spring bulbs; the moisture is good for the farmland; spring fever among students of all ages won’t start so early; it’s easy to see the cardinals against the snow.
I reached the bridal wreath spirea hedge that borders the north edge of our property about when my Sister Mary Sunshine attitude started to wear on me. The bushes were bent nearly double under the weight of the snow, just like they bow beneath the splendor of their thick, white blossoms each May. Two years ago, I remembered, a late frost robbed the hedge of it’s white May crown. But two days ago the snow lay, sparkling and white, a foretaste of what is to come.
My good humor restored, I finished my walk. Who can be grumpy after finding spring’s crown buried under seven inches of hope?
by jphilo | Apr 3, 2009 | Current Events
Bill Bryson packed the house at Drake University last night. My friend and I, along with a whole lot of other Iowans, crowded into the Knapp Center so we could see the home town author who made it to the big time. We arrived a half hour early and were among the last to find chairs in the original seating area, though we had to divide and conquer to do it. I found an empty chair three seats in from the aisle. Getting the attention of the occupants of the first two seats was a challenge. The gentleman on the aisle sat with his head bowed, eyes closed, and his fingers in his ears. The woman beside him, I presume his wife, was intent upon the book she was reading.
Three loud “Excuse mes” and a tap on the shoulder later, I got their attention and squeezed past them to take my seat. The man returned to his meditation, the woman went back to reading, and I peeked at her book. The chapter title was “Sex and Other Diversions.” Then I saw the book title, The Life and Time of the Thunderbolt Kid. She was reading Bryson’s growing-up-in-Des Moines memoir, specifically the chapter where he spends years trying to get into the peep show at the Iowa State Fair. A hilarious read, but the woman never cracked a smile.
That changed when Bryson took the stage and told his stories. He had everyone laughing at his “You Know You’re an Iowan If…” list. His affectionate memories of life as a child in 1950s and 60s Des Moines had us crying, and the excerpts he read from his books held us spellbound. The whole evening was a giant family/school roast/reunion, a complete delight. For me the highlight of the night came during the open microphone Q and A time at the end. An elderly gentleman came to the mike, corrected an error in Bryson’s memoir, then revealed his identity. He had been Bryson’s Roosevelt High School English teacher.
The evening was magical and memorable, totally unique. I can’t recreate the experience, but I can enjoy more Bryson humor in his wonderful books. You can, too. Pick up his books at the library or the book store. Start reading and start laughing. And you’ll wish you’d start wishing you’d grown up in 1950s and 60s Iowa with those of us who did.
by jphilo | Mar 27, 2009 | Current Events
I’m up early this cold morning, waiting for the sun and the temperature to rise before I take my walk. Waiting can be hard. I cope with it by finding something constructive to do because the activity, no matter how meaningless, gives me an illusion of control.
For days now, the residents of Fargo have been waiting for the Red River to crest. My cousin Karen and her family live near the flood plain. Their days and nights have been filled with activity. They’ve helped sandbag the river and moved everything to the second story of their house. Two of my southwest Minnesota cousins have daughters at college in Fargo. While the kids are sandbagging the city, their parents wait for their children to call or email, and make plans about how to get them safely home.
With a catastrophe this large, there’s no way to create an illusion of human control. Everyone in Fargo and all of us watching know this situation is beyond us. We need more help than men can offer, hope beyond what we can see. That’s why people, including many who claim not to believe in God, resort to prayer.
Waiting isn’t easy. Most of us turn to it when we come face-to-face with our own helplessness, when there’s nothing more to do. I’ve been in that place often in the last few years. Whenever my lack of control drives me to prayer, the same truth emerges: kneeling before the God who is in control is the most constructive thing I can do.
Father in heaven, only you can help Karen and her family, Kalli, Briana, and all the people suffering in Fargo. Give them wisdom. Keep them safe. Give them the hope of Christ, the God who suffered for their sins and rose again. Amen.
by jphilo | Feb 13, 2009 | Current Events
Today is Friday the thirteenth. Listening to the radio this morning would have sent me into a tailspin if I was superstitious: the stock market was down again, too many people were killed in a commercial airline crash in Buffalo, the bloom is off the stimulus package rose, and a snowstorm is bearing down on the “Highway 30 corridor.” Since I live 100 feet north of Highway 30, my town is in for it.
But I am not in a tailspin because today is Valentine’s Party day at every elementary school in America, and I am not in a classroom riding herd on a passel of kids aiming for the mother of all sugar highs. Many of my friends in this town are are, and I’ve been feeling sorry for them all week. With the snowstorm moving in (one snowflake floating gently to earth outside a classroom window has the power to whip the most placid child into a frenzy), I’m feeling even sorrier for them. Thankfully, tonight’s not a full moon (kids get weirded out when the moon’s full), or I’d feel obligated to enter the lion’s den and give one of them a hand.
Instead, all I have to do is feel sorry for them, pray for their perseverance and sanity when I think of it, and keep writing. In my book (no pun intended), this Friday the thirteenth is a marvelous, wonder-filled gift I don’t deserve. I’ll try to use it well.
by jphilo | Feb 2, 2009 | Current Events
In my estimation, the winter of 2009 is progressing at glacial speed. Even though the arrival February meant it was time to pay the bills and stare at our dismal checking account balance, I was ecstatic. Grim January was finally over and yahoo, yahoo – and February, a more hopeful month had arrived.
Some of the things that give me hope in February include:
- It’s never more than 29 days long. That means winter is 2 – 3 days shorter than it would be if it had 31 days.
- It has great holidays – Groundhog Day, Lincoln and Washington’s birthdays, and Valentine’s Day. Now that I don’t spend Valentine’s Day with 20+ kids on sugar highs, I love Valentine’s Day.
- The days get significantly longer this month. Even though it’s only February 2, you can already see the difference. The road is as snowy as weather, but the sun was reflecting off the trees by our house when I walked before 8:00 this morning. Even two weeks ago , they didn’t do that.
- The Superbowl hype ends. Last night it ended without our home state boy, Kurt Warner, leading his team to victory. But since the game had a nail-biter of an ending (and somebody kept Al Madden from overusing his marking pens, this Iowan isn’t too disappointed.
Now, if any of you know how to contact Kurt Warner or his wife, please let me know. I’d love to have them endorse my book. It’s a long shot, but they might just do it. After all, it’s February, a month of hope.
