by jphilo | Dec 29, 2010 | Uncategorized
Today’s post looks back one year, when our worst winter in a long time was just starting to strut it’s stuff. Reading through it, my good side is grateful for this year’s gentle, white Christmas in the midwest. And my bad side chuckles with evil satisfaction every time the news media reports on the east coast storms.
No matter where you live or what weather you’re experiencing, this post still raises a valid question. Why does the weather service code “a wintery mix” with the color pink?
Wintery Mix – Recycled
Last week was a wild and wooly weather adventure for Midwesterners. Two storms came together, one from Canada and one from the southwest, resulting in six days of rain, freezing rain, drizzle, freezing drizzle, sleet, and snow.
The storm started three days before Christmas and ended two days after the holiday so we watched the weather reports religiously for days. The “wintery mix,” as the weather gurus called it, lit up our weather maps like Christmas trees. The longer I watched (and I watched plenty with a daughter and her fiancee heading straight into the mess), the more the precipitation color scheme mystified me.
My little brain understood why they used green to signify moderate rainfall. Rain makes the grass grow, and grass is green. The logic behind using blue to represent snowfall made sense, too, since it’s the color associated with the cold spigot, ice cubes and other chilly stuff.
But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why they use pink to represent a “wintery mix” which leads to the winter’s most hazardous drivIng condition. It’s kind of like using a Barbie Dream House as the symbol for a military fortress or the Barbie convertible to represent enemy tanks. It’s like dressing up GI Joe in Barbie’s pink feather boa and a pink sequined leotard.
Pink sends exactly the wrong message to everybody.
Women see it and think, “Oh good, it’s time for a party.” Then they put on halter tops,, capris and strappy sandals instead of snowsuits and boots before going to meet their BFFs for lunch.
Men see it and think, “A sissy, little pink storm won’t keep me home.” And they hop in the car and drive over to a buddy’s place to watch professional wrestling.
If the forecasters want people to take their “wintery mix” predictions seriously, they’d better pop the lid on the box of 96 colors with the sharpener and choose a color with some weight behind it. Maybe gray. Or brown. Or my personal favorite – burnt sienna.
Anything but pink.
If you have a new color suggestion for “wintery mix,” please leave a comment. I’ll compile all the suggestions and mail them to the National Weather Service for consideration. Who knows, if we choose the right color, maybe we can stop global warming!
by jphilo | Nov 22, 2010 | Uncategorized
You know how jet setters dismiss the land between the east and west coasts as fly-over country? They scoff at what they consider a wasteland of cornfields, a vast expanse where nothing worthwhile happens, nothing of consequence is produced, no one of importance lives. Well, I love living in fly-over country, no matter what the jet setters think of it. But, the past week exposed an unexpected truth.
We live a fly-over life.
A midweek visit to my son and new daughter was void of the hoopla that characterized much of the last two years: no illness, thus no dramatic health cures; no happy announcements, thus no need to plan big celebrations; no crises, thus no anxiety-racked discussions. Instead, in our time together we talked about jobs, exchanged recipes, played with the dog, and went to bed by 9:00 PM.
Pleasant, but boring.
A perusal of our weekend activities confirms life’s fly-over status. I made cookies for upcoming church events and cleaned some drawers in the kitchen – without burning a single cookie or pinching myself with kitchen utensils. Hiram reinstalled the sink in the upstairs bathroom without cracking the porcelain or ruining the newly laid tile. We comparison shopped for a new refrigerator, washer, and dryer – and found what we needed for less than expected.
Appreciated, but boring.
A phone call to our daughter and new son was uneventful. She’s keeping up in school and making progress with her online, custom sewing business; no need for me to swoop in and chair a planning pow wow. He likes his job; no need for encouraging words to buck him up. They’re looking ahead to next year, hunting online for an apartment near the campus they’ve move to next August; no need for parental reminders to think about the future.
Reassuring, but boring.
I live a beyond-the-excitement, happily-ever-after, fly-over existence made possible by the exciting lives of others:
Pilgrims
American revolutionaries
hardy pioneers
abolitionists and Civil War soldiers
WWI doughboys
survivors of the Great Depression
Tom Brokaw’s greatest generation
war veterans
my Alaskan homesteader in-laws years
my courageous and determined parents
Because of them, Hiram I will spend a quiet, fly-over Thanksgiving with our daughter and new son in their tiny, college apartment. We’ll talk about work, exchange recipes, do a few odd jobs, and be in bed by 9:00 PM.
I am exceeding grateful for those who made possible this boring, fly-over life.
by jphilo | Nov 18, 2010 | Uncategorized
McFarthest spot in the United States? Or the annual and well-attended Sheep Shearing School held in those parts? Or my recent selfish thoughts about the paving project that may change the remote area where we used to live?
Well, the effects of the road project is chump change compared to what will happen if companies confirm a major oil field find that stretches across region where South Dakota, North Dakota and Montana meet. Even way back in 1978-1985, when we lived out there, rumors flew about an oil field far below millions of acres of range land and tall grass prairie. But everybody thought it would happen someday far in the future.
According to a recent Sioux Falls TV news report, someday could be now – or in the near future. The possibility leaves me with mixed feelings, but I thoroughly enjoyed the TV clip. The video footage captures the wide open spaces better than still photos. And the shots of what the newscaster call “the tiny town of Buffalo” made me giggle, since we lived in even tinier Camp Crook 23 miles further west. Who knows what adjectives the newscaster would have used to describe that hamlet?
But weirdest of all is a dream I had a couple weeks ago. In the dream, oil was discovered north of Camp Crook. A hundred workers came to town, houses were built, roads were paved, and businesses sprang up overnight. The school popped at the seams and more teachers were hired, one of whom was yours truly. I woke up in a cold sweat.
Prophetic dreams are not my forte, so even with the news report, I don’t put much stock my imaginings. For now, I’m content to view and review the TV story about a place where we used to live. Sure beats driving 600 miles to get there!
by jphilo | Oct 25, 2010 | Uncategorized
The older I get, the more I appreciate the rare, unexpected pleasures of everyday life. Take Saturday afternoon, for example.
I was so happy about a free weekend at home that even cleaning the refrigerator – which I’d put off until after one wedding, then until after another wedding, until after vacation, until after recovering from vacation, until summer was over, until a free weekend rolled around – seemed fun. By the time I moved onto making and freezing pie crust and making apple crisp for dessert, my mood was wholly content. So I tuned into my very favorite radio show – wait, wait, don’t tell me – ready for the funniest hour of the week, thinking life could get any better than this.
But it did.
When the show’s host, Peter Sagal, announced the special guest star for the week, life got way better. Because the guest star was Dick Van Dyke. That’s right. Dick Van Dyke, whom I loved, loved, LOVED through the run of The Dick Van Dyke Show, Mary Poppins, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, his short stint on The Carol Burnett Show and the detective series, Diagnosis Murder. And here he was, one of my favorite actors on my favorite radio show while I was putzing around the kitchen, my favorite way to spend a Saturday. Surely, life couldn’t get any better than that.
But it did.
Because it turned out that Peter Sagal loves Dick Van Dyke, too. The host used all his wit to charmingly fawn over his childhood hero while simultaneously giving him a hard time. And Dick Van Dyke. Well, he was as funny as Peter Sagal and a good sport when teased mercilessly and he gave as good as he got. Life just couldn’t get any better, I thought.
But it did.
Because at the end of the show, the other contestants started humming the Dick Van Dyke Show theme song. So Van Dyke asked Peter Sagal if he knew the words to the song. When Peter said no, Dick asked, “Would you like me to sing it for you?” The live audience broke into thunderous applause, and Dick Van Dyke broke into song. It was a moment to savor, all the more precious because of it’s unexpectedness, and much to lovely to hoard or hide. So I’m passing it along to you – the download of wait, wait, don’t tell me on October 23– and wishing you belly laughs aplenty.
Life doesn’t get much better than that.
by jphilo | Aug 25, 2010 | Uncategorized
The wedding pictures have arrived. This photo won’t give you a close up of the newlyweds’ big smooch, though believe me, they were enjoying themselves. It won’t provide a good look at the wedding party, though I can attest to the loveliness of the bridesmaid and personal attendant as well as to the handsomeness of the groomsmen.
But it will maintain the young couple’s privacy, which is important to them. And you can see the beautiful woods that ringed the pavilion where they married. You can see my daughter, small and white, embraced by her tall groom. You can see the dresses and the vests glowing under the July sun, just as Anne hoped they would. You can see my sweet daughter and her new husband surrounded by friends and family we hope will walk with them throughout their lives, long after we are gone. You can see the leaps of young joy as the bride and groom kiss.
You can see much, but there is so much more the photograph doesn’t show – the challenges yet to come, the joys to be experienced and adventures to be shared, and the affirmation of God’s presence, through the every day happenings of life. Those things are waiting beyond the edges of the photograph, to be captured on another day, with a different lens.
But for today, this picture, this memory of the beginning of their life together, is enough.
It is more than enough.
It is joy.
by jphilo | Jan 20, 2010 | Uncategorized
One of my cousins recently sent me the above article about the McFarthest Spot, which was the subject of a post on this blog a few months ago. Mary found it in South Dakota Magazine. Since she lived in eastern South Dakota – Jasper, Brookings and Watertown before moving West River to Sturgis – her finger is on the pulse of current events in her entire native state.
She and her husband frequently put me up when I trek out west to visit the old stomping grounds where Hiramd and I worked for seven years after we married. They graciously provide one last night in civilization before I head northwest to Harding County, which borders Perkins County to the west. (The welcoming arches in Harding County are a dead ringer for the Perkins County ones pictured above.)
Before I leave for the wilderness, she serves a good breakfast and points me toward the gourmet coffee shack on the way out of town. “It’ll be the last good coffee you’ll find until your return,” she always advises. Being a good cousin, I always heed her advice and grab a cup of joe on the way out of town.
So in honor of my cousin’s tireless cub reporting on the McFarthest Spot issue, as well as her stellar and highly civilized hospitality, today’s post bears her first byline. Just one question, Mary.
When are you going to saddle up and trek through Harding County with me?
I promise, I’ll buy the coffee on the way to the McFarthest Spot.
