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.
by jphilo | Jun 10, 2008 | Uncategorized
Last Saturday, Hiram and I danced at a very special wedding. We are friends of the parents of both the bride and the groom. More than that, the bride and groom are part of our lives.
We met the bride when she came to AWANA Cubbies at age three. As leaders, we listened to her recite her verses and watched her “jump for joy” when we sang the Cubbie theme song. We watched her grow her way through AWANAs and Sunday school. When our church staged The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, she was very effective as Imogene Herdman making my character’s job as pageant director near disaster. My husband depended on her leadership in the youth group worship band when she was in high school.
I met the groom when he walked into my third grade classroom. His shy grin and curious mind made teaching a joy. When we followed each other to fourth grade, he was almost family by the end of the second year. And since his mom is one of my scrapbooking buddies, I’ve kept up with his life over the years.
We celebrated their wedding day at the bride’s parents’ farm. The weather was windy and muggy. After we ate and a visited, Hiram and I danced our way through a lively mix of swing tunes, waltzes, line dancing and polkas. As we danced, we imagined the life the newlyweds will start this week. They’re moving out west, as we did as a young married couple. We remembered our culture shock when we plunked down in cowboy country – and then stayed there for seven years.
Living so far from family and old friends was hard, but it was one of the best things we’ve ever done. We learned to rely on one another. We made friends, who weren’t mine or his exclusively, but ours. Because of those years out west, after thirty-one years of marriage, we still rely on each other first. Because of those years, we have mutual, dear friends who are still part of our lives. Because of those years our in cowboy country, we’re still dancing.
So kick up your heels, Austin and Libby. Keep dancing.
