A Day in Roanoke...

Lib and I spent a delightful day in Roanoke, Virginia yesterday. It was our home for most of our lives and we have many good memories from there.

We left Brandermill about 7:15 in our trusty old 16 year old car a Toyota from the year 1995. It is reliable, gas efficient, and very comfortable for our old bones. Our route took us through Amelia, Appomattox, Lynchburg, Bedford, and into Roanoke. It was one of our hot, typical summer days and the car's AC was  taxed to the limit keeping us comfortable.

Lib first transacted some necessary banking at MemberOne credit union that she couldn't do from . Next we decided to visit our former church, Oak Grove Church of the Brethren. We were hoping to see Ed our pastor, and  Carol director of music and other church functions. Neither was in, but we met a young man who was the son of  a bell choir ringer we knew. He knew us before we recognized him Had an enjoyable  chat with him before going to our next place.

We ate lunch at a nearby restaurant that specializes in pork entrees. Thought we might have seen someone we recognized from our former lives in the area, but to no avail.

From Google maps of our former domicile it appeared that the new owner had added a carport. Thought we'd check it out, but when we arrived there was no such appendage to the house. Must have been some sort of temporary structure (tent maybe) that was there when the satellite flew over.

We next visited Tanglewood Mall for some cologne that we can't seem to find in our Richmond stores. The sales lady knew Lib from the days Lib had been a sales associate at Belk. They visited briefly catching up on store personnel Lib had known. The mall was nearly deserted, but since it was the noon hour that was to be expected.

Next we visited with Ruth Stafford. She is an incredibly inspiring woman; a great grandmother who sort of functions as an adopted mother. We keep in touch by phone and regular mail, but it had been since November that we had actually seen her. Then she was in an assisted living situation recovering from a fractured arm. In the meantime Lib had the big back surgery, so there was much to compare and talk about.
Ruth and "HT" (her husband now deceased) were responsible for nurturing us through the early years of our
square dancing experience. It was one of the best investments in time for us, introducing us to an activity that was healthy in numerous ways. We also met a whole new set of long term friends that expanded our social circles considerably. For about seven years we danced, attended square dance conventions, ate meals together and bonded as The Grand Squares.

We went out to a local cafeteria for supper and there met a former viola student of mine, Cathy and her friend, Bo. Cathy and I have sort of kept up with each other as both belong to FaceBook. It was such an unexpected surprise to to encounter her there! What a delight to catch up, albeit briefly, with her.

We took Ruth home and then headed for Brandermill. All the way home we saw where rain had fallen, and it continued to thunder and lightning in the distance but little evidence at our own home. A very nice day!!
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New England Rails and Sails Abbott's Bus Tour

About 5 years ago Lib and I took an Abbott Bus Tour to the West Coast with a good size group of square dance friends from Roanoke. Even though I was already being compromised by spinal stenosis we made the trip using a three pronged walker. Our friends helped me by carrying the walker up steps when necessary.

Since we had moved to Richmond both Lib and I were significantly weaker and both of us needed assistance if walking long distances. Going up hill was a definite “no” most of the time.

We were perusing a recent Abbott tour catalog and drooling over the New England trips. One caught Libs eye, the one with the “rails and sails” fall leaf colors tour. We talked about it numerous times trying to decide whether we should consider such a project and finally just said “Why not?” We had the financial wherewithal ...it was the physical capital where we were coming up short. Lib wrote the check and the deed was done.

This past week the experiment got under way. We wondered if we would know anyone on the tour. There is always that chance. In due course we discovered that Shirley Collins, tour leader was a square dancer and knew people from the Roanoke clubs we belonged to. John Dickerson, our driver attended First Baptist Church in Roanoke and knew folks we knew. Behind us sat Bob and Inez Flora from Roanoke who knew of our Kinzie and Murray relatives. What a small world it is!

We both have to admit that our physical limitations made it an iffy proposition. Bus steps up were always a strain. I have good upper body strength so could pull myself up. Long walks such as in the casino hotel where we got lost before finding our room and several times when we had to traverse several hundred yards of parking lot to a restaurant were scary at least to me. Wondered if my leg muscles, even with a walker had enough reserve to get me there. We had seats on the walkers and when things just stopped working I would sit down until the “batteries” in my legs would recharge.

We really enjoyed most of our experiences to the hilt! We had never been to this area of our great country and so we saw lots of historical places, beautiful mountain leaf country, and trains and boat rides that were for the most part interesting and stimulating.

I would say that if I had known in advance how difficult some of the situations would be I might have backed out. On the other hand all the daily walking we did may have been beneficial, sort of like physical therapy with all the sights, sounds, and meals thrown in. Today, one day removed from all the activity I feel somewhat renewed and possibly stronger. It’s been a definite day of rest. I’ll be curious how I’ll feel and function tomorrow.

The Abbott Bus team were absolutely fantastic! One could not ask for better guides. They helped us over the rough spots and were always there to assist us. Shirley was a real trouper and was most professional in all that she did. She is a real jewel in Abbott’s crown! She even brought our meals to us when they were from an upstairs location, or she knew that it would be difficult for us to manage them and our walkers, too! For all of us she was proactive, apprising us of what was to come and
how we were to respond. We’re tired and sore, but what an adventure. The price was worth it all the way/

Thank you Lord for showing Lib and I that dreams can still come true for people who dare to dream. Thank you for the kindness of strangers opening doors for us, waiting for us to pass through. Thank you for the new friends we’ve made who also did so much to ease our way. Thank You and bless Shirley, Melvin, and John who helped and assisted us at every turn.

Concert at Sunday Park

It was a ritual I have now participated in at least three times... the Father's Day June Concert at Sunday Park in Brandermill. As usual it was quite warm and those of us
in the orchestra were probably more comfortable then our audience as we were under shelter with ceiling fans twirling.

Our repertoire was "Pops concert selections, "West Side Story" medley, big band tributes and Broadway selections, "Victory at Sea", two Copland pieces,"Moon River and a Sousa march. All very familiar to our audience.

Am putting up a lot of pictures for those of you who follow my blogs. A dear neighbor of ours must take credit for the pics. It was her camera work that captured these shots.

I sort of feel that this may be my last Sunday Concert performance as it is becoming
increasingly difficult for me to get around. That's why I'm putting this on my blog.

Thankfulness...

For each named person there are many unnamed who represent similar blessings and gifts of grace.

...

Memorial Day is a day of remembrance and a time to express gratitude. I’m thankful for a daughter whose suggestion we move to Richmond caused us to reinvent our lives and added a whole new layer of friends. A grateful thanks to Christina, Lani, and Francis who have been recently instrumental in that reinvention.

Am grateful to Oak Grove CoB, it’s pastor Ed, and special friends Linda, Buddy, and Sam who ministered to us in unique ways. Many others there are also dear to our hearts. This congregation with its many friends will always be “home” for us.

We remember HT and Ruth who opened the door to square dancing and invited us into their hearts and home. With them came a constellation of “dance” friends with whom we shared many happy memories.

There are Roanoke music friends CC, Carol, Joyce, and Annamarie, who shared time and skill, but most of all their Christian faith as they expressed it in their daily lives. They were/are such inspiring teachers inviting those around to join them in fellowship with the Teacher.

I’m so grateful to Verda, a Woodstock classmate, whose dedication to her school and class mates revived that interest and link for me. Verda invited me to join her “writer’s “ club and this has been a fun discipline. It has also revealed in depth the many facets of our friends’ concerns and interests.

My Aunt Dottie wrote a book a number of years ago about Anna Mow, a woman far ahead of her time, whose life impacted the lives of world leaders, especially those of India. She was also a mystic, whose personal encounter with the Teacher was the compelling force in her life. I recently reread it shortly after reading the novel “The Shack”. If you’ve followed me this far I invite you to click on my top link “Beyond the Walls” and learn from another mystic concerning her personal journey. Look back especially into Jill’s India/Himalaya experience. She is now in Africa for a brief time bringing her special gifts to those in great need.

Finally I’m grateful for missionary parents whose faith was immense...puts mine to shame. But, even those of us at a mature age may learn lessons about “walking on water” from those who preceded us and some who journey ahead. We are not finished products until our last breath. We need to be open to the “still small voice “ within. To put out the fleece ( a Biblical reference) and wait for guidance from wherever it comes. Life is to be lived courageously, in joy and in gratitude.

Woodstock/Mussoorie

Sometimes a time and place in life is so unique that one is loathe to lose it. Life moves on...and should. Happily for some there are memory tools now available to retrace at least a portion. That I spent twelve years in India changed my outlook profoundly. A significant part of that outlook has to be attributed to the three plus years at Woodstock. Bits and pieces of this are strewn through past postings...this apologia puts it all in one recent place.

Imagine that in your most impressionable teen years you suddenly found yourself half way round the globe at a spot in the foothills of the great Himalayas. It was a place you had visited just slightly as a young child several times, enough that certain pleasurable impressions had imprinted themselves in the mind. Now you were going to school there. You went for three years and then just as suddenly were uprooted from this Shangri-la like spot and all its associations back to your
“real” world. Suppose a class mate from that time and place tracked you down and invited you to join others who had this experience in a round-robin letter. Later you would attend annual meetings of alumni, sing the school songs, see familiar faces now older, participate in the hearing/retelling the lore of this special institution. All this would tend to expand the importance of this place in the mind, would it not? And because you were retired and used computers it became possible to vicariously revisit this wondrous place. If there were people blogging about their experiences there, it might be tempting to make contact. And I did.


Woodstockers tend to experience some things in common. First and foremost are the mountains. One exists among mountains in Mussoorie. The Woodstock campus is spread along the flanks of a ridge and the dorms, especially Midlands rests on a diminutive hill. The cottages where parents stayed during their vacation times dotted the mountainside. Ours ( Prospect Point) had one of the finest views from the front and side yards. From the side yard we could often see the great ice covered peaks of the greater Himalayas. The front yard presented a great vista of the Dune valley in the distance and the roofs of Ridgewood and Midlands in the foreground valley below.

Seasons were more pronounced or so it seemed. When I first arrived at Prospect Point in early March it was possible to see a snow fall. Mornings were definitely chilly and the smell of oak wood burning in the fireplace was an every day and ordinary sensory experience. Spring followed shortly with the fragrance of Mock Orange and other flowers coupled with the pungent aroma of deodar when the wind blew through their boughs. These were the days when the air was crystal clean and filled with a mysterious expectancy.

Next would come the monsoons. This meant spectacular thunderstorms, the proliferation of insects and ferns, and a pervasive “stickiness” from the high humidity. It was a season of some danger. There were landslides when too much rain separated the layers of soil from their anchors in the rocks. Small earthquakes in an earthquake prone zone also caused landslides. I was there when Parker Hall had a big one right across from the front porch. One of my school mates lost part of his family when part of the mountain slid into their cottage a few years previous. Though never stung by one,I found a small scorpion one morning clinging to a sock
I was about to pull over my foot.

Finally the monsoons drifted away and fall crept slowly down the great crags. This was a season of great beauty. It was a time to hike and to enjoy outdoor sports. All the while, Woodstock was working its magic into the core of one's being.It was a also a time of deepening melancholy as the days shortened. We would soon be separating from our pals and girl friends over the winter break.

We were there from all over the world. We heard English with numerous accents. Some of us even affected “Babu” English that was spoken by our Indian friends. If we had strong religious convictions, we at least encountered others of different ersuasions and so learned to entertain other possibilities. American culture prevailed at that time, but British and Indian were surely next in line. Woodstock saw itself as a “world” institution where people came together to learn of each other and develop a great respect for the environment. We were all students, whether we occupied the role of administrator, mentor, auxiliary, or pupil. Among the students were often outstanding musicians, potential scientists, or world rulers in the making. Personalities were encouraged to think freely yet learned not to be totally abrasive. Young males were given an astonishing amount of freedom to explore the environs.

Meals, worship experiences, sports events, walks to the bazaars, dorm life, special days and celebrations, the shared music both performed and heard, all served to intensify this unique time in one’s existence. Because it was a boarding school and there was no family to return to each day, faculty became almost surrogate parents. Dorm room mates became strong friends or sometimes not. There was often intense competition, especially in the sports venues. Friends tended to remain friends for a lifetime.

Woodstock capitalized on this experience. It opened itself to the world by making good use of the Net. It has encouraged the community to blog. Jeanne, Jennie, James and Nate are teachers and blog regularly. Through them I’m able to reconstruct for myself a Woodstock and Mussoorie in real time. Though it is not possible for me to hop on a plane and be there, I can participate in imagination by reading their posted activitiies and impressions. Now when I see their names associated with campus activities and community projects in the school paper, The Quadrangle, I feel as if I know them. When they first arrived it took a season to become accustomed to India, Woodstock, and Mussoorie. Each is at a predictable stage and is being shaped by the “Woodstock” experience. It is so unique that it would take a very hard heart not to be seduced by it. My grateful thanks to them for sharing their lives so eloquently with those who have already been or may be induced to go there.

Others arrive in Mussorie as tourists or NGO’s, or come to learn Hindi at the Landour Language School. The NGO’s often do both, learn Hindi and then assist with community projects in the mountain villages that abound in the valleys. That's how I found Jill and David, two who were working in education and architecture. Though both are now in the US, their blogs still speak to me. Google also has amazing maps of the Mussoorie area and it is possible to see most of the Woodstock buildings and many of the hillside cottages, even Prospect Point, if one knows where to look.

My love of mountains, interest in things Indian and international, joy in music making, tendency to look deeper and be more than casually reflective must certainly derive from those unique years.

The Cabin

After Lib and I had been square dancing with the Grand Squares for several years we were invited one Sunday to come to “the cabin”, a hideaway beside a creek, surrounded by mountains, in a nearby county. It was a 45 minute drive from our Roanoke home.

At the cabin there was lots of yard space and the early afternoon was devoted to playing volley ball. We were all younger by ten years then. After volleyball.the men would begin the ritual of grilling steaks or hamburgers and the women would set up the tables for a picnic type supper. There would be 10-14 couples and assorted singles invited.

After supper, the group would divide into those who enjoyed card games or dominos and who just wanted to sit around and make conversation. Since almost all of us were over 60 there was a lot of common history to share. A number of the men had been in the military, so there were favorite stories to trot out.

This tradition of the Sunday afternoon day at “the cabin” continued for us until we moved to the Richmond area. Suffice it to say that in the recent years the game of volleyball. finally came to an end as we could no longer muster enough able bodied players.

Our hosting lady recently broke her other hip, but she and her husband aren’t the sort to let something like that prevent them from enjoying the company of friends,,,so it was that several days ago Lib got a call with an invitation to come to “the cabin”. And so we went.

We left Richmond around 8:00 am and were at the cabin by 11:20. Some of the old timers were already there. Another couple, a former square dance ‘caller” for the Grand Squares, who now lives in Bristol, TN had also been invited and they were there.

It was like a family reunion. What fun to catch up with the lives of people we had been close to for a decade. To see that most of us were still able to muster the energy necessary to enjoy life. Several couples had just returned from trips to Alaska or Ireland and recounted things they had seen and experienced .


A large tree had fallen into the creek behind the cabin and one of the men brought his chain saw and soon had it cut up to wash down with the next big rain. He was one of the younger men there, had fallen off his roof a number of years ago and done a job on his foot that incapacitated him for over a year....and here he was demolishing a rotted fallen tree. Told his wife it was a macho man thing that he would relish knowing that he could still do that kind of thing.

Nearly thirty of us enjoyed a meal together. It was good to see our hostess enjoying the stimulation of being with her friends. What a good time we had reaffirming that life was still worth living even though most of us were firing on less than four cylinders. Among us we had those who were cancer survivors, knee operations, back operations, and other serious losses.

After supper we said our good bye:s and reached home by 9:00 pm. It had been a full and happy day.

On Aging...

“It is to be assumed that if man were to live his life like a poem, he would be able to look upon the sunset of his life as his happiest period, and instead of trying to postpone the much feared old age, be able actually to look forward to it, and gradually build up to it as the best and happiest period of his existence. “
Lin Yutang: The Importance of Living , 1937

The Chinese of yore seemed to have mastered the art of aging and Lin Yutang’s quote seemed to distill that wisdom in just a few pithy sentences. It’s worth passing along.

In past time the problems associated with long life were minimized by the fact that few lived long enough to be problems. An agrarian family centered life style required all family members to be productive, and so those who were able bodied and aged could still contribute to the welfare of the family unit. Those who were seriously impaired were ministered to by the family and their church until their passing

In the present, there are significant numbers of people who have attained retirement age. Retirement is often a time of new beginnings and opportunities, when the system allows choice to be a significant option. “Aging” is now an appellation to be applied only to people who have begun to experience some physical limitations due to chronic conditions. When Lib and I began to be limited to how long we could stand, walk, or square dance due to spinal stenosis we began to understand what it meant to be “old”

Just as the first quarter of life implies birth, the last quarter implies death. One of the tasks of those who have begun to “age” is to make our peace with that event. Some desiring more control at their end have “living wills” that give clear instructions when that eventuality arrives. It is wise to plan for this future event. We plan down to the minutiae for less significant happenings, but put off this one maybe in the subconscious hope that somehow it will bypass us. Having said that let’s go on to more pleasant considerations.

The last thing any of us should want to do is to have nothing at all to do! To have nothing to do is to be irrelevant. The life experience stored in the head of each older person is often of great value, so one of the functions of age is to be in a consultative mode. Men and women who have been parents find themselves to be grand parents and this can be an enriching experience. If one has experience in the professions, this often may be parlayed into a part time job which again is a good thing for most. There is much to be thankful for even when some physical limitations close the door on some very pleasant activities. As one woman told me when discussing this topic “..one can be thankful when one wakes up in the morning to know who you are!”

Because time is of the essence take the opportunity to do some new activities. Travel to new places. Try a new hobby. Look for opportunities to serve in the community. Volunteer. Be a docent. Do activities that bring you in close contact with people. Cultivate relationships with family and friends. Do it with vigor and purpose. This will make your last years much more enjoyable. Financial situations can limit some activities, but there are many things one can do that are free and only require time and mobility.

Often our aches and limitations become the main themes of our vocal utterances and this makes us boring. More than any other population segment we need to cultivate the attitude of gratitude for what we have left that does work. Looking back over the writings of our little group, I believe most of us are doing the positive things that gerontologists might recommend. We posed a little challenge to ourselves when we answered Verda’s invitation to join a “writer’s” club. I had already begun to write my memoirs, and it is still an unfinished work. Writing takes time and thought, and is an activity that is pleasant for me.

I admit to not being very enthusiastic about our move to Richmond. My blogs of that period show frustration and trepidation. There were friends and activities we were leaving behind. A whole new life would have to be constructed in a new and strange environment. It would be financially costly. And I feared that shortly after all the huge effort and cost one or the other of us would really become incapacitated and a whole new set of problems would have to be dealt with. Fortunately, none of that has happened yet, so I’m trying harder to put a positive spin on it all. Certainly, we have enjoyed the new home. Every day its airy spaciousness buoys the spirit. And it is wonderful to be nearly next door to Cathy’s family and see them almost every day!

We haven’t stopped seeing old friends. There are good reasons to return to Roanoke on some weekends. In two and half hours we’re there. Our church family provides places to stay and more opportunity to visit intensely. The Net provides another way to stay in touch with the lives of a wider circle of friends. Because it is so fast, emails now have replaced regular mail and is more frequent. Here I have joined a community symphony and it keeps me practicing and playing my instrument. We are looking around for another church fellowship ...there are many considerations and I’m sure that in the near future we’ll finally make the correct decision.

I’m thankful each day that I know who I am, that I can still be useful musically, and that there is so much life to savor each day. Fall is one of my most favorite seasons and I have been permitted to enjoy it once again this year in a new locale. Yes, there is some pain to deal with, but it’s manageable. Lib’s sense of humor and upbeat approach to living keeps me from dissolving into an old curmudgeon. Like Verda, I hope that my end comes swiftly. Cheers!