2024's Starry Starry Night

 

Have you ever attended a truly "small-town" talent show?  After a four year hiatus, the PEEF (Pine Eagle Education Fund) Talent Show returned for it's 10th "Starry Starry Night".  Doors opened at 5:15 and by 5:30 the auditorium was over half full and by the time the Pine Eagle High School Band took the stage at 6pm, the crowd was near capacity.  

Channeling Metallica, the high school band provided an excellent opening performance when they kicked things off with a song older than they are by performing "Enter Sandman".  They were followed by Father / daughter duo, Chris & Kayleen DeCastro who evinced a wonderful bond and brought a new perspective to "Keep Coming back to you".

After a technical delay, Tom Warmuth brought his much loved Cowboy Poetry performance by reciting "The Big High & Lonesome" and "Typical".  Then, the "little's" of "Next Level Dance" group performed to "Clap Your Hands" while sporting red bows that may have been bigger than the girls themselves.  

A skit by The Joy Cole Players encouraged a "raucous" audience.  Following "The Magic Scarf" performance, brothers Marshall, Emmett & Wyatt Whitnah each performed a cowboy poem.  Young Emmett especially captivated the audience when he required a "quick peep" at his notes... by carefully unzipping his pocket, pulling out the paper, reading it, carefully folding it back up & replacing in his pocket, then RE-zipping the pocket, before continuing with his recitation.

The first half of the night was completed by Dallin Geurts on Piano playing "Dark Side" which was my favorite so far and then the Joy Cole Singers took us into intermission with "Going Down to the River to Pray.

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After Intermission, the Adamant Eves & Amenable Steves did an excellent version of "Five Bells".  

"Casey at the Bat" was performed by Voice Actor Jack Greenman and was one of the most excellent performances of that poem I've ever heard.  Bill Schule's age, voice & song choice of "ACross the Great Divide" gave me an emotional preview of my own future.

After a brief awards presentation, my admittedly prejudiced favorite performance of the night was brought by The Locals (with my talented husband) as they performed "Gentle on my Mind" and "Scatter".

 

Nathalia Tubbs, an ovious artist and artistic soul followed with two original piano compositions and Next Level Dance closed the night with their "Cheer Dance" (what girl doesn't like pom poms, loud music & DANCE??).

As previous blogs have made clear, this is one of our Very Favorite Things... this little talent show with it's technical hiccups, forgotten lines, corny acts & the fact that we know each & every performer and audience member... it's "our" people supporting their kids and the school and art.... and maintaining those bonds that make small towns strong.

Life should be Creativity's Muse - Creativity should not be Life's Victim

My husband and friends often ask me why I don't spend more time writing if I love it so much?  That old adage "You make time for what's important to you" springs to mind, and lips, often.  And, while it's true in many cases, it doesn't clearly address the creative mind. 

For me anyway, writing takes not only time, but emotion and creativity and energy. 

I've always considered myself the logical organized, practical mind.  Not the creative, passionate, artful mind.  Because you can't be both, right?  That's what we're told and taught to believe.  Right-brain vs Left-brain.  Math/Science vs Art/Literature.  Logic vs Emotion.  Heck, Conservative vs Liberal. 

But - Why??

Why is everything we're told, taught & see, couched in terms of either/or?  Life does not have to be divisive.  It SHOULDN'T be so divisive.  So, why can't I be BOTH practical AND creative?  Logical AND passionate.  Organized AND artful?  

That is my pursuit... to be what I WANT to be WHEN I want to be.  However... I'm not sure how to accomplish that.  Working so much every day results in the opposite of what writing requires of me - I have little time, often low emotions, creativity that is smothered by organization and book work and an exhaustion that hangs on me like a sick child. Writing is the victim of Life when Life should be the Muse of Writing.

As I today am mourning the loss of another friend, I am once more reminded of how little time we have here on this earth.  We should do what we love (dare I say "Everything we love") while we can.  Even if we live long, we get OLD.  Our passions fall victim to our aches & pains & age.  As I ponder how fast time is passing, I am ever more aware that I need to pursue those passions NOW.  What does that look like?  I'm not sure - more writing for sure (so you're getting TWO blog posts today).  More Riding maybe?  More reading, more gardening & canning?  More travel?  More playing with dogs & listening to music & attending festivals?  More attempts to express myself to you... more pictures to have when I can no longer "go"... 

So... let's see if those goals can materialize... Here's to US making time to be creative, shaking off those things that weigh us down & keep us back.  Let's LIVE while we're living.

Here is Too Much... Let's look forward to "Perfect"

 I spent this afternoon working on a slideshow / video for a friend's funeral... again.  This is the 3rd one in less than 6 months and the 2nd one in 30 days.  And... it might be too much.  Don't misunderstand me - I very much appreciate the ability to help friends and family in their time of distress.  This is a tangible "gift" I can give that takes a load off of them and is a ministry that I can provide at a time they are often too distraught to even know what to ask for.

But - my nature is to do my very best - which means going through each picture & editing if necessary, contemplating the order of pictures, the music to accompany, any text, etc.  It means watching the video over & over & over so I can catch any gaps or mistakes or see if anything needs moved.  And, that means grieving over & over & over... Every time I watch it, the emotions well up again.  

This wouldn't be so difficult if it didn't seem to come along so often.  And, it brings up so many thoughts & concerns & sudden epiphanies.  Like - we've always moved a lot.  That means making lots of friends, but moving before you get TOO close - which we never really pondered - until we moved into a community we're not rushing out of, and working jobs that bring us into close contact with a large portion of the community - a community comprised of many elderly or at least retirement age residents.  And, that means we lose a LOT of people we've gotten close to.  Every week we get news of someone who was taken out on the ambulance, or rushed to the hospital or life-flighted to a bigger hospital.  And, often, they don't return.  

Lately, the paranoia that each time may be the LAST time I talk to someone, has been stalking my every interaction.  It makes it more precious - and also more desperate and sometimes sad.  

I'm so tired of death and disease and mourning.  I'm tired of this rotten fruit of Eve's rebellion.  I'm tired of pain and goodbyes and evil stalking us.  

But, I'm Thankful for God's promise of a heaven free from all those evils - and the only thing I can continue to seek is His Grace, and His Salvation - for all my loved ones and friends and neighbors, that we might dwell forever together, with no paranoia and no Goodbye's.  Are you prepared to join us there?  Where there is nothing that is too sad, too rotten, too overwhelming?  Where nothing is "too much" to bear, but only and ever PERFECT.

In Memory of Lela Shold, Buck Greene and Bill Wright (as well as others I haven't listed but are very much missed as well)

"Extreme" Emptiness

 I came into work this morning, early, like I always do.

I started the coffee, turned on the grill, set out pastries – like I always do

I put out the “Open” signs, made the soup and prepared for the day – like I always do.

But... it wasn’t like always.  It wasn’t fun.  It wasn’t anticipatory.  It wasn’t …. Normal.  

Thanks to Governor Kate Brown, our county (the only one in eastern Oregon to be singled out) along with 11 other western Oregon counties were flung back into the "Extreme Risk" category which prohibits indoor dining, resulting in "Extreme" hardship, frustration and sadness.

Those of us in the hospitality industry have chosen this business because we like doing nice things for people.  We’re social, we’re caretakers, we like to feed people and laugh and visit and care for them.  But, today, there are no people.  There’s no energy.  There’s little expectation for the day and the hope for the future seep slowly out the corners of my empty café with every new little prick from the Governor, the government and those who support them.

My cafe is empty of customers and staff alike - reflecting the emptiness of a Governor and government who care little for small business owners, rural residents and the physical and mental health of their constituents... or at least that's how it feels.  

I feel attacked and abandoned by not only the "rule-makers" and strangers, but by my own friends, colleagues and even family.  This, of course, isn't actually true.  Many, many neighbors & customers & local authorities have expressed support and understanding of our situation and decisions.  But... But... they aren't here with me in my echoing dining area.  They aren't here with me as I review each day's dismal sales report.  They aren't here when I'm being harangued for wearing a mask, for NOT making everyone wear a mask, for being closed to dine in, for not shutting down completely, for literally every decision that I have to make during this 15th month of on-going uncertainty and craziness, there's someone unhappy with me.  And, even though they verbally express support... many choose to go eat at the business nearby that has elected to stay open and ignore the restrictions.  The street is full of vehicles, but my cafe is still empty.  And, I can't blame any of them, not the customers nor the other business.  I feel the same way - I just don't have the luxury they do.

And, I'm not the only restaurant owner to feel this way.  A friend who's also in the business has battled health issues due to stress directly related to the repeated shutdowns, unkind comments and financial worries.  Employees have chosen to work elsewhere that is more consistent and reliable, or to not work at all thanks to Oregon's incentivized unemployment program.  I myself have fought random and in-explicable health issues... thunderclap headaches, sudden debilitating joint pain and more.   The on-set last fall is suspiciously coincidental....

Of course, there's those who say that's just business.  That I asked for it when I purchased a cafe in a tiny town.  And, in a sense, they're correct.  But, I didn't ask for a power-hungry Government, or for a bunch of politicos whose main objective is sticking it to "the other side", or for agencies whose incompetence is becoming ludicrous.  I mean really, how many times do we have  to hear "demand was higher than expected"??  I can not recall a single time that assistance was promised and then denied due to higher than expected demand.  

The latest fiasco by the Small Business Administration is only the most recent in a string of such disappointments.  After webinars and phone calls that assured me we'd be eligible for assistance, and a week of preparation for the submittal, and the time and effort invested making the submittal itself, I was told that we are NOT eligible for a grant because our expenses didn't exceed our gross receipts.  Well... duh.  I pay bills when I get money.. that's why they're equal.  And, I haven't taken a paycheck in months, I've got past due bills, and friends that work for free because we can't pay them.  But I'm not eligible because I didn't have the reserves to pay all those things even though the income wasn't there?  So, in essence, this grant is for big businesses that had plenty of reserves... not for the small businesses that survive due only to hard work and kind friends and customers.

And all this because of how data is applied, misused or interpreted.  We're told that we need to "trust the science".  I have no problem with the science.  I believe the virus exists. I believe that it can be deadly.  I believe that preventative measures work (even though that's another opinion that gets me attacked).  I do NOT believe that OSHA or our Governor are applying that science in a reasonable and and intelligent manner.  The science does not support the decisions that the Governor has made.  Rather, it feels as if Baker County is being singled out for some vindictive purpose, and that restaurants in general are being attacked.  It makes no sense to shut down bars & restaurants when OSHA admits that less than 4% of cases have been linked to restaurants (74% are linked to OSU dorms!!)
And now we have to deal with OSHA's new rule that mandates a permanent mask rule until THEY determine there's no more CoVid (ridiculous since it's endemic) amongst other onerous requirements.
In spite of all this, I've followed all mandates, guidelines and rules to have come along.  Every shut down, every new suggestion, I've complied.  Because I thought it was the ethical thing to do.  I have resisted making decisions based on finances or public opinion or my own desires.  I've been diligent in doing what I believe is right.  And, I've been asked repeatedly "When do you say 'Enough is Enough'?"  Well, I'm about there... If one stands on principle and on making ethical and moral decisions, and some point one must say that the policies and requirements being placed on me are immoral and unethical and take a stand.  Perhaps that time is approaching.  Perhaps that time is now.

The Creeping Quiet

(note... the "today" in this was actually a couple days ago... I've been busy)

       It stopped for a time today... the voices, the thoughts tumbling over & around like rowdy and obnoxious children, the questions, the worry, the plans... It stopped for a time.


This strange, awkward time of a world that is chained together by fear, but also by love and compassion and a unconquerable hope for that unknowable "final frontier" (as Star Trek put it) of the future... this time has, I suspect, every one of us experiencing a vast array of emotions.  And, many find them difficult to process as we are banished to our homes and unable to use any of the usual methods that help us work though those emotions - social gatherings to hug & talk in person, exercise to help improve moods, even the age old reliance on alcohol & drugs is likely not as easy an escape since going out to obtain them is difficult if not impossible.

But, so many beautiful, amazing and thrilling discoveries are also being made.  From the large scale environment (no smog in China?  Clear water in Venice?) to the societal (communities banding together to protect the old & at-risk, provide meals for the young & poor) to the individual (my nephew learning to bake bagels, a friend learning an instrument, parents really spending time with children). 

Most of all, how many of us are finally slowing down enough to hear the creeping quiet that lives outside our bubbles of activity and noise and mental gymnastics?  At times, that quiet creeping in can feel ominous and nerve-wracking as so many are so unfamiliar with it in today's society.  But, given a chance, that gentle non-sound that comes both from without (no traffic, no crowds) and within, can actually provide both respite and comfort.

We are so extremely blessed to live where we do and to have the work that we do. Today we drove down to Hells Canyon and took a hike.  We parked in a remote area and started walking down an old road, talking and watching for any interesting thing.  After some time, we split up to return via separate routes.  That's when it happened.

Does the dry creek worry about when the water will come again and it can again have a purpose?  I think not... I think it waits, patiently, for the cycle to return.

The quiet takes time to seep in.... you're in it, but it's not in you.  Not at first... at first you're walking & thinking & maybe talking... and thinking... and then, slowly, quietly, unnoticed, your steps slow and your gaze lifts.  "Was that a bird?" you think.  "Look at the colors of his feathers!  Oh!  There's another!"  And just like that, you're calming and slowing and the quiet is entering you.  Not abruptly and shallowly and roughly as you had entered the quiet. But rather, slowly and deeply and abundantly.
                           (John 10:10 says "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.")

And, as it fills me, I remember - you don't NEED to be outside to find that quiet and peace (although it IS easier there I think).  It can be found at home, inside... Often I like to use a technique that I've used when writing.  Just sit for moment, quietly, with no distractions.  Then, using your senses, catalog what your environment is telling you.  What do you smell?  What do you hear?  What can you feel?  Now, imagine that you're somewhere wonderful.  What do you smell, hear, feel there?  Let it transport you.  And, finally, open up to that place where your tumbling thoughts and fears can be calmed.  Open up to that creeping quiet.

"Be still, and know that I am God" - Ps 46:10

Soldiers with Chests

I read a C.S. Lewis quote recently that says “We make men without chests and expect from them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.” “In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function."

 

While a sad and accurate comment about today's society, I was pleased and relieved to see that there are those in our world who are still upholding the very best traits of humanity - honor, virtue and enterprise.  At this weekend's Departure Ceremony for the 1-189th Battalion's year-long deployment to southwest Asia, I saw nearly 300 men & women who answered their own inner pull to serve their country, even at the expense of their own comfort, future, families and possibly even their safety and lives.

  

And, I saw the families and friends of those soldiers who reluctantly, but fully, support them and their call to duty. 
 

Over 1000 people attended the ceremony (including the governor, AG, congressmen and others) and were a graphic and crystal clear example of G.K. Chesterton's words: "The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."  

 
Witnessing the depth of emotion both within my own heart and on the faces of those around us, proved that it is our commitment to our loved ones that drives us far more than any fear, hatred or misunderstanding of others.  Only the need to protect our loved ones and prove ourselves worthy can push us to make such sacrifices.

My heart was full - of sadness, of pride, of awe - for these soldiers with chests.

The Last Time

"I wish now that Last Times would come with big signs that say, "This the Last Time."  Then you would know that you should savor them, no matter how inconsequential they are. .... You might have stopped to just feel the moment, breathe it in, and let it get fixed in your memory like a Polaroid photograph.    The last time you rocked your baby to sleep..... The last time you tasted your grandmother's rhubarb pie.   The last time you kissed your father good night.  If you had known it was the last time, you would have closed your eyes and said to yourself, "I must remember this.  I must remember the smell of this kitchen and this coffee and this pie.  I must remember this scratchy flannel shirt and this smell of Old Spice. I must remember the feel of this downy head on my shoulder, and this milky breath and these tiny fingers curled around a blankie.  Instead, you rush on.  You think there will be a hundred other times, exactly like this one, and you look at your watch or mutter some annoyance or answer the phone or become distracted in some way.  You don't fix it in your mind; you don't stop, and you don't FEEL it.  Because why should you when there'll be other chances, and life is so busy, and there are so many things to do?  You'll savor it the next time, or maybe the time after that one.  You didn't realize at the moment that this - THIS would be the last time.  It wouldn't be coming around again.  And you missed it." - excerpt from Flash by Rachel Anne Ridge

I missed it... I missed THEM.  I feel like there's been a rash of losses recently.  Some minor, some not.  And, even though I tell myself daily to STOP - REMEMBER - SAVOR, it seems like I missed the important one.

We've lost three good friends recently.... We attended the first funeral last year.  And while funerals are inherently sad, what moved me to my core were the simple words "He was my friend" said by a mutual friend, with a depth of emotion that even now brings tears to my eyes.  He WAS our friend, and we enjoyed his company and knowledge - and yet we didn't truly KNOW him.  We didn't know that he'd been an expert in his field and an author of one of the pre-eminent and early books on elk.  And, we didn't know that the last time was The Last time.  We rushed off to whatever was of critical importance that day - and didn't get to visit one more time.

Then, just last month, Larry, a church elder, friend, leader and inspiration, crossed over suddenly one morning.  And again, the shock of it... we'd just seen him the night before!  He'd given us his ready smile and little laugh as we passed in the church kitchen.  But.. we didn't KNOW it was The Last Time.  We didn't stop to hug or visit or remember.  His funeral was sad also.. but with moments of levity as well.  And overflowing with those he'd touched - and again we realized that while we knew him - we hadn't KNOWN him.  We didn't know how much he'd loved fishing!  Or that he'd collected a certain type of glassware.  Or how handsome he'd looked in his uniform when he joined the Service.  Standing at his graveside, we truly felt the loss.  There is a vividness and truly visceral depth of emotion to a cemetery burial that seems to be missing or at least muted when "only" a memorial is held.

And now, again... a friend.  Mark - who had taught us and worked alongside us and who had finally given us the chance to do the work we loved, full time and set us firmly on the path we now follow.  I had called him last month, hoping to meet while we were in the area, but it didn't seem like a good time so we determined to wait until he visited this summer.  But, he won't visit this summer, and I won't be able to record some of his many memories of these mountains, or share our common stories or Thank him for his help way back then.  I didn't know that the last time, was The Last Time.

The obvious lesson is to treat every moment as if it's The Last Time... be kind to everyone, take time to really see them.  But, even more than just locking that moment into memory - ask questions.  If they are a friend - do I really know them?  Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I know what's important to them?  And share what's important to me?

So... if I see you on the street, or at the restaurant, or a special gathering - let's take time to really see each other - because we never know if it may The Last Time.