Live for today rings pretty true…

Health and other of life’s pitfalls shove their way into my consciousness. I’m thinking the idea of living for the here and now is not such a bad mantra, as Ellen and Reid found out in last week’s letter.

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March 18, 2013

Ellen/Reid: There is distressing news this morning in that my friend and fellow hiker Tom Bohr had a significant heart attack yesterday while running. He had to be revived by a runner who by sheer good fortune was passing by, and at this point we really don’t know the extent of things other than that Tom is in the hospital. My friend and pastor John Cleghorn called last night but I didn’t see or hear the call come in which irritates me to no end. Tom would be the last person you would ever suspect to have a heart attack. He was fit and trim, seemed to eat right, and was of low-key and low stress temperament. Reid, you never met Tom, but Ellen, you saw him hike like a monster in

Cook Lake in the Bridger Wilderness, Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wyoming, U.S. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

the Bridger Wilderness a couple of years ago, and now this. Tom was a good friend of mine and he was tireless in his 20-30 hours of work each week at Caldwell Presbyterian. I’m just glad he’s alive right now. I talked briefly to John this morning and his encouragement is to keep Tom in our prayers. Tom and I were to head out to the

The green belt as a nice backdrop…

I can’t count the times these letters have touched on or skirted environmental points over the years. It’s an important touch-point for me and one of the few hot button issues that I consistently push.

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March 11, 2013

Ellen/Reid: The trees out back are beginning to bud, a sure sign that before long we will be completely shut off from view of the units 75-100 yards away. Felicia nosed around at some other single floor condos and she couldn’t find any that had the appeal of ours. The green belt is a nice backdrop, and I suspect that of all the units here, we have the best in that respect. What

The green belt is safe refuge from marauding feral cats for the birds that visit our window feeder. We have a room with a view – and it’s all green.

we don’t have is the warmest unit around. That’s what got us looking around at potentials. Heat rises, and it rises quickly up and out of the room where we want to stay warmest. The fireplace has been on almost non-stop and Felicia vegs in front of it most evenings while I stay

Power to the pen…

Loveable Henry shorn for the summer to beat the Minnesota heat. He is just one hell of a dog and a great addition to Ellen and Tim's household.

Well, now, I just hung up the phone from a brief but highly pleasant talk with my friends Jane and Dave.  That in our conversation Dave would reference items from letters posted here as well as the letters sent expressly to them is impressive (at least to me).  Maybe there is some power to the pen after all.

Alas, they can’t make it to Wyoming in a few weeks, but it’s still good to connect.  That seems to be happening with more frequency, and that’s good, too.

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June 1, 2011

Jane: Miss Manners and the other correctness mavens would be aghast that it has taken me this long to send you the proper ‘thank you’ after your swell party last month.  It was a really a great time with a great group of people.  It was wonderful to see everyone after all these years.  It makes me believe I am the only one who has aged, but unfortunately not in the same vein as fine wine.  And to think that I thought only women in the South went around barefoot and wearing aprons.  You’d fit right in down in these parts.  How the hell you managed to pull all that yummy food together and keep your wits about you is beyond me.  And that your kids were around to help you and Dave is doubly impressive.  They’re a good pair.

Really, the funniest part of the whole trip was you and your girlfriends passing notes up in the balcony at Plymouth.  That was just a riot.  Dave had mentioned that such a hyper-social atmosphere might occur, and he was spot on.  We’ll have to start post-sermon tests to see what learnings were actually absorbed by your upper floor crew.  It was interesting to re-visit Plymouth after attending my small mixed-race Presbyterian church here in Charlotte.  Saw lots of familiar faces in the pews on the first floor.

I’m appreciative that you would take the time to pull out all the stops to welcome me back to DSM.  I miss the old sod and the people.  Yeah, my stake is driven a little further into the ground the longer I’m down this way, but a big chunk of me remains in Iowa.  I’m sorry to be so far away from you guys and all the others.

Now, this is a bold-faced recruitment effort to entice you and Dave (and the kids, if they’ll go) to get up to the Bridger Wilderness with us on Sunday, July 24.  That’s the day we head into the back country for 3-4 nights (depending on what the group will bear).  We’ve got a good crew of six coming from Charlotte (including my minister, a great guy, and his family), and for most of them it will be their first trip to the real mountains and not those bumps in North Carolina they term to be ‘mountains.’  This will be the pleasure cruise of backpacking trips.  It will be far from a forced march although you’ll have to get used to dried pasta and the like, along with any fish that are unlucky enough to be snagged on our hooks.  You are more than welcome – very welcomed, indeed – to join this little Western safari.

You’ll have to keep me abreast of the guys weekend whenever it is this fall.  My calendar is typically wide open and at any rate will push aside whatever else would show up on the docket to make room for the boys.  But thanks again for your hospitality.  It makes me wonder just how often you can keep raising the bar.

Heathen-in-chief…

Over the past couple of years, I have awakened, albeit slowly, to the recognition that I am something less than a microorganism in the larger scheme of life.  This has nothing to do with my recent situation.

Actually, it is by pure happenstance.  First, Ellen beat me to the punch.  She’s been a pretty faithful Presbyterian for more than a few years and her dad was, to put it mildly, a late adopter.  Secondly, it traces, ironically, to the bank.  My friend John Cleghorn was a high ranking guy, but heeded the call to a small, mixed race church (Caldwell Memorial Presbyterian) as the head minister.  The number of congregants wasn’t above a couple of dozen, and in a weak moment told him I’d visit, if for no other reason that to show him some support and to boost the offering plate by a few bucks – and to also buy time with Ellen whenever she asked if I was going to church.  That was several years ago.

Well, I haven’t stopped attending.  I can’t claim to have ceased being a heathen either (as I remind John repeatedly) but that’s another tale.  The short version of the long story is that there is something in me that recognizes it’s okay to be there.  Part of my penance (as heathen-in-chief, as I also remind John) is to write and publish the 12 page monthly church newsletter.   I emphasize the heathen thing because John knows, I think, that on occasion I avail myself of breaks in the action to quietly bow out of the sanctuary in order to make my tee time.   At least he gets me for a little while.

Reid is entirely another kettle of fish from his sister and dad.  I’ve never discussed, let alone harped on, any aspect of religion with them (or you) but there is a time for full explanations.  Next Monday might be that time.