Another Good-Bye

28 and light snow this morning, with a dusting on the ground from yesterday evening's flurries.

We were saddened to hear of the death of our neighbor Arthur Winter. I met Arthur when we were building our house, back in 1975, when he was a senior in high school. He was a wild one back then, always ready for some new adventure. 

I remember him coming out to help us on our house, and how he backed his truck all the way up our driveway, which back then was a lot rougher than it is today. And I remember how he would come on his tractor to pull us out of wherever we got stuck at--usually in our friend Don's even more primitive road. 

Those were good, happy days, when we were all young and excited about living where we lived and trying out so many new things, often things that helped us all survive our questionable choices. Like building houses on unfinished roads so far back in the hills that there were no utilities or anything else, except trees and solitude. Arthur was a local, and lived on the farm that his family had owned for generations, a steep hill farm that only the daring would drive a tractor on. Don was from Ohio, a suburbs boy, and we were from Northern Virginia, townies with few skills for the life we'd rashly chosen. 

But we all survived those wild days. Today my ex-husband lives in Virginia again, Don is in Arizona, I'm still in the house we built back then, and Arthur was still living on the family farm when he passed away. About 10 years ago a stroke took away his ability to speak, which had to be hard on a man who loved to tell stories, but he regained most other brain functions and continued to farm. Covid, however, found its way to him and to his compromised heart, and took him away. He will be greatly missed.

We seem to be saying a lot of good-byes these days. Part of it is our age; a natural part of getting old is seeing friends pass away. It's not easy, even though we know that it's to be expected, And of course Covid is just adding to the toll. But onward we go, keeping the memories of all those we've lost in our hearts, minds, and stories. And in that way, keeping them alive at least for our lifetime.

Which make me wonder about this new thing they're calling metaverse. According to what I can understand, in metaverse we can create an avatar, and then create "rooms" where people we invite in can interact with each other's avatar. I am not sure if that's exactly accurate, but here is what I wonder: will these avatars be able to continue to interact and "talk" with other avatars after we're long gone? Would that, in some sense, be eternal life? Would we be able to train or avatar to think and act as we do? An odd thought, I know, but what a strange virtual world that would be. Not one I would feel at all comfortable with, but I wonder if that's where this is new technology is going.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Goodbye, Old Friend

11 this morning, overcast but partially clearing as the day goes on. Not a great deal warmer, about 24 now. We ended up with 5" of snow on the deck, 3" on the road because some melted before sticking.

Roger became a good friend over the past couple of years. He and Larry were both former military men and shared stories every time they got together. Roger was there, every time we went to our booth at Ravenswood, and always helped load and unload. He was a master craftsman at weaving chair seats and  repairing furniture. He and Larry were "beer buddies"--every Friday afternoon when we were at the mall they ambled down to their "office" at the corner Mexican restaurant and had a "conference", which meant drinking one beer each and gabbing. 

Roger and Larry, when they showed up one day in the exact same outfits, clowning around.

The two of them, sometimes joined by a couple other men from shops across the road, could often be seen on the benches outside, watching traffic, talking to passers-by, and laughing and talking. I loved to see them out there, just completely enjoying themselves, telling jokes and who knows what else.

We knew Roger had health issues, and tried to stop him from helping move furniture but we might as well have been talking to the wall. He loved to help, and always wanted to see what we were bringing in, asking what we'd done to the piece, what paint, etc. etc. He was a shy fellow at first, but before long he was a fixture at the mall and on the street, and knew so many people. He had a sly sense of humor--he once told us that when he was 60 he got married, for 10 months, to the same woman, he said. And added, "and that was ten months too long." That was his one and only trip down the aisle. He often joked that he was becoming "like that" with the mayor, and was working on getting a job as a trash collector so he could pick good stuff out of the trash. He changed his mind about that job, he said, after he helped clean out a terrible apartment.

A Navy career man, Roger worked for contractors in the DC area before coming to Ravenswood. He'd traveled the world in the Navy, and whenever we'd mention a country, he'd say, "I liked it there. Had a good time there", with a sly grin. I have the feeling that the good times involved parties, drink, and women, but he never elaborated too much. I expect I missed some good stories. His nieces told me the other day that when they were young they'd ask him where he'd been, and he'd say, "Oh, here and there." They thought he was a spy, and he never corrected that idea, although I bet he got a lot of laughs out of it.

10 a.m. every weekday morning his gray Ford truck would pull up and Roger would be out helping his friends across the street open, carry things, whatever needed to be done. He always spent time on our mall too, where he had a booth, and willingly helped any customer who needed a hand, or sometimes just hung out and talked. He never bored us.

 He was there to help when several of us cleaned out a terrible apartment, and when the water leak collapsed the ceiling in the shop across the way. He cruised town looking for discarded tables and chairs that he knew he could repair--and we often took him pieces we didn't want to attempt. He always made them look amazing. I bought two of his chairs a couple years ago, and they are our favorites.

One of our Roger chairs. Look at the detailed weaving. He sometimes did logos like Harley Davidson, WVU, etc. 

Last Friday Larry came to work with me, just to hang out with Roger and the guys across the street. It was a relaxing day for him after some hard work the day before. He and Roger had their usual "conference", and as we left I asked Roger to come to dinner with us, but he said he had things to do and would see us on Sunday when the mall opened again after New Year's Day. That, sadly, was the last time we saw him. 

When Roger didn't show up on Sunday, Larry called him but got no answer. That was unusual because he always answered his phone. So Larry went around to his house and knocked on both front and back doors, with no answer. Roger's truck was there, and that made us uneasy, but we thought perhaps he'd gone to an auction with a friend and was out of cell range. We were home Monday and tried to call, again with no answer. Tuesday morning when we were on the road, I called the mall to see if he'd been in. When we heard he had not we knew something was definitely wrong. The mall owner called the police for a safety check, and later we learned that Roger had passed away in his home sometime over the weekend.

We are so sad to lose this good friend, and feel badly that we didn't push harder to make sure he was okay when we couldn't contact him. It's a fine line, isn't it, between being helpful and concerned, and being invasive in someone's life. We didn't want to be pushy, and yet, would it have made a difference? I don't suppose we'll ever know. We will certainly miss ol' Roger, as Larry calls him. He was one in a million.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Water, Dryers, Covered Bridges and Friends

67 this morning and light overcast. Stayed hazy and humid all day, repeat of yesterday. High of about 85.

It's been a busy few days.

Staats Mill Covered Bridge, Cedar Lakes, Ripley, WV

Saturday I went with Leah, the owner of Riverbend Antique mall where I have several booths, to hunt up some furniture and other things to sell. We had a great time, ran through several strong rainstorms, and came home with her box truck loaded. It's still full; that will be tomorrow's work, unloading and sorting it all out.

Larry stayed home to work on a water line leak. After a frustrating day, he gave up. So Sunday morning we just went out to breakfast. The other frustrating thing was our dryer quit working, so we had to find another ASAP. I hunted one up that was over in Ohio, so after Sunday breakfast we went to pick it up. He came home to work on the water and thankfully got it fixed. This morning we swapped out the dryers, me still in my nightgown as we lugged them in and out. Ah me.

As soon as we were done I got ready for a lunch date with my friend Suzy who had a knee replacement 3 weeks ago, and Nancy, the friend visiting from Arizona. Surprisingly, they discovered that they shared the same September birthday. What are the odds of that?

After lunch we decided to take Nancy to see the two covered bridges in our county. At the first one, which was relocated to a local park from its original location, band camp was in full swing. The bass drums and cymbals were practicing near the bridge, so we had a pretty cool cadence to walk to while we were exploring the bridge.

At the second bridge, on a small country road, we were taking our time looking at the bridge but apparently we disturbed a local resident--a skunk. He made his displeasure known to our noses, so we took our pictures and left his territory.

Sarvis Fork Covered Bridge, Sandyville, WV

It was a fun day, even though it was hot. I've been to both bridges many times--one of them was on a mail route I used to run back in the early 80's and was my lunch stop most days that I subbed on that route. But seeing them with friends is like seeing them with new eyes. Now I'm home and tired, and it's time to catch up on some house work so I'll sign off here and get to it.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

A Week in the Life

56 this morning, with a light drizzle occasionally and overcast. Supposed to clear up later on.

The week never slowed down, and right now I am glad it is Sunday and we can take a slower pace for a day or two. 

Tuesday, as I last posted, the roofers came. Wednesday I was back at the antique mall, helping to clear out my new booth and beginning the process of moving in. I mixed in some training while I was there too, trying to absorb as much as I can before I work a full day on my own. This was how the booth looked after that day. As you can see, we'd just barely got started, really. 

We spent Thursday at home, working in the gardens, finishing up some pieces to take to the booth, and catching up on housework and laundry. It was a perfect evening for the firepit, and that's how we ended the day. You see the broken flowerpot by the firepit? That's what happens when the dogs get too rambunctious, wanting to be the one to be closest to us.

Friday was back at the mall. I got there in time to learn the opening procedures and Larry arrived a little while later. Then it was back to work on the booth, with a few breaks to work behind the desk, once while the owner went out to lunch which left me on my own for an hour. I only had to call her once! Credit card sales still intimidate me. This is how things looked when we left. Making progress.

This is the table I finished on Thursday. Sofa tables have been a hot item lately.

The green recliner is already sold, I think, to a neighbor. It was a great find.

The shelves are still a little sparse, but coming along.

And this is the project Larry finished. He had to do some repair to the frame, but it's now sturdy and almost good as new.

Our display window. I'll have fun setting this up each month.

We spent Friday evening at the firepit again, a perfect end to the day.

Yesterday we were in Ohio, near Columbus, picking up some furniture and cruising yard sales. The van was full by the time we stopped for a late lunch/early dinner at Shade Winery, which is not far from the Ohio River. We both had their house salad with grilled chicken. The salad was enormous and delicious, and so was their Chardonnay. I bought a bottle to bring home. 

We stopped again on the way home to visit with Leah, the antique mall owner. She was in town with her camper at a music event where her husband's band was playing. It was nice to sit there, not far from the river, and chat. Across a small field from us was an older home, and we had to laugh at seeing a Black Lab come out an open window onto the roof of a lower addition to the house. He was such a good boy that when the owners, who were outside, called to him to go back inside, he would---only to pop out again a few minutes later. That black thing on the addition roof is the dog, not the best photo I'm afraid.

And then, of all things, behind the same house, a huge hog suddenly appeared in the doorway of a small garage. When we realized that there was nothing to stop the hog from walking right out into the street, Larry ran across and called to the owners, who were quick to hurry the hog back inside. Apparently they are planning to breed her, and have a place out in the country where they have other hogs. Why this one is a town girl remains a mystery.

We left before it got too late, and came home. We'd only been home a few minutes when we heard a car coming down our driveway. It turned out to be some neighbors we hadn't seen in weeks, so we had a great visit as the evening waned to darkness. Then it was inside to read a while and just unwind before bed.

Today we're having a slow start. Sometimes I have to remember that we're both almost 70! It seems like we should be slowing down some but it's not happening yet. But right now it's 11 am as I write and we've just finished breakfast and having coffee. I am determined to do as little as possible until noon. Then I'll be out to the garden. It's time to get some seeds and plants in the ground.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 161: Good-bye to a good friend

70 this morning, another hot day but showering and thundering as I write.

Last week was a roller coaster of emotions: anxiety about our van, satisfaction as we put up more food for winter, joy at finding a replacement van, happiness over good sales at our booths, and sadness.

My friend Brenda finally lost her fight against brain cancer. Hers was a two-year journey, and for a long while it looked like she might win. But as often happens, a fall led to other issues and a steady downturn in her health. 

Brenda was my first friend here on the ridge, and lived only a mile away. I often walked to her house to meet my sons when the got off the bus. I'd get there early enough for Brenda and I to have a cup of instant coffee and a good visit. Since I had no telephone then, and no family within hundreds of miles, our friendship was my main communication with another woman for weeks at a time sometimes. We share political and ethical outlooks; our children were the same ages and we were both into growing our own food. Brenda got a milk goat just before we got ours; she had chickens too, and gardened and canned. We had much in common, even though we were raised in completely different places. She'd even lived for a few years in northern Virginia, where I grew up, so she understood my background.

I remember her parents, too, good people who could sure raise vegetables. For a few years Brenda helped her father grow truck crops to sell at a farmer's market; never have I seen such beautiful broccoli and cauliflower from a home garden. Her mother was an excellent country cook, and I shared many a treat she made.

Our boys and Brenda and Dave's girls played together like siblings. Brenda once had to take our son Aaron to school when he'd dawdled so badly on the walk to the bus that my other sons told the bus driver to just leave him behind.  When I decided to take the test for LPN school, Brenda encouraged me; although I did well on the test I did not get the same encouragement from my then-husband and didn't follow up. But her faith in my ability was a boost to my shy self. She began raising foster children, and I was impressed by her willingness to share her home and life with troubled children. 

When a long strike threatened at Dave's workplace, they sold their house and moved closer to town. By that time I was working as a part-time mail carrier and my marriage was foundering. With still no telephone, we were out of touch for several years. Then I remarried, Brenda went to nursing school, I went to college and had a baby. We saw each other from time to time, and it was always like picking up a conversation where we left off only minutes before. 

Finally, about 5 years ago, Brenda and Dave moved back to his homeplace, just a few miles down the road. I wish I could say that we once again saw each other often, but as usually happens, we just never got back into the habit. She was still raising foster children--and had adopted four--and I was busy with storytelling and our booths at antique malls. We'd stop to chat occasionally but didn't have the long visits of the past.

Although I didn't see her much in the past few years, I will miss Brenda very much. She was the good friend that was always there, and now she's gone, much too soon. 

Brenda's obituary is here. 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 141: A Day to Catch Up

66 and light showers this morning, but becoming sunny and humid. Still, the temperatures are much better these days, and no AC needed at night.

After two days of tomatoes, we're resting a little bit today, just trying to catch up. We ended up with  80 quarts of tomato juice, which will be enough for this year, I think. Any more tomatoes will become pasta sauce, as we can always use that.

Our friend came to pick up the Sellers cabinet yesterday and brought her 9 year-old son with her. What a delight. He was curious about everything, pronounced our house the "coolest house" he's ever been to. He checked for eggs several times while he was here, and wanted to help make tomato juice because he was very interested in how we did it. So we went ahead and made juice, with help from Riley and his mother. So much fun, and a reminder of the days when our grandchildren were here and helping. 

Riley wanted to help pick vegetables in the garden, too, and to taste fruitcake. Longtime readers here know we make fruitcake with my sisters every year, and I still have a few from last year, so we broke one out. Riley said it was delicious, and wanted his mother to try it. She doesn't like fruitcake usually,but this one might have changed her mind. 

Of course Riley had to try the tomato juice too, even though it was still hot. He tasted, thought, added salt and pepper and pronounced it excellent. I usually don't add a lot of salt or pepper when I make the juice, but after tasting his concoction I upped my amounts of both, plus more Worchestershire sauce and hot sauce. Delicious. 

It took until almost dark to clean up and put everything away. Today we did a bit more cleanup, and then Larry has been mowing grass while I clean house, do laundry and pack ebay sales. Life is back to something like normal--and we have rows and rows of beautiful tomato juice in the cellar. 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 139: Tomato Time

67 this morning, a light shower then cool and hazy. Never made it to 80 all day, and not too humid, a real treat.

This morning we were out early to pick tomatoes at a local farm. Came home with five bushels, enough to keep us busy all afternoon and probably half of tomorrow. We're making all of these into tomato juice, which we love, because we have plenty of whole tomatoes, salsa and pasta sauce already. 

These are tomorrow's work.

And one of the many pots today, cooked down and ready for the Squeezo.

The day's work done, and then all the cleanup to do--my least favorite part. This is one of three Squeezo's or Victorio's we own. I cannot remember how I ended up with three, but oh well. There is really nothing like them for tomatoes and applesauce.

We had a brief visit with my son Derek and his daughter and grandson on the way home, then this evening some neighbors came over bringing a gift of food--a favor we returned by giving them corn and cucumbers. I love this time of year, with such a bounty of food to share.

And today was Zoom poetry workshop too, so I got to see other friends as we shared and worked on our work. What pleasure this gives me. This group keeps me motivated to write, and I find myself challenged to try to be a better write because of them. They are all better poets than I will ever be, but I am learning a great deal from them, and they are so generous with their time and input. The best part? I get to read and hear them read their poems. Bliss.

Tomorrow another visit as the friend who bought the Sellers cabinet will be coming to pick it up. We'll share lunch with her and her son, all part of business, of course. Have I said how much I like this time of year? Well, especially since it's no longer July 😊

So a nice day today even if we did work pretty hard, and another one coming up tomorrow. Life is good.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Hanging Out With Friends

I have had a few interesting days lately. It started with a storytelling evening in New Martinsville, WV at the elementary school. Appalachian stories and songs for a family audience--talk about fun! It was good to get my storytelling self on again after a long break, and to re-visit some of my favorite tales and tunes.

The next morning I was up early to get packed and ready for a weekend of writing in the mountains with three other poets. Each of us was to provide one meal; my meal was Friday evening so I prepared a meatloaf with venison and some beef raised by a neighbor, parsley potatoes and a tossed salad with our lettuce, and a loaf of my honey oatmeal bread. What fun to cook, eat, talk and write with good friends. It was a productive weekend and I came home with several starts on new poems and some excellent revisions on some drafts.

Spending time in the mountains is always good for the soul, isn't it? While I live in the hills and in a very private place, it is still good to be somewhere different and seeing different things. I stopped at one of my favorite little spots along the way to see what might be in bloom. The thing about nature: it is constantly changing and offering something new to surprise us. I have stopped in this same place numerous times and am always finding something new to see there.

Monday found me on the road again, this time with my husband, heading to the VA hospital in Huntington for an appointment for him. Routine stuff, but an opportunity to travel along the Ohio River and see what's been happening on the far western side of our state. So in the space of 24 hours, I was basically from one side of West Virginia to the other!

Yesterday was another fun day with friends. Two of my Facebook friends who did not know each other discovered that they lived only a few miles apart, so we planned a get-together. I drove about 2 hours to meet up with them and enjoyed a long lunch at the Olde Dutch Restaurant in Logan, Ohio.--a place I'd highly recommend. My of my, the pies! My diet was seriously damaged,  I'm afraid.

Vicky is an antiques and vintage seller, and my other friend Adele is a storyteller so they represented my two favorite activities. Vicky sells at the Logan Antique Mall so we had a blast touring the entire mall and shopping. Before we left, Adele had signed up for a booth too. I bought several things, but they're still in the van so no pics yet.

It's been really nice to be out with friends I see so seldom. As I get older I realize how important these connections are, and that I need to make more of an effort to see people. I learned years ago that I am a work-focused person, and can easily forget to make room for just being with friends. Something I need to change.

I am a little tired from all the travel, but every bit of it was 100% worth it. I am writing in my bathrobe, taking a slow start to the day and enjoying looking back and remembering the faces, laughter and joy of the last few days.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Catching up with Friends: A Half Dozen of My Favorite Blogs

I am taking a little time this morning to catch up with my blogging friends. Larry has got the fireplace going again this morning since there were good hot ashes from last night, so it's cozy and warm on this first snowy morning of the year.

What I like about blogging is that people take time with it, to write stories, descriptions, essays, and to post many photos. While I love Facebook, blogs are deeper and richer.

The snow will probably end soon, and all we will have from it is this little skiff, but it's enough for a starter. Folklore has it that the date of the first snowfall is how many days of snow we will have. Since it's just December 9, looks like we won't have much this year. Assuming, of course, that the folklore is correct!

So on to the blogs I've been reading this morning. I am so behind, but it's lovely to catch up with everyone.

Gretel posted a snippet of a poem as part of her post about the scrapbooks she used to make before Pinterest became the place for storing craft and art ideas. I really liked the images in this verse:

'Full Moon' (By Vita Sackville-West)

She was wearing the coral taffeta trousers
Someone had brought her from Ispahan,
And the little gold coat with pomegranate blossoms,
And the coral-hafted feather fan;
But she ran down a Kentish lane in the moonlight,
And skipped in the pool of the moon as she ran.

She cared not a rap for all the big planets,
For Betelgeuse or Aldebaran,
And all the big planets cared nothing for her,
That small impertinent charlatan;
But she climbed on a Kentish stile in the moonlight,
And laughed at the sky through the sticks of her fan.

Do stop by Gretel's blog and see her charming and so intricate felted animals. We got to see her studio and a bit about her process when we visited her in September while traveling in England. The skill and imagination needed are impressive.

Michelle does a Random Friday post, including links to all sorts of interesting people and places. Her photos are not to be missed--she has quite an eye. 

At Blind Pig and the Acorn, Tipper re-visited the Foxfire Christmas book and posted a touching story about giving, back in the days of World War II. The whole book is full of good stories and memories of mountain holiday celebrations--and Tipper's blog is just as good, a thoughtful look at Appalachian life now as well as historical posts, folklore, vocabulary, and so much more. 

MacQue let us know about her broken wrist in her most recent post. Quite the traveler, she writes about life in the South but also about her travels outside of the US. Here's my hopes that her recovery is quick and easy.

My cousin John in England writes an excellent blog filled with photos, history and lore of England. He is currently main caregiver for his mother so his rambles, as he calls them, are limited these days. 

Dave Tabler is the author of the intriguing blog, Appalachian History. His most recent post is about the haunting of the Betts House in Calhoun county, WV--a story I have researched and often tell. We visited the site of the home in the story, and di and a good bit of exploring in the area. You can read about my adventures here.

It's time to leave the fire and get busy. I made quite a mess yesterday getting decorations finished, preparing CDs to ship and pricing items for our booths so today I will be cleaning up behind myself.

Have a good day, friends!
Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

How One Thing Leads to Another: Ball Pitchers

When I was a child we had a cream-colored ball-shaped pitcher that we used for making Kool-aid. It had an ice lip to prevent the ice cubes from plopping into your cup, and the drink was also so icy cold in that pitcher on hot summer days.

Mom kept the pitcher on a high shelf in her kitchen, and after she passed away all of us wanted it. I can't remember who ended up with it after she passed away, but by that time I'd found one just like it and kept it on a high shelf in my kitchen, where it made me smile every time I saw it.

That one pitcher led to the purchase of a small red creamer because I like the homey shape. I used it daily for a while; then it too went up on the high shelf. Many years later I got into the antiques and vintage resale business, and in scouting auctions, flea markets, etc for stock I found a larger red ball pitcher. It too went up on the shelf. I soon found more in yellow, green and blue. There was even a pink one that apparently flew out of the back of my husband's truck in a tote that wasn't tied down properly. That one just plain disappeared.

The collection continued to grow: I found a small green one when we were on vacation in Oregon last summer, and two stained pale yellow ones from a friend's resale group. Another green one was an eBay find, and made an adventurous journey from the wilds of northern Montana through blizzard conditions to the seller's mailbox, and eventually to me. We shared many messages back and forth during the saga.

The latest addition came from a Facebook friend. He saw a photo of my collection in a vintage kitchen group I belong to, and thought I needed a cobalt blue cream pitcher, so he sent me one as a gift. It has found its place on the shelf of ball pitchers, a shelf that contains many stories now, and always makes me smile.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Fleeting

The other day as I was carrying in groceries, I noticed that one of my little succulent plants had bloomed. I've never tried growing succulents before beyond aloe or hen & chicks, but I've been enjoying this planter of unusual-looking plants. The one that bloomed had bright, hot-pink flowers at the end of each stem. I showed it to Larry and thought I'd go back out to take a photo of it. But I got busy putting away groceries and forgot about it. By the next day, the flowers were gone.

This morning as I drank my tea on the porch, the sun shone through a drop of rainwater dangling from a branch of our redbud tree. It prismed beautifully, from red to blue and green and brilliant silver. It made me smile watching the play of light and color. Within minutes it was gone, just a memory of fleeting beauty.

Today I have read posts from friends who lost a parent overnight; who salute the memory of a lost relative on their birthday; a poem by a friend's daughter who lost her baby when nine months pregnant; a friend's story of a miscarriage many years ago and how healing came recently with a trip to a lake;  an account, terrible and touching of the history of Warsaw Poland by a young friend traveling there; distant cousins' adventures traveling in France; another cousin's rafting trip on the Colorado River and a musician's trip across country on the Cailfornia Zephyr; tens of pictures of children and young adults first day of school.

Stories, memories, joy, sorrow, excitement and more pour from my computer as I follow the lives of friends and family scattered around the world. I do my best to keep up, to send prayers, congratulations and condolences. And through it all I am struck by the speed of life on this whirling, tilting globe. Like that tiny drop of rain on the redbud tree, it shines...and then the moment is gone, the world moves on.

But I cling to the pictures in my mind, the touches on my heart, doing my best to see the connectedness of it all. I feel blessed to be included in so many lives, even at the minor level of a Facebook or blog post. I am humbled by those tiny bright flowers on my cactus that shared their beauty, if only for a moment, with my eyes.

It's all fleeting, every moment passing is one less we have to savor. Thank you all for coming here to read, and for being sharing your life with me.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Friends and Cemeteries

I am thinking tonight about friends.

Gary and Wanda lost their beautiful home to a fire two weeks ago--not just the house but both vehicles, their pool, hot tub, every single thing.

Many of my storytelling friends are still in Kansas City at the National Storytelling Conference and sending glowing reports of all the fun and fellowship of the gathering of our close-knit clan.

Heather is back in the hospital after yet another back surgery and a year of pain and struggle to heal.

Liam lost his beloved grandfather.

Julie took gorgeous photos of the blue moon last night.

John bought a 450-pound anvil.

Victoria and Mark had car troubles.

Warren captured yet another honeybee swarm.

My musician friends are mostly down at Clifftop, the old-time music gathering in the mountains.

Vixi brought her husband home from a care facility for his birthday.

Judy lost a good storytelling friend.

Ellouise explored more story sources at a military museum.

Cousin-in-law Hazel was on hand in Cambridge to see the flowering of a giant arum that has not bloomed since 2004.

The list could go on and one. I know all of these things because of Facebook. This internet thing keeps me connected to people I would never be able to keep up with otherwise, living as I do in a rural area far from all of these friends and family. I love it. I like seeing their faces every morning when I check in and I like reading about their adventures, their funny comments. I am glad to be able to join with others in sending prayers, congratulations, supportive words or just laugh at the funny, silly, odd things they share. I avoid political and religious posts, because if someone is my friend it's not because of either of those things.

Over the weekend I had the opportunity to connect again, in person, with other friends I see only rarely at the Inland Waterways Festival in Marietta, Ohio. I was there to tell stories, but seeing people is a fine side benefit. Perhaps it is because there are days with no contact with anyone except my husband and my dogs that these face-to-face opportunities are so enjoyable, Perhaps it is because when I am home we see no cars, homes or other signs of humans--we are truly removed from contact here, with the except of phone, radio and computer. We can sometimes hear vehicles passing, but that's about it.

Then another opportunity to connect came to me in one of those odd, unexpected places.

 When I finished my performances at the festival, I intended to just go straight home. I was tired and hot. But I had heard of a cemetery in Marietta that encircled an Indian mound. All these years we've been going to Marietta to work on our booth, and I never saw this place! So I figured I could take a few minutes to have a look at it. Of course I went the wrong way first, and wound through streets of beautiful old homes. But I found the cemetery eventually. It was even prettier than I expected.

Now I know it sounds strange to visit a cemetery where I have no family buried, but I expect that most readers of this blog have a similar interest. So much history can be found in cemeteries, and there is something about being in such a place and honoring those buried there that just feels right.

The mound was, as I had heard, in the very center of the cemetery. It is surrounded by a moat, which surprised me. I went the wrong way around the mound too, which was fine with me since I got to see the entire cemetery. I found the steps leading up to the top of the mound--45 of them. They were surprisingly easy to climb.

At the top were benches and in the center a time capsule that will not be opened until 2026.

I sat down and looked around me.

 Large trees shaded the graves and muted traffic sounds. Below I could see a couple meandering among the stones. Although the day was hot, there was a cool breeze on the mound. I considered what was beneath me--were remains still in place in this burial mound, or had the early explorers raided it, as happened with so many mounds before people realized that was not a good thing to do? If there were still remains and other artifacts in the mound, I figured they were probably far more intriguing than the time capsule contents.

A woman came up the steps and joined me on the benches, and soon her husband also arrived. We began talking--about the mound, Marietta, the river, steamboats and early history, storytelling, ghosts, and more. This couple, Bill and Karen from Columbus, go "adventuring," just picking a place at random and going to see what they could find. We talked for an hour, three people meeting unexpectedly on top of an ancient mound, surrounded by the sleeping former residents of a frontier town. It was a most pleasant, leisurely conversation, none of us in a hurry to go anywhere.

We finally said goodbye. On the way home I thought about that meeting--had I not gone the wrong way first, walked the wrong way around the mound, I might have been gone by the time they arrived. Life throws us random chances sometimes, or perhaps it was all as it was meant to be.

I hope one day our paths will cross again. I bet it will be in some other out-of-the way place.


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

On a Friend's Porch

Somewhere in southern West Virginia there is a log house, with a wood porch

that has flowers, a swing and comfy chairs

and a view over the greening mountains to where the spring sun is slowly setting.

You can sit and watch and listen to the birds, to the thunder of Sandstone Falls on the river below, and to the far-off hoot of a train whistle.

If you're lucky, you might be joined by a tiny thirsty fellow,

and together you can watch the sun disappear behind the hills. 

If you're really lucky,

you might also be joined by the sweet music of a mountain dulcimer, 

played gently and quietly to end the day.

With many thanks to Ron, Wendy, Sam and all for one of the most relaxing few hours 

a person could want.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Blessings

This has been a day of such goodness, and such sadness. This evening let me tell you about the goodness:

Last October when we were in Dublin, Ireland we happened to meet a lovely man named Leo East. We were looking at our tourist map, trying to figure out where we were and where to go next when Mr. East approached us and offered assistance. We had a lively conversation; he told us about many sites of interest within walking distance of where we stood, and a little about his life and family. We told him about our trip and our sons, and when we said we had a son in Florida, he said his sister lived there and was the owner of a motel in that city. Larry took a photo of Mr. East and me, and we said our goodbyes.

I have thought about Mr. East many times since then, recalling his warmth and welcome to two strangers. I wished I had gotten his contact information so that if chance took me back to Ireland I might have the opportunity to see him again. Sometimes we just connect with people, you know?

Earlier this week I received an email from a man in the Netherlands. He was searching for a school friend from years ago named Leo East, and happened upon my blog post about him. Did I know how to get in touch with Leo? He knew, of course, that the chances were slim that it was the same man as his friend, but thought it worth a try.

I wrote back that I did not have Mr. East's contact information, but I did remember the name of his sister's motel because we had considered staying there during our trip to Florida. I offered to look it up, and then after some thought, offered to call myself and see if I could get any information about Leo.

As luck would have it, Mr. East's sister herself answered the phone when I called. It took a bit for me to explain why I was calling to someone who wasn't too familiar with the internet, but after we talked for a while she offered to get in touch with her brother or his children and pass on my phone number and email.

This morning my phone rang; it was Leo East. Yes, he remembered me, and yes, he was the Leo East who was the school friend of the man in the Netherlands. He was astounded that I had found him, that his friend had somehow found me, and that he might once again speak with his friend. We chatted a good while and  I passed on the phone number and address of the man in the Netherlands.

In this wide world, we are really not far separated from any other person, are we? I am so happy to have been part of this surprising re-connection of old friends. I am planning to return to Ireland this summer with friends, and I hope that somehow on our trip I might get a chance to once again have a chat with Mr. Leo East.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.