People Gathering Together

So "people gathering together" has been an odd theme that has followed me around this summer thus far. There was the sad yet celebratory service remembering the life of Tom Phillips (a previous post), an event that packed the house at the Methodist Church on the order of the prime-time Christmas Eve service. Then there was the Fourth of July, really the only day I know when townfolk of all stripes and clans gather in one place, first along a parade route, and then at the Fairgrounds to watch and hear what modern pyrotechnics has wrought.

Yesterday, we went over to an interesting gathering at the nearby Alphonsus Parish church, where they were having their annual do all over the place. There was a softball tournament going on, and food and drink available everywhere, and games and so on. My wife was most interested in the silent auction, and that took some time for her to make some strategic bids.

Most interesting to me, nestled in among the church and social hall and residences, was a restored log cabin-like structure, dating back to 1878 or something, commemorating the presence of John Neumman, the first American Bishop to be canonized into sainthood (by Pope Paul VI in 1977), reassembled amongst the cornfields of the St. Alphonsus parish. The history of the place and its settlement by German families, with the site selected virtually by accident, was quite interesting to this non-Catholic.

Anyhow, the unimposing log structure is dedicated as a prayer center, and there is a feeling of peace and quiet within its confines. It was well worth the side trip, as well as any money my wife dropped on the silent auction, and it reminded me of how many treasured points of interest there are within easy reach.

In fact, we had intended to make it up to the Village of Milan to possibly take in their museum on Sunday, but I chose to take an extended nap instead, evidently...

Friday presented another very important (in my view) example of people gathering together for a common cause. This was the evening of our community's Relay for Life (and to those reading this who responded to my "annual shameless request", another huge "thank you". As well as an "it's not too late..." aside...) This event, the eighth or so that we have attended, never fails to move me, with its spirit of hope and happiness, despite the time taken to remember those who fell to cancer in recent memory.

For those who have never attended, Relay for Life is a good time! There are sights, sounds, food, camaraderie, and that pervasive feel that money is being rounded up to fight one of the most important battles on Earth. A couple years ago, I always made the point of sticking around and staying all night with my son and, usually, a coterie of his friends. He has moved on and is no longer so readily available, and I miss those woozy three o'clock frisbee tosses and four o'clock poker runs around the track. OK, I do not miss the runs around the track so much. Perhaps I miss the ability to survive multiple laps with minimal damage.

The "survivor lap" - applause all the way around.

Anyhow, Linda and I head home around midnight now, once our team has sold our last hot dog and the last ice cream sundae, and the bounce house has been deflated, and the team's tent battened down for the night. It's not quite the same as making it all night until breakfast burrito time time at six, but on the other hand, any feeling of sad nostalgia is usually overcome by the soft bed and central air that greets us at home.

The next gathering on the docket is a couple days with friends from Linda's college years and assorted others - a group that has managed to get together somewhere in Ohio or Michigan on a nearly monthly basis since 1977 (well, actually before that, but that was the year I entered the picture). I guess this gathering together stuff is pretty intrinsic, pretty essential. I think some of the finest things people have done have probably resulted from gathering together for a cause, a purpose, or a desire.

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After the busy-ness of the St. Alphonsus festival, we found the absolute opposite of a gathering in the serenity of our local conservation club last night. The only gathering we found there were a gaggle of seven or eight geese beating a retreat when we showed up on "their" beach. You can just see them in the center, nearly at the trees.

Finally, I liked this picture I took with the cell phone, shooting at the upside-down reflection of trees and clouds in the water. Sort of a Van Gogh-ishness to it, eh?

Scenes from the 4th

We had a marvelous weekend. Three-dayers are always good. For the first time in about five years, I got to watch the parade from the sidelines. It was about the same as it was five years ago, but it is still a pleasant tradition to see the community parade in front of you.

The fireworks were a good show. The steak on the barbie was especially tasty. And best of all, the family unit was all together for a few hours here and a few hours there. Here are some pictures from yesterday's festivities in Small Town USA...
I guess this old car is the last one of its kind - and it has a connection to our town, where it was made. And the ones below are not exactly right off the production line...
My wife points out to me that the kid was not reaching out with affection for the eagle. The kid was probably reaching out to get some candy being tossed his way.
Ah, the rural Midwest, with its collectors of toy farm implements...
A flurry of kids from the local little league program...
Our daughter's patriotic chocolate dipped pretzel sticks; our chocolate dipped strawberries...
Does anyone know of any other place where the fireworks show includes these fireball things? You can feel the shock wave of heat when these things go off.

Hope you had a great Independence Day!

Long Time No Blog

The old clock on the wall keeps ticking away. Actually, it's battery driven and it doesn't really tick. It hums a little until the batteries run down, then it twitches. I hate it when the second hand cannot make it uphill from the six toward the twelve. It looks so pathetic, like time itself is in its death throes. Which, come to think of it, is a fairly fascinating concept in itself. The death of time. Then what?

My point is that we are past the solstice and into summer proper now. Yes, I know; the days are getting shorter already. But I made the most of it yesterday, cleaning a small forest and wonderfully fertile soil out of the rain gutters on the east side of the house. Then I attacked some moss growing up on the roof. As I noted on Facebook (which has taken me, more than I would like, away from this beloved blog), I had looked at an interview with Elton John during lunch hour when I walked over to the library. Then there I was that evening, as I.. "sat on the roof, kicking off the moss." This, of course, started an uneasy chain of Elton John lyrics suitable to the occasion.

Anyhow, I hope you are enjoying the summer thus far. The weather here in northern Ohio has been gorgeous. and I a hoping it isn't going to be as hot as they say it might.

We are adjusting to the two dog lifestyle. Chloe has settled in and she and Ollie have learned to play together - hard and well. I am learning the techniques involved in walking two dogs while avoiding the braiding of the leashes. And we established a pen area back beyond the deck where they can run around a bit, untethered.

I should report there was a marvelous memorial service for Tom, my friend, guitarist in our band at church, and all-around great guy, this past Sunday. I do not exaggerate when I estimate that 400 or 500 people attended the service. Our band played everyone out to pay respects to the family, and we went a good ninety minutes before the place was reasonably cleared out. I guess that is a pretty good measure of the mark that Tom left.

Let me see if I can round up any pictures that represent life over tha past two weeks.
Here is the new order around the house. Left to right: Chloe, Ollie. Both dogs came with their names. I get a bit tongue tied calling them both.
The pictue may not do it total justice, but this is a meal the kids prepared for me/us the week before Father's Day. They couldn't be around for that day, but they more than made up for it with this meal - William's special spicy meat loaf, and Emily's potato au gratin dish. A great meal.
there was a period of a couple days where we were boarding five dogs, including (of course) our own two. It was nuts.
This is just a troll's view of a bridge in Toledo, bridging the mighty Maumee River.
Another view of the bridge - is it the Brent Spence bridge? Something like that? Anyhow, we were on our way to a do at the Hungarian Club in Toledo, celebrating a friend's birthday and her one-year mark since a breast cancer diagnosis. Always ready to help someone celebrate bein' a survivor!

So that's about all there is to bring us up to date. Perhaps there will be some fireworks or quaint small town parade pictures in the next week or so, eh?

Tom

Along with many, many others, I lost a friend Monday after an especially challenging fight with cancer. As I understand it, over two years ago, he went to the doctors to get over a persistent cough and was given a diagnosis of stage four lung cancer. So certainly, the deck was stacked pretty hard against him right out of the gate.

You would never know it with Tom. During the intermittent two years, any time I was talking to him, he really was not talking about his challenges unless someone asked him about it. He was pretty much interested in living his life, learning and experiencing new things, and doing what he could to get over his hurdles. And "doing what he could" for a while involved flying to Boston for a twice-weekly experimental protocol, staying there for three or four days as necessary, and flying home. And while there - he explored Boston, checked out a music store, took in a game at Fenway. Life went on.

My most notable shared experience with Tom over the past two or three years has been our participation in a band at church. Tom played guitar very well, and could be seen offering suggestions for fingering to others in the band from time to time, always learning how to make a good sounding song better.

Lately, he had taken to charging into a twelve-bar blues improv during that period of the service when the pastor has everyone getting up to say hi to those in the neighboring pews. He'd start it out, look over at the rest of us, and smile as I picked up the thread on keys, while the bass and drums fell in. It was golden.

Tom's faith in God was unshakable, as far as I could tell. The way he handled his last couple of years, with their ups and downs, CAT scans and chemo regimens, was exemplary; an amazing witness. He seemed to face each new twist and turn as just another experience along the journey. In two-plus years, I never heard Tom complain or assume the "why me?" posture - even though I, along with what I suspect were many others, were doubtless pondering "Why Tom?"

Tom seemed, to me, to have a signature introduction: "Good to see you." That sounds like a standard salutation that anyone may slip in, almost mechanically, without really meaning much except to say "hello". But Tom backed it up with solid eye contact and a ready smile; he meant it. And in return, it was always good to see Tom. There was a period where we three older guys in the band, Tom, Dale, and myself, would sit around after a Thursday night practice and chew the fat, talk about music, whatever was going on in our lives, or what our far-flung kids were up to, and just enjoy the quiet conversation after ninety minutes of working on our "joyful noise". Those were special times for me.

I have nothing but good memories of Tom - and I respect and admire his wife and three sons who are all good friends of my son's (and of ours). A goodly portion of our town has been praying for Tom, and indeed that radiant prayer has been turned toward the family in their time of grief. And I am sure that Tom is doing fine now, reuniting with people he had lost and greeting them with a boisterous "Good to see you!"

Five Dog Night

So, how's your quiet little Friday night going...?

Historic Town Becomes Prog Rock Hub

My decade-long tradition of heading to Bethlehem, PA for a thing called NEARFest ground to a halt when the fest was canceled this year. Sales were lagging; it is not all a cake walk on easy street, so to speak, when you are following a musical niche populated mainly by middle aged people (overwhelmingly guys) who were enamored of the odd metered and intricate music of the 1970s' Genesis (when Phil Collins was known almost entirely for his...drumming), Gentle Giant, ELP, Crimson..

Flash forward to the 21st century and those bands that filled large venues are pretty much over with, replaced by, among other things, these esoteric weekend festivals that bring 8 or 10 acts to a stage in front of 500 or so appreciative fans.

So with NEARfest canceled, I accompanied my childhood bud and fellow music nut Gerald to historic Gettysburg and the lovely, historic Majestic Theater right smack downtown in the center of gettysburg, to take in the wonder that was ROSfest. The ROS standing for "Rites of Spring". Whatever. It's about the music. ROSfest accomplished what I had hoped it would - I enjoyed a weekend transported into the netherworld of great music, known and unknown, simple and complex. Anyhow, here is a brief rundown of the eight acts we caught over a Saturday and Sunday. In between, we rushed out to the historic battlefield, which I have already summarized about two posts ago.
Half of Osada Vida, from Poland. Good, solid music that few over hear had ever heard before. (By the way, because of my seat's position and that of other items like most bands' keyboards, I seldom could see a drummer behind his kit, so neither will you).

Part of the band, Phideaux, named for its leader and songwriter, Phideaux Xavier (two X's in one name!) The guy with the guitar. Ironic that a band with an album named "Doomsday Afternoon" was playing on the afternoon of May 21, when indeed we were supposedly facing such an afternoon. Anyway, although Phideaux's music is loaded with songs about our self-imposed doom (or so I think), I love his stuff.

The guy at the keyboard is Erik Norlander. He plays this array of crazy old Moog and other analog synthesizers and he works at shaping the most awesome sounds out of those things. Note the guy in the back playing with the patch cords and knobs on the various oscillators and thingies associated with the Moog synth. That bunch of electronic boxes in the back is known as the "wall of doom".
More Moog mania. This is Claudio Simonetti, the man behind the Italian band Daemonia. He has scored a lot of scary movies in his time, fronted a band named Goblin, and I believe that is his niche. His band played a variety of keyboard-led music, both scary and quite pleasantly melodic. Started by playing the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.

Ah, Mars Hollow, a California band that just lays down well-constructed music, great songs that run the range from up to down. Well done, lads. Possibly best of show.

Also possibly best of show - District 97, from Chicago. These guys (and gal) look like kids but play like the prog rock monsters that they are. They just about brought the house down, and vocalist Leslie Hunt was fully capable of dancing around on stage to the beat, whether it was in 4/4, 7, 13, or some larger prime number.

After the manic, metallic, sometimes quirky music of District 97, the sounds of Britain's The Reasoning seemed to bring a little more conventionality to the stage. Good songs well sung, and vocalist Rachel Cohen is pursuing a PhD in something or other...

We ended as we began, with a Polish band - Quidam. Interesting, eclectic blend, covering a couple well-known songs, but mainly playing their own stuff. They had it all - good bluesy guitar player, excellent violinist and flautist, great guy on keys... A good finish to a very fun fest.

Down the Trail

The weather was unusually perfect tonight, as opposed to tornado-laden a week ago, so we took advantage of it and took a walk down the trail made possible by our local Rails-to-Trails group. This trail passes over a river valley, and the group recently completed a nifty little observation deck along the way, to view the river and look back at the old railroad bridge now supporting the trail.Here's a look back at the great old arched railroad bridge that now supports the trail...

Then there is the flora along the side of the trail

And a little bit of fauna...

And, coming out of the woods, here are some amber waves of grain,
or green waves of grass, whatever...

Hallowed Ground

I had studied up on Gettysburg before I visited it with a friend this past weekend. We were in Gettysburg for a music festival (more on that later), but here we were in Gettysburg, so we made a few side trips to the nearby battlefield.

I had watched the (highly recommended!) 4 (plus) hour movie about the battle. I also read a short book about the battle by renowned Civil War historian James McPherson. And the preparation was valuable, so I came in knowing a little about the battle logistics and some of the comings and goings, but no amount study can prepare you for being there on site where, nearly 150 years ago, 75,000 Confederate and 90,000 Union soldiers converged on this town of, at the time, about 2,400 people. The casualties were horrific: 11,000 died on this battlefield, another 29,000 were wounded (many of whom would not survive), and about 10,000 more went "missing". It is hard to reconcile those numbers with the natural beauty of the place while walking around on a gorgeous spring day.

Here are just a few of the pictures I snapped while making the rounds.

If you saw the "Gettysburg" movie, you likely remember the scenes involving Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, a former Bowdoin College Professor who commanded the Twentieth Maine brigade. His men were tasked with maintaining the left flank of a long line of Union soldiers. The picture above is a portion of the line the Twentieth Maine defended. They repelled repeated waves of Confederate soldiers with their ammunition. When yet another surge of Confederates approached them, the Twentieth was virtually out of ammo; Col. Chamberlain, knowing the importance of holding this high ground, proceeded to order his men to "fix bayonettes!" That they did, and they held their position.

This picture is looking down from Little Roundtop toward an area known as Devil's Den, where a particularly bloody battle raged for about 90 minutes, with scores killed.

This picture, also from atop Little Round Top, gives you some idea of the terrain which the soldiers had to traverse.
There are hundreds of monuments in the national park. The sheer number of monuments is a bit overwhelming. This one was erected to commemorate the 91st Pennsylvania infantry. And of all the monuments, to my eyes the most spectacular is this monument to the Pennsylvanians:

As I turned away from this monument, I noticed an unusual group of people walking past. There are reenactments going on fairly routinely in the park, cannon blasts and all. I cannot imagine fighting a war in the early July heat (this battle stretched out to three days, July 1-3, 1863) in the clothes these soldiers wore. But I suppose the heat was a relatively minor worry.

In the movie, there are scenes of Union strategists surveying the battle from the tower of the Lutheran Seminary in town. The seminary still stands, and I believe this is the tower with the strategic view.
The line of cannon below are along the western "Seminary Ridge" where the Confederates were lined up.
Below is a picture taken from an observation tower along Seminary Ridge. In the background are Little (l) and Big (r) Roundtop. The Confederates were given the order to cross the fields and farms in this picture, toward the Union stronghold along Cemetery Ridge.

On the third day of battle, Virginia's Major General George E. Pickett led the charge across these fields. The line of Confederates was a mile long, condensing to some 600 feet, in multiple waves, as it approached the Union forces. As James McPherson put it, "It was an awesome spectacle that participants on both sides remembered until the end of their lives - which for many came within the next half hour."

Another couple of examples of the monuments at Gettysburg.
This may not be the battle or the war that most readily comes to mind at Memorial Day, but it was a vivid reminder to me of the price paid by soldiers to defend their cause, and the realities of casualties on the battlefield. My hat is off to all those who followed and especially those who, like those buried at Gettysburg, did not make it home.