11-22-63

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Blogging / Mostly Musings

Today I am pleased to welcome my first-ever guest blogger to Home Sweet Abbey. Joe Accardi, a friend, neighbor, and fellow writer, shares memories of the music that has shaped his life on Life Out of Tunes.

This morning, both Joe and I commented on the same Facebook post about the anniversary of the Kennedy assassination. Seeing that, I realized we each had something to say about that fateful day. He agreed.

Here is Joe’s post. Be sure to click the link and listen to the song too. Then please come back here to read my memories of that day 52 years ago.

He Was a Friend of Mine…

Our eighth grade basketball team was looking forward to its game that night.  The entire school had gathered in the building’s main hallway during the noon hour, cheerleaders in their blue and white plaid skirts leading shouts of “Go Team, Go!”  It must have been difficult for our principal to raise his voice above all the noise.  When he finally got our attention he announced, voice faltering, that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.  Gasping and then silence among us.  Stunned, I walked back to our classroom.  We listened to the news broadcast over the school’s PA system.  President Kennedy was dead.

Two years later the Byrds released an album, Turn, Turn Turn!, on which they included a traditional folk song, lyrics altered to lament the assassination of President Kennedy, He Was a Friend of Mine.  Every year on this day I am reminded of that song and the depth of my sadness surrounding the event 52 years ago.  Where were you that day?

Byrds

 

And now, back to Caryl:

I was a junior in high school. In my mind, I can still see the table where I was sitting in 6th period study hall. I remember where the table was located in the room and who was sitting near me. The PA crackled to life with a radio broadcast. There was no announcement explaining what we were about to hear. It began in mid-sentence, as I recall. It was so confusing, hearing that our President had been shot in Dallas and was barely hanging on to life.

Then the bell rang to send us to our next class. The broadcast followed us, blaring from speakers as we walked through the halls and, in my case, into U.S. History class.

The importance of that day was seared into my memory when I saw Mr. Scott, my favorite teacher, crying. It was the first time I had seen a grown man sob. But I would see it again that week. Those were days that changed our country, our history, and 16-year-old me.

How about you? Do you have a memory to share? If so, please comment on this blog, Joe’s blog, or on one of our FB pages. We’d love to hear from you.

A Matter of Cat-sonalities

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Just for Fun

To me, there’s nothing more interesting than living with a cat… unless it’s living with two cats. Just as people have their own personalities, so do cats. And with my girls, the contrasts are fascinating.

Let me show you what I mean. Here is a photo of each, taken in the same room at nearly the same time this morning.

Angie is self-assured and entitled. Nothing is too good for her. She can be friendly and affectionate, but only on her own terms.

angiesheets

Here is what I imagine she is saying: These new sheets pass the test. They will do just fine. What? You say they cost $90? Fine. Nothing is too good for me. I deserve to be comfortable. (editor’s note: that is $90 before coupons.)

•••

At the same time, Shadow is lying on the floor near the bedroom door. She is shy, unassuming, and terribly sweet. Once she warms up to someone, she is their best friend forever.

shadowtoy

Here is what I think she might be saying: Thank you very much for this catnip toy. It is my favorite, and I take it wherever I go. No, I don’t mind that it is used. I know someone originally bought it for another cat. Hand-me-downs are OK. I’m glad it was left behind for me.

•••

Both are fabulous companions, without a doubt. But do I have a favorite?

Seriously, would you ask me that if they were my children?

No, I didn’t think so.

 

Every Day Should Be Veterans Day

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Holidays

In August, I had the privilege of going on an Honor Flight as a guardian to my boyfriend, one of the participating veterans. The three-day trip to Washington, DC was an overwhelming experience, one that is constantly on my mind as we approach Veterans Day.

Looking back, everything seems larger than life. Certainly the monuments were—the World War II, Korean and Vietnam war memorials; the Naval, Air Force, Marines, and women veterans memorials, and Arlington National Cemetery. Our group was huge too, including more than 100 people, with 46 veterans, their 46 guardians, leaders, support staff, nurses, bus captains, photographers, and other volunteers.

This enormous undertaking was planned, organized, funded, and led by the Veterans Network Committee of Northern Illinois. This dedicated group spends 362 days each year preparing for the three-day trip in August. They are led by Randy Granath, himself a Vietnam veteran.

A few weeks ago, each participant received two CDs holding more than 2,000 pictures taken by the two photographers accompanying us. They capture in loving detail all of the special moments of those three days. It was difficult to select just a few photos to share, but I didn’t think you would want to see all 2,000.

This photo of our entire group was taken at the Air Force Memorial. It shows how many of us there were and, I hope, gives you an idea of the logistics needed to transport, feed, and house us.

all

Below, some of our World War II veterans and their guardians pose at the World War II memorial.

WWII vets

And here is a group of Korean vets at their memorial.

Korea vets

Here are a number of our Vietnam vets. The man on the left is Randy, the trip director. To the right of him is my vet, Don.

Vietnam vets

The highlight of our visit to the Iwo Jima memorial came when our Marine veterans serenaded us with a rousing rendition of The Marine Corps Hymn.

marines

At the end of all of our sightseeing, we were asked what had made the biggest impression. The most common answer was the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknowns at Arlington. Here is a shot of that moving ceremony.

changing guard

•••

Several of my friends who have experienced honor flights told me to be prepared for emotional moments. What I didn’t expect was that the entire three days would be so emotional. Looking back, what I value most is the bonding that occurred—

bonding between the veterans themselves…

dinner table

… bonding between veterans and their guardians…

guardian:vet

… and bonding of current military and members of the public with our vets.

Finally, these men and women were receiving the recognition and thanks that they deserve. Nowhere was this more evident than in the welcome home celebration. A large motorcycle escort led our two buses all the way from the Milwaukee airport to Arlington Heights.

motorcycles

This is what awaited us.

welcoming crowd

•••

Now, just hours away from Veterans Day 2015, I look back at the pictures and replay the memories. And I realize that going forward, the holiday will always have more meaning for me because of the Honor Flight.

Isn’t this how our veterans deserve to be treated every day?

For more information about the Honor Flight program in northern Illinois, follow this link. If you live elsewhere in the country, use this link for information.

Happy Anniversary to Me

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Mostly Musings

Five years ago today — October 14, 2010, I left my closing with this key.

key

Now, don’t worry. I’m not going to go all English teacher on you and begin discussing symbolism. We all know about the many meanings of keys.

Today is for celebrating here at Home Sweet Abbey. And today is for appreciating the many blessings that have come with my  new home and community. Some of them were anticipated; many were delightful surprises. One thing, at least, is even more true than today than it was five years ago. I am never moving again.

So thank you to everyone who made my purchase and move possible, and to everyone who contributes to my happiness here.

5th anniversary

Time to make a wish and blow out the candle. Mmmmmm. Can’t beat a Panera pumpkin muffin.

A Study in Feline Beauty

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Pictures

Cats are difficult to photograph. At least, for me they are. My two are often so cute/playful/beautiful/cunning/charming that I plead with them to hold the pose long enough for me to grab my phone. They almost never do.

But this morning, for whatever reason, Shadow decided to cooperate, and here’s the result…. Well, here’s the result after I chose the best of three shots, cropped it, and played with the color.

I don’t mean to imply that I’m a Photoshop pro. I’m far from that. I know how to adjust the exposure of a picture, but after that it’s pure guess work. So it took lots of trial and error to get the picture I wanted. Finally, I noticed a setting called shadow. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Would playing with shadow be what I needed for my portrait of Shadow?

Yes, I think it was. Isn’t she a beauty?

shadow portrait

Hey, didn’t you used to be Miss Dierksen?

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Mostly Musings / Neighbors / Woodstock

Hey, didn’t you used to be Miss Dierksen?

Yes, I reply. Yes, I was…. In fact, I still am!

I occasionally hear that question—and give that reply—when I’m out and about in Woodstock, though not as often as I did a few years ago. Now in my 14th happy year of retirement, encounters with my former students have become less frequent. But that makes them all the more fun when they do occur.

Before I retired, I took for granted the presence of former students in my life. Most teachers who live in the same town where they work, especially one the size of Woodstock, get used to running into students every time they step out of their homes. The odds of that happening are pretty high here.

Let’s do the math. I taught five classes a day for 25 years at Woodstock High School. We’ll say an average class size was 25 students, though really it was closer to 30. In the English department, we had different courses each semester so multiply 25 x 5 x 2 x25. That’s 6250. Then, add in the 900 or so kids I taught in my seven years at Northwood Junior High. We’re looking at more than 7,000 former students. Keep in mind that when I began teaching in 1970, the population of Woodstock was around 10,000. Now we are just a few souls short of 25,000.

Here at Maples at the Sonatas, where we have around 100 residents, the trend continues. My neighbors include Kirk and Tammy, two former students; and Kaz and Bob, two former colleagues. I also have seven neighbors whom I met at parent-teacher conferences when I taught their kids, as well as two neighbors who are the grandmothers of former students.

My former “kids” now range in age from 28 to 63. And they are literally everywhere. They wait on me in restaurants, do bodywork on my car, seal coat my driveway, check me out in stores and the library, cat sit when I go away, serve me communion at church. My boss at my retirement job was a former student. And a former student drew up my will. Two times, when I was in car accidents, they were the paramedics who responded to the scene, one time attaching monitors to my chest in the ambulance.

I have made peace with this loss of privacy over the years. It’s a minor price to pay for that moment of recognition that passes between teacher and student. It’s a moment made sweet by a sense of camaraderie and the joy of sharing memories of very good times.

Time and again, I end up happy that of all the careers I could have had, I ended up being Miss Dierksen.

 

•••

stevebeth

 

One more thing before I end. This is Steve and Beth, both former students whom I ran into on Saturday. They were having lunch at a local restaurant when I walked in with my 95-year-old mother and a 90-year-old former neighbor. We chatted a little, and it was great seeing them again. That would have been enough.

But when it was time for the check, our waitress said that Steve and Beth had paid for all of our meals. This was the most recent in a long list of kindnesses from my “kids.”

September at the Pool

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Nature / Neighbors / Social Life

Labor Day is considered the traditional beginning of fall. But that was not the case this year at Maples at the Sonatas, where we enjoyed three-plus weeks of bonus summer.

There were still several sizzling hot days for swimming. Our walking group, known for getting outside in challenging weather, took their exercise in the pool a few days. Don’t they look nice and cool here?

Photo by Carol

Photo by Carol

And they can spell too. A-A-R-P…

Photo by Carol

Photo by Carol

The weather has turned a bit cooler now, but the pool was still the place to be this weekend. On Saturday, we celebrated the annual Pooch Plunge. It was a big hit with dogs and humans alike, and provided many photo ops.

Edna and her Rita pose for Sylvia

Edna and her Rita pose for Sylvia.

No one enjoys swimming more than Sandy. Photo by Kathy.

No one enjoys swimming more than Sandy. Photo by Kathy.

Bandit, photo by Sylvia.

Bandit, photo by Sylvia.

Sylvia's photo of humans having fun too.

Sylvia’s photo of humans having fun too.

The dogs all love Cathy, who brought three of her own. Photo by Carol.

The dogs all love Cathie, who brought three of her own. Photo by Carol.

And a special thanks to Cathie, who let me share this brief video of some of our dogs in action.

Then, last night, it was back to the pool for viewing the lunar eclipse. A dozen or so of us shared some conversation and laughter as we kept our fingers crossed that the clouds would not cover the moon.

Photo by Sylvia

Photo by Sylvia

We all felt like the amateur photographers that we are as we tried to take photos with our phones. Here is Shirley, giving it a shot.

Photo by Sylvia.

Photo by Sylvia

And here are two of Shirley’s pictures.

Photo by Shirley

Photo by Shirley

Photo by Shirley.

Photo by Shirley

It’s been a wonderful summer in our community. But this week the pool will close for the season. Thanks to our hard-working pool committee for providing the setting for so many fond memories.

Art’s Excellent Adventure

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Neighbors

My neighbor Art doesn’t have a formal bucket list. But if he did, sky diving would be item #1. He has wanted to try it for the longest time—so long that he doesn’t even remember how long. But life kept getting in the way, and he kept putting it off for various reasons.

Then, a couple of years back, it looked like health problems had closed the window of opportunity on Art’s dream. That all changed, though, when he had a pacemaker installed.

Art tells it this way: “When I got out of hospice, I said, this is the time. What have I got to lose?”

He began daily workouts in the exercise room in our clubhouse. Besides improving his overall stamina, he needed to strengthen his legs to withstand the landing. Once he was ready physically, Art had one more thing to do. He had to convince his family that it was a good idea for him, now a month shy of 87, to jump out of an airplane.

He had a plan for that, too, one that he set into motion last week. He invited his wife, Judi, and his sons to join him for lunch at the Rochelle Municipal Airport, where Chicagoland Skydiving Center is located. The food is good, he said, and they could watch the jumpers. That was all, he assured them, just watch. Judi and one son, Don, were able to go, and off they went on Sunday.

What Art didn’t tell them, was that he had decided to ask if there were any openings or last minute cancellations when he got there. He did, and found out there was an opening later that afternoon. As they watched others sky dive, Judi’s fear of his breaking a leg or hip on landing were eased. She saw how gently they came down.

With his family on board, Art upgraded his package. Rather than jumping from 9,000 feet, he would go for the higher jump at 14,000 feet. They also decided on a video and picture package, one where the cameraman jumps at the same time to record everything. The photos below are part of that package of professional shots.

Here are Judi, Art, and his son, Don, before the jump. Note how excited and confident they all appear.

koellerfam

 

Even in the plane, moments before he jumps out with his tandem partner, Peter, Art shows no sign of fear or nervousness.

intheplane

 

“It was beautiful,” Art said of the dive. “When the chute opens, it’s so peaceful and beautiful.”

aerialshot

 

Have you ever seen a man look more alive than Art does here?

tandem

 

The landing was as gentle as promised. He literally landed on his feet.

landing

 

Back on the ground, Art’s first words were, “I wanna go again.”

thumbsup

Peter told Art that he was the oldest person he jumped with, but who’s to say what is too old? Knowing Art, I wouldn’t rule out another sky dive in his future.

Memories and Brick Streets

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Mostly Musings / Woodstock

The first time I drove into Woodstock, Illinois, my car found its way to the town square all by itself. Or at least, that’s how it seems looking back. I wasn’t searching for the center of town, or for a place of beauty, history, culture, and shopping. I was looking for a phone booth.

The fateful phone booth is outlined in red in this photo from the 1960s.

The fateful phone booth is outlined in red in this photo from the 1960s. It has been gone for many years.

It was early June of 1970, and I was on a mission. I was hoping to land my first teaching job, meaning I needed to find Woodstock High School, where I had learned there was an opening for an English teacher. So I happened onto the Square and spotted a phone booth outside the Opera House. There, I dug a nickel out of my purse and made the call that would shape all of my adult life.

Forty-five years later, I am here, blogging about life at Maples at the Sonatas, because I dialed 338-4370 and Fern Lindsay answered.

•••

I like to go down to the Square, stroll around, and let my mind wander while pieces of my personal history mingle with that of the place itself. It’s a great way to spend a lazy summer afternoon.

Here’s the car I was driving the day I arrived in Woodstock, my 1969 Pontiac Firebird.

firebirdsquare

This photo is from a classic car show held on the Square a few years ago.

Yes, that is the very same car, not just one like it. In the late ’70s, I sold it to friends I taught with. They kept it, eventually giving it to their daughter. Now one of their granddaughters owns it and entered it in the car show.

•••

And the memories keep coming. I struggle to find the pictures that go with them.

This was taken on Millennium New Year’s Eve in the Old Courthouse Inn on the Square. Mom and I double-dated to celebrate the beginning of the new century. Today, the location is still a restaurant, the Woodstock Public House.

nye2000

•••

Here, Mom and I join our dates, plus one, as we ride in the annual Memorial Day Parade on the Square. I believe we were the only unit with veterans of three different wars. It was the best way ever to mark the holiday and so much fun that we did it several years.

parade_1

•••

Granted, there is something to be said for new places, new adventures, new beginnings. But it can also be rewarding to find a place you like, to settle in, and to stay, year after year after year. To put down roots that run deep, to build a life and memories shared with long-time friends.

I followed the latter path, and it has been a blessing.

This post concludes my three-part series on the Woodstock Square. The other two parts are immediately below.

Summer Saturday on the Square

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Woodstock

Note: This post is the second in a series about the Woodstock Square. If you like to begin things at the beginning—and if you missed Part 1 of the series—you can find that here.

The Woodstock Square is THE place to be on Saturday. After all, it’s Farmers Market day. People spill out of the shops and restaurants, and the park in the center of the Square is a joyful, colorful mix of people of all ages. I’m about to head down there for a couple of hours. I’ll show you what I mean.

Good mornin’, America, how are ya?

Our Farmers Market comes with its own soundtrack. Local musicians, like Mark Hobbs above, perform in the bandstand, their amplified voices filling the Square.

marketstreetview

Local farmers offer an amazing variety of homegrown produce and homemade items. I always walk by all of the stands, stopping often for a closer look at the offerings. Here is a sampler of products that catch my eye today.

After making the rounds twice, and making a few purchases, I’m ready for some people watching. I wander around, finding people of all ages enjoying the park in the Square.

resting1kidsballoonsresting2

Now it’s time for a few stops on the perimeter of the Square. The first one takes me to this lovely old building, The Woodstock Opera House.

operahouse

Inside, there’s only one person ahead of me in line at the ticket window. Within minutes, I’ve scored two fourth-row seats for an upcoming performance of the Woodstock Mozart Festival. The program will include a Mozart divertimento, a Mozart symphony, and a Beethoven piano concerto. And the helpful ticket agent reminds me about the free lecture by the guest conductor before the concert.

Time is passing quickly, and it’s getting on toward lunch time. So I decide to visit just two of the many stores around the Square. First is our hometown independent bookstore, Read Between the Lynes. I walk in, and the owner, Arlene Lynes, greets me with a hug. She shares the exciting news that she is moving the shop a couple of doors down the street to a larger location. Then she asks about the novel I’ve been working on for five years and offers encouragement when I tell her it’s on hold again.

I’m back outside before I remember I haven’t taken a photo of the bookstore. So I snap a shot of a poster that I like in the store window. When I look at it closer, I find a happy accident of symbolism. The window reflects part of the Square, representing how this store is part of the fabric of our town.

RBTL

Then I head for this attractive building, home to the best chocolate shop EVER — Ethereal Confections.

ethereal

I convince myself, regretfully, that it’s too early in the day for one of their chocolate martinis. And I show great self-discipline, buying only a few homemade candies to take with me.

Now, with my shopping finished and my time winding down, I cut through the Square toward the old courthouse. Inside this structure, dating back to the 1850s, is a wonderful restaurant, the Woodstock Public House, where I’ll treat myself to lunch.

oldcourthouse

I order one of my favorites, the fish tacos, then take a moment to reflect on my surroundings. And that is when I realize there will be one more post in this series about the Square.

How can I sit in this most historic of buildings without contemplating how my personal history intersects with the history of this town that I chose for my home 45 years ago?

The Woodstock Square — A Brief History Lesson

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Woodstock

The Woodstock town square is the most recognizable location in our city, as well as a gathering place and cultural center. For residents and visitors alike, when we hear Woodstock, it is the Square, with its Victorian buildings and brick streets, that we picture in our minds.

On this Throwback Thursday, let’s take a quick look at the history of the Square. In a future post, we’re going to take a field trip to check out what the Square has to offer. But, as anyone who has been to school knows, you have to do some homework before you get to go on the field trip.

•••

In 1844 Alvin Judd platted a new town in the center of McHenry County, and named it Centerville. The plat contained a central square oriented to the compass points, with streets originating at the centers of the four sides. The whole square was surrounded by a rectangular grid. The following year, the name of the village growing around the Square was changed to Woodstock, at the suggestion of an early settler to honor his home town of Woodstock, Vermont.

Woodstock, Illinois, became the county seat of McHenry County. A courthouse was built on the Square in 1857 at a cost of $47,000. The Square itself was graded and planted with elm trees in 1858-9. These photos from the 1860s show what it looked like at the time.

old courthouse

Note: A tornado in 1967 destroyed all of the trees in the Square.

square 1864

In 1887 the county built a jail next to the courthouse. Two years later, work began on the Square’s opera house. This imposing Romanesque-styled building originally held, in addition to the 64-seat theater, the city hall, the fire department, and the public library.

Opera-House

The streets were not paved with their signature bricks until 1912.

bricks 1912

•••

Finally, let’s end this mini-lesson with a then-and-now comparison.

Here is the Square decorated to commemorate the death of President Ulysses S. Grant in 1885.

square 1885 grant

And here is the same place last summer during the Fair Diddley craft show.

FD square

 

This is very much how the Square will look when we visit it next week for Part 2 of this post.

Consider the Lilies…

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Mostly Musings / Nature

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Symbol.”

Easter lily

Something white caught my eye when I walked past my neighbor Ollie’s flowerbed this morning. Something that, as beautiful as it was, felt out of place.

I had never seen an Easter lily growing outdoors before, nor had I ever seen one blooming in July. Yet there it was, a glorious, serendipitous surprise.

Symbolically speaking, the Easter lily is identified with beauty, purity, hope, and new life. But first and foremost, it represents resurrection.

I was curious about those flowers, so I tracked down Ollie. She was happy to tell me the story of their — well — resurrection.

After Easter of 2014, Ollie brought two unclaimed plants home from her church. When they had finished blooming, she cut off the dead blossoms and put them aside. She planted them in her flowerbed after the weather warmed up.

The lilies showed no signs of life last summer. Nor did they come up this spring when her other perennials did. She had nearly forgotten them until they made a late appearance last month. They grew, budded, and showed some promise. But they didn’t raise big expectations until the blooms began opening a few days ago.

I came home, still musing over these resurrection flowers. Then a quick online search came up with another instance of symbolism. The lilies we enjoy at Easter time are artificially forced to bloom early to coincide with the holiday. Left to their own timetable, they mature in June or July.

Is it possible, I’m wondering, that some of us could be like flowers forced to bloom at an unnatural time? How much more fully might we blossom if allowed to mature at our own, natural time?

 

 

Escaping the Gray

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Nature / Pictures

It’s record-settingly official. The Chicago area just survived its cloudiest June on record.

If you were to read the entire post, you would find all the depressing statistics. If that sounds too gloomy to tackle, here are the highlights—or, should I say, lowlights:  Last month our total sunshine was only 46 percent of the possible sun, making it the cloudiest June since sunshine records were first kept in 1893. The previous record low was 48 percent, set in 1942. Our average sunshine for June, by comparison, is 65 percent.

But today, a new month begins. I have high hopes for July. And, at least for several hours this morning, we broke out of the clouds into glorious sunshine. I could feel my spirits rise to ridiculous heights as I walked the neighborhood. Everywhere I looked, I discovered beauty. Last month’s rains have produced spectacular blooms.

Our community garden has never looked lovelier, with such vibrant colors.

gardencloseup

 

And our white flowers are so shimmery, they almost hurt the eyes.

daisies

 

 

whitepuffs

 

Today, even the weeds in our not-yet-developed areas are beautiful. At least they are to me.

weeds2

weeds1

 

OK, I admit it. I might be a little high on sunshine at the moment. I hope you are too, wherever you are.

 

 

Nighttime at the Maples

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Mostly Musings / Nature

Sunset is one of our loveliest times at Maples at the Sonatas. There is so much to savor in this time of transition.

Aug sunset 2014

sundown1

And then comes nighttime, which is downright magical. Darkness settles gently, gradually over the neighborhood, bringing with it an altered perspective. Our homes, our lawns, our streets — everything so familiar that we may not even see it any more — all becomes subtly new, demanding a second look.

•••

It’s a perfect night to go exploring. Though it’s only 9 or so, it feels much later. My neighbors are all indoors, thanks to very cool weather and a Chicago Blackhawks playoff game.

I begin in the most illuminated spot. Our beautiful pool area glows in the night, at least until midnight when its lights go off.

Photo by Sylvia

Photo by Sylvia

Photo by Sylvia

Photo by Sylvia

Nighttime slowly takes over as I walk away. Its darkness enfolds me like a black velvet blanket. A most delightful fragrance surrounds me. I can’t name it, but think it must be a potpourri of flowers and shrubs blooming throughout the neighborhood.

The moon and stars, along with an occasional streetlight, cast just enough light to guide my steps along the deserted streets. Every now and then, a soundless plane twinkles high overhead. I head for the edge of the community, to Phase 3, which is as near as we come to a frontier.

As I walk farther out, the night gets louder rather than quieter. I stop to listen to a chorus of frogs belting out an amphibian song in the night. Nostalgia for my childhood on the farm makes me want to capture it to replay later. The best I can do is record a short video with my phone. There is nothing, really, to see, but if you turn up the sound, you can hear the frogs.

I walk the community from one end to the other, letting its utter peace envelop me. Finally, I know it’s time to go home when my thoughts turn from nature to the Blackhawks. I turn toward my porch light and the cats waiting in my sunroom windows. After all, I can explore the nighttime whenever I want just by stepping outside my front door.

A Concrete Love Note

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Construction / Home Elements/Decorating / Just for Fun

There are countless ways to personalize a new home in Maples at the Sonatas. It all begins when the buyers choose one of the five Epcon floor plans offered here. It continues with the selection of upgrades and options. Then the finishing touches come with furnishing, decorating, and accessorizing.

But Tom and Brenda, whose home is in the earliest stages of construction, have seized another way to personalize their home. Here is what they’ve done with one of the footings of their Portico.

footing

 

What a lovely, whimsical touch from this creative couple. What better way to build a happy home than on a foundation of love?

Welcome, future neighbors!

 

A Glass Already Broken

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Mostly Musings

“You see this goblet?” Chaa asked, holding up a glass.  “For me, this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; drink out of it. It holds water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.” – Excerpt from Sacred Hoops, by Phil Jackson, 1995

Outside of the Bible, I cannot think of an idea that has had a greater influence on my thinking. In fact, this passage is religious too. Achaan Chaa was a famous Buddhist monk from Laos.

Phil Jackson, author of the passage, was the celebrated coach of the Chicago Bulls during the heyday of their Michael Jordan years. Even in the midst of winning six championships, Jackson explains in his book, he knew it would all eventually come to an end.

After all, impermanence is a fact of life. Things will always continue to change. If we can accept that idea ahead of time, Jackson argues, we won’t be as disappointed when it happens. The realization also helps us appreciate and savor a good thing while we have it. As Chaa says, consider the goblet already broken before it actually is.

•••

I had one of those glass-already-shattered moments a couple of days ago. Literally. One of my favorite accessories in my home—outside of family heirlooms—is an apothecary jar that I bought with a gift card I received as a housewarming gift. The jar was delicate, hand blown, lovely to see and to touch. It sat on the vanity in my master bathroom, where I admired it every time I walked in and turned on the light.

And yet… I knew the jar was fragile. Yet I recklessly tossed some clothing I was sorting right next to it. When I went to scoop up the pile of clothes, I knocked the jar to the floor.

broken jar

Halfway through sweeping up the shards of glass, I stopped and took this picture. Perhaps I did it to scold myself for my carelessness. Or, more likely, I had Jackson’s glass-already-shattered quote in the back of my mind.

•••

I got off lucky, of course. I had known the glass jar could break one day, so I had been enjoying it all along.

Even more, I was fortunate to lose an object that is replaceable. Any time I want, I can drive to the nearest Pottery Barn store, plunk down $45 plus tax, and take home an identical jar. While it won’t be the exact one that was a house-warming gift, it will be an acceptable substitute.

But I can’t shake a scary thought. How many of my glasses-already-shattered are irreplaceable? I’m afraid nearly all of them are. The people, the experiences, the emotions, life itself. All could be lost as quickly and easily as a glass jar that falls to the floor.

So, yes, I will try to be more careful in the future. Yes, I will try even harder to avoid taking my treasures for granted. And yes, I will remain grateful to a Laotian monk and an NBA coach for this life lesson that I share with you today.

Friends, let’s be ever-so-gentle with each other.

A Doggone Good Project

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Home Elements/Decorating

It’s not that big a deal, Cathie said. You’re welcome to come and see it, but it’s really not that much.

Still, knowing how creative and crafty she is, I wanted to take a look at her project. So I walked down the street to her Portico and rang the doorbell. Immediately, I was greeted by a chorus of Shih Tzu glee coming through the door. Cathie opened it, and the three dogs’ frenzied joy at my arrival made me glad I had come.

Here are Cookie, Candy, and Cocoa in a quieter moment. They are the reason for Cathie’s project, a specially designed area to organize and store all of their possessions.

cathiedogs

 

Cathie’s Portico is one of the home’s earlier designs, with a mudroom at the entrance from the garage. The room includes a double closet that she modified. As you can see in the photo below, she took off the doors, moved the shelf higher, and created a number of different spaces for the dogs’ belongings.

 

longview

 

Here are closer views of some of the storage spaces.

 

As nice as this is, the project is only the first phase of her plans for the mudroom. Cathie intends to convert the rest of the room into her craft work/storage place. Stay tuned for pictures when the entire project is complete.

My Writing Space

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Blogging

Where do you get your ideas?

Everyone who writes must hear this question from time to time. I know, I do.

It’s a hard one to answer. When I tell the truth — I get ideas everywhere— the person seems dissatisfied with its vagueness. But I can’t do better. I go through my life, and ideas just come. Or I should say, they usually do. They don’t always appear as often as I would like.

It would be much easier to explain where the ideas move from my head to my fingertips to my keyboard to my computer and finally, after much revision, onto my blog. The place that almost always happens is here in what I call my writing space.

office

This is the second bedroom of my Abbey, a large space that also serves as my guest room. (Note the sofa bed on the left.) I love being near the windows, where it’s sunny most of the day. At first, I was worried that the outside world would distract me, but that really hasn’t been a problem.

I do glance outside occasionally. I might see Sylvia working in our garden or neighbors walking their dogs or the walking group going by. But those are momentary distractions, not problems. They don’t interrupt my train of thought.

Often I have the “help” of one of my cats. Here is Shadow keeping me company. It does look like I’m on Facebook, though, rather than writing.

shadowdesk1

Angie’s favorite place is between me and my monitor. That, I have to admit, makes it hard to work.

angiedesk

With WiFi and laptops, it’s possible to work almost anywhere. Still, nearly all of my serious writing is done in this space.

But Friday, this retired teacher is going on a field trip. I’m looking forward to attending a WordPress conference on blogging in Phoenix.

I can’t wait to meet the other bloggers, some quite successful and experienced. I know I’ll learn a lot from the speakers and come home with new ideas, techniques, and inspiration. Perhaps best of all… I’ll be a student, not the teacher.

Final 4 Fever

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Just for Fun / Neighbors

Here it is, one of the biggest weekends of the year. It’s Final Four time. So it was no surprise to hear some rivalry talk at our community coffee this morning. We had a fan of Michigan State wearing green. We had Wisconsin supporters in the group too, along with Big 10 fans happy that their conference had two teams in the finals.

But only Sylvia and I broke out our team shirts this morning.

final4

What could be sweeter, I ask you. We share the excitement of finding our favorite teams in the Final Four. We can whole-heartedly support the other’s team because Wisconsin and Duke do not play each other tonight. We can hope against hope that both make it through to the championship game.

And if they do… well, we can sort out that rivalry thing on Monday night.

Changing the World One Child at a Time

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Neighbors

My neighbor Bob believes that every child should have an opportunity for happiness.

My neighbor Jane, who spent her career working with children, saw so many who needed an advocate in life.

My neighbor Maureen is willing to step out of her comfort zone to fundraise for a cause she truly believes in.

All three found an ideal outlet for their desire to help children in CASA of McHenry County, an organization that provides volunteers to advocate for abused and neglected children in the court system.

All three of them are extremely busy. Each is active in our neighborhood and is involved in multiple ways in Woodstock. Yet they happily donate about 10 to 15 hours per month to CASA. To find out why they are so passionate about this cause, I asked them to sit down and talk with me. Here is some of what I learned.

•••

Court Appointed Special Advocates of McHenry County is part of the national CASA program that was created in 1977 by a Seattle judge. His goal was to ensure that any child in the court system has a voice to provide an accurate picture of his wants and needs.

CASA volunteers, who must be at least 21, are thoroughly screened before being accepted into the program. They receive extensive training in the beginning and ongoing support from case managers and in-service programs as they serve.

“We are the eyes and the ears of the court,” Jane explained. The CASA visits with the child, observes parent/child visitations, researches records, and interviews people involved in the child’s life, including teachers, doctors, therapists, and foster parents. The CASA submits objective reports to the judge and attends court hearings.

Each CASA works with just one child at a time. Often he or she is the one stable adult in the child’s life. Their relationship with their child can last for years. For example, Jane was with her first case from the time the child was 8 months old until she was adopted at age 3. During that time, the child had five different caseworkers.

And how does an 8-month-old end up in the court system? Bob stresses that the children are there through no fault of their own. Some enter the system shortly after birth if they were exposed to drugs prenatally. All are experiencing some type of abuse or neglect.

Bob said, “You see some bad stuff, but you also see some beautiful stuff. You see the resiliency and the strength of the kids. And you know you are making a difference.”

In McHenry County, CASAs are currently working with 106 children, and there is a need for more advocates. Children fortunate enough to be in the program spend less time in foster care and are more likely to find a safe, permanent home.

CASA receives no government funding. Its expenses are covered through fundraising, private donations, and an occasional grant. And this is where Maureen comes in.

She did not think that being an advocate would be a good fit for her. So she contributes to the organization as a member of the fundraising task force, which also forced her out of her comfort zone. The group sponsors events throughout the year. Their next one is an April 21 Point of Light Breakfast.

For more information about that event or about becoming an advocate, visit the group’s website at www.casamchenrycounty.org.

The photo below was taken last summer at a CASA fundraiser where Maureen (left), Jane, and Bob all volunteered.

CASA

Note: Another Maples resident, Diana, is an advocate for CASA of Lake County, where she lived previously. She will join McHenry County CASA when her current case is concluded. She was unavailable for the interview.