PHOEBE'S PHLOWER

Queen Anne's Lace needs a new name!
A weed is but an unloved flower -Ella Wheeler Wilcox

For more than half my life, which is a significant amount of time, (I constantly feel compelled to throw this type of stuff in) I always thought this lacy, delicate wildflower was called Grandmother's Lace. More than likely it was planted in my subconscious because my grandmother, Phoebe, introduced it to me when I was young girl.

Grandma Phoebe was a lover of nature, she loved all things wild, and could name every bird species and wildflower in sight. Clearly I transferred that passion into renaming Queen Anne's lace (Daucus Carota, is its scientific name) Grandmother's Lace.

Everything about this flower brings back memories of grandma. It's bloom resembles the hand-embroidered edges to hankies or doilies that she and other family members would spend hours making. The pure volume of Queen Anne's along a ditch reminds me of our family in a way as well. It was a large one, 30 plus, wild, untamed grandchildren. And just like those unkept wildflowers, Grandma Phoebe found the beauty in each one of us. She could make you feel like you were the only child in the room, even when the noise and chaos would suggest otherwise. There even is a great deal of symbolism in this wildflower to the economics of our life back then. We didn't have a lot of money or a lot of possessions, but who needed overpriced roses, when nature had given us a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers free for all of us to enjoy.

As I grow older, her appreciation for these simple things of life seems to take on more meaning. What seemed so boring to me as a pre-teen, now seems like opportunity wasted to better understand the real beauty of life. Grandma Phoebe had it down cold. Beauty in the everyday and love for it, is the real wealth. Grandma mastered that, because as I look back on my childhood and my time with her, I don't remember ever feeling like I went without or that I missed out on anything. Every memory of her is priceless.

So now, I'd like to know who or where to petition for a name change. It seems ironic to me that this wildflower, aka weed, would be named after a queen. These days I know it wouldn't be found in a palace. I know the story behind the name, but, heck, times change, and we live in a world where history is constantly being corrected. This wildflower existed before the time of Queen Anne, her grandmother and her grandmother's grandmother.

Of course, I am willing to compromise on the new name. It doesn't have to be named "Phoebe's Phlower". (I just like to type it this way). I would settle for "Grandmother's Lace" Kind of a tribute for all grandmothers who have taken their grandchildren on nature walks, and gladly gathered bouquets of wildflowers along the way. To me it just seems right it be named for those who understand its true meaning. Queen Anne can still have her furniture, just give us back the flower.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this idea. I'm sure it isn't even an original idea. Being introduced to wildflowers by a grandparent is universal. It is their unofficial job. They've learned to slow down and breathe, to appreciate that beauty isn't in a bottle or on a label. It surrounds us each day in nature if we just take the time to look. When I retire, and am blessed with grandchildren, I plan on taking it up as a second career as well.

Until then, I intend to look into this name change thing.

IN MEMORY

RANDY PAUSCH

It almost seems symbolic, that as my family and I sailed into the sunset on July 25, for our adventure, Randy Pausch, a man that truly inspired me (see previous blog), left on his own journey into the afterlife.

The fragility of life reminds me to never take for granted the daily opportunity that is the gift of life, or put off until tomorrow the things I can, and should, do today.

My sincerest and deepest condolences are with his wife Jai, his children, his family, and many loving friends. Although he is gone from this world, I believe his words of encouragement and wisdom will live on in those he touched.

Randy's book, The Last Lecture, is his legacy, left behind to enrich the lives of others the way he strived to enrich his own. "The Last Lecture" reminds me what's really important in life, and how simple things: courage, simplicity and good humor can make this world a better place.

Links to Randy's website, his memoirs of this final days and his book.

http://download.srv.cs.cmu.edu/~pausch/

http://download.srv.cs.cmu.edu/~pausch/news/index.html

http://www.thelastlecture.com

Click here for article on Wall Street Journal Columnist who assited Randy with his memoir.

HOME-DAY 10!

Well, all good things must come to an end. Our weary group arrived home in Michigan around 5:30 Sunday, and now, 48-hours later we are back into our old routines.

But, I did want to take a moment to catch up on some notes I made along the way, that never quite made it into my daily blogs.

RIDING FOR SMILES. COM

There were thousands of motorcycles on the highways during our trip (one week before Sturgis...everyone with a Harley was in South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana!), but these two riders caught our interest. They were ahead of us as we rolled into The Badlands on Sunday - DAY 2. During the trip, we intended to look up their website to get more information, but something always took up our time. So here is what I've found.

Ken and Shannon Wilson of Minnesota are on a 41-day, 8000 mile journey for UNICEF. They are recording, both in pictures and video, their journey and asking people to make a small donation to their cause. Not only are they enjoying life, but they are giving back to others lives. If you go to www.ridingforsmiles.com you can get more information.

Meet Ken:

Meet Shannon:



GLASS HORSE STUDIO

While visiting my friend Marta, she introduced us to neighbors, blown glass artist Ona Magaro and iron sculptor Ira Cuelho.
Their Montana homestead is a reflection of their unique individual styles, spots of bright, striking color amongst the strong, rugged wilderness. It was truly a pleasure to meet them. I chose this picture, (taken at their ranch) because it reminded me of the colors of Ona's glass, set in the dark background of Ira's metal work. One of their combined pieces is pictured below. You can see more of their work at
www.glasshorsestudio.com.


A TRAVEL RECAP
We spent 10 days on the road; approximately 3900 miles in pretty tight quarters in ol' bessie the Envoy, and everyone was still smiling at the end. We traveled across Lake Michigan, through the farm country of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota, along ranches through South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana. We crossed Lake Michigan on the SS Badger, we saw the Corn Palace, the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Rushmore Cave, Crazy Horse Memorial, Wall Drug, Devil's Tower, the Beartooth Mountains, and the Crazy Mountains in that short time. We experienced wonderful small towns and friendly people and struck up conversations with locals and tourists. It was wonderful to see my friend Marta in her new home, and spend time making memories with my son (my son's friend), daughter and nephews. While we were all exhausted, it was bittersweet to end. There was a lot we didn't get to see, but hopefully, whether together or on our own separate trips we will be able to return and catch what we missed.

Our best overnight stay?
Well, Marta's Bed and Breakfast of course! Homemade blueberry pancakes, egg-croissant sandwiches, steak dinner, laughter and music are our best memories! (This is a private resort...sorry!)

Other recommendations:
Days Inn, Mitchell, South Dakota. Staff had great customer service, helped us with an early check-in, reset the router twice, and offered assistance in getting our computer working with the wireless service. Clean rooms, clean pool and spa, complete with waterslide.
Kelly Inn, Mitchell, South Dakota. On the way back home, we arrived extremely late to the hotel (3 am), and the first thing the friendly staff member asked was if we would like to have a late check out. The pool and spa were especially clean, complete with clean restroom and shower. Breakfast was waffles (I'm going to find me one of those machines!), fruit, juices and other good breakfast items.
Best Western, Annawan, Illinois. Another very clean hotel with friendly staff, clean pool and spa area and great service. The boys accidently dialed 911 (you don't want to know), and the staff remained completely calm and understanding through it all. This is one of those hotels in the middle of nowhere, but only a half-hour from the Illinois/Iowa state line, along 1-80. Easy access.

Our worst overnight stay?
Hands down: Roosevelt Inn in Keystone, SD. Run by a few curmudgeons...this hotel did not live up to their advertised promises. Their online message claims to be the local experts, but when asked for recommendations and suggestions, they were more than reluctant to help. They couldn't even simply tell us the password for the wireless service, instead telling us to get the paper our of the nightstand and look it up ourselves.
(How hard can it be I ask you, to say "Well the number is blah,blah, and if you need anymore information, you can find a sheet in the night stand explaining the internet service" Really?)
The pool was the size of a large bathtub...complete with a nice, brown ring around it. And the hot tub...well it looked to come out of someone's back yard. But, I think the topping on the cake, was when they refused to extend an extra hour for late check out because we were having car problems, and I was in Rapid City with the car, and the kids were at the hotel. (Apparently, the two old-geezers cleaning the hotel rooms were pretty speedy, and they would have been able to clean all the rooms plus ours in a mere 60 minutes!)

DAY 7 - LEAVING MONTANA

The above picture is COMPLETELY a stolen idea from my friend Marta. She had a similar version of this picture on her desktop. She called it "Outta Gas". I fell in love with the image, and insisted she take me to it as soon as possible, so I could take a similar shot. She of course happily obliged me (Kodak Kathy). I call my version "Outta Gas Too". And this image seemed appropriate for the day we had to depart Montana. We are all tired, old Bessie the Envoy too, and it was time to head back home. We'd climbed pretty much every hill we could, and we all are outta gas, money and time. So, we all reluctantly said our farewell to Marta, and headed east for the first time in 8 days. (We did turnaround twice to retrieve forgotten items...each time laughing a little bit more-the Molly bread, by the way, lasted all of two hours).

Our goal for today was to stop and see Crazy Horse and Custer National Park, and then on to Mitchell, SD for the night, followed by Iowa Saturday night and then home to Michigan by Sunday.



Crazy Horse is still under construction so viewing was very limited, especially when you arrive after 7 pm there. I wish we had been able to have more time to explore Crazy Horse Memorial by arriving earlier. Having missed the last bus up the mountain, foot exploring is prohibited because of the ongoing blasting and instability of the area. This left us with only one angle on the mountain.

But it is impressive. At 9 stories tall Crazy Horse’s head is bigger than the four Mount Rushmore busts combined. Workers are now blasting out the area for the horse, but given the current artistic vision and idealism around the project, the work is slow. My nephews asked if we would ever see it completed, and I had to say that I doubted we would see it in either of our life times.

Which is sad if you think about it. While I understand the artists’ vision of no compromises, that it be done properly, I am disappointed that there isn’t a larger vision of volunteerism, national endowments, etc. that couldn’t help move this project along quicker. And while the artist believed it shouldn't be just about sculpture, but about the meaning and lessons of the American Indian, it reminds me of the debate about which came first the chicken or the egg. For some people the visit is about the sculpture/the art, and the lesson is second. Whatever it takes to get us there to teach us. You have to wonder if a completed project wouldn't draw more visitors, more opportunities to teach the lessons, and more finances to fund the overall long range plan of the memorial conceived by the artist Korczak Ziolkowsi and Lakota Chief Henry Standing Bear.

Below is a picture (from the Crazy Horse Memorial website) depicting the long-range plan of the project.



The plan calls for a 563-foot-high mountain carving-in-the-round to dominate the park. A poem written by Korczak will
be carved in three feet tall letters along side the sculpture, and the Indian Museum of North America will be housed in a multi-storied, 350-foot diameter Hogan, separated from the mountain by a reflecting pool. (The current museum/visitor center is outstanding, and offers a very thorough and detailed history of the Lakota Sioux Indians, the events of the Wounded Knee Massacre and the cultures and traditions of the North American Indian tribes.)

There are plans for a University and Medical Training Center, dormitories, and avenues lined with sculptural portraits of famous Native Americans. And, ultimately, visitors WILL be able to drive, or walk, around a spring-fed lake to the other side of the sculpture.

DAY 6 - ADVENTURES IN RIDING

I think it may have been a premonition. But we were late getting to our scheduled trail ride at Rolling Boulders near Big Timber, Montana. (Did I mention it is at the foot of the Crazy Mountains? Somehow, in retrospect, it almost seems fitting.)

Not only did ol’ Bessie the Envoy’s gas gauge hit the e-mark when we rolled onto the ranch (20 miles from the nearest gas station-first sign that we city slickers didn’t belong there) but we all had to pee as well, delaying us another 15 minutes or so. After brief negotiations for the use/sale of ranch gas and a trip to the main house, we were sitting on our horses and ready to go at 10 am (We were scheduled to ride out at 9:30 am).

This is where the fun started. Of the 7 of us, only one adult (Marta) and the youngest boys had ridden before. The other 4 of us were not experienced riders, and my daughter was apparently not over her fear of horses. As she shook and teared-up in her saddle, the trail leader carefully led my daughters' horse and we headed out.

After just going a few hundred yards through the gate and into an open field, it was clear that it wasn’t going to work. My daughter wanted to go back, and the trail leader agreed, and turned their two horses back. Immediately, my horse and two of the others turned as well…because, well, they were trained to follow the lead horse. As much as I tried to convince mine to turn, he was determined to follow the others.

As we continued to fight with the horses and get them turned in the right direction, a family of mustangs came galloping by. This apparently looked like fun to the horse one of my nephews was on, and before we knew it his horse was galloping too! And before you could say “whoa nellie”…he had jumped off the horse! (This would later be described as "PULLING A JENNIE" by my nephew DJ!)

Now, the trail leader was a bit annoyed. The poor woman was truly not prepared for all of us “dudes”. She had a couple of younger riders (there for another ride later in the day) give chase to the horse, and Marta went off to rescue my nephew’s dignity. The rest of us were instructed to dismount by the leader, as she couldn’t hold the reigns of everyone’s horses. It took another few minutes to gather everyone back together and regroup our horses.

Once the trail leader had everyone turned in the right direction, Marta headed out with the remaining riders. An hour later, back in the car, we all could only laugh at what will be a story told over a beer or by the campfire for many months to come.

They'll call it: "City Slickers: The Crazy Mountain Story". (I hope I get some $$$ for this idea! ;-0 )