Let this be heaven

My grandma woke up with this poem running in her head and recited it to us at breakfast on Sunday, before we walked down to Wildwood sunday school under the trees. 

Oh, God, let this be heaven—
I do not ask for golden streets            
Or long for jasper walls
Nor do I sigh for pearly shores       
      Where twilight never falls
Just leave me here beside these peaks      
       In this rough western land,
I love this dear old world of thine—       
      Dear God, You understand.

Oh, God, let this be heaven—
I do not crave white, stainless robes      
       I’ll keep these marked by toil.
Instead of straight and narrow walks      
       I love trails soft with soil;
I have been healed by crystal streams,     
        But these from snow-crowned peaks
Where dawn burns incense to the day      
       And paints the sky in streaks.

Dear God, let this be heaven—
I do not ask for angel wings      
       Just leave that old peak there
And let me climb ‘til comes the night—      
       I want no golden stair
Then when I say my last adieu      
       And all farewells are given
Just leave my spirit here somewhere
Oh, God, let this be heaven!

~HR Merrill,  1930s
Wildwood cabin resident
BYU English and Poetry Professor
(this hangs in my grandparents' cabin) 

Amen. This canyon might not be everyone's idea of heaven, but it's mine. What's your idea/hope of heaven's geography?

Wildwood and the boy

Sam and I are spending a couple of quiet, delightful days in the canyon at the cabin with my grandparents before I drop him at camp on Monday.

The river is high and wild so no rope bridge or river swing this year. Sam's been busying himself with constructing elaborate waterways from stones, building boats, reading on the deck, making a leather satchel with Grandpa Pax (who always has great ideas and endless supplies and patience), napping in the hammock, and experimenting with watercolor paints.

Bliss, I tell you. And, sometimes, so poignant and memory-layered that it almost hurts, like the perfect moments of a summer twilight.

Ancestors 1, Progeny 0

There was precisely one week this summer that would work to go to visit G's parents before they return from their mission this fall so we packed our bags and headed to Nauvoo last week.

Lauren, now gainfully employed as a full-time camp counselor, stayed home with Louie.  (This is why I didn't mention the trip before now, because you know how you never know with the internet?) We missed her. I think she missed us a little but mostly really loved the taste of independence and solo living, judging from all the cereal bowls scattered throughout the house.

I'm pretty sure we'll never ever have the chance to see G's parents in a show again. Every missionary there participates, no exceptions. This is about 639 miles outside of his dad's comfort zone. I don't think raised-on-an-Idaho-ranch civil engineers have "perform in a musical" on their bucket lists. They've been hiding their lights under a bushel, though! They've got comic timing and great projection. Nevertheless, I think Grandpa is counting down the days to his theatrical retirement.

This is where G's parents live. Don't you love the lettering along the roofline? We tried to guess the translation but failed miserably. A party city is very good? 

Maddy in the room where the Relief Society was organized, the upper room of the Red Brick Store.

I feel like I need to confess something. The last day there it was SWELTERING. I've always kind of rolled my eyes a bit about midwest heat and humidity. I mean, I live in Boston; we know humidity (I thought). Let me apologize to all of you midwesterners: Illinois/Missouri heat and humidity is a completely different beast. The final day the heat index was 106 degrees.  We had saved this special family time right before we left to walk down Parley Street where, in 1846, the wagons were all lined up for departure across the Mississippi and into the west. We planned to read the personal accounts on each marker and ponder about our ancestors doing really hard things. Everyone says this is very moving and spiritual. 

But it was so hhhhhhhot. So instead we made Sam get out of the air-conditioned car and yell/read the quotes at us through the window of the car. Believe me, the irony was not lost on us. Sorry, ancestors. We're wimps. We can do hard things but not at 106 degrees. 

Speaking of ancestors, this is the land owned and occupied by my great great grandparents, Richard Bentley and Elizabeth Price, back in the 1840s. (G's mom helped me look up my family's names in the land records and--lo and behold!--he had a nice little parcel of land.)  I wonder what they felt about leaving this beautiful field behind. I wonder if they were in the line at Parley Street. For me, this was the more sacred and personal space, standing where they stood. If things went differently, would this have been my hometown? 

After Nauvoo, we headed north to see some of our favorite friends ever (we are still recovering from their move away years ago) for the 4th of July weekend. Fabulous food, happy & content kids, comfy beds, swimming, movies, and talks late into the night--it was the perfect weekend, so perfect that I only managed to get out my camera once, at the fireworks.

Under Christie's photography tutelage, I took my 387 photos of fireworks:

It was a great trip.

{The only possible downside to the trip (besides the heat or our wimpiness) was that my wallet got lost/stolen on the trip there. Boo for cancelling credit cards and losing my favorite red clutch, yay for having my drivers license in my pocket so I still had id for the plane ride back.}

. . .

Trip miscellany

Read: The Forgotten Garden (Kate Morton), The Summer of the Bear (Bella Pollen) -- recommend both

Heard: Radio Lab podcasts, Vocal Point cd (they performed in Nauvoo), The Civil Wars (my new band obsession)

Ate: Way too much.

Quote: Sam~ (on seeing a photo of himself) "This camera just doesn't understand me" (I completely know how that feels)

Especially memorable: Carthage Jail, Vocal Point, walking through old Nauvoo early every morning with Maddy, adjusting to being a (temporary) family of four, lots of laughs

Meeting kohlrabi

I've intended to join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) for several years but I always thought of it too late in the season (Story of my life. See: bags of spring bulbs in my garage, for instance.)  This winter I happened to see a friend's facebook update about re-joining her favorite local CSA (thanks JenJack) and finally jumped on the fresh weekly produce bandwagon. (Did I mention this involves no weeding*, no watering*, just a bit of early season cash for our local farm?)

Yesterday was the first week's bounty: radishes, beets, baby lettuce, red and green lettuce, arugula (gesundheit!), white summer turnips, kohlrabi, and scallions.  Luscious, green, leafy goodness with a bit of mystery thrown in. Kohlrabi, the sputnik vegetable? Who knew?

. . .

Search for a CSA near you here. In fairness, I should add that G has planted a lovely raised bed garden of our own so we will have tomatoes and peas and herbs etc., as well as character-building weeding chores for the kids. Otherwise they'd take away our pioneer-heritage certification, right?

Great speeches and other outbursts

If you're strapped for time, here's the summary:

It was a great time in the old town Monday night.

And I'm getting too old to try down-and-back-in-one-day trips to NYC, by the way. 

. . .

All in all, it was a fun night, very hipstery & New Yorky. I met Nancy at Hampton Chutney on the Upper West side and then we walked up to Symphony Space for the show.  Good to have some sister time: lots of laughing and good talks.

I won't try to review the whole night (you can get a feel for it in this blog post I came across).  It was a great selection of speeches, from lots of different political and historical perspectives, hilarious at times and moving at others. I geekily got out my trusty Moleskine to jot down the names of speeches, since I knew I wouldn't be able to recreate the whole list from my rusty memory. Here goes, with links where I could find them in case you're curious:

1. John Winthrop's City Upon a Hill speech (delivered by John Oliver)
2. Chief Seattle's "We Will Haunt You" speech (Sarah Vowell)
3. Mario Cuomo's Democratic Convention speech response to City on a Hill (Bobby Cannavale)
4. Washington's letter to the Hebrew congregation in Newport (Sarah Vowell)
5. Interview between Woody Allen (Bobby Cannavale, who does a perfect impersonation) and Reverend Billy Graham (Eric Bogosian)
6. Abraham Lincoln's 2nd Inaugural (Ira Glass)
7. Theodore Roosevelt's The Strenuous Life (John Hodgman, complete with push-up breaks and "bully!")
8. Queen Elizabeth to her troops before defeating the Spanish Armada (John Oliver)
9. Buffy the Vampire Slayer's battle pep talki (Ira Glass)
10. George Patton's address to the 3rd Army, 1942 (Sarah Vowell; George used some salty language)
11. Dick Gregory's speech after release from Birmingham jail (Wyatt Cenac)
12. Don Rickles and various other oddities and outbursts (Amy Sedaris)
13. John Cleese's funny eulogy for fellow Monty Python-er Graham Chapman (John Oliver) following the Undertaker sketch by Cleese (John Oliver) and Chapman (Wyatt Cenac)
14. Eric Bogosian's own spiel on normalcy in the Reagan era
15. John Hodgman's own speech at 2009 White House tv/radio correspondents dinner with Wyatt Cenac playing Obama

 . . .

Afterwards, I walked the 30ish blocks back to my car (I do love city walking but I had parked at Lincoln Center mistakenly thinking that the theater was in that neighborhood) and started back for Boston around 11:30. Big mistake. There was a ton of construction on the way home, lots of stop-and-waits and traffic narrowed to one lane.

It reminded me of the night I went to Philadelphia for dinner with Nancy and Chris and back home again. But this time (older?wiser?) I gave in.  At 1:45, when I realized it was going to be after 4 a.m. before I made it home, I found a little cheap Comfort Inn in Connecticut, texted G not to worry, and declared defeat against my drowsy eyes.  Note to self: do not kid yourself. You cannot pull all-nighters anymore. 

Still, it was worth it.