The Hicks Place

My Day.

This morning I finished the book In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson, which covers the U S Ambassador William Dodd's career in Berlin from his appointment in 1933 through 1938.  Dodd's diplomatic efforts with various Nazi authorities including Hitler, as well as his adult daughter Martha's social life with prominent persons in Berlin society at the time are reported in considerable detail.  While Dodd had Roosevelt's support, the State Department mostly looked upon his actions and efforts with disfavor and even ridicule.   Early on, many prominent officials in the German government were opposed to Hitler and kept believing his regime would collapse, but as time passed and foreign governments failed to denounce publicly Nazi atrocities and sway world wide opinion against Hitler's regime, (the primary objective of the U S State department was to appease Germany in hopes of obtaining payment for German bonds held by large U S Banks) Hitler broadened and strengthened his control.  Dodd's early requests for sanctions and public disapproval of the Nazi actions went unheeded and he soon saw the inevitable outcome would be war.  I found the book very interesting and enlightening.

I had lunch today with Jeff Rasley, who annually takes a group of trekkers into the mountains of Nepal, and has made a project of improving living conditions in the town of Basa, where many of the Rai people live who are porters for his trips. He has written a book about his experiences in Nepal, Bringing Progress to Paradise.  During his latest trip, from which he just returned a few weeks ago, a "green" toilet was installed on the school grounds in Basa.  It essentially is a septic system, the building having two rooms, one for students and one for the staff at the school.  The eighty villagers have no toilets, they relieve themselves in the nearby woods or in their fields.  If you want to now more about Jeff and his Basa project go to Basa, Nepal .

This afternoon I went to the Jordan Y for a workout.  One of the greatest features of my Medicare Advantage health insurance is called "Silver Sneakers", which is membership in a local health fitness center.  Since I started going almost two years ago, I have not had any significant problems with the osteoarthritis in my back.  I am convinced that preventative health care is most important, and specifically exercise, in keeping one healthy.  It certainly is better and cheaper than medications and seeing a physical therapist, which would be necessary for me if I just sat around.

So that was my day, plus of course taking time to write this little post telling you about it.  Thanks to my wife, Marcia, who pointed out some errors in my initial post.

What I've been reading

I've been negligent in updating the list of books I've read on this web site, so today it was necessary to add 4, all of which deserve some attention.  I just finished Winesburg Ohio by Sherwood Anderson, stories about small town Ohio a century ago.  This book is on Modern Library's list of the 100 best Novels of the last century.  I have passed by it several times when searching for something to read next, but finally selected it because it was available as a free e-book.  While it may not appeal to younger, sophisticated readers, it was right down my alley with its descriptions of small town/rural life in a simpler time.  It made me wish I could have walked under the trees on a warm summer night in that small town as so many of Anderson's characters did.  

I recently read a non-fiction account of the travels in Nepal of the author, Jeff Rasley, in his book Bringing Progress to Paradise.  His experiences taking tourists on treks in the Himilayan foothills and efforts to provide needed school supplies for the children of Basa were made even more interesting for me because he lives in Indianapolis and we recently became acquainted. 

I have also read over the summer two other books from Modern Library's 100 Best Novels list, Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham, and Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  The first is set in England in the late 19th century and about Phillip, who at the age of 9 must be raised by his uncle, a cleric, after the death of his mother.  His father, a physician had died previously.  His life is filled with bondage; his young years to the oppressive uncle and the church which bring Phillip into young adulthood without much self respect or confidence in what he wants to be or do.  He then falls victim to friends and lovers, always unable to assert his own will, yet always striving to become a doctor like his father.  His life is primarily determined by events, not will.  

Finally, Fitzgerald writes about a psychiatrist studying in Europe who meets a rich young woman who has suffered a mental trauma from being abused by her father.  While she is in treatment they fall in love and are married.  They lead a rich life with friends in Europe during the 1920's before the woman has a relapse.  Fitzgerald gained his knowledge of psychiatry from experience with his real life wife who had mental problems. 

I enjoyed each of these books and recommend any or all of them to my readers.  There is so much to be learned from reading both fiction and non-fiction, it is only too bad that in the hectic pace of work life when we are between our high school or college years and retirement it is hard to find the time.  Retired now, I'm learning late what might have been useful earlier in life.  

Summer Time

Summer time is usually my favorite time because I feel best when the sun is shinning and when it is warm, but this year it has been really too hot to enjoy being out of doors.  Of course it was hot when i was young and we had no air conditioning and haymaking and thrashing on the farm were hard, sweaty work.  I wonder now how the older men endured it, but they were used to it and knew the work had to be done.

Last Sunday was our family reunion, and my cousins and I are now the oldest living generation.  I am fortunate to remember well all of my grandparents who were still living when I graduated from college.  They were farming families who came from farming backgrounds, and all of my aunts and uncles lived on the farm except Ada Mae, and her husband Landon worked mostly on a farm.  We all lived within a 30 mile radius so we saw each other often, and had large family reunions almost every summer.  Now our families are spread out, particularly the next generation, so it is likely that when we cousins are gone, the annual reunion will probably become a thing of the past.  We used to have our reunions at parks or at someones farm house, but now we have it in an air conditioned VFW hall, and that was a good thing this year!  

Attendance by the younger generations was sparse, although I was very pleased that my grandson and great granddaughters were there.  Of course we older ones remenisce with each other about fond memories and probe each others minds for answers to questions we now wish we had asked our parents while they were living.  There are a lot of experiences we could share with our children about what it was like growing up in rural Indiana during the 1940's, but our lifestyle then does not much interest most of them until they reach 50, and then our times together are occupied mostly with entertaining grand children and we want to know what is happening in their lives.  Our mortality really doesn't sink in until we near retirement, and it is not particulary healthy to look back too much.  Whatever the purpose of life is, it is to be lived, and the more active we are the fuller and happier our life experience will be.

So, yesterday Marcia and I went to the Indianapolis International Film Festival at the Indianapolis Museum of Art which is not far from where we live.  We saw Summer Pasture , a documentary about nomadic life in the highlands of Tibet.  At least there they are not concerned with the heat, but their livelihood depends upon the milk from their Yak herds, and the dung from them is their source of heat.  At 15,000 ft. it is a harsh environment except in summer.  Recently these nomads have found a new source of income, Caterpillar Fungus , which is in great demand for use in medicines.  This is a poignant film, depicting the nomadic life and the particular hardships of the female who is expected to do most of the work.  It is no wonder that these nomadic groups are disintegrating as more and more of the younger ones leave for life in the remote towns.  I was touched by the young mother's experience and her endurance, and I strongly recommend seeing this film.  It will make you appreciate that life is difficult around the world, but more difficult in some places than others. 

I continue to read, having recently finished F. Scot Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night, and currently slogging through W. Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage.  Fitgerald's book is interesting both for its description of affluent life in France in the 1920's and the treatment of mental disorders by the self-centered psychiatrist who is the main character.  His wife is a patient, and he himself is flawed, as of course we all are.  Maugham's book is about the life of a physically handicapped man, his search for love and an occupation, and struggles to overcome his feelings of inadequacy.  Thrown into both books are passages regarding the author's views on life, religion and politics of the day.  Just the stuff I love to read for its historical insight.

I find myself now taking little time with the newspaper and television news reports.  Most of the news is not encouraging.  Sure I care about what life may hold for my children and grand children, but most of the people who are in a position to influence the future of our country are really more concerned about the next election than they are about doing what is best for the U. S. of A., and the World!  I vote; I abhor the money spent on elections.  Just think what good could be accomplished if that money were spent "for the good of the people"!  There isn't much I can do at my age to influence the future.  All I can do really is to encourage young people to seek knowledge, beware of slogans and sound bites, be tolerant but do not abide fools!  Read!       

 

 

The Bullet Ride

In the book Under The Volcano by Malcolm Lowry, (number 11 on the Modern Library's 100 Best Novels of the 20th century), "The Consul" has an encounter with the Bullet ride as he wanders intoxicated through the Fiesta in the plaza of his town, Quauhnahuac.  His ex-wife Yvonne, who has just returned to him early that same morning, is with his brother Hugh somewhere in the plaza, and within the hour he is to rendezvous with them and catch the 2:30 bus to Tomalin. 

The British Consul is being trailed by a crowd of local children begging for money when he spots the "Wild attraction.  The huge looping-the-loop machine, empty, but going full blast over his head ...suggesting some huge evil spirit, screaming in its lonely hell, its limbs writhing, smiting the air like flails of paddlewheels."  To escape the children he boards the "monster." 

For the next page and a half, Lowry gives a most accurate and entertaining description of the the drunken Consul's experience of riding

"ah my God!  Everything was falling out of his pockets, was being wrested from him, torn away, a fresh article at each whirling, sickening, plunging, retreating, unspeakable circuit..".

Upon reading this passage I suddenly remembered that I had had such an experience once with the "Bullet".  Only I wasn't drunk; I was maybe fourteen.  Our neighbor, Bert Perkins, who was my grandfather's age, drove me one evening to what then was likely the annual Waveland street fair.  It was probably 1949 or '50 and back then a lot of small towns had these carnivals put on by the Lions Club or some other group as a fund raiser and to help the local merchants. 

Just Bert and I went in his Ford. I must have been nearing driving age, because on the way over Bert was giving me driving tips.  I remember distinctly his warning not to drive faster at night than a speed that would allow me to stop within the distance I could see by my headlights.  Bert and his wife Ethel were my parent's favorite neighbors.

When we got to the fair, Bert let me go my way and we agreed to meet later at a certain place and time.  I didn't go to school in Waveland, but my family went to the Freedom Church where a lot of Waveland kids my age did.  So I wandered down the main street which was blocked off and filled with several vendor booths and rides.  I don't remember anything I did that night except that when I got to the Bullet, a girl I knew and was fond of was standing there with some friends.  I was scared to death of that ride, but to impress her I suggested we ride together. 

You can't do anything romantic in the Bullet, like hold hands or even say anything special to the girl.  All you can do is hold on to the bar with both hands, try to catch your breath and keep from throwing up, and listen to the change and comb you had in your pockets fall out and rattle around the cage.  That was my only time to ride the Bullet, and when it was over the girl went her way, and I went back to find Bert. 

My Emotions.

Spring is a time of year, perhaps more than any other, when I have highs and lows.  Having grown up on a farm, it brings to me thoughts of new growth, the smell off the earth freshly plowed in preparation for planting.  The smell of honeysuckle and locust trees in bloom, the moist woods and the musk of mushrooms.  A time when today may be sunny and warm, but tomorrow rainy and cold.  But however uncertain the weather of Spring may be there is always the hope and certainty that as time passes there will be more sunshine than clouds and more warmth than bleakness. 

In other words, this is the time of year when my emotions take a roller coaster ride.  This last week has certainly been an extremely wild ride indeed.  Last Sunday afternoon it was sunny and warm here as Marcia and I walked along the banks of the Roanoke River.  I didn't realize how much sun my legs were getting until Monday morning, when the redness from my knees to my ankles stood out in contrast to the whiteness of my thighs and feet.  My outlook on life is always positive at such times.  My soul is at peace when, in the early evening I can watch the lengthening shadows of the sunset, catch a glimpse of sunlight still on the surrounding mountain tops, and feel a gentle warm breeze on my skin as I enjoy daylight softening on our patio or balcony.  Those are the good times for Marcia and me!

Then, more quickly than the good feelings, came death and destruction.  I watched with sadness welling up in my eyes as the television pictures showed the widespread devastation brought across the South by the worst outbreak of tornados in this country since 1925.  At such times, one feels so helpless, as indeed we are because we are at the mercy of the forces of nature, of  weather, earthquake, tsunami; the power that gives us such pleasure at the beauty of mountains, valleys, oceans, rivers, sunsets and sunrises, must inevitably also give us the sorrow of  destruction, loss of property and life.  Then at the end of the week our TV screens were filled with pictures of beauty and love, of a Prince by the simple act of marriage giving a beautiful young lady the title of Princess.  Life promissing renewal. 

My emotions take similar rides as I read.  I guess that is a major reason I do so.  I was lead to "Winter's Bone" by Daniel Woodrell after having recently watched an episode of Anthony Bordain's "No Reservations".  Bordain was in the Ozarks, experiencing the life and food of the hunters and fishers who live there.  He had come there because of his liking of the writings of Woodrell, who was his guide during the filming of that show.  "Winter's Bone" describes the determination of a sixteen year old girl - her dad who "cooks crank" out on bond but missing, her mother who sits as her mind drifts in and out of reality - trying to keep her young brothers in school, fed and clothed and away from the drug society which surrounds them.  Rural poverty.

Then I saw where the 2011 Pulitzer for fiction had been awarded to Jennifer Egan for her book, "A Visit From The Goon Squad".  The characters in the life of Sasha, bound together by their involvement with her or the music industry, their struggles to grow up, each with a "pause" in their life, which either they survive to become better or just live through, or sadly do not.  I think we all have pauses in our lives.  I hadn't thought of life that way before, but it is somehow comforting.  Like a pause in a song, a short time to reflect, and then it continues.

How much more precious life is when we acknowledge how fortunate we are to have survived the pauses.  God help and be with those who are less fortunate than we.   

Right Now, Woolf Has Got Me!

I am so conscious now of my thoughts, how they wander, and that I actually do form an opinion in my mind, though fleetingly and of no real significance or accuracy, about persons around me or just appearing briefly in my minds eye, or of a scene or situation present or recalled.  Last night, as we (Marcia and I) were having dinner at our favorite casual place, waiting patiently for the game to start, enjoying our bar food and drink, talking about our day, the fact that it was our wedding aniversary but we were really going to celebrate it today instead of then when our evening was filled with going to the play which Emily was in at her school, and then the lateness of the game, I found myself evaluating the situation of the group at the table next to us. 

All of us in the room were drawn together by our interest in the coming game, the common wish for a Butler win, the excitement and anticipation was evident in the good mood apparent on our often smiling faces. 

Already, when we sat down, there were five young men at the next table, obviously either Butler students or recent graduates, devouring sandwiches with onion rings and beer, having conversation which my hearing could not detect over the noise of the surroundings.  An older woman, perhaps the mother of the one she sat down by, was the first to join them.  I had finished my martini, Marcia her wine, it was still a half hour until game time, we ordered a beer, and young women began to join their men at the next table.  The first was a striking, slender faced blond with large eyes, a short, well proportioned frame, fashionably dressed in fur topped brown boots, not too tight black leggings, a long beige sweater cinched at the waist with a black tie.  Even before I saw her, the young man with the most sensitive face of the group, of similar complexion to the girl, rose quickly to his feet, came out from behind the table and met his girl, drew her close and they kissed gently before moving back to the table to sit facing us.  As they sat down, the diamond on her finger was quite noticeable.  She greeted all at the table with a sweet smile, all the young men obviously admired her, their eyes showing that her beauty was not unnoticed.  She engaged easily in their conversation while leaning on the shoulder of her chosen one, he proud to have her there, raising his esteem in the presence of his peers. 

Soon, two more attractive but less striking young women, with darker hair, darker eyes and complexions, less fashionably dressed in jeans and t-shirts but also with diamonds on their fingers joined the group, so that only two of the young men were left without a special intended mate. 

Marcia and I talked about my sons, about the book she was reading, the girls ordered drinks and sandwiches; my attention returned to the TV with its experts pontificating the special skills, shooting ability, size, athleticism, and likely outcome of the game to follow.

All eyes were on the pictures flashing across the large screens, high on the wall at the end of the room.  Our hopes, confidence, and anticipation that Butler would win were increasing.  At first the game was the center of our common attention, but later I noticed the blond seemed more engaged in texting, and texting, and texting.   Our eyes were up, her's were down, looking at the little device she held in the palm of her ringed hand.  Commercials allowed, one by one, persons rising and walking to the end of the room to dispose of beer imbibed.  The special one returned to the table and, midst short bursts of interest and comment, returned to the little device in her hand.

What is her future and his, will time enrich or diminish that love in their eyes?  What was the importance of communicating with some other one while he was engrossed in the game?  At half time, she and  one of the other girls disappeared and did not return.  Were they concerned about some need to study for a class, perhaps and exam or paper due today? 

I began to fret as Butler seemed to lose their momentum and the game became close.  Marcia and I sat, side by side, yelling, clapping, admonishing the Butler team on to success.   In the end we were happy, the outcome what we wanted, tiredly we came home to bed. 

I hope the lovers are happy.  I hope they have made the right choices, that love lasts, that their admiration, respect, faith and trust in each other continues until death does them part. 

Of course, Virginia would have made this evening and its events, its thoughts much more interesting, detailed, nuanced, thought provoking and fulfilling to read and contemplate. 

It is 42 degrees now, earlier the sun was shining but now the grey clouds of winter have returned.  At least now my flower beds are cleared of leaves, they are fertilized and weed prevention has been put down, the service came this week and applied the early Spring treatment to the lawn.  Now I am waiting for the last (hopefully) plastic pipe joint cement to cure so that I can finish installing the new chrome fixtures in the hall bath upstairs, completing Marcia's redecorating project.  She has design and decorating visions and skill, but I always complain about any way that I am involved, until it is done and I see the outcome which she foresaw. 

I am "Ralph Denham"

I did not read a lot of fiction until I began a quest a couple of years ago to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winners.  Well, when I was growing up I loved the Hardy Boy books and I did read Ben Hur during an illness in my teens. Other fiction was read because it was assigned in high school or college, but with an occasional exception I turned more to biography and current affairs as an adult.  Then, a few years ago I realized that my political interests were only causing my blood pressure to rise, so I turned mostly to fiction.  

Many years ago I decided that there is a reason for our meeting all of the people in our lives.  That was the theme in fact of a book I read in the '90's, the title of which now escapes me.  These meetings bring new ideas and observations valuable to us, but we need to be alert and on the lookout for them.  I have extended this idea to what I read and thereby have been lead to a new experience I would otherwise have missed.

Example:  Knowing me as he does, my friend Dean suggested that I read Citizens of London by Lynne Olson.  In that book is this one small statement, which I do not have permission to quote but will-  ..." After delivering a talk over the BBC in 1937, Virginia Woolf described its milieu as "sad and discreet" and "oh so proper, oh so kindly."  Now this sentence might not have held any significance for me at all had it not  contained the word "milieu".  This word came into my vocabulary a few years ago from my wife, Marcia, and it is one we often use with each other because we love the way it sounds, and it always brings a smile to our faces when we pronounce it.  You have to pucker your lips out at the end in doing so, which also adds a comic effect.  So I decided to look up and read something written byVirginia Woolf .  I must say I was probably also influenced in doing so by the movie "Who is afraid of Virginia Woolf", which I saw many years ago but never really knew why or who might be afraid of her.

So I came to read  Night and Day .  Please do not follow this link if you intend to read the book, as I do not want to spoil it for you.  Marcia will attest that she has never seen me so enthralled.  It made such an impression that I am about to reveal myself here, as I seldom do because it makes me feel vulnerable.  I must confess that I identified myself with the character of Ralph almost immediately upon his appearance.  He is a romantic, he places Katharine upon a pedestal without even knowing her, and is forever smitten.  I am a Libra, and I truly fit almost all of the characteristics commonly associated with that sign.  I too became in love with Katharine, although not at first and because I feared that Ralph was destined to be disappointed.  The book also has its humorous moments mostly provided by Katharine's mother.

That fear and expectation is likely due to my young manhood experiences.  I had crushes, often on women older than me, but also on those I first desired.  While reading the book I found my mind went back to a girl my age who went to the same church as I, but a diferent school.  I "loved" her before we were old enough to date, but later we did date, once.  She had an older brother and sister who probably both were well aware of my fascination with her.  I may have not yet been old enough to drive, because this one and only date was with another couple.  I don't even remember who they were, but I guess we went to a movie.  On the way home we were sitting in the back seat and carrying on a conversation with the couple in front.  The only clear recollection I have of that date is a comment my idol made about her father, who I believed to be a man of wisdom, a pillar in the church.  She said, "My father believes that television will not last", (which tells you that this was about 1950).  I remember that I didn't agree, and lost some of my respect for her father.  She was pretty and of course married her school's basketball star. 

Over the years my idealism has been tempered with realism.  It took me several years to learn not to put my love of the time on a pedestal.  I finally found the one who nearest fit my dreams, but along the way I suffered as Ralph suffers. 

They say there is no fool like an old fool, so perhaps that has something to do with my being so overcome by this book.  But I believe there is more to it.  I really was impressed by Woolf's writing, her descriptions of emotions, glances, surroundings.  I found her writing beautiful.  There were a couple of scenes that didn't ring true to me, such as those between Ralph and his competitor, William.   I would never have been able to feel anything but contempt for William.  But of course I will now have to read another of Virginia Woolf's books

So, to those who love me or like me and who may in some way be hurt by my revelations here, please forgive me.  I am only a romantic, flawed, human being and it is not my intent to hurt anyone who cares for me, or for whom I care, and I have told you all who you are.

Historic Information and Opinions

While visiting my son Greg last fall, our discussion consisted of his asking some things about his great grandparents and their lives which had been prompted in part by his reading this blog.  I of course was full of information for him, sprinkled with facts and my impressions.  At last, he chuckled and said I should set myself up as an authority and charge people for information in response to their questions.  Well, for Christmas I received from him a large plaque en-scribed "Historic Information and Opinions,  The Hopkins".  That was a gift I cherish, and it made me and Marcia really laugh.  So, Greg, here goes!   

In February, 1941 the unemployment rate in the US finally dropped below 10% after it hit a high of 25% in 1932.  This country was still trying to stay out of the war in Europe, but finally had approved the lend-lease program allowing needed war materials to be sent to England.  In spite of all of the programs which had been tried to end the great depression, it lingered on until we began to gear up for war.  The period we are in now and have been in since 2007 is without question the greatest recession since then, and just because Wall Street is back up and running doesn't mean we are out of the woods yet.

Seventy years ago I was 5, and would start to school in the Fall.  My father was tending a 100 acre farm, two thirds of it tillable, with a team of horses.  We had a car, a 1933 chevrolet two door sedan with no trunk, but no electricity or indoor plumbing.  The house, a large 7 room two story, had 3 bedrooms, but in the winter we lived in just 3 of the rooms because it was heated by a pot belly wood/coal stove in the living room. That was the Hicks Place, for which this blog is named.

We were never hungry because we had dairy cows, chickens, hogs, and a big garden.  I and my brothers went barefoot much of the time in the Summer, except for Sundays when we went to church, where we saw our grandparents and families of cousins, often having Sunday dinner at one of their houses. 

In the summer, my dad would work with relatives and neighbors to help each other at haymaking and wheat or oats harvesting times. One of my grandfathers had a larger farm and had tractors, a threshing machine, a hay rake and loader, so my dad and others gave their physical labor and my grandfather provided equipment.  But in the fall and winter my dad shucked all of the corn he raised, at least 20 acres, by hand.  That means he walked along each row in the field, took each ear of corn in his two hands pealed back the shucks, broke it off of the stalk, and threw it into the farm wagon beside him which was pulled by our team of horses,"Dick and Gale".  He was fast at it and could shuck two wagon loads a day when the weather was good.  Some winters he wouldn't finish until after Christmas.

I am currently reading "Citizens of London" by Lynne Olson.  It relates the situation in London, the bombings and shortages affecting normal people there, but also the lives of US newsmen, Averell Harriman, and particularly the US Ambassador John Gilbert Winnant as they reported the situation to the American public and conducted relations between our administration and the Churchill government.  It portrays the shakey relations between Churchill and Roosevelt as well as the conflicts between the Allied military leaders, Eisenhower's strengths and weaknesses and troubles controling his generals.  That is a war we should have entered sooner.

But now I am cautious about the power struggle in Egypt. Out of a population of about 80 million, perhaps several hundred thousand are reported demonstrating for Mubarak to resign and leave the country.  We have seen large demonstrations in our country which do not necessarily represent the position of the majority.  Once such demonstrations gain media coverage they can appear to represent a larger segment of the population than they really do.  I am old enough to remember when the media (particularly the NY Times) were instrumental in convincing us that Castro was a Savior for Cuba.

I am just saying that the US should be very careful not to take sides in this situation.  We cannot become involved to the extent that we appear responsible for the outcome.  We have enemies, to a very great extent, because we have made it our business to get involved in supporting foreign governments (we think in our best interest) which the people there find unacceptable.  That's my opinion.

 

The Weather and This and That

We had the driest month of August on record, and the fifth hottest!  And so far, September is a little cooler but still no significant rain.  Since the end of July we have had less than a half inch where we live.  I have given up on the grass, just let it turn brown, but have watered the flower beds. 

I don’t remember ever seeing corn harvested in central Indiana before Labor Day, but it happened this year.  Also some soy beans have been combined.  We had a wet Spring and enough rain in early Summer to push everything about two weeks ahead of a normal growing season, but now without rain the fields have turned brown so crops will not continue to increase in yield.  The one positive thing is that farmers won’t have to do much drying of the grain after it is harvested.

As I write this we are somewhere over Iowa or Missouri, above clouds that look like they could be producing rain below.  It was clear until we got to western Illinois and the clouds have continued to thicken since then.  This may get to Indiana tomorrow, but the pattern has been that as storms or fronts move our way they get sucked up by our dry air, dissipate and fall apart.  So much for weather. 

As I continue my quest to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winning fiction, I have found another one that just wasn’t worth the effort to complete.  I really enjoyed William Faulkner’s ‘The Reivers”, but I couldn’t finish his Pulitzer winning “A Fable”.  In making the point of the uselessness of war by describing France in WW1 and what might have happened if a whole division just refused to attack, why through in a long unbelievable story about a three legged race horse in the southern United States?  And then the obvious relationship of characters in the book in situations which parallel the life of Christ just goes on too long and too contrived.  If you read the book, just start to count the times that he has a character say or think “it was this way”, but in the same sentence then changes to “well not even that but such and such”.  Sorry, I didn’t like it.

Then I followed that with Pearl S Buck’s “The Good Earth”.  I could relate to Wang Lung, maybe because of my farm upbringing.  In simple but descriptive language, Buck tells the story of Wang’s life, affected by the rhythm of the seasons and the rhythm life events.   Yes, and the weather isn’t always favorable.  One quote: “five years is nothing in a man’s life, except if it’s very early or very late.”  Buck tells the story also to describe the despicable treatment of women in early 20th century China.  I really liked this book.

Now we are over southwest Kansas approaching southeast Colorado.  Brown!  Clear and sunny.  We are supposed to fly over Durango, which I’ve seen from the ground so am anxious to see from the air.  Then of course it will be the beautiful painted landscape of southern Utah which I’ve seen from the air but not by land.  We are supposed to arrive in L.A. about 2:30 and then hopefully enjoy that beautiful Southern California weather for a couple of weeks.   While some people sleep or read, if I can see the ground I just can’t help looking out at the changing scenery of this great, beautiful land.  Oh to have the time and resources to drive my jeep through every part of it!

Where Did July Go?

Well July got by me without a post.  Of course we did have the Hopkins/Page reunion on the 18th, in Roachdale at the VFW as usual, and had 37 attending by my count.  We lose some occasionally of course as we get older, this year my brother Charles and cousin Jean Ann's husband, Bob Wolfenbarger.  Attendees included guests Dale and Muriel White, Dale being a descendant of William Hopkins, brother of Cornelius who the rest of us go back to.  There of course was plenty of food and reminiscing.

It has been a hot and rainy Summer in Indy, continuing from a rainy Spring, so everything is green but it has been too warm to enjoy the outdoors much.  If you check my reading list you will see additions, the Scotland related items of course occurred mostly in June.  I have downloaded some other Pulitzer Prize winners to my Kindle which remain unfinished.  American Pastoral by Phillip Roth I'll likely never finish because I don't like his style.  Main Street by Sinclair Lewis because the heroine is so bored in small town Minnesota and never should have married the old doctor anyway.

We spent the last two weeks of the month at the condo in Roanoke.  Drove out this time because Amtrak doubled their rates for the summer.  It's almost exactly 500 miles and without major cities except Dayton and Charleston, so not a bad days drive.  

I've been under medication for an impinged nerve causing pain in my left arm and shoulder for much of the month.  For that reason Marcia did most of the driving and many days I was forced to go without my usual late afternoon martini.  I am now off the strong pain medicine and so think it is time to go back to my old habit.