The Altar

A blustery breeze blows this last morning of March as I walk a mile from our home to a grove of trees. I bend down to stretch and meditate: Thank you Lord for this walk. Thank you that I can.

Gray clouds cover the sky. Fluffy snowflakes zip by. I wonder: Will winter end?

In the distant skies, I hear: Sand-hill cranes zither... Canada geese honk... Mallard ducks quack... Sounds of Spring migration. HOPE... at The Altar.

To What Ends

To what
ends does
one go,
to give
someone
a gift
like
no other
person
would or –
perhaps
even –
can?


Today I presented my husband with an interpretation of a pop song released in Norway in 1969. Dan remembered this song from his early-childhood visits to his grandparents' home. Over and over on the record player, his grandma would play this song – sung by an eight-year-old Norwegian girl. Dan remembered Grandma saying the song was about a little girl mourning her sailor father lost at sea.

Grandma's fascination with the song started during a trip she took to Norway. While visiting her son-in-law's relatives, Grandma listened to a little girl sing this song along with a 45-record. Grandma was so impressed, that the little girl gave her the record. Grandma took it home to Minnesota. In turn, she shared the gift with her visiting grandchildren.

The experience stuck with Dan. The Norwegian words did not. By the time he was old enough care, Dan discovered that nobody knew what happened to Grandma's record. Dan's own visit (in 1995) to those relatives in Norway produced no results in tracking down the song title. No one there remembered giving Grandma a record two decades earlier. And, Dan forgot about his song quest for more than a dozen years... until this past Easter Sunday.

We'd gathered at his parents' home along with his mother's sister's family. Their reminiscing about Grandma brought the song to Dan's mind. He asked about the record again. Eventually, his brother (via a phone call) remembered the "B-side" song: "Si si Albertino."

Back home Easter evening, I began an internet search for "Si si Albertino." Dan took over but called me to translate a Norwegian chatroom conversation that began "What irritating song do you have on your brain right now?" A Norwegian woman had written: "Si, si Albertino... But how I can have an Anita Hegerland-song I haven't heard in 28 years (given away to a Red Cross rummage sale in 1979) so deeply on the brain is a wonder."

The mystery began to unfold as we learned the recording artist. Googling "Anita Hegerland" eventually led us to a website of her song clips. None of her 25 childhood-song titles hinted at a sailor father lost at sea. After preview-listening to all but one, we tried "If I were a Bird." With those first bars, Dan said: "That's it. It sounds a little different than I remember – more Mitch Miller. But that's the one."

Googling "Hvis Jeg var en Fugl" took us to a Norwegian eBay-like site. There someone had posted a picture of the 45-record's jacket cover showing a young Anita Hegerland and the single's two songs: Hvis Jeg var en Fugl and Albertino. Now Dan was certain this was the 45-record his Grandma played for her grandchildren back in the early 1970s.

We goggled on. A Norwegian blog post of a woman reminiscing about the song – one her mother had ingrained into her little-girl head – gave us the text.

HVIS JEG VAR EN FUGL

Når jeg går til ro, og dagen er endt,
og tusen små stjerner på himmlen er tent.
Da sovner jeg inn og drømmer i fred,
om pappa der ute på havet et sted.

Hvis jeg var en fugl, med vinger og fjær,
jeg fløy over havet der pappa`n min er.

Han sa da han dro, min reise blir lang,
men jeg er tilbake til våren en gang.
Så fikk vi et brev, og jeg ble så lei.
For først neste sommer er pappa hos meg.

Hvis jeg var en fugl, med vinger og fjær,
jeg fløy over havet der pappa`n min er.

(Fredrik Friis / Anita Hegerland 1969)

Monday morning I began working on an interpretative translation: not a word-for-word breakdown, but one reflective and singable in Dan's native tongue. The result would be a gift for his birthday on Friday.

Monday after work, Dan went back to the music-clip site and downloaded the two songs featured on Grandma's record. He burned them onto a CD and played them for us. Boy O boy! Did our boys tire of it quickly. (The process may fuel their own future responses to "What irritating song do you have on your mind?") During the week, I refined the interpretation to fit the melody. This evening Dan opened his gift:

IF I WERE A BIRD

When I settle down, at the close of the day
and a thousand small stars light, up heaven's way
then I fall asleep, and dream in peace
of my pappa out there, on the ocean some place.

If I were a bird, with feathers and wings
I'd fly o'er the ocean where my pappa sings.

As he left he said: My trip will be long.
But I will be back when, Spring sings its song.
Then we got a note, and I felt so sad.
Now it will be summer, when I see my dad.

If I were a bird, with feathers and wings
I'd fly o'er the ocean, where my pappa sings.


Interpreted for Dan by Wendy 2008
Happy Birthday.


To What Ends...

***By popular request, lyrics to SI, SI ALBERTINO can be found by clicking here on the following post: To What Ends? Again! Hope this helps those in search!***

Eggstraordinary

He

is

risen!













Alleluia!

Snowball Fight

Rolling

fresh

wet

snow...









Pulverizing

heavy

snowballs







Entering

the

ring

and

joining

the

group...


for

a

good

old-

fashioned

Snowball

Fight.

Here's to celebrating Spring Along Life's Road!

Land of 10,000 Mountains

Last Sunday,
Aaron
and
Isaac
waited
to hop
a plane –
bound
for
Montana –
with Dad.

Asked what surprised him most about this trip, Isaac reported: "Getting a whole can of ginger ale" when offered by the steward on the plane. Aaron got just a cup full of Mountain Dew. According to Isaac, the scariest part of the trip was landing. "We're just cruising along at a nice smooth speed and then we started heading down on a bumpy ride."

Upon their
arrival in
Missoula,
the trio
rented a
car and
drove a
couple
hours east
to the
Discovery
Mountain
area in Anaconda.


For
two
nights,
they
stayed
in
a motel
with
a leaky
bathroom
shower

that made Dan think of his bachelor apartment in International Falls.

Monday
morning
they rose
to the ski
challenge.
At one point,
Dan and
Isaac rode
the chair
lift up
together.

(Notice the skinny double lines going up the hill.) As usual, Aaron had hurried ahead of them to the top. Isaac said, "Dad and I were half way up the chair lift when we saw a skier coming fast down the steepest run.

(Notice the run directly above Isaac's head here.)
Isaac said, "As we got closer, we wondered if it was Aaron. We saw the skier wipe out, lose his skis and poles and said: Yep. That's Aaron!"

Fortunately, Aaron suffered no injury. And from then on, Aaron began to ski "in control" instead of "bombing" straight down the slopes. That night, Dan's "rubber legs" made him wonder whether he would be fit to ski again by Wednesday.

Tuesday
the trio took
in a few sites
as they drove
back to
Missoula.
Here Isaac
stands in
front of the
Anaconda
library – backed by mountains.

Dan
has a
photo
fetish
with
birds,
especially
those
with
which
he's
unfamiliar.

On this trip, he captured a black-billed magpie that was annoying them in a parking lot.

Here Aaron
poses at
a wayside
rest
along
the Clark Fork of the Columbia River about 20 miles east of Missoula.



Wednesday morning the trio headed to the Snow Bowl to ski.

In this parking-lot photo, notice the ski lift on the far left above Isaac and Aaron's heads. This lift is one of the two that skiers must ride to reach the mountain top (far right corner).




Here Aaron
and Isaac
stand on
that mountain
top and
overlook
miles of
the Rocky Mountains.

Aaron points to the sign marking the start of a wicked run called "Whipped Cream" which only Isaac dared to ride. Meanwhile, Dan and Aaron skied a run called "Hot Fudge."

To reach this area's longest run, the trio had to ski
cross- country style – up and down – across a "flat" called "North Dakota."


The three-
mile run,
is called
"Paradise."

Here Isaac
poses
from
the run's
picturesque
view.


According to Dan, that view is the only heavenly part of this run. The boys reported that during their descent, Dad wiped out twice and had to sit down to rest three times on the slopes of Paradise.

Dan and
Aaron
stand
at the
mountain
top
before
starting
their final
ski run
of the
season.

Aaron waits
outside the
mountain-
top shelters
while big
brother relieves himself (in the toilet shack to the left above Aaron's head) after a wrenching run.

Thursday afternoon, Dan and Isaac posed with a bear housed at the Missoula airport.

Upon their arrival home late Thursday night, Aaron said: "It's good to be back home in the Land of 10,000 Lakes.

"I've had enough of the Land of 10,000 Mountains – they're EVERYWHERE! But I do like skiing in the mountains way better than (the hills) here."

Mama's L'il Helper...

wore
a
newsboy
cap








on
errand
day...







capturing
hearts–

of
young
and
old–

along
the way.

March Morning Muse

Shortly after sunrise,
Moose and I stroll –
up the wooded lane
where the poplars grow.

From the snowy ground,
a drumming sound
bursts
forth –

launching woodward:

GROUSE!

Moose darts away
traveling with speed
tracking for his master –
who's absent these days.

"MOO-OOSE!" I growl
calling back our tracker.
Loping and leaping,
he meets his mistress trekker.

"We're on a WALK
not on a HUNT!
Come on Moose –
to the top!"

Climbing up the grade –

steep and winding –

we reach
the summit

for a mountain
like view.

The temperature rises
as we start for home.
The air condenses
and fog begins to form.

Neighbor dogs come out
to greet us on our way.
Their mistress calls them
back to stay.

I clasp on the leash
to Moose's collar.
Better safe than sorry
on this March Morning.

Spring Break Solitude

Stitching,
stitching,
stitching
late
into
the
night.

While...

Watching,
watching,
watching
movies
that
delight.

Peaceably piecing while the boys are away –
skiing in Montana or at Grammy's to play.

Test of Character

1. "I've got enough frequent flyer miles for three 'free' airline tickets," Dan said during Christmas break. "What would you say if I took Isaac and Aaron skiing in the mountains over Spring Break?"

"More power to you – if you can get them on the plane," I replied thinking this would be a great father-son trip and an excellent Test of Character.

2. "I was wondering if I could take your camera with us to Montana to shoot a few photos on our trip?" Dan asked as he packed.

"That's like asking to take my right arm," I said. "I carry my camera with me everywhere."

"We'll be back Friday," he said,

"I'll have to think about it. Doesn't your cell phone have a camera?" I asked and immediately recognized my hesitation as a test of character. Saturday night, I downloaded my latest entries onto our computer, deleted images, charged the battery and handed over the camera saying , "There's space for 110 shots."

3. "My teacher was handing out 'free' ski lift tickets," Aaron said Friday at Spring Break's start. "I asked her for two so you and Noah could ski here while we're in Montana."

"Thanks, we'll use them Sunday afternoon," I replied marveling at my son's thoughtfulness yet wondering about my own gumption.

4. "I wanna ride the chair lift," Noah whined Sunday afternoon upon our arrival at the local ski hill.

"I need to warm up my 'old' body first," I said directing him to the tow rope so we could both find our legs on the slick spring snow.

5. After eight rounds on the bunny hill, Noah asked, "Are your old bones warmed up now?"

"Almost. Two more rounds and then we'll ride the chair lift," I said gathering courage for my first chair lift ride up these big hills.

6. Swaying in the chair lift high over the steep runs, Noah said, "I wanna go down (the) freestyle (hill)."

"I need someone to show me which runs are the easiest. Isaac usually does that. Will you lead me today?" I said truthfully but also attempting to rein in my youngster. Noah bartered,"Okay. I'll show you, but then can I go down freestyle?"

"Fine," I said. "Just not over any jumps and you must wait for me at the bottom so we can ride the lift together."

7. "Don't you wish you had your camera?" Noah asked when I told him to stop at the summit for a look over the valley of rolling forests, frozen lakes and melting snow." "Don’t remind me," I said. Noah insisted, "But don't you?"

"I'm imprinting it on my mind," I responded to this next test of character and creativity.

8. "Watch me, Mom!" Noah said as he skied off the trail, down a steep slope toward a treed gully, over a grassy patch and took a header soaking his knees in mud. After I regaining my breath, I hollered: "Are you okay? Why did you do that?" Noah said, "Isaac showed me that."

"Stay on the trails and use your noggin. Skis don't work on grass!" I said wondering whether I'd over-estimated Isaac's role-modeling.

9. "This is our last time, Mom," Noah said as we rode the chair lift for the seventh time.

"Is it?" I asked. Noah nodded pointing to his wet knees. I said, "Ah, you're cold. Well it's better to stop before we're all worn out."

10. "We'll have to thank Aaron for getting us these passes," I said. Noah replied, "I'd rather fight him. He likes that better."

So much for our family's Test of Character.

Stories of Surprise

I love stories of surprise. Lately my life has been filled with them.

I find that when I am prepared "to go all out" for someone, God makes the task "Oh, so simple."

Sunday morning I needed to pass on a hymnal donation to our choir director. When I first saw her, I was on my way to lead Sunday School songs. I figured I'd catch her after class, but before the service started.

Well, cleanup took longer than anticipated. Freshly squished-grape juice from our Vine-and-the-Branches lesson covered the classroom tables. The service was underway when I dug into my bag. I went into the church office to get an envelope to hold both the donation and a note of clarification. I sighed, "How am I going to get this to her? I can't go slide into her pew and start whispering."

I walked out of the office and there she stood in the hall by the office door.

"Perfect," I said catching her attention. "I needed to talk to you."

"I was having a hot flash," she explained removing her jacket, "and I had to get out of there."

"Well, I had this money for the church hymnals. I couldn't figure how I was going get it to you and explain how the donation should work," I said. We stared at each other and I said, "God's timing IS Perfect."

I explained my bit, handed her the money and she returned to the service. Walking out to the car, I laughed: If God can use a hot flash to bring people together for a simple purpose of exchange, what more can He do? I didn't even ask for His help just now.

Monday ushered in a string of surprises related to planning our Norway Bound trip. (Check out those entries by clicking on the link in the right-hand margin.) Wednesday evening, I telephoned my parents with news that – AT LAST – I'd booked the trip. What a weight off my shoulders.

My dad said, "Well, while I've got you on the phone and you're on a roll, I want to ask you about getting me some pumpkin seeds.

"I know," I said, "The Big Moon variety." (For years Dad got this variety at his local farm store to plant in his pumpkin patch. More than a decade ago when his seed source quit carrying Big Moons, I helped him track down another outlet.)

"Where did you get those?" he asked. I said, "My friend in Wisconsin got them for me at her local seed supplier. Last year, they didn't carry Big Moon seeds. But I remember a few years back, she got me their supplier's telephone number in St. Paul and they referred me to their source in California. That's where we got that sample seed packet of Big Moons years ago. I can google "Big Moon pumpkins and California suppliers" to try and help you get some seeds."

"I'd appreciate that," Dad said noting his cousin was interested in starting a pumpkin patch too. "And I told him: 'Big Moons were the only way to go. I'll have a talk with Wendy about getting seeds.'"

Thursday morning I ran errands, including shopping for rubber boots for Noah who'd ruined his winter boots by wading in the Spring-Thaw, pond-sized puddles. When Target failed to stock Noah's boot size, I tried our local farm store. Success: tall, heavy-duty, rubber-chore boots on sale for $10! Now he could wade to his heart's content. On the way to the register, I passed by the seed stands. Pumpkin seeds caught my eye. A closer look revealed the variety: Big Moon.

No way! Could it really be this easy? I checked out the description on the backside. Yes! This 200-pound variety with tender flesh for baking marked Dad's favorite: a true pumpkin, not a squash hybrid.

I bought five packets: two for Dad, two for his cousin and one for Noah. This year, the gardeners could all compete. I hurried home, packed up my find, addressed the manilla envelope, drove to the post office and mailed the works.

As the clerk processed payment, I said, "I wish I could see my dad's reaction when he gets this tomorrow."

I told her of Dad's request last night for pumpkin seeds, my willingness to google California in a search and the surprise of finding the seeds the next morning at our own farm store. I added, "In a little card to Dad, I wrote something to the effect of Ask and you shall receive..."

She smiled at my Stories of Surprise.

Tonight I found this one told by Jesus in Matthew Chapter 7:

"Ask, and you will receive. Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened for you. 8 Everyone who asks will receive. The one who searches will find, and for the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 9 "If your child asks you for bread, would any of you give him a stone? 10 Or if your child asks for a fish, would you give him a snake? 11 Even though you're evil, you know how to give good gifts to your children. So how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him? 12 "Always do for other people everything you want them to do for you."

Pop Quiz

What
do
a
dancing
jumping
spider...









chubby
napping
kittens...















feathery
spiderwort
anthers...












FULL
MOONing
chickens...












a
milkweed
munching
caterpillar...








and
a
nectar
drinking
monarch

all
have
in
common?


Their demand for INCREDIBLE patience – to have their images captured and shared – just like the process for doctoring this blog. (Impossible on a MacOSX.) Thanks Paka and Dan for your PCs use! And to Isaac– our upcoming computer-guru son. Here's to the NEXT LEG of the ride – Along Life's Road!

For an international flair, check out:
http://minnesotansnorwaybound.blogspot.com/
by clicking on "Norway Bound" in the right-hand margin.

Because of You...

Some
families
start
silly
traditions
on
a
whim.



That's how a wooden statue of a pregnant tribal woman began circulating among my family.

Years ago, my sister and her husband unknowingly acquired this art piece – when purchasing many things grouped together – during an estate sale.

The deceased was an ornament caster who tried using the statue to make a form for casting more. "It didn't work," my sister explained today. "The statue was still in the mold when we found her. And there were no copies."

"I was going to put her on the garage sale," she said, "but (another sister) talked me out of it." The two sisters imagined the fun this statue would provide as a traveling trophy.

Nobody remembers to whom she paid her first visit – "au naturel." But as the "Goddess of Fertility" passed into a home with youngsters, someone placed a long, wispy scarf about her neck to impose a bit of modesty. Soon she wore a sack dress marked with a symbol to celebrate a smoke-free year. That dress turned into a uniform for our marathon runner. Later she dawned stars and stripes for a Flag Day birthday, modeled fruits and vegetables for our produce manager, carried tips as a waitress greeting our retiring truck-driver, demonstrated backpacking a baby for a pregnant sister and, well.... you get the picture.

Eventually –
like a real
woman –
she acquired
a bag to hold
all her stuff.

Yes... all her stuff!


"SIMPLIFY," I thought during this turn of mine.

I stripped her clean, bagged her stuff, considered ditching it all and gained applause from many tradition-tired family members whom I'd telephoned for ideas about how tactfully to end a decade-old spoof.

This week my sister and her husband celebrated their wedding anniversary. In a card I wrote:

"It seems fitting – on this occasion – to return the Traveling Trophy to the two people responsible for her appearance. Perhaps like the Brady Bunch boys who – on the Hawaii episode – returned the Tiki idol to the island burial ground, you can find her a proper resting place."

I took a few photos of our gal for memory's sake.

In those moments... at those angles... in the bright light... under the lens... I saw – for the first time ever – her beauty.

As I wrapped her in tissue, packed, addressed and mailed the box, I thought about all the "dreaded" moments shared by each recipient of this Traveling Trophy. Like a hot potato, each would find some reason to "dump" her onto the next person. In hind sight, I now saw the fun. I wondered whether burying her wasn't a bit rash.

In yet another sister's words: "Maybe she really brings good luck?"


This evening my phone rang. The anniversary couple hooted over her arrival. "If I'd have known what was in the box, I'd have left it hanging on the mailbox and put 'Return to Sender'," my brother-in-law said in the background. His wife was undaunted by the Brady Bunch plan. Instead she began plotting our gal's next visit. And so "Beauty" will travel, Because of You...

Catching

the
last
light

Along
Life's
Road

tonight.

Ability to Raise the Bar

Late

yesterday,

Dan walked

into the

bedroom

relieving

himself of luggage and more-than-a-week's work-related travel. He began, "Did you hear –"

"I know. I know," I interjected. "Buckley's dead. I cut out the article for Noah's baby book."

"You might want to save these too," he said tossing the Wall Street Journal and New York Times on the bed and flipping to the opinion pages to show tributes paid to a conservative hero who defended:




his
faith,











his
friends,









his
wit,








his
humor,









his
passions,




his
principles,


and

belief –

in
mankind's
Ability
to
Raise
the
Bar.