Dinner of Champions

In Iowa, this was a dinner.

And I don't feel badly about it.

Not one bit.

Happy Summer Vacation!

235

Aaron Sorkin is a good writer.

Say what?

Why would I start a 4th of July entry with that statement? Because he's the chief writer of the expertly-tweaked cadence of The West Wing (seasons 1-3) and American President. As such, he wrote the following excerpt from that movie, one of my favorites about our country.


America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship. You gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say "You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then, you can stand up and sing about the "land of the free".

No, America isn't easy. But it's worth it...by far. My FB status today reads, "America, 235 years ago, you were an experiment. A daring dream. A defining hope. Today, you are the reason I can choose my husband, buy property, vote, and celebrate a God-given right to pursue life and happiness. Happy Birthday: you are the land of the free and the home of the brave." This is true. Startling. But true.


240 years ago, there was no United States of America. I was considered property, to be bartered and bargained for additional land holdings or advantageous family mergers. I would have had no money, little or no education, and should the arranged husband take the notion, he could abscond with my children - who would have been my only light and hope in an otherwise shadowy existence. And, though it took some solid decades for our country to grant me full freedom from such snares, it did. The fact that the time is enumerated in generations rather than centuries is more impressive and less dejecting, if you want the truth. Nations existing six times as long still aren't there yet and, if their tenets of priority and purpose are any indication, they never will be.


You have to want America. But she'll give you way more back than you'll ever give to her. 

I am a patriot.

I am proud to be an American.

I am proud of our troops who promote democracy and freedom, here and abroad. 

My heart is reverent toward those who've died for the idea, laid down life for the cause.

So Happy Birthday, America.

You are not perfect, but you are brave. 

You are the stuff of dreams and the land of opportunity. 

You are the impossible made real...one nation, under God, indivisible.

You are free.

For 235.

Never Really Ends

In A Place to Grow, I tossed a few renderings on midwestern upbringing, which seemed to be a bit of a theme for me this trip. Each time we return to Iowa, I scoop up a new marble of reflection on the differences between big city life and what amounts to country rhythm, at least in comparison. I think we usually stick with what's familiar when offering a thumbs-up but, this time, I saw more pluses for the Heartland.

"Such as?" you say??

Well, the pace for one. Here, most everyone's gong or coming in lieu of just sitting - which is more what you schedule, less how you live. There, porches are for swings and fireflies; cutoffs and sweet tea - which you can actually order at a restaurant, by the way. Here, if you want sweet tea, they bring you the fountain stuff and direct you to the Sweet-n-Low on the table. Uh, not the same...at all.

Or how about the pride? Now and again, I'll catch a mention of a youth's big endeavor on the local midday news. Conversely, The Quad City Times has a section every Sunday announcing engagements, 25th wedding anniversaries, and weddings. Whole columns in the daily run are devoted to scholarship recipients and 4-H ribbon winners, proving that there really is something to gain by keeping it small - especially since, in a 450K populated city, those posts would be a newspaper in themselves.

And, pray, do not get me started on how much cheaper it is to live there: a gallon milk, dozen eggs, 1/2 gallon of ice cream, and a pound of fresh-sliced spiral ham (um, can I even get that at my deli counter?) for the same price as three boxes of cereal here? My wallet does a happy dance!

Small (or at least smaller) town living is still going strong: if big cities are the wings of industry and technology, small towns are the roots that got them there. And it's good to know impromptu drop-bys and fellas who still open all your doors, tipping their baseball caps still exist in our beloved midwest corners of the earth because, seriously, those are long-forgotten traditions in these necks of the woods.

I'm proud of midwestern roots and even prouder to know great people who still live there, farming for near povertous wages in a lifestyle few city folk would understand. Now, I love where I live, and the people here are their own kind of marvelous - but who says you can't go home? It's always there, reminding you of history and childhood, and the things that made you you.

So if it's the South, the North, the East or the West...or somewhere far and abroad... give a nod to your homeland, your very own heart-land, if you will: 

after all, home is where your story begins...and never really ends.

To Take Along, Too

After the rigors (and rewards) of discovering Just What I Needed, it was off to High Country.

Aside: Did you know the term designates the area of land laying above the piedmont but below the timberline? And what's a piedmont, you ask? Don't know. But I'm smitten with the term "High Country" anyway because a sojourn to Summit County always include an interlude from sanity into the bliss of a Rocky Mountain High. Or, in 60's terms, I dig it.

This year, we sold our outgrew-it timeshare; but, since not traversing to the "Got Oxygen?" altitude of circa 14K feet was a no-go, I set out to find a gem in Dillon. What I hunted up led to this shot Zitz took from our back balcony deck.

I brandished a similar shot to my brother while visiting in Iowa. His snappy comeback? "Hate you."
Well, I'd not fall in love with me either if this was dangled in front of my living-in-IA face (no offense, home state...it's hard to compare).

We trekked up with the Zitzmann's and our collective 8 children to take over our two adjoining condos for a few days of summer fun. Catching a getaway with this treasured family isn't a novel concept since we've hit a few over the years, but this was our first longer-term overnighters endeavor. In dating terms, I'd guess it'd be akin to the first trip away together. And, let me tell ya, coordinating 8 kids, 4 adults, 5 meals, and all the sundries related, is no small feat. But "fun" emerged as the label of the day, and good times (and good memories) were made by all.

We hit Keystone Village to feed the giant rainbow trout and geese on the lake.

Judd's hands looked like this most of the morning, accompanied with a rather urgent, "Need more food! Need more food!" Of course, he fed them one kernel at a time.

We also did a week bit of hiking along Sapphire Point where we emptied the bag of sunflower seeds - a local favorite that's one of those "might be outside recommendations but the rangers smile on it anyway" scenarios. 

 From toddlerhood, Grace had a way with the four-legged variety of friends...then along came Elijah showing the same zing for fur and wing.

But this was our first experience watching Judd render the same mojo. Their personalities are so different from one another - it's a joy to see a not-too -shabby commonality bloom between them.

Off the beaten path (but starting in a paved parking lot, go figure), the hiking path leads to this grand shot...one you've seen each year if you've been a Renderings reader for a while.

 

We even snagged a shot of just the two of us on "the rock" - aka the spot where everyone takes their Christmas card picture. I don't recall having one like this since before Gracie. Thanks, Zitz.

And, to make the outing perfect, Elijah took my hand while we hiked along a stretch together...

...which is another marking of a faithful Rendering reader - you know how I love snapshots of my kiddos' hands and feet. Someone asked why last week: I posted on FB that it was because, one day when they're big, they'll be reminders of how they once were so small.

No trip to the Point would be complete without this annual shot:

I've been taking it since Elijah was a wee one - I could line them up in a row to see the age progression of Big Daddy and Little Bebes. Love that.

Before we knew it, it was time to begin the next leg of vacay - the 900+ miles to Iowa.

This year, I was determined to remember to grab this view heading down and out. 

I'm always a bit wistful at this point, with the miles of High Country stretching behind rather than ahead. 

But my spirits lift knowing it's not a one-time wonder, but a place we can escape to time and again.

Which makes me sad for out-of-state visitors, but glad I live where I do...

and that we have friends-like-family to take along, too.

Knee Deep

We've been on vacation for 11 days.
I checked email twice.
I turned on my cell phone once.
We ate out almost every day...and I cleaned up after meals just twice. Twice. (!!!!)

We drove 1800 miles.
Stayed in two hotel rooms.
And went swimming 6 times.

Throw Ups: 0
Colds, Fevers, Ague, Plague, Massive Infection, or Otherwise Disastrous Health Episodes: 0
Major meltdowns and/or blowups, adults or children oriented: 0
Laughs out loud: 10, 000

There were friends we missed; events we RSVP'd "nay".
Facebook, Gmail, Voicemail, and the post all carried on without us.

But, for 11 days with family and friends, we ran away from the real world.
Lived knee deep in the waters of one kind of Never Never Land.

It was my own kind of paradise.

"Knee Deep" 
Zac Brown Band

Gonna put the the world away for a minute
Pretend I don't live in it
Sunshine gonna wash my blues away

Had sweet love but I lost it
She got too close so I fought her
Now I'm lost in the world trying to find me a better way

Wishing I was knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze and it don't seem fair
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky
Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise

Wrote a note said be back in a minute
Bought a boat and I sailed off in it
Don't think anybody gonna miss me anyway

Mind on a permanent vacation
The ocean is my only medication
Wishing my condition ain't ever gonna go away

Cause now im knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze blowing wind through my hair
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/z/zac-brown-band-lyrics/knee-deep-lyrics.html ]
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky
Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise

This champagne shore washing over me
It's a sweet sweet life living by the salty sea
One day you could be as lost as me
Change you're geography
Maybe you might be

Knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze blowing wind through my hair
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky
Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise

Come on in the water it's nice
Find yourself a little slice
Grab a backpack of lies
You never know until you try
When you lose yourself
You find the key to paradise

A Place to Grow

It seems there are always a few bits of sublime which escape from the trappings of a midwestern girl's mind - and are recollected quite swiftly, I discovered today, through a drive down a highway in the Heartland...

...where it's green. And lush. Think resplendent, sun-kissed tops of trees trunked far longer than the generations of farmers tilling around them. These groves aren't the tall and proud of California or the pungent pricklies of Colorado; rather, these are the gnarly old men of the forestry retirement village, knotted with age but medaled with valor shown in the tales they tell of old.

...where it's moist. Yeah, on the blades of grass. In the molecules of air. And within every pore of skin.
They call it humidity: I call it a cruel sense of atmospheric humor.

...where it's smelly. Because of the soybean plants. And the cow pies. And the pig pens.
But it's not all foul: there's also the smell of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers and generally unadulterated, non-city, "desmogged" midwest tipped with tinges of sun tea and thunderstorms.

...where it's friendly. Five people...in a row...said, "Excuse me" for reasons I've yet to explain: I find myself heady, nevertheless, after the experience with comparatively utopian social behavior. Don't even ask me to comprehend the foreign craziness that lurks behind the random "Good morning"s thrown at me: good-manner overload! (Sorry, Colorado: you are lacking on this one).

...where it's history. It's my town - "where I was born, where I was raised, where I keep all my yesterdays" - and where I'm shoring up a few more with the next generation...like catching fireflies for the first time tonight.

In the weeks following, you'll be forced to endure an onslaught of photos documenting these very renderings but, in the meantime, I'll be pondering how the sublime really isn't when it shows you how you've changed, evolved, gotten bigger and (maybe) grown up, too.

Cuz I'm in I.O.W.A.

And it's "A Place to Grow".

Says It All

This lady is good.

A good, good, good, good gem.

More than that, I simply have no words.

Which, for me, says it all.

Me and Zee