Support the Buckeye Trail

 
I received the letter below and want to encourage you to support the Buckeye Trail.  I am offering a 2-night at my cabin for the silent auction. 

 
 
Monday, February 13, 2012
Dear Diana,
Hello, my name is Yvonne and I am an avid hiker and backpacker. From the Foothills Trail of North Carolina…the Sheltowee Trace of Kentucky…the Appalachian Trail reaching from Georgia to Maine and the great state of Ohio’s own Buckeye Trail, I have backpacked hundreds of miles on these footpaths. From the strenuous climbs of a rugged mountain, to the views of a peaceful valley spreading below, I am passionate about them all and because of that love I want to help build, maintain and promote the trails and to protect the lands on which they traverse.
I want to focus on just one of these beautiful trails today…Ohio’s Buckeye Trail. The Buckeye Trail is a 1,444 mile hiking trail located entirely within the state of Ohio. It traverses 49 of Ohio’s 88 counties. From the southern terminus at Eden Park overlooking the Ohio River…this trail follows old canal towpaths, abandoned railroad rights of way, rivers, lakeshores, rural byways and primitive footpaths over forested public and private lands. It passes through state forests, state and local parks and many small towns and urban areas where traveling on foot gives you a unique perspective of our state. It is truly a gem in our very own back yards…that needs to be preserved, protected and maintained for now and for future generations.
As a volunteer of the Buckeye Trail Association (BTA), a 501(c) 3, nonprofit organization formed in 1959, I am coordinating the Silent Auction to be held at the 1^st Annual Buckeye TrailFest. On April 26^th-29^th, 2012, the Buckeye TrailFest will feature Presentations, Workshops, Field Trips, Hikes, and this fundraiser. This letter is a personal invitation for you to get involved and to possibly donate towards this Silent Auction. All proceeds from the auction will benefit the BTA and may be tax deductible.
Thank you, for reading this letter, for researching our websites and for considering making a donation to the Buckeye TrailFest. This Silent Auction will be a grand fundraiser and a romantic weekend package for two or any offer, will be greatly appreciated by myself, Andy Niekamp and the many hikers and backpackers of Ohio…Check out their websites at http://www.buckeyetrailfest.org/ and http://www.buckeyetrail.org/
Loving Life,
Yvonne Entingh
Buckeye TrailFest Silent Auction Coordinator

Trees and Utilities

This morning as I work on taxes—yes, the dreaded taxes—the horrifying sound of a chain saw splits the silence, as though millions of bees were buzzing in anger at the loss of their homes and food.  The white-painted steel pole lifted the orange-jacketed cutter high, into the marble limbs of the sycamore, one of our majestic trees, as beautiful in winter with it’s skeleton arms embracing the winds, as it is in summer with its shade.  I can tell you the reasons why these majestic trees are trimmed and downed.  Cities want the streets to receive full sun to aid in ice melt, telephone companies want to preserve the connection, and electric utilities want us to keep our lifestyle.  Let’s consider whether these reasons are valid. 

First, the cities.  We all want safe streets.  But at what price?  In the south, the beautiful tree-lined driveways and avenues draw us to their shade.  Even here in the north, the summer heat is fiercer and lasts longer than winter cold.  Would you prefer summer shade or winter’s speedier ice melt?  Consider the aesthetics.  The dappled shade of a street sheltered by overhanging branches has far more beauty than amputated limbs.  How much value to we place on shade and beauty?  When CEO’s and lawyers perform cost/benefit analysis, the individual person and the individual tree or creature, always loses. If a business releases fumes that affect only a few, but brings money into a region, we ignore the few, for the benefit of the many.  Follow the money and you will see what is important to the powers that be. 

Just as an aside, here, Jesus never sided with the many over the needs of one or a few.  He was the one of whom the local leader said, “Better one man should die than the nation perish.”  He spent time with the Samaritan woman (who others rejected), rescued the woman caught in adultery (who others would have killed), and was available to all who were disenfranchised.  Paul, his appointed ambassador to other nations, was almost killed for interfering with the local manufacturing economy, when he told people the truth about idols and convinced them not to purchase such things.  Follow the money, follow the power, follow the greed.

Next the telephone, the wired communication device still present in some homes.  During an electrical outage, wired phones will function, unless, of course, they are cordless.  My mother cannot use a cellphone, so I keep a wired phone at my mother’s house for this reason, and one at mine so she can contact me in an emergency.  But, my mother is dying.  In a few months, the reason for the phone at her house, and at mine, will be gone.  I know there are others in that situation and for them, phone lines are critical.  We need a phone that looks and works like a wired phone, but uses the cell system.  If such a device existed, we could all say “goodbye” to the wires.

Finally, the electric utility makes the harshest cuts, trimming the upper branches on the side of a tree nearest its lines, or topping a tree within 10 feet of where its lines run.  Although it sickens me to see a tree topped or improperly trimmed, we need a stable supply of electricity. I don’t know anyone who could live without electricity.

My husband and I have debated purchasing a generator to provide us with electricity during an outage.  We don’t need electricity for heat; we have a wood stove.  We do need electricity for our water; our well pump is electric.  We also would like to preserve food in our refrigerator and freezer.  But, a long-term electrical outage would also affect our ability to obtain gas for the generator.  Gas station pumps are electric.  A long term-electric outage could bring our cities, counties, and states to their knees.  I love the trees, but I may love electricity a little more, although it chills my heart to write that.  But, without electricity, we return to the days of our ancestors, days we have never known, a time without electric lights, without anything produced using electricity (everything we now own and use), and we would be reduced to producing our own food, clothing, shelter, and other needs from wood heat and human toil.

I am much too comfortable in my life to want to make soap or spin wool and weave clothing, even if I could learn to do it.  When I attended a workshop on orienteering a few years ago (navigating using a map and compass), I realized that GPS was simpler and more accurate (at least for me).  The same applies to almost anything done by hand; someone or something else can probably do it better than I. 

Here is where I stand.  Cities should stop cutting the trees that shade our streets.  Phone companies should preserve the lines only for people who really need them.  Electric companies must do all they can to ensure a reliable supply of electricity. 

What do you think?

Gabriella’s Cabbage Rolls

 

I first met Gabriella one winter about 10 years ago.  It had snowed and I was going door to door obtaining signatures on a petition.  My boots were caked with show and I had snow on my cap and my gloves and on every surface to which that snow could stick.  I was about half finished with the houses in that neighborhood, when I stomped my way to her door.  I rang the bell and the door was opened by a blond diminutive whose smile filled her face.  “Come in, come in out of the snow,” she said. 

I looked at her clean house with white carpet and shook my head while I quickly explained the reason for the petition.  “You must come in,” she insisted.  “You can get warm and the snow won’t hurt anything.  You really must come in.”  She gestured and I knew she wouldn’t stop asking.  I stood on the mat inside the door and watched the snow slide from my boots.  “Take off you scarf.  Can I get you a cup of tea or cocoa?  How about some cookies?  Let me get you some nut roll.”

Her accent and the words “nut roll” brought back memories of a bakery I had visited as a child living in the Cleveland suburbs.  “Where are you from?” I asked.

“We’re Hungarian,” she said.  It wasn’t ‘til much later in our friendship (because that’s what it became) that I heard the story of her life in Hungary during the aftermath of the 2nd World War, and her need to apply for asylum in the United States.  The story of a young woman who would never see her parents again.  But that’s a story for another day.

One special night—because all nights at Gabriella’s home are special—she prepared dinner.  It began with small shots of liquor, then appetizers, then the main meal.  Just at the point when I thought we were ready for dessert, she presented us with a steaming pot of Cabbage Rolls.  She explained that these were so special that they were served as a special course just after the main course.

And they were unlike anything I had ever tasted.  I need to confess that I am not a meat eater.  Yes, I eat meat on occasion, but given the option, I would rather have beans or cheese or a vegetable pasta.  This was meat, wrapped in cabbage, layered with more meat, served with sour cream on top.  One of the most succulent meals I have ever eaten. But it’s meat with a story.  Not only the story of Gabriella, but a story going back, back, back, to the time when hunters would shoot the wild boar and prepare it outdoors in a large kettle over a wood fire.  Here is the recipe, in modern parlance, just as she shared it with me when I asked her to write it down.  And as for those nut rolls, she gave me the recipe for that, also, but it was too complicated for me to follow.  In pity, she provides me with a nut roll every winter.

 

From Gabriella: "Here is the cabbage roll recipe. Please study. You do know that it needs to be served with sour cream on the top and fresh French bread--nothing else, only crepes if you want to do dessert."

1. Place in freezer 1 big or 2 small green cabbages. Leave for several days before thawing.

2. 3 lbs. Bob Evans Sausage Rolls

   1 lbs. ground beef

   1.5 c. rice

   3 eggs

   Salt, pepper, red paprika to taste

   1 chopped onion

   2 chopped garlic cloves

3. Mix well all ingredients in large bowl and add 2-3 c. warm water and mix.

4. 5-6 lbs sauerkraut, drain juice and mix with 1-2 tsp. caraway seeds and 10 bay leaves.

5. 1-2 lbs. smoked ribs or sausage.

6. Carefully peel leaves off of cabbage and put in several T. of the meat mixture and wrap into packages.  Large pan. Place 1/3 sauerkraut on bottom then 1/2 smoked meat and place cabbage rolls on top. Then 1/3 sauerkraut, then cabbage rolls, the rest of the smoked meat, then the last of the sauerkraut. Add water to cover almost to top. Place in 350 oven and cook 3 hours then lower heat to 250 and cook 3 more hours. Before serving add paprika to top of pan.

Novel Prologue

PROLOGUE

Middle East, 9^th Century B.C.

I shuffled to the edge of the cliff, tempted to keep moving, but my feet hesitated of their own accord. I looked down at the stream below, and then rolled my head up toward the clouds that always obscured the mountain; no help would come from there. I sloughed off my pack and sat on the edge. My legs dangled over the gorge; one push and I would have peace. The wind held echoes of the mocking voices. “What’s wrong now? Haven’t you done enough?” I tore a leafy twig from the wiry shrub growing out of the rocky cliff, leaving a green scar. The twig bent and twisted in my hands, until it snapped. I watched as the pieces fluttered down, down, down.

“I have had enough,” I whispered to no one in particular. I put my arms behind me and leaned back. He deserved to know.

“I DID EVERYTHING YOU ASKED,” I shouted up at the mountain. “I did everything you asked. . . Lord.” I had been spit on, burned, and betrayed, and now the Queen’s men would surely kill me.

“I am as good as dead, now. Take me. Kill me,” I shouted. There was no one to hear. Better to die by the hand of YHWH, the creator and destroyer of all, or by my own hand, than to fall into the hands of Queen Jezebel. She would never have what she wanted. I would not let that happen. I leaned back and lay on the ground, and waited. I had served and I was finished. If YHWH did not take me, all I had to do was sit up and push off, and I would join the ancients . . . or not. Right now, I didn’t even care. My heart beat through my bones, waiting for the thunder of horses’ hooves to overtake it. I closed my eyes and fingered the fine stitching on my sash. There had been better times.

TV to Life—a poem

 

The flickering talons grab and grasp

Engulfing us in that linear world.

“Why did he do it?” They ask.

“He can’t bear the thought of being alone.

No man can.”

 

Turning, twisting, tearing free.

“Is it true?”

“Do you have a fear of being alone?”

“Are you afraid of losing me?”

“What?”

“Are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Afraid of losing me.”

“I guess so.”

 

My heart convulses

As I am wrenched into his world

Where fear of loss pervades.

Their script ended; but

I slog on, scriptless, scared.

Conversion and Measures

 

Here are a few useful sites for the new year.

• Have you ever been sitting in front of you computer and you wanted to measure something?  Did you look vainly for a tape measure or measuring stick?  Here is a website that shows you a virtual ruler.  As long as the object you want to measure can be held up to your screen, you can find its dimensions.  I used it to compare the dimensions of my phone to other phones in reviews I was reading.  What will you use it for?
• Simple calculations:  use Google as a calculator and currency converter.  Examples: 5+2*2,  sqrt(-4), 3 meters in feet, dollars to euros, 5 GBP in yen.
• Complex Conversions:  This website helps you convert anything to anything else. 

Now, if we could only convert the Woes of 2011 to the Joys of 2012!

Writing Like . . .

 

Who influences your writing?  I love to read Frederick Buechner, Dietrich Bonheoffer, Madeline L’Engle, and Annie Dillard, and I would like to write like each of them, or all of them, taking the best they have written into my own work.  I have tried to write like all of them, but when I let the writing sit and then go back to it after a few weeks or months, it doesn’t sound like writing I would want to read; it is a discordant mess, a mixture of wolf and sheep, a combination that leaves only a yellow-eyed, mangy wolf straddling bloody wool and bones, an apparition anyone would race to avoid. 

On the other hand, when I write and take out all shades of Buechner, Bonheoffer, L’Engle, and Dillard, I am left with only me.  And when I return to reread it, it doesn’t sound half bad.  It sounds like something I might like to read.  And maybe you would, too.

No successful writer writes like their heroes, their mentors.  Every writer must develop a singular voice.  When the voice rings false, anything false must be ripped out like the wolf savages a sheep, leaving only bone, sinew, and mangled wool, and replaced with the author’s voice—a voice of neither wolf nor sheep, but a cat who slips by in the fog, at once shadow and substance, shades of all felines who have come before, and yet a preternatural feline whose weaving tail invites us to follow and find ourselves.

And that is where I leave you in this new year.  Editing and cutting, cutting and pasting, releasing your own words to the page.  And as you do, remember that the words that come out of your mouth carry intonation, expression, and movement.  The same word does not carry the same meaning when it is laid out bare in black on paper or screen.   The American language is replete with words to describe, for example, that “preternatural” feline, as aberrant, anomalistic, anomalous, atypical, bizarre, curious, deviant, deviate, deviating, divergent, eccentric, exceptional, extraordinary, fantastic, funny, grody, gross, heteroclite, heterodox, heteromorphic, irregular, odd, off-base, off-color, out of line, peculiar, preternatural, queer, screwy, spastic, strange, uncommon, unexpected, unnatural, unorthodox, unusual, or weird.  But of all these shades of meaning only one will contain the precision that you or I intend.  And if you progress to similes and metaphors, you have even more choices some from existing poetry and prose and some not yet considered.   

Read and respect and emulate your heroes and mentors, but let you own voice ring out clearly.  This is a new year and a time to lay aside our if only’s and want to’s and write like . . . ourselves.