summer

Summer Vacation, Day 20: Heavenly Humor

/ J. Thorp / 1 Comment

Another inspiration courtesy of Hubba:

Heaven, it turns out, has a heckuva golf course, and you never know who you’ll see playing together up there. So one heavenly morning, a threesome shows up, and the first golfer tees off – and hits it straight toward a pond between the tee and the hole. As the ball approaches, however, the waters of the pond part, and the ball rolls across on dry ground and drops – plunk! – in the hole.

“Nice shot, Moses,” his partners agree.

The second golfer tees off, but again, hits the ball straight for the pond. This time, however, the ball rolls lightly across the surface of the pond and drops – plunk! – in the hole.

“Good one, Jesus,” says Moses.

The third golfer steps to the tee, and just like the others, drives the ball straight at the pond. Sploosh! – the ball sinks like a stone. Moses is speechless. Jesus quietly shakes his head.

There is a ripple in the water as a fish turns suddenly and scoops the ball up in its mouth. It turns toward the deeper water, only to be snatched from the water by an eagle flying by. As the great bird passes overhead, the fish gasps and the ball drops on the green at the edge of the hole. At the sight of the great bird’s shadow, a gopher scampers toward its hole, spooking a butterfly, whose gentle wing-beats send the slightest whisper of wind across the manicured grass, and the ball drops – plunk! – in the hole.

Jesus says, “Nice shot, Dad.”

Summer Vacation, Day 19: Kicked!

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

Blogger’s Note: Hubba over at Hubba’s House (where else?) posted a funny little story about an electric cattle prod. (Bonus points if that title was a conscious Diamond Head/Metallica reference, Hubba.) So I thought I’d share an early experience of mine.

As kids, my sister Jill and I would spend a week over in the Thumb (that’s Michigander for the area of “the Mitten” east of Saginaw Bay) with Busia and Dziadzi* at the farm where my mom grew up. It was great fun, of course, and one of my favorite parts was watching the cows up close when they came up to the barn for grain. I wasn’t around cows much, so these big-eyed, smelly creatures were fascinating.

Another favorite part was spying the painted turtles Dziadzi invariably had in the cattle’s water tank each summer. If I crept out to the wire that kept the cows off the steel siding of the barn and stayed really still, they would come to the surface and poked their striped heads out of the water, breathing through their tiny nostrils and gazing with their golden eyes.

One afternoon I slipped out to see the turtles, and the cattle were by the tank. They’d already drank, and I was curious about a turtle’s perspective on drinking bovids as he looked up from the cool bottom of the tank. I leaned forward, alternately eying the cows and peering through the water to see where the turtles were. The cows watched me curiously. They were close, and I was nervous about getting closer, so I planted my feet, bent at the waist, and stre-e-e-etched toward the water tank …

POW! I felt an explosion against my forehead, my vision went black and I was knocked backward against the barn. The cows bellowed and scattered. Clutching my forehead with both hands, I ran sobbing toward the house. Dziadzi met me halfway across the lawn. He had heard me coming.

“What happened?” he asked.

“My head … the cows …” I sobbed. “I was looking for the turtles, and one of them kicked me!”

Dziadzi moved my hands away from head. There wasn’t a mark on me. I looked at my hands. No blood. No dirt.

“You sure it kicked you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I bent over like this …” (I demonstrated) “… to look in the water tank, and one kicked me in the head!”

Dziadzi smiled at me. “Come here and let Dziadzi show you something.”

We walked back to the barn and out the side door where the tank was. The cows saw Dziadzi and bounded back toward the barn, eager for more grain. I stayed just behind Dziadzi.

“You were standing here?” he asked. “And you bent over to look in the water tank?”

“Yes,” I said, accusingly, “and they kicked me!”

Dziadzi laughed: “You got kicked alright. See this wire here? It’s electric. When you bent over to look at the turtles, you touched your forehead to it!”

And I could see that’s exactly what I’d done.

I’ve been shocked a time or two since by fencers. It doesn’t knock me over anymore, but oh, do I hate it!

* * * * *

* A note on translation: Busia (BOO-sha) and Dziadzi (JAH-jee) are children’s Polish versions of gramma and grampa.

Summer Vacation, Day 18 (Belated): Trevvy

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Trevor turned four yesterday at the campground. Usually he wakes up hard, but yesterday, he was rarin’ to go! As we made our way from the cabin to the restroom, I pointed to the sign that said MEN and asked, “Trevvy, that says men … are you a man now?”

“Yup,” he said. “I’m a man, big and strong!”

Later I was telling a friend about this, and Trevor heard me. “And tough, even!” he added.

“So you’re big and strong and even tough?” I asked.

“Yup!” he said.

“How tough are you?” I asked.

“Bet I could beat you up!” he said, grinning ear to ear.

So it begins. Happy Birthday, little man!

Summer Vacation, Day 17: Travelin’

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

Today we embark on the first trip of the summer, a quick jog to the north for a weekend in a lakeside campground. We’ll have a cabin, and we’ll be surrounded by families from our church, which has rented the entire campground. They even feed us! Very nice. (Of course, this means I’ll be posting for both Saturday and Sunday later on Sunday …)

This will be the warm-up to our summerly South Dakota adventure the following week. First, the Polo All-School Reunion in Jodi’s tiny hometown. Then, a beef, beer and guitar fiesta at Jinglebob’s (Remember the other nickname I had for you, JB? Our discussions during the Colorado trip have made me self-conscious about using it.), with Hubba and Deacon Tyler in attendance, among others. Then we’ll kick around the hills, stay in the lap of luxury at Jodi’s folks’ place and enjoying the Piedmont Fourth of July Parade. With any luck, the riding steer and spray-painted goat will both make an appearance.

Of course, neither of these trip compare to a couple of friends of mine: one of our student workers headed to Peru, and a former colleague from the University of Minnesota Crookston is moving to China to teach English and spread the Word. Wow. Safe travels!

Summer Vacation, Day 16: Vonnegut

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

Alright, here goes – a quick review. I should really read this one again, I think.

Three Things To Love about Slaughterhouse-Five:

  1. The Man: Our hero, such as he is, is not heroic. He’s an average, even funny-looking, man who is no one’s idea of a soldier. He has problems headed into the war, and perhaps more coming out. Indeed, none of the characters in this book are larger than life. And some are considerably smaller.

  2. The Message: Three words – So it goes. I’ve said that for years, without ever knowing where it came from. Certainly if this book didn’t coin the phrase, it elevated it to a new level. From the natural passing of the family dog, to the deaths of fleas and lice as the POWs are decontaminated, to the leveling of Dresden, everyone is dying, all the time. Sometimes we hurry it along. Sometimes we don’t remember. Sometimes we don’t even notice. So it goes.

  3. The Method: Here’s another audaciously told story. The timeline’s a jumble, but instead of creating clever devices to signal shifts in time, Vonnegut simply tells you. Hell, he tells you how the story begins and how it ends before he introduces the main character. He repeats “so it goes” to the point of ridiculousness (which, I guess, is the point). He almost dares you not to read his story. I couldn’t put it down.

Given the numbers of soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan and breaking down, it’s interesting that this book is by a WWII vet and paints a similarly bleak picture of life after devastation. Some deal with it better than others. I’m not sure where Billy Pilgrim falls.