Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog

Taking a Break

 

      Ineed to take a break from everything going on in my life. So, after today’spost, you probably won’t hear from me until after the first of Octobersometime. Yesterday’s news was the distraction I needed right now, so it’squestion and answer time.

Whatwas the first PG-rated movie I saw at the theatre? “The Sting” in1973. My sister Pat wanted to see it for her 14th birthday, and I naturallywanted to tag along. So, Dad took both of us coz I was too young, and at thattime, people seemed to care who was going to PG movies. I love that movie! It’sone of those stories where the first time you see it will always be the best.Just like “The Sixth Sense.”

Whatwas the movie that changed my life? “The Electric Horseman” from 1979. I hadjust gotten back to Madison to sign up for spring classes at the UW. My otherthree roommates went to see “The Big Chill”, but I’d already seen it, so Istayed at the house. Flipping through channels on cable, I came across “TheElectric Horseman”. I really kinda hated it. Just like “The Horse Whisperer”, Ifelt like no one was really looking out for the horse’s future.  

Butwhy did it change my life? Sonny Steele felt compelled to set Rising Star free,and by the end of the movie, I was compelled to drop out of college. I was onlytwo semesters away from graduating, but I had no idea what I was doing. Maybe Ithought if I left school, I would be free to run wild on the Western plains.Right this second, this thought just hit me – eight months later, I moved toColorado on a whim, not running wild, but still out West and still doing my ownthing.

Whatis one of my top five all-time favorite movies? “Butch Cassidyand the Sundance Kid” from 1969. That should need no explanation; it just isone of the best movies ever, up near “The Princess Bride” and “Goonies”.

Whatis my favorite movie set in Africa? “Out of Africa,” of course. And onceagain, there is no need for an explanation. Even though I hate watching romancemovies, with Meryl Streep describing Kenya in her remarkable accent and the scenesof the African plains from the plane, I could watch this movie over and overagain.  

Andit should require no explanation what all these movies have in common. Runfree, Sundance Kid.

(I took the picture above when I was in Kenya in 2019. It was taken at the Karen Blixen house with the Ngong hills in the background.) 

Deer in the Yard

I’vesaid it countless times over the past 35 years – I am so blessed to live on myfour-acre plot with mighty trees just outside my window. Some mornings, acacophony of bird voices greets me when I go out my back door. Squirrels, chipmunks,and two renegade rabbits roam my yard at will, much to the consternation of ourcats and, most recently, our new dog. This summer, a toad has taken upresidence on the front stoop. A few bears have even wandered through.

         But the most graceful and beautiful of the wildlife is the whitetail deer. Overthe years, I’ve had different does with their precious, spotted fawns feedingon the grass. A few bucks have nobly joined them. Our old dog, Dino, mostlyignored them, and they saw him as no threat.

          For two years, a lame doe tried tojoin my loosely organized herd. I was able to get a close-up picture of her andcould see where she had been shot in her shoulder, with that leg mainly hanginglimp. Watching her hobble through the woods broke my heart.

          I was feeding the deer in my woods atthe time, and she knew I was her only hope of survival. When I put the foodout, the rest of the deer hung back twenty feet or so. I’d wait for Gimpy toapproach first; the others would try to run her off, but not when I wasstanding my ground only ten feet away. She’d gratefully eat her share while Istood guard, quietly telling the others that it wasn’t their turn yet. By thestart of the third winter, I never saw her again.

          But here we are many years later. Wehad to put Dino down two years ago, and this past winter, I couldn’t stand nothaving a dog any longer. So we brought home our adorable two-year-old corgi,Hannah. Since she joined the family, we haven’t seen as many deer comingthrough the yard. Only one morning, we watched a doe and her two fawns walk thepath they usually took through the back yard and into the woods.

          On a different morning last week,though, a doe and her single fawn picked their way through the front yard. Hercoat was grey from shedding her summer coat, and the fawn’s spots werebeginning to fade. Yes, autumn has arrived. (And it's hard to get a decent picture through the screen in the window.)

          The week before, a fawn had met itsend on the road about a half-mile from our house. It dawned on me that it must bethe sibling to the fawn I was seeing now.

          Foremost in my mind was that it hadbeen two weeks since my own baby had passed away.

          Was God trying to tell me something?That I still had another child to live for, to care for – even if he is nearlyforty? Was God reminding me that life goes on, no matter what tragedy we aredealing with?

          I don’t know. I don’t think so. Ithink it was more of a reminder that a mother’s love never ends, and I know itwon’t for this mother.

          And also that I still have more to bethankful for than to be unthankful for.

Snowman

 

“Come now, let’s settle this,” says theLord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow.Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.” (Isaiah1:18, New Living Translation)      

I’vehad trouble sleeping for years. Some nights, I can curl up in bed and driftright off to sleep. Other nights, ping pong balls are bouncing all over in myhead, and as much as I try to imagine them falling to the floor and rollingunder a piece of furniture to never be heard from again, they don’t stop.

          A year or two ago, I added the app for Turning Point with Dr. DavidJeremiah to my phone. He gives some good sermons. So after lying in bed gettingmore frustrated instead of relaxing, I’ll pull up one of his messages, and Iusually drift off before it’s over. Perhaps not what any pastor wants to hear,but if it helps someone in any way, that should be a win.

         The last two weeks, as you can imagine, I haven’t been sleeping much. Sometimesa sleeping pill helps, sometimes it doesn’t. Several times, I’ve turned onDavid Jeremiah, and more times than not, I will fall asleep.

         On the first of September, he started a sermon series on Joseph, the one whohad eleven brothers who were jealous of him and threw him into a well. The guywhose father gave him the multi-colored coat. He was also able to interpretdreams.

         The other night, I fell asleep to this opening message on Joseph. And I had adream.

         In my dream, I was building a snowman. The snow on the ground all around me wasmelting and full of dirt, but somehow my snowman was white as - well, white assnow. I hadn’t finished giving it a face when my snowman tipped over onto thedirty ground. It didn’t fall apart, though, and it stayed pure white.

         I woke up wondering what that was all about.

         Then I remembered about Joseph being able to interpret dreams. And I heardGod’s voice say to me, “You can interpret this dream.”

         So, in my dream, my sweet, precious daughter was the snowman. Even though thesnow was pure and white, my daughter wasn’t always that way. She had a wholelot of impurities in her words and actions. Yet, there she was, pure andwhite but not completely finished.

         And then she fell over and left me. She didn’t break, and she didn’t getcovered in dirt. She just left me, peacefully and wholly. Maybe even holy. Leftto be with those angels all dressed in white. And with a finished face, onethat was smiling.

Too Big for this World

 

DearGod

IfI die tomorrow

Ora thousand tomorrows from now,

Willit matter?

WillI be changed

Orhave changed the world?

Willanother moment from eternity of existence

Causethe moon to fall

Theoceans to weep

Thetrees to walk?

Butif an extra heartbeat

Bringsone smile to a teary eye

Ifall my heartbeats

Canmake another soul sing

Anotherlife less dull

Thenmy entire being has purpose

Andeternity becomes an instant of joy.

By Pat Loehmer(1959-1999), written around 1977

Mykids both loved their Aunt Patti, with all their precious, still-growinghearts. My baby girl was only three when Pat was diagnosed with cancer and ninewhen she died. Val never knew my sister when she wasn't fighting that insidiousmonster roaming her body.

AndI never realized how much they were alike.

Peoplethink I'm bullheaded and independent, but that was nothing compared to mysister. When she started something, she would dig in her heels and get it done,never asking for help and never backing down. My son, Nick, is like that, too.Me? Not so much, if I start something and it causes me frustration, I'm morethan willing to walk away and binge-watch episodes of"Friends". 

Valwas just as independent and could dig in her heels just as deeply if she wasworking on something from her heart. And she was all heart. And so was her AuntPatti. Both taken way too young - Pat at 39 and Val at 35. Sometimes, I thinkthey were both too big for this world, too bold, too strong.

Andlooking back, now, I think they both knew they weren't born to grow old on thisplanet; they knew God had a plan that none of us left behind will everunderstand.

so the world may know

As you probably know, my day-to-day lifecame to a devasting end when those two county sheriff’s department cars pulledinto my yard at 11:53 last Friday night.

It was almost déjà vu.  

How many times over the years had I lainawake in bed at night, wondering where she was, when she’d be home, how she’dget home? How many times in recent years would I check her location on GoogleMaps before going to bed at night and again at 2 am, only to find she was stillat the bar? How many times did I wait for the phone to ring or the doorbell toring?

It’s a long story. Let me explain. No,there is too much. Let me sum up.

Quite a few years ago, my daughter got twoOWIs within a year or two. But she kept drinking. At the end of January 2023,she hit bottom and sobered up, went to AA several times a week, and was workingthe program. Then her dog died from blasto, and the need to drink came rushingback.

Two weeks ago, she got her third OWI.Instead of it waking her up, committing herself to stop drinking and gettingher act together, she kept spiraling out of control. 

Last Friday night, the demon in her head,which was pushing her to drink and telling her that her life might as well beover, won. But only for that one instant.

I feel in my heart – no, I know in myheart and soul because Jesus has told me this. That in that final instant,Jesus slayed those demons that had been wearing her down and announced to Satanthat he was done. And Jesus took her gently in His arms and carried her toheaven. Why He couldn’t have just carried her back to me, I do not know.

The only other thing that I do know isthat my baby girl, with a heart for caring for others, whose love wasimmeasurable, whose spirit was a little wild, whose smile was more beautiful thansunrise over Lake Superior. I know that the devil was after her for half of herlife because he knew her amazing qualities, and that scared him, so he justkept assaulting her. But in the end, Satan never wins.   

This is how I face each day now: Satannever wins. Jesus always does, even if it’s not in our time or in our way.  

My baby girl is at peace now, and somedaywe’ll be together again. In the meantime, I want the world to know that.

Was This The Last Ride of Summer?

Isanyone else saying, “where has summer gone?” It is, essentially, over, or itsure feels like that.

Hubbyand I took another drive up to the UP two weeks ago, just a ride for the day.We were actually on a food run, as stupid as that sounds.

Firststop, though, was Military Hills Roadside Park, ten miles north of BruceCrossing (and a mere four miles north of my favorite waterfalls (I’ll go backthere some day.)). That wayside is a pretty standard potty break for us. 

JacobFalls, which we only stopped at because it is right next to our first food stop.

Ahh,our beloved Jampot Bakery, run by the monks.

Theline was long. 

SoI left Hubby to stand in it while I walked our Hannah.

Shedid make a few friends though.

Picniclunch at one of our favorite spots. The park in Eagle Harbor. Always clean andusually quiet. On a nice day everyone is down at the beach two blocks away.  

Idiscovered a new place in a book on the UP that I bought Hubby for Christmas.In the village of Kearsage there is a stone ship that was built in honor of theCivil War ship, the USS Kearsage. I’ve driven by it and taken pictures of itdozens of times. But never knew that there had been two others built in thearea. This one is just north of Calumet. The other one, somewhere near Hancock,has crumbled into oblivion.  

Then,though we had mixed feelings, we had to stop at Dino’s Beach. Okay, it isreally the Calumet Waterworks Park, but for us it will forever be Dino’s Beach.Our previous faithful dog loved that beach, loved chasing sticks into the water,loved to swim in Lake Superior until he was exhausted. 

Hannah,the little loaf that she is, has yet to find a body of water to dip her toesin. Some day, sweet baby.

Laststop. Pasties at Pasty Corner in Iron River. We vote them the best pasties we’vehad. Worth the trip.

Acknowledging a Reference

 Here is the story of how I know all these camping stories. 

Chapter 10 - 

The Camping Log

Iimagine that by now, you are completely amazed by my incredible memory. Sure,I've mentioned the home movies recording our every early trip. And many of ouradventures have been shared at every family get-together.

But at this point, I should give credit tomy most faithful source. The Camping Log. It is a bound grey composition book,with the name "C. Gudgeon" dimly penned in the upper right-handcorner of the cover. I have always guessed that C. Gudgeon purchased the book,and when he found it unnecessary, Dad snapped it up, hating to see anything goto waste. Or perhaps Dad bought it at the second-hand store for a nickel. Inever asked him.

Within these six-inch-by-six-inch pages,Dad and sometimes Mom recorded the names of the campgrounds where we stayed,the dates, the prices, and sometimes comments on the campgrounds. Theirdescriptions were very detailed, usually something like "Noisy" or"Crowded".

Prices ranged from free at some roadsideand city parks to $4.00 a night at the ultra-modern KOAs (Kampgrounds ofAmerica, the ones with the big A-frame offices). Some of those KOAs even hadinground, cement swimming pools, but we never did much more than dangle ourfeet in them, if that. Mom was sure we would drown if we went in up past ourknees.

In the mid-1970s, I took over most of therecording duties, putting in columns to write the date, mileage, city,campground, cost, and comments. Since we went both east and west several times,we occasionally stayed at the same campground.

One such place is Peaceful ValleyCampground in LeSueur, Minnesota. We camped there on June 11, 1969, and againon June 20, 1971. (That's where the picture above was taken.) The campground is still in operation, and from the images on itswebsite, it looks much the same. I've driven by it frequently after those yearsof camping with Mom and Dad because of Phyllis, who lives in the area.

Phyllis was Pat's good friend fromcollege. We shared dating horror stories after I divorced and Phyllis was notyet married. I quickly became her good friend, also. When she finally didmarry, it was to a man who owned a farm in LeSueur, Minnesota.

Then there was Powell State Park (akaSandy Beach). This park was located forty or fifty miles north of where welived, and anytime we were just out for a ride or on our way home from a trip,Dad would manage to pull through to check it out. We never stayed there when Iwas with. It wasn't until Pat and I were out of the house that Mom and Dadcamped there on a few weekend getaways.

Another place we often visited was the BigEau Plaine in Mosinee, Wisconsin. We frequently met Mom's cousin Doris and herhusband Richard there since they lived around Green Lake, and Mosinee was halfin between.

It was a nice enough county park, but theride there always struck fear into my heart. The road crossed the Eau PlaineRiver over a long one-lane bridge. I was always afraid another vehicle wouldstart across coming towards us as we were crossing and that they would run usoff the bridge and into the river.

Not only was it one lane for automobiletraffic, but the bridge also was shared by a railroad track. The biggest fearof my entire life was that halfway across the bridge, a train would start overfrom the opposite direction. I don't know why I was so terrified. The trainwould be on its track and not in our traffic lane, but I was certain the bridgewould collapse from the weight of both our camper and the train. Or, again,somehow run us off the bridge and into the water. I think I was genuinely terrifiedof drowning as a child.

Besides camping at the Eau Plainecampground, we often crossed the bridge to go to King's Campers on the otherside. Even though Dad was pleased with our pickup camper, he started to becomefascinated with fifth-wheel trailers, and every chance he got, he would stop ata camper dealer to look at them. We thought walking through each larger andfancier RV was always fun, too, sitting on the sofa and imagining we livedthere.

Of course, it didn't take much for mysister and me to think that something was fun.

I pulled the picture above from the Peaceful Valley website and the picture below is the uncropped picture of us. What do you think? Same place? 

Summer Trip Day #5 – Almost Home

Marinette County is thethird largest county in Wisconsin and is known as the waterfall capital of thestate. You would think that since it is so close to where I live and you knowhow I love my waterfalls that I would have been to them all. But no, and I don’tknow why.

We visited a few of themon a drive a couple years ago. But on the way home from our couple of ill-fateddays in the UP last month, when I saw the sign for Twelve-Foot Falls CountyPark, I turned the car down that road without much thought to getting home.

Google Maps said that itwas a thirteen-minute, five-mile drive from the highway to the park. On that winding,dirt road it sure felt longer than that. 

I left Hubby, with his broken bones from that fall two days before, at the bench overlooking Twelve-Foot Falls and took off to explore with the dog.

It was only a short walk along a tree-root strewn path to get to Eight-Foot Falls.

Tried to get a selfie with Hannah,

But the Loaf had other ideas.

Anyway, we had lunch in the car, then I started driving back to Eighteen-Foot Falls.

Left Hubby in the car there, while Hannah and I plunged down the trail. This one was a little more challenging than the last one, but we did fine.

But I also didn’t want to mess around trying to get another selfie with her and go over the edge.

Two hours and a long stupid argument and we were home safe and sound. Another vacation in the Travel Log. 

Up North in the UP

Since I was just at Tahquamenon Falls in July, I thought I'd jump ahead on my journey journal and share my first trip there in 1975. 

Journal of our Journeys

Chapter 16 - Michigan's UP 

 

Manyweekend mornings throughout my childhood, we woke up early, and Mom packed usand a picnic lunch into the car. With Dad at the wheel, we'd drive to CopperFalls, Potato Falls, Saxon Harbor, and Ashland in Wisconsin. Just over theborder in Michigan, we'd go to Ironwood with its statue of the world's tallestIndian, Black River Harbor, the Porcupine Mountains, and the Lake of theClouds. I am indeed blessed to have been raised within a three-hour drive ofall of these wonderful places.

We had camped at some of these places onweekends before, but in 1975, we took a little more time and went a littlefurther north. All the way north, as a matter of fact, to the tip of thepeninsula.

The first night, however, was spent atMcLain State Park just outside of Hancock, Michigan. I don't know what it isabout this state park, but it has always held a fascination for me. I thinkit's the amazing sunrises and breathtaking sunsets that you can view from thebeach or from your campsite if you're lucky enough to get a spot on the lake.Even campsites that are not on Lake Superior (the sites Mom always picked) havea view of the lake through the trees. And late in the evening, when all isstill, you can hear the water lapping at the shore.

A couple who Mom and Dad knew from churchset up their trailer at McLain for the entire summer, so it was nice to stop inand visit them when we camped there. Mrs. Kleinfeldt even took her organcamping with her – a real, though small organ, not one of the keyboards of thelate twentieth century. She would play hymns on it on Sunday mornings for therest of the campers.

From McLain State Park, it is just a hop,skip, and jump to another State Park, Fort Wilkins. Fort Wilkins is a restored19th-century military fort. Settlers in the area were afraid that trouble withthe local Indians might arise, so they wanted a military presence nearby. As itturned out, there was no trouble with any Native Americans, and the base wasonly in operation for a few years. The buildings, having been allowed to decayover the years, have been painstakingly restored and tell a fascinating storyof a pioneer life where winters were frigid and the snow could reach the topsof roofs.

Somewhere along the highway, along LakeSuperior, there was a small gift shop on a bluff above the water. Theproprietor sold pieces of driftwood with paintings of birds on them, rocks withpaintings of birds on them, and framed paintings of birds, along with lots ofpolished stones from along the shore.

The building had a small tower. Up twoflights of stairs, there was a little windowed room with fantastic views of thelake. Occasionally, an iron ore freighter could be seen slowly moving along thehorizon. Only five months later, one of those freighters, the EdmondFitzgerald, along with its 29-man crew, would succumb to the will of the GreatLake during a November storm.

Further inland and to the east is anotherstate park, which hosts one of the largest waterfalls in the eastern UnitedStates. The campground at Tahquamenon Falls is as nice as any of the stateparks in the UP; they all have modern amenities, such as flush toilets, hotshowers, and electrical hookups. However, instead, we stayed at a small,private campground that we rated an "ugh" in the camping log.

We had a reason, though, for not stayingat the state park. We left the camper at Soo Junction, just north of the burgof Newberry, and rode the Toonerville Trolley through the tranquil woods andswamps to the Tahquamenon River. The small train rocked and rattled along itsnarrow track for an hour or so.

Then, we boarded a riverboat, which tookus within walking distance of the waterfalls. It was an interesting trip,unconventional in some ways. Still, we got to see a lot of the countryside, andthe scenery was fantastic. But then, it always is in the UP of Michigan.  

Over the years, I would return to all ofthose places, and the magic never got old. But, unfortunately, the ToonervilleTrolley and Riverboat Tour closed in the fall of 2024, after 96 seasons inoperation. It's a shame I never got to take my husband and our kids on thisexcursion.

(The pictures are of on the river boat that trip. You would think I would have pictures of the waterfalls, but I couldn't find any.)

Peter and John

 

Sincethe first of June, I’ve been sharing verses here on Sundays from the book ofActs. And just now, it dawned on me that I should back up that train.

Thefull name of this book of the Bible is the Book of the Acts of the Disciples.I’ve been writing mostly about what Paul did during this time, but there were otherspreaching with him and in other places without him.

You’veheard of the disciples Peter and John? Here’s one of their stories, from Acts chapter3, verses 1 through 16, from the Good News Translation.

One day Peter and John went to the Temple,and there at the Beautiful Gate, was a man who had been lame all his life.Every day he was carried to the gate to beg for money from the people who weregoing into the Temple. When he saw Peter and John going in, he begged them togive him something.

They looked straight at him, and Petersaid, “Look at us!” So he looked at them, expecting to get something from them.But Peter said to him, “I have no money at all, but I give you what I have: inthe name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth I order you to get up and walk!”

Then he took him by his right hand andhelped him up. At once the man's feet and ankles became strong; he jumped up,stood on his feet, and started walking around. Then he went into the Templewith them, walking and jumping and praising God. The people there saw himwalking and praising God, and when they recognized him as the beggar who hadsat at the Beautiful Gate, they were all surprised and amazed at what hadhappened to him.

          As the man held on to Peter and John, thepeople were amazed and ran to them. When Peter saw the people, he said to them,“Fellow Israelites, why are you surprised at this, and why do you stare at us?Do you think that it was by means of our own power or godliness that we madethis man walk? The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of our ancestors,has given divine glory to his Servant Jesus. But you handed him over to theauthorities, and you rejected him in Pilate's presence, even after Pilate haddecided to set him free. He was holy and good, but you rejected him, andinstead you asked Pilate to do you the favor of turning loose a murderer. Youkilled the one who leads to life, but God raised him from death—and we arewitnesses to this. It was the power of his name that gave strength to this lameman. What you see and know was done by faith in his name; it was faith in Jesusthat has made him well, as you can all see.”

 

Peterhad more to say, but then he and John were stopped by some Jewish leaders.

          

Peter and John were still speaking to thepeople when some priests, the officer in charge of the Temple guards, and someSadducees arrived. They were annoyed because the two apostles were teaching thepeople that Jesus had risen from death, which proved that the dead will rise tolife. So they arrested them and put them in jail until the next day, since itwas already late.(Acts 4, verses 1 through 3, Good News Translation)

Allof the disciples were arrested at various times for sharing their faith inJesus Christ. All of them except for John were killed for their actions.

Ourworld is getting more and more crazy every day. I wonder how long beforeChristians in this country start to be persecuted. I wonder how many of us woulddefend our beliefs if faced with death. God will grant us the strength; we onlyneed to turn our lives over to Him and ask for His help.

(This picture above was taken at Green Lake Christian Conference Center when I was there for the Writers Conference in 2011. I'm sure it's nothing like the gate where John and Peter met the lame man, but it still is a beautiful gate. )