Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 161

Short Track

Last winter, when I was trying to decide if I wanted to go to Kenya with my daughter or not, my husband offered me this option. I could either go to Kenya or the Green Lake Christian Writers Conference. It didn't seem like a very reasonable deal, but I could see his point. If I went to Kenya we had to cut corners somewhere and I also had to ration my time off of work.

I decided to go to Africa.

Then two wonderful things happened. The Writers Conference offered what is called a "short-track", for people who couldn't make the full conference, but wanted to attend for two days. These two days would be packed with seminars. The rest of the week would allow for "full-track" attendees to work more in depth with their workshop leaders.

The second thing that helped get me to the Conference this year is that they asked me to speak. Lisa Klarner and I gave a presentation on the pros and cons of different publishing options.

I kind of had to go for at least the short-track after that.

Earlier this afternoon, I returned home from Green Lake, feeling rather melancholy and little cheated. I still had the chance to bond with my writer friends, to gain new insights into my writing career and to get lots of helpful advice.

Also, for me, just soaking up the positive energy of the Conference Center grounds is re-energizing.

Lisa and I getting ready for our presentation.   Listening to Marshall Cook on Monday evening.   Two of the new friends I met on my run Monday morning.  Two years ago I started taking a yearly picture of my feet on the shores of Green Lake. I call the series of photos "Writer's Feet", but I haven't figured out what it means.  
The full moon over Green Lake on Monday night. Not too bad for the basic camera that I have. 

What will you be remembered for?

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.2 Timothy 4:7
If you have been following me at all, you know I ran a 5K (my first race of any kind ever) on the Fourth of July and had hoped to run in more races this summer. Today is the first annual Don Lintereur Memorial Run and I really wanted to run in it. I just couldn’t do it; I have too many other commitments this weekend.
This is what the flyer for the race says about Don.
Don was a running icon in the Tomahawk and surrounding communities whose passion was to inspire people of all ages to develop a love and commitment to the sport of running. Don passed away on Thanksgiving 2012 after a courageous battle with kidney failure, running and competing right up until his death. Don was also a well-respected Biology teacher in the Tomahawk School District for 35 years. We hope this run, in his honor, will carry on his passion for running and his commitment to the field of education. All proceeds go toward a scholarship fund established in his name to assist THS graduates pursuing the field of education.
Do you want to know who Mr. Lintereur was to me? Besides my high school Biology teacher, he was my tutor for eight weeks while I was in junior high.  
The winter that I was a seventh grader, I broke my leg sledding. My cast went from the tip of my toes to the top of my thigh. I could get around on crutches ok, but someone decided that I shouldn’t go to school for the eight weeks that the unwieldy cast would be on. I didn’t argue with whoever made that decision.
Once a week, Mr. Lintereur came out to our house to give me my assignments for the next five days and to gather up the work that I had finished.  We’d visit a little bit, an odd concept for me since I was at that age where visiting with any adult, much less a teacher, was just plain awkward. But Mr. Lintereur saw past my teen-age-ness and talked to me like a person, laughing with me and never at me.
Then one day Mom made peanut butter cookies.
Apparently, Mr. Lintereur loved peanut butter cookies. He claimed that I should eat a lot of them as some component in the peanut butter cookie had bone-healing powers. He was a Biology teacher, remember, so he must know what he was talking about.
Which meant that my mom made peanut butter cookies every week the day before Mr. Lintereur was due to come.   

Here’s the funny thing. I have known that this run in his honor was coming up, but I wasn’t thinking about it that much since I wasn’t participating. But I have had a craving for peanut butter cookies for over a week. Friday night, I finally gave in and baked a batch. It wasn’t until I was cleaning up afterwards that my mind flashbacked to all those batches of cookies in seventh grade. 
(Mr. Lintereur's obituary. How's your obituary going to look?)

I am confused, once again.

I don't know if you were following me a year and a half ago, but I posted a picture of this sign on a blog post then. If you haven't read that post or aren't inclined to do that now, the speed bump in this parking lot was taken out over the winter so that the road could be plowed.   But what do you know? They never did put the speed bump back in during the summer months.
 But, believe it or not, they did install a new speed bump sign. Can anyone out there tell me what is going on? Do they think that if they hide a bright shiny sign in the tree that we will actually slow down for a bump that doesn't exist?
I was just wondering if anyone can explain this to me.

Water Photo Challenge (even though I missed another deadline)

A few months back I came across yet another blog challenge. This one was a personal photo challenge. Once a month, the blogger posts the theme for the month – birds, food, weather, etc. and those taking up the challenge post on their blog the pictures they have taken on that theme. It is recommended to take new pictures for each theme, but since I have such an array of digital photo albums, I thought it would be just as easy to use what I have in the archives.
That seems to have worked well for me, seeing as this is the first month that I have taken up the challenge. Ok, and I missed this month’s deadline anyway, so what exactly am I doing? I am getting my feet wet. And since this month’s theme is water, that makes perfect sense.
Here we go, photos of water from the archives.  This was taken at Foster Falls in Northwestern Wisconsin last spring. The power of a waterfall always leaves in awe.
With all the rain we had this past spring, it's hard to believe that this was taken the year before at Glidden, a few hours north west of where I live, where I had thought we had a mild winter and not unusually wet spring in 2012. Though this looks peaceful right now, I am sure that the swollen river had caused countless difficulties for this little town. 
And then there is the magnificence of Lake Superior. In any season, summer or ...
... or early spring, if I am thinking about water, I am thinking about Lake Superior. 
Next month's challenge is "doors and windows". I got pictures of that too. Trust me. 

God will provide

 “I tell you this: Do not worry about your life. Do not worry about what you are going to eat and drink. Do not worry about what you are going to wear. Is not life more important than food? Is not the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds in the sky. They do not plant seeds. They do not gather grain. They do not put grain into a building to keep. Yet your Father in heaven feeds them! Are you not more important than the birds? Which of you can make himself a little taller by worrying?  Why should you worry about clothes? Think how the flowers grow. They do not work or make cloth. But I tell you that Solomon in all his greatness was not dressed as well as one of these flowers. God clothes the grass of the field. It lives today and is burned in the stove tomorrow. How much more will He give you clothes? You have so little faith! Do not worry. Do not keep saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or, ‘What will we drink?’ or, ‘What will we wear?’ Matthew 6:25-31 New Life Version 
 A few weeks ago our local high school approached our church asking for donations of backpacks and supplies for homeless students in our school district. The small group of us who first heard this was taken aback. Homeless kids in our town? How was that possible? Our town is not a big city where homeless men drink from brown paper bags under train trestles or abused young mothers herd their toddlers into women’s shelters. I live in “small town America”. There are no homeless people here.
Yet, looking back, though I don’t know of any homeless adults in my life, I could name a half dozen high school kids who at one time would have been classified as homeless. For whatever reason, they were no longer welcomed in their own homes, the adults who were responsible for them no longer wanted them or these kids just couldn’t remain in the household. 
It’s tough enough being a teen-ager, but to not know which friend’s house you are going to crash at tonight or if you can sneak back into your parent’s house after they are in bed. I can’t imagine.

Please pray for these kids – I bet that you have them in your community as well. Get involved, donate to your homeless shelter, work at your local food pantry. Be aware of who is walking the streets of your town. If you get the chance, remind them that they have a Father who would never turn them out and one day a home in heaven where they can find rest. 

It Happens

We have a large lawn. It’s nice to mow with a riding mower and this is the beast which has been doing the job for the last few years.
My husband bought it second-hand and it has had a few issues. Most recently, each of the three blades on the mowing deck have taken to mowing at a different height. No matter how much time and effort my husband had put into adjusting them, it seems the lawn always came out looking like it had gotten a haircut by a first-grader.
When the belt started breaking, my husband decided he had had it with the beast. He borrowed my mom’s push mower.
Now there are certain advantages to a push mower. For starters this mower has one blade and it cuts all of the grass at the same level. Second because it is much more maneuverable than the beast, we can get at every inch of the lawn in a more efficient manner. Also, it is great exercise. Sure, the husband and I tag-teamed the job, taking turns mowing various sections of yard, but we got it done. I was also surprised at how quiet it is compared to the beast.
But there is one big disadvantage.
 Yes, the Wonder Dog. With the vast amount of knowledge in his wee brain, he tends to forget that the entire yard really should not be used as his toilet.
With the beast, the surprises which Dino leaves throughout the lawn would be run over without much notice. With the push mower however, I found myself sometimes dancing in an attempt to avoid Dino’s many offerings.

I don’t know. I can’t say that I can decide which mower is better. If I had a choice, a new riding mower would be the best route to take. Until then, it appears we will be dodging lawn bullets.  
Or maybe we should just replace Dino with a goat. 

To Prove I Have a Story About Everything

And also to prove that I will take a picture of anything . . .
With my mom downsizing, she is willing to give away a lot of her stuff. You should see the dishes and table cloths that I have brought home already. I asked my husband a few weeks ago if he thought that one of Mom’s chest of drawers would be better than the one he was using. I didn’t get an answer. Imagine that.
So, I proceeded to tell him the history of the piece of furniture I was referring to.
My dad had two sisters, Clara and Emmy. When she was 20, Emmy was diagnosed with some sort of heart valve disorder and at the time the doctor’s only recommendation was that she shouldn’t have children. I can’t remember if she was married yet, but I know that she and her husband, Jeff, never did have any kids.
They lived in a few different places and in 1954, he decided they should move to California. Before they left they got rid of most of their furniture, giving a matching chest of drawers and dresser to my parents. Emmy passed away from her heart issues two weeks after they arrived in California.
From the earliest age I can remember, I had use of that chest of drawers. The dresser was my sister Pat’s.
I told my husband this story and then told him to not let that influence his decision on whether or not he wanted the chest of drawers. (Did I mention that we had bought me a new dresser in 2004, and yes, I have a story about that if you want to hear it someday.) What he had been using up until this time was some second-hand store find. Or at least I hope it was because I hope no one paid good money for this thing new.

Now it is your turn. Which is Himey’s new dresser and which is his old one? 

God give me the words.

“When you are put into their hands, do not worry what you will say or how you will say it. The words will be given you when the time comes.” Matthew 10:19 New Life Version  

Yesterday, I attended the second annual Country Memories Farm Writers Conference. After attending last year’s conference and getting my book published, I emailed Becky McLafferty, who hosts the conference, and asked if she was looking for speakers for this year. I told her that I would love to share the journey I traveled while writing my memoir and getting it published. That silly girl. She took me up on the offer.
There I was at 1:05 Saturday afternoon, having eaten too much for lunch, standing at the front of the classroom with nine sets up puppy-dog eyes watching me, waiting for me to spew out vast amounts of knowledge. I wasn’t nervous. Honest I wasn’t. I just started talking and sharing and answering questions. And they acted like they thought I knew what I was doing!
Of all the fears in the world, getting up and talking in front of an audience is high on the list. One website I found ranked it as number 2, another website had it as number 1.
I don’t know why, but getting up in front of a group of people has never bothered me. Maybe it’s the clown in me. Maybe some deep-seeded need to be the center of attention. Whatever the case, it was still much easier for me to speak in front of those conference participates than it would be to speak to those Jesus is referring to in the scripture above.
He is talking about a time when we will be persecuted, when we are led in front of our accusers and asked to give a testimony of our actions. Will we be able to stand before those who would flog us, beat us, crucify us, and testify that we know Jesus as our Savior? Those would definitely have to be words given to me directly from God.

Lord, God, Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of Your Son. Be with us in our time of need, strengthen us when we are persecuted. And grant us Your peace. Amen

A Good Excuse?

I have a good excuse for not blogging yesterday. I drove to Chicago (300 miles from home) to pick up my baby girl at the airport. She is home safe and sound from her three month stay in Kenya. And did you hear the news this morning? That the United States has issued warnings for American citizens traveling anywhere abroad, but specifically for northern Africa and the Middle East. There has been an al Qaeda threat that is being taken very seriously.
Coincidence that my daughter just arrived home safely? I think not. Once again, Someone is watching out for my girl.  Talking to her Granma, shortly after we picked her up. 

The Meaning of Friendship

Every night when I go on the internet, to check email, Facebook, this blog and various other social media, I also click on the websites for the two funeral homes in town. Does that make me old or morbid or both? You just never know who may have passed away.
One night last week, on my usual tour of the world wide web, a name caught my eye. My mouth dropped open and my breath stopped. “No, it can’t be,” I said out loud to Dino and the cat. Kathy’s dad had died. Kathy, my best friend from high school.
Whenever I saw her parents, which was pretty frequently, they always stopped to ask how I was doing, how my mom was. And I’d ask what Kathy was up to. I had just seen them the week before and her dad had seemed fine. What could have happened? It’s probably called old age. At age 91, every day is a blessing and each day could be your last.
I hadn’t seen Kathy in over twenty years, but her face lit up when I walked into the church on Saturday. She couldn’t wait to tell me how much she enjoyed my book. When she introduced me to her husband and daughter, they immediately knew me as the author. Even her brother recognized me right away.
I felt pretty guilty. This was certainly their day and not mine. A few hours after I got home, it dawned on. The middle of Chapter 7.
I was no stranger to being left out.
One day shortly after I had started the seventh grade, my two best friends said they wanted to talk to me. We had been together since second grade, but now they had decided it was time to move on. They no longer wanted to be friends with me.
I was crushed. What had I done to them? Nothing. They just felt we were growing apart and had little in common anymore. My knees went weak, and I saw black spots in front of my eyes.
I was an awkward, insecure twelve-year-old. What was I going to do? Who would be my friend?
There was a girl named Kathy who was in most of my classes. I hadn’t known her before, but she was quiet and shy like me. She also got good grades like me. Maybe we would click.
Trying not to seem pathetic, I approached her the next day. “Would you be my friend?”
She was relieved, and a smile lit up her face. Evidently, her pals from previous years had left her as well. We remained best friends until we left for separate colleges many years later.

I don’t know what to say after that, what to write. I just wanted to share part of my weekend with you.  Halloween weekend our senior year in high school. Sal, Kathy, Lori, Brenda and I spent the night at Sal's parents' cabin. It looks like it was rather cold out that October. Good thing that Sal stayed up all night stoking the fire. Those were fun times. But we are getting older. Besides my dad and Kathy's dad, Brenda's dad and both Lori's parents are gone. Sigh.