Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 3

Too Much - Czech Blog post #1

Well, hello there. Here Iam, finally back from my trip to the Czech Republic, with around 1,500pictures, nine journal entries in my Google Drive, a pile of receipts, a headfull of foreign languages, memories of bus rides and too much time in five differentairports, and so much more.

I drove into my own yardat 8 am yesterday, having run on four hours of sleep in the previous 24 hours,but I powered through the day, hoping that would allow me to sleep last night.Well, I got close to six hours.

But enough about me; youwant to hear about my trip. But not today. Please don’t ask me to actuallystart writing about all the stories already today.

Nope, all you get today isa teaser of what’s to come. Random pictures.

All the stories and somany more pictures to follow.

Too Much

Well, hello there. Here Iam, finally back from my trip to the Czech Republic, with around 1,500pictures, nine journal entries in my Google Drive, a pile of receipts, a headfull of foreign languages, memories of bus rides and too much time in five differentairports, and so much more.

I drove into my own yardat 8 am yesterday, having run on four hours of sleep in the previous 24 hours,but I powered through the day, hoping that would allow me to sleep last night.Well, I got close to six hours.

But enough about me; youwant to hear about my trip. But not today. Please don’t ask me to actuallystart writing about all the stories already today.

Nope, all you get today isa teaser of what’s to come. Random pictures.

All the stories and somany more pictures to follow.

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.