"Art for Ethiopia" Needs Your Support

Art for Ethiopia Online Auction Fundraiser

This auction, which runs between November 28 and December 11, 2011, is in support of the Moriah Development of Ethiopian Children Evangelical Ministry (MDEC) in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The ministry's focus is on serving the street boys of Addis Ababa in a holistic way: physical, spiritual, emotional and educational. There are an estimated 60-100,000 people living on the streets of Addis Ababa alone, and MDEC is playing a very important role in helping the least of our brethren to rise above the difficult circumstances of homelessness and hopelessness in this very poor country. All art selections are framed unless otherwise noted in corresponding descriptions.

I have personally watched the growth of this young ministry and the dedication the staff members, many of whom are volunteers, have toward meeting street boys where they are, introducing them to Jesus Christ, and serving them in many life-changing ways.  They currently have three family-style homes where roughly two dozen former street boys are now living.  They have been enrolled in school, provided shelter, clothing and love.  Additionally, they serve breakfast with Bible study five mornings a week to several dozen boys still living on the streets.

This is a young ministry that was begun by college students only about five years ago.  Some of the founders had once been sponsored children themselves, thus understanding full well the ravages of poverty and hopelessness on a person's spirit, mind and body.  Yet they had been set free by the redeeming power of Christ Jesus, and it was inside of their souls to carry on in service to others.

So, I do hope that you will visit the auction, bid on one or more pieces of artwork you see there.  Tell your friends, relatives, work colleagues, neighbors, acquaintances, and everyone you possibly can that they, too, can bid on some beautiful pieces of art and support a great and worthy cause.  We can all come out winners in this auction!

These are only a few samples of some of the beautiful pieces you will find up for bid at Art for Ethiopia. Please...stop in today and get in on the action. Support the cause. Help the Moriah boys! You'll be so glad you did!.

These are just some of the boys you can help by your participation in this fundraising event.
They are Fromsa, Sintayehu, Cayu, John, Masresha, Bereket, Caeleb and Solomon.

Even Children Need to Eat!

Imagine, when my brother and sister were barely more than toddlers, they had to find their way in the world.  While most children were eating spaghettios and hot dogs, Susie and Doug were hunting for small game.  Just look at this lucious bunch of squirrels they'd be preparing for a grateful family later that night!  Ummmmm...

When I came along, the folks were a little less trusting about putting a firearm in my hands, so they sent me off with rod and reel to bring home the bac...er' fish.  Seeing as I was not so fond of the smelly, slimy creatures, I did the wet, dirty work of catching them, but used the good common sense God gave me and donned gloves before I'd touch 'em.  I always thought cows were more suitable fare, but they told me the brown trout was delicious.

Now, all these years later, I steer clear of squirrel and fish.  But I still gotta survive, right?  So I eat Ethiopian food with my good friends in Addis Ababa.  Woohoo!

Letting My Alter Ego Out

Do you have an alter ego?  Sometimes ya just gotta let it out and, well, Halloween is as good a time as any for such an endeavor.



Me in my element, sharing a light moment on Lake Awassa in Ethiopia in early 2011.  The real me?



Or...sharing the inner me.  I'm the one in front.  What do you think?



 

Hidden Beauty

I did something this past Saturday that I hadn't done in 44 years.  (Imagine that...a woman giving indication of her age!).  I visited Luray Caverns in western Virginia with a good friend.  While I remembered being intrigued by the caverns even as a young child all those years ago, I decided that perhaps I couldn't quite understand the true beauty of this natural setting at that young age.  In fact, what I saw was quite spectacular.



That's some great looking limestone behind me.


When I visit my favorite exhibit at the Smithsonian Institution's Natural History Museum, I am always awed by the fact that so many rocks look like roundish, gray, uninteresting...well...rocks.  That is, until they are cut open to reveal the wonders of beautiful agates, quartz and many more varieties.

That is the same feeling I had when I visited Luray's caverns.  To think, just a few dozen feet above, the countryside looks like anyplace else where there are rolling hills covered by trees and perhaps some farmland.  Maybe even a few homes dot the covering scenery.  But just under the surface, the limestone filling the earth has opened chambers and passageways and with the help of rainwater seeping through, formed stalactites draping themselves down from above.  In fact, in some areas, these stalactites are even referred to as drapes.



Notice the texture in these drapes.  They look, even on close view, almost like hardened fabric.  Yet they are rock formations in all different shades due to varying degrees of calcium and other mineral elements that make them up. 



The stalactites, over thousands, even millions, of years drop moisture onto the ground, just as a melting icicle does on the side of a building, and stalagmites grow from the sediment that forms.  In the end, what is created is a glorious, natural wonder where even the small lake is so clear that it mirrors the beauty above it so much that it's difficult to know that there is water there at all.

This is an accurate depiction of Dream Lake, the largest body of water in Luray Caverns.  At its deepest, it is only about 20 inches. 

Andrew Campbell, William Campbell, and Benton Stebbins discovered this natural wonder because cold air came blowing out of a sinkhole in 1878.  They quickly began digging and, within four hours, found more than their imagination could have conjured up.  Within only a few months time, they began offering the first tours of the location, which is still the largest series of discovered caverns in the eastern part of the United States.  Today, the walk through these caverns, about 75% of which is now open to the public, covers about a mile and a quarter.

Just imagine how many more things are yet to be discovered in this beautiful world God created.  The possibilities are truly limitless.


Enjoy one more view of this amazing wonder of nature.  Put this on your tour list.  It's worth it!

Doing What I Hate

Romans 7:14-16
Good News Translation (GNT)

The Conflict in Us

 ¹⁴ We know that the Law is spiritual; but I am a mortal, sold as a slave to sin.^{15 (A)}I do not understand what I do; for I don't do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate.¹⁶ Since what I do is what I don't want to do, this shows that I agree that the Law is right.

This brief post is not all about spiritual laws and my inability to live up to them because I am a mere human, although the title of this piece brought that reference to mind.

You see, about a month ago, I signed up to take advantage of my company's gym.  To most people, I don't look terribly unfit, but I know that my body can definitely use some toning and shaping.  That, of course, means that I need to undertake some efforts that I haven't been making for far too long.  I need to exercise more, eat smaller portions and motivate myself to change the habits I've developed over time.  You know, those habits that allow me to happily vegitate in front of the TV in the evenings or websurf for far too long when the TV lineup is boring.

Anyway, the first week, I visited the gym every other evening and worked out hard for one hour and 15 minutes each time I went.  The 2nd week, I nearly kept pace with the first.  The third week, I dropped to a couple of visits, and by the fourth week, I'd sunk to one workout in the middle of the week.  Mind you, every time, I still hit it hard for an hour and 15 minutes.  Still, motivating myself to get into workout attire, go back to the company gym (which is very close to my home), work out when my energy is ebbing, well...I've simply let the little guy with the pitchfork and pointy tail standing on my left shoulder convince me that I don't need to go when I'm tired or not feelin' it.

Thus, the Bible verse above smacks me right between the eyeballs. "I do not understand what I do; for I don't do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate."  That about sums it up.  I hate that too often I sit around being lazy when I know I want to get into better shape.  Considering Paul's words in Romans 7, I guess I fall into good company.  On the other hand, I have to agree with him.  I know what is right, even while I do just the opposite.

Fortunately, the old cliche, "knowing and doing are two different things," can be the start of changing my tune.  Why not rewrite that to "knowing leads to doing that which is right?"  Hey, I think I've created a new mantra.  Ask me in a month how I'm "doing".

I Coulda Been a Star!

...but then reality set in.

I never went to Hollywood to become a star, but once I was out there, the opportunities were all around.  The cameras and klieg lights, the movie studios, the daily ads calling for actors, game show contestants, extras, well, just about anything in the industry--it was everywhere.  I was young and ready to try my hand at most anything, so I thought, why not?

First, I tried out for Tic Tac Dough.  They didn't bite.  Then, I auditioned for Sale of the Century.  I made it through the first audition, and the second, and on to the show taping at NBC studios in Burbank.  I didn't win, but I do have a memorable story to tell.  You see, the video cameras broke down just as I was wildly buzzing in and shouting out my over-the-top wrong answer "King Kong" when it should have been "Godzilla" to a question I can no longer remember.  We were in front of a live studio audience and after the game concluded, we had to reshoot that particular question, wild animation with wrong answer and all, so it could be spliced into the show that would air a few weeks later.  How fun!  I never experienced dry mouth to the extent I did at that taping.  They could have called me Ol' Cottonmouth!

Anyway, I decided it was fun being in front of the cameras, so I signed up for some commercial acting classes and auditioned for an agent at International Artists.  To my surprise, I was one of three selected to sign on.  I guess it was my charm and good looks that sold her on me.  Seriously though, the actor and producer teaching the workshops I was taking seemed to feel I had a look that could work in a wide variety of roles, from young professional to college student to next door neighbor and more.  So, I decided to jump on in the pool and get a headshot and some photos I would need in order to audition for commercials.

I learned, like probably about 99 percent of all actor wannabees, however, that being selected to join a casting agency and actually getting sent on auditions, much less snagging roles, were two very different things.  It didn't take long for me to put this little lark into the book of fun memories, and go and get a real job earning real income.  Still, fantasies are good for everyone every now and again.  I recommend them as long as they are legal and decent.




 




When I Wake Up Singing

Just the other night, I woke up…several times…for no apparent reason.  Well, not really.  It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I surely hope it won’t be the last time.  I wasn’t continuing a dream into wakefulness.  There was no story that had come before what woke me.  I simply heard and sang “I’ve just seen Jesus, I tell you He’s alive, I’ve just seen Jesus, my precious Lord alive.”  It made me unbelievably happy.  Then I would drift back to sleep, only to awaken again a short while later hearing and singing “I’ve just seen Jesus…”  God prepares us in His own ways.  These events don’t happen by accident.  They make me long for that heavenly homecoming whenever the time is right.  They fill me with excitement and peace all at the same time.

Another song that has awakened me on many occasions is “To God be the Glory.”  I didn’t even realize I knew the words, but I have often awoken singing “Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the earth hear his voice…”  I could wake up singing pop songs, or show tunes, or TV jingles, but I don’t.  I wake up singing praises to God, not every night, but when He wills it.  I feel more loved in those moments than I can adequately explain. 

I can only hope that others recognize the realness of God through the songs He places in their hearts.  It’s a wondrous experience.

“Don’t ya know that I sing because I’m happy?  I sing because I’m free.  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”  This is a tune that comes to me when I’m walking my dog, or sitting quietly in my living room in the evening, or when I’m driving along an interstate.  It makes me happy just to realize that if my God looks out for tiny birds, He also watches out for me.  Just think…there are close to 7 billion other people on the planet, not to mention everything else in all of creation.  He knows each hair on my head.  He knit me in my mother’s womb.  It’s hard to even grasp the greatness of our God, but this song helps me do that, and it makes me happy.

Happy Birthday Never Sounded So Good

That's me...on my July 22nd birthday way back in 1959.  Fortunately, I can tell you that there was, indeed, a body attached to that little head.  I came along about a month ahead of schedule and with great drama attached to my birth, but that's a story for another time.  Today's story is all about the family birthdays my mother is still helping us celebrate this summer.  That's her, below, holding me on Easter Sunday in 1960.  My sisters and brother shared in the photographic moment.

Following multiple strokes over the past 20 years, each one of which caused increasing physical incapacity, my mother reached a point this past May where she lost the ability to speak.  Her mouth had become paralyzed and her tongue thickened.  Due to severe arthritis, she is no longer able to write or type, so her communication ability had become extremely restricted.

Late in June of this year, my sister and I traveled from our homes in another state to visit with my mother on her birthday.  As we prepared to sing that old familiar childhood tune, my sister informed our mother that she had to sing along with us.  To our surprise and amazement, she sang "Happy birthday to me..."  Each word was understandable and her voice brought joy to our ears and mist to our eyes.  Still, she could not verbalize even single syllable words with any clarity.

The next day, we sang "Jesus Loves Me" and "You Are My Sunshine" with her.  Her voice rang out with clarity on each one.  Two weeks later, she sang "Happy Birthday" to her brother over the cell phone that had been dialed for her.  All this time, she remains mostly unable to speak.

My birthday is tomorrow, and I will be traveling again to visit with my mother.  I look forward to enjoying the sweet sound of a woman in her waning years finding her voice even when no one, including her, knew it was possible.  Our bodies and minds are mysterious and wonderful things.

Happy birthday never sounded so good, thanks to this blessing bestowed upon my mom.  It brought encouragement to me, and to her.  Scientists may try to figure it all out, you know, how our brains really work.  In the end, however, there is nothing left to do but praise God for all of nature's variety and grandeur, for He alone knows the beginning and the end in all things.

In college

Now

Some of the Best Gifts

Did you ever think about the great gifts you've received in your life?  I know, I know.  It's better to give than to receive.  But, it's also a good and wonderful thing to accept gifts graciously, and sometimes with much excitement.  Such was the case nearly 48 years ago when my Uncle Art gave me the greatest thing a child could receive on her 4th birthday -- a shiny, new, red bicycle.  Within days, those training wheels came off and I was speeding along the neighborhood streets with the big kids.  I was gaining a degree of independence and growing up.  I was a happy gift recipient, and my uncle was pleased at my reaction to the gift he'd given me simply because he loved me.



Note the very satisfied smile.  Uncle Art, the gift giver, sits in the background with my childhood playmate, Debbie, who had just attended my mid-summer birthday party.



Fast forward to the new millenium, about 40 years later, and much the same story unrolled in a far-off land south of the equator and thousands of miles from here.  By this time, I had a beautiful little Colombian girl named Monica in my Compassion family and, on the occasion of her 10th Christmas, I bought her a terrific, new bike.  Until that point, we exchanged fond words through our letters, but after that point, I received more expressions of love than I think I'd ever heard in my entire life up until then.  She wasn't just enamored by the thing she'd received, though that was plenty good.  She understood, even at that young age, that God blessed her by bringing someone into her life from a very distant place who simply loved her, even though we'd never met in person.  Her bike wasn't just a bike...it was love itself. She felt it and she knew it.



Enoche and his father on the day we met in person.



Monica also had an international little brother through my Compassion family.  He lives in Haiti and, like her, was being raised in a family with love but little else.  Usually, he would receive an animal to raise with Christmas gifts I sent him.  One year it would be a goat, another a donkey, and still another it might be chickens.  I met Enoche and his father when he was just nine years old, and learned more about their country, living conditions there, and a degree of poverty most of us don't fully comprehend in America.  So, when he was reaching his early teens, I was heartened to see an expression of love from a father to his son that amazes me even to this day.  When he received the money I'd sent for Christmas gifts for him and his family, instead of purchasing livestock, clothing or other supplies that were surely much needed, Enoche's father opened a bank account in his name and deposited the money for him.  Like our father in heaven, he loved his son so much that he put aside his own needs to provide for his son's future in this selfless way.

Gifts given out of love are something to cherish.  Gifts received in this same spirit teach us about ourselves, our relationships, our world and, indeed, the giver of all good things in life.  Thanks be to God.

Aspen...On Eagle's Wings

Some dogs are the greatest companions in the world.  There’s an old cliché that says, “If you want a friend, get a dog.”  Though I think there are plenty of people who make great friends, my dog Aspen, without even trying, was simply the best friend imaginable.  Visit  “A Good Friday to Remember” for the story of how our relationship began.

We became such a team that most people didn’t know my name was Karen…they thought it was KarenandAspen.  We were inseparable.  Aspen was beautiful, well-behaved and loving, the epitome of what you hear about Golden Retrievers.  She even developed a game called “Woof!”  It began with a little rumble in her throat that I would mimic back at her.  Then, it would grow into a soft growl.  Again, I would mimic the sound.  Next would be a tiny bark.  Yes, I would quietly bark back at her.  Then a medium bark, until finally we’d worked up to a great big woof.  When I mimicked the final woof, the game was over.  It was great fun, and we only played it when she would initiate it.  It was her game, after all.

Aspen was, true to her breed, a water dog and a bird dog.  She was trained for neither, but showed the instincts born within her.  I always joked that if she sniffed out a tablespoon of spilled water on the floor, she’d go and sit in it.  That was a tiny exaggeration, but not much of one.  She was quite the swimmer and couldn't resist the allure of pools or streams unless she was restrained in some way.  On the bird front, she was never trained as a hunting companion, but she did on occasion find baby birds that had fallen from their nests.  She would gently gather them into her “mush” mouth, not making a mark on them, and proudly bring them to me.  Even though the little birds were dead, I could only praise my girl for showing the ability God designed into her.

Late in her life, after she passed her 14^th birthday, Aspen began walking with a severe limp.  Her veterinarian prescribed various medications which helped for a time, but whenever we began to back off the dosage, the lameness returned in full force and even became worse.  This was the beginning of the end for “my girl.”

On June 15, 1998 early in the morning, Aspen and I said goodbye for a final time.  It was a very sad day, and due to my serious heartache, I took the day off from work.  I found myself perusing recordings in a local music store that afternoon and purchased a Michael Crawford CD of inspirational melodies.  When I came home and popped it into my stereo, I heard him sing, “And he will raise you up on eagle’s wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the sun, and hold you in the palm of his hand.”  I knew this song and the Bible verses that inspired it from Psalm 91 and Isaiah 40:31, but never expected to encounter what happened next.  I had a vision.  It was not a daydream, or a night dream.  It was not wishful thinking.  It was a vision.

I saw very clearly my girl, Aspen, flying across a blue sky on the back of an eagle, her red fur glistening in the sunlight.  She looked into the breeze as they flew toward a certain destination.  The image was vivid, and I saw it several times over the days following her death.  Eventually, I saw it no more, but maintain the memory it evoked.  I truly believe God heals our heartaches in ways that He knows will comfort us.  Indeed in ways we might never expect or have encountered before or since.

This happened to me, and it brought me peace.  It filled me with a sense of awe.  God is good…very good!

101 Years Celebrating the Dads Among Us

Traditions are great.  We all know that every June we set aside the 3rd Sunday to call our dads and say "Happy Father's Day!"  We may join them for a barbecue in the back yard, or a day out at the ballpark.  But did you know that this has been going on for a full 101 years?  It was begun by Sonora Dodd in Spokane, Washington.  She sat listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909 and wondered why we had a day to honor our mothers, but nothing similar for our fathers.  Her father, William Smart, was a Civil War veteran, and she wanted to honor him publicly, so she sought civic action on the matter.  The following year, Spokane's mayor proclaimed June 19 Father's Day because it was the month of William Smart's birth.

In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson designated the 3rd Sunday in June as the official day on which Father's Day would be celebrated each year, and in 1972, President Richard Nixon signed a public law making this day of recognition permanent.

Today, the most recent U.S. census estimates that there are approximately 70.1 million fathers across the United States.  That's a lot of barbecue to be made and ballgames to be watched...although some fathers, like my own, might have celebrated the day in other ways.



 So, I'm going to reminisce about my own dad and some of the things that forged our relationship through the years.  The first photo I've seen of him and me together is on Easter Sunday when I was just about 8 months old.  I was a tiny baby and all decked out in a frilly white Easter dress.  He was holding me up so I could stand for the picture with my older siblings.  It was a proud moment, to be sure.  Stoicism was fashionable then.

Then, there were those Saturday mornings when he could sleep in on occasion and I would join him on the bed to play a game of cat and dog.  Even at that young age, barely out of toddlerdom, I was interested in the world of domestic pets.  He remembers that I was always the cat, but my recollection is 180 degrees opposite of this.  One of us has failing memory!

There were many, many days when I would climb onto his lap as he read poems and stories to me from a literary anthology.  And when I was quite young, I learned that I brightened his days simply by running across the lawn to greet him as he returned home from work in the afternoons.

As life has moved on, we have shared interests in reading and writing, politics and sports.  We share a genetic stamp on our physiology that I'm just going to call the "look young" gene.  It has held us both in good stead for quite a few decades.  Finally, and most importantly, my father cared for me enough to introduce me to the Lord and Savior of my life, Jesus Christ.  This eternal hope and faith is another thing that connects us.

I'm sure you, too, have many memories of things you have shared with your fathers.  Even if you're not in America celebrating Father's Day, take time to remember the good things your father has done for you and tell him about it.  It'll make him happy.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

How I Spent My Memorial Day Weekend

These are some of the sights I took in on Saturday morning as I guided a tour through Arlington Cemetery and then walked to the Marine Corps Memorial before heading home.  All of the graves in the cemetery were adorned with American flags for the Memorial Day remembrance.  These are placed there by the Army 3rd Infantry, which is housed at Ft. Myer, directly adjacent to the cemetery.  To the right, you are looking through some of the headstones of well over 300,000 men and women buried here up at Arlington House, the home of George Washington Park Custis, and later Robert E. Lee, who had married his daughter Mary.  Custis was President Washington's step-grandson.



 

To the left, you see a well known picture of the U.S. Marine Corps Memorial, frequently referred to as the Iwo Jima Memorial.  Dedicated in 1954 by President Dwight Eisenhower, this statue depicts Joe Rosenthal's Pulitzer prize winning photograph of the raising of the flag at the beginning of the battle for Iwo Jima Island during World War II.  This deadly battle against the Japanese would rage on for 30 days following the flag raising. Inside the circle on its base is a quote from Pacific Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz, "Uncommon valor was a common virtue."  The 100-ton statue and Nimitz' quote sum up the U.S. Marine Corps very well.

On Sunday evening, I gathered up some friends and we headed off to Wolf Trap Farm Park for the Performing Arts in Vienna, Virginia for a picnic and then a concert by the President's Own U.S. Marine Band.  Afterward, we were treated to a great fireworks display.



This is the Filene Center beginning to fill in for the night's show at Wolf Trap.  It is an open-air venue with both lawn seating and pavilion seating.  Well known musical groups, singers and musical theater productions perform there from May through September each year.  Colder months offerings at Wolf Trap move into "The Barns," a more intimate concert hall setting.



At 8 p.m., the Marine Band got underway with their concert of mostly patriotic tunes including Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, Souza's Stars and Stripes Forever and, of course, an armed forces medley.  We learned that the band's most famous conductor, John Philip Souza himself, re-enlisted in the Naval Reserves during WWI at the age of 62.  Wow, that's a man who was dedicated to the service of his country.



The evening would not have been complete without the fireworks display in the meadow a short walk's distance from the Filene Center.  Having never successfully photographed fireworks before, I decided to have a go at it.  I hope you enjoy the results.  This was a display unlike any I've seen before.  We were so close that it seemed the bombs were bursting almost directly overhead.  Ft. McHenry anyone?  At times, the entire sky was lit with gold sparkles.  It truly was a sight to see.







Memorial Day began just three years after the American Civil War concluded, in 1868.  Today, we honor those individuals who gave the ultimate sacrifice in all wars and all types of service to our nation so that we might live in freedom.  This is a day of remembrance and a day to show utmost respect and thanksgiving for these brave men and women.

My Hang Gliding Odyssey - A Photo Essay

My 10th grade English teacher allowed us to select research paper topics to work on and I chose a "then" new air sport called hang gliding.  Here, purchased with my own money at age 16 in 1976, is a very early hang glider that was supposed to have a 4:1 glide ratio.  In reality, it was probably more like 3:1 at best.  It could charitably have been called a rock.  Still, it gave me my start in a great sport that was about 98% comprised of men.  I held my own with them throughout my flying years.

 

This was one of the early training hills some of my flying pals and I used.  We called the little club we formed the Susquehanna Sky Surfers.  At the time, this location was called Skimont.  It was a small ski resort not far from Penn State University.  It allowed us to progress up the hill little by little, adjusting to our increasing skill as we went.

This is a foot launch shot at another training hill, about 350 feet high, that was on a sheep farm.  Note that I'm using a new, much higher quality glider.  This one was called a Cirrus V and was rated at about an 8:1 glide ratio.  I designed the color pattern myself and had many great flights with it over about 3 years.

This was the closest mountain launch to my home.  We had a ramp launch on the "front side" and a hill launch on the "back side" of what we called Trout Run, which was actually the name of the small town at the base of the mountain.  We cut a slot out of the forest for this front side launch and flew over the valley below.  If we were very lucky, we could soar for a bit in the ridge lift, but most flights were simple glides to the ground about 850 feet below.  We would do figure eights, 180s and 360s before eventually setting up for landing.  Then, we would come in and flare to land on a very small grassy area beside a trailer park at the end of a corn field.  This site taught me to make tight landings.  I flew there often.

 

Here, I had just foot launched on the back side of Trout Run.  It was only about 50-75 yards behind the front side, but significantly lower...perhaps 600-650 feet above the valley below.   In hang gliding, like any flying really, wind direction made the difference on where we could fly at any given time, which is what made Trout Run a particularly nice site.  If one side was unflyable on a particular afternoon, the other side might work out just fine.



This shot was taken shortly after takeoff on the back side of Trout Run.  You can see by my body and its position on the control bar that I'm in the process of starting a right-hand turn.  We had to do this at this particular site shortly after takeoff in order to follow the best path to our eventual landing area.



This is a nice shot of me flying out over the valley on the back side at Trout Run in the fall.  I spent about 4 years flying kites, well, being taken aloft by my kites, sometimes for mere moments, but one time for about an hour and a half.  These are great memories.  When I subsequently sold my Cirrus V, a one-time national champion hang glider pilot informed the purchaser that I was the finest female pilot in Pennsylvania.  That was a wonderful compliment that I obviously treasure to this day.

Dreaming of Space Flight

In honor of today's final launch of the Space Shuttle Endeavour, I thought I'd reminisce just a bit.  Though some might find it hard to believe, I grew up in the age of space flight.  In my early years, I remember rising early, staying up late, gathering around the black and white TV set to watch the Saturn V lift off with the small capsule at its top, carrying our astronauts into space.  First it was with the Mercury program and a single rider.  That was quickly followed by Gemini and its two-man teams.  Then, when I had settled on an early career choice of becoming an astronomer, the Apollo program blossomed into the manned missions to the moon.

During all of these liftoffs from Kennedy Space Center and splashdowns in the Pacific Ocean, I was mesmerized.  It was so exciting to hear the countdown to launch..."T minus 10 minutes and counting...five minutes...10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, we have ignition, 3, 2, 1, and we have liftoff of Columbia (or whatever the ship was named for that particular mission)."  Then, several days later, we would gather again to watch the capsule fall from the sky, parachutes opening high overhead to slow it to a safe splashdown speed.  Soon after, the astronauts would open the hatch and climb out onto an inflatable raft and be picked up by a helicopter that would carry them to a nearby ship.

The most exciting voyage of all, of course, was Apollo 11.  I remember it vividly.  The slow motion and hopping movements of Neil Armstrong descending the steps of the Eagle lunar lander followed by Buzz Aldrin.  Michael Collins flying in the command module.  Armstrong's famous quote, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."  Their phone call with President Nixon from the moon to the earth.  It was very exciting indeed.

All of the spaceflight in those days took place in tiny capsules where astronauts were basically confined to seats amid massive instrument panels beside, in front of, and above them.  With these images and ideas firmly ensconced in my mind, I got together with my childhood buddy from across the street and we created our own space capsule.  Well, it wasn't shaped quite like a capsule, but our imaginations took over where physical form left off.  We put some knobs inside a 55 gallon cardboard barrel to simulate a control panel, made some shoebox radio packs for ourselves with wire hangers forming the antennae, and stuffed ourselves inside.  This was obviously a Gemini model.  Our moon shot was still to come.

As I grew older, I got to watch the progress of the space program, all while I was adapting my professional outlook from astronomy to music (math to aesthetics).  But, I never lost interest in flight or space.  In fact, just two months ago, some of my Ethiopian friends took great pleasure as I pointed out some of the various constellations to them on a clear night in Addis Ababa.  All of that space information in the Time Life books my parents gave me as a child stuck with me these many years later.  That, and the Friday space science classes in my high school's planetarium.

Imagination is a great thing, whether it be the stuff of childhood vocational dreams, or visions of the starry sky that our ancestors created for us.  It gives life beauty and wonder, and we are the better for it.

Barry and Karen inside a very obvious replica of a tiny Gemini space capsule.  This one had yet to be launched.  Our radio packs were too large to take inside with us.  That was a problem for the engineers to solve.

Loving My Mom Through Song

My 86-year-old mother has lived a long and good life.  But, along the way, she's dealt with heartache, serious illness, physical impairment and many challenges which can be difficult to face.  When I asked her several years ago if she had a favorite Bible verse, she immediately said Philippians 4:13.  She explained that it helped her through many challenging times in life.  Because this was so meaningful to her, I decided to write a poem using this verse as its foundation.  I then set it to music and gave it to her as my gift.  Its words remain ever true, and I hope one day we can all experience it as we move from one part of life into another, and eventually into eternity with Jesus. 

Christ is My Strength

I’ve lived through dips and troughs of life.

When days were tough, and full of strife.

At those dark times I prayed to God,

Recalled the journey Jesus trod.

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.

When life was rough, my heart felt fear,

I cried to God, “Incline your ear.”

He said, “I sent my Son for you.

Look to Him, he’ll see you through.”

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.

My voice back then was very weak,

But now no longer spent and meek.

Each day I laugh and smile and sing

Because Christ is my everything.

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.

My savior said that love is all,

With faith and hope, I will not fall.

I’ve seen the light of love on earth,

Yet long for heaven’s eternal birth.

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.

When my life story is complete,

I’ll rest in knowing who I’ll meet.

My heart will sigh and bid adieu,

When Jesus says, “I‘ve come for you.”

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.

I’ll take His hand and walk with Him

Assured His love will never dim.

My God has said to have no fear,

For His own Son is ever near.

I can do all things because Christ strengthens me.