Creating Community

When I began blogging more than 3 years ago, I was thrilled to find an outlet for my yearning to write. As an English major in college, and now as a teacher of English composition to college freshmen, I am an enthusiastic advocate of writing. It is, after all, one of the principle ways whereby we humans have retained history.

In the space of the last three years, I have probably written a book's worth of thoughts. And I am profoundly grateful for the few readers I have, who stop by here and who occasionally leave a comment.

What I had not expected to find is a community of friends. Now, I am sure somewhere there is a sociologist who is cautioning my presumption that I can find communal solidarity with people whom I have never met. But I do.

Years ago, there was a wonderful sitcom--Barney Miller. Maybe you remember it.

I recall one show where a very distraught woman came into the police station. She proceeded to tell the officers about scenes of domestic violence and mayhem that she had witnessed. They probed, and after a bit it became very clear that what she was watching was not a window, but the television. She had mistaken an earlier version (TV) of cyber reality for ACTUAL reality.

That episode is at the back of my mind as a kind of caution for me not to confuse virtual cyber community with face-to-face community. But, I still care about the people I have met through blogging (and, of late, through Facebook).

Just as with our close-by friends, our cyber friends can be open and sharing. People whose blogs I read, and who read mine, know some of what I am involved with. For example, my blogging friend Philip knows I teach--so he sent me a very interesting article on the dangers of over-using computers in the classroom.

Or, I can share with my blogging friend Christine our mutual love of elephants, and support for the wonderful place The Elephant Sanctuary.


These are just two small examples of how we share communally through cyber-space.

And then, today, I received a comment on a blog that I had written so long ago I had quite forgotten it. Entitled Unauthorized Stories, I had written about telling tales on my children--who then called me on telling the tales. This comment came from a new reader--here, you can read what Curtis said.

I stumbled upon your website through trying to find the words to Crosby, Stills and Nash's song, Teach Your Children Well. How I got here, only the good Lord knows but it has been a delight to me. Reading this story reminded me of being with my son two weeks ago (he is my baby and is 34) and going through a divorce. Telling him of how important my wife, his step-mon, is to me and that she has been really the only mom to him. I played the song of Foster and Allen "After All These Years." After listening politely, he said matter of factly "That's nice."

I realized he is not in the same place I am. When his children were toddlers, he said to me, "Dad, I am glad you have grandchildren because now, in your sermons, you will give me some rest. I assured him that was not the case, I only had more unauthorized stories.

Thank you for your blog, Peace, Curtis

Well, such a thing could only happen in this cyber community. I can't imagine someone I have never met overhearing a conversation I might be having--and then stepping up to say what Curtis said. Face to face, we simply don't do such a thing. But this space--cyber-space--allows us to make connections--to create community--in ways that we cannot or will not do face to face.

Caveat creditor*

*My loose translation. . .let the lender beware (using caveat emptor as my guide).

Herewith the text of an email I received today:

Hi,
How are you doing? hope all is well with you ,i am sorry that i did not inform you about my traveling to England for a program called empowering youth to fight racism,Hiv/Aids,and lack of education.

I need a favor from you as soon as you receive this e-mail because i misplaced my wallet on my way to the hotel where my money, and other valuable things were kept i will like you to assist me with a soft loan of $2,500 US Dollars urgently to sort-out my hotel bills and get myself back home.

I will appreciate whatever you can afford to loan me now, i'll pay you back as soon as i return,Kindly let me know if you can be of help? so that i will send you the details to use when sending the money through western union.

I await to read from you.

Best of regards,
Louisa.

Since the title of the email was I NEED YOUR HELP ASAP, I was immediately on alert. My friend Louisa Mae (please note that while I have changed my friend's name to protect her, she always used her given first and middle name) was in trouble? She needed money? From me?

Wait. . .a. . .minute. First, what about her somewhat well-to-do mother? Would she not have helped her daughter?

Second, what about all those grammatical errors--my friend is meticulous to a fault. She would never have sent such a sloppily written email. She even capitalizes all her initial letters, always. No lower case "i" for her. And "I await to read from you"?

Third, "Best of regards"? Who signs anything that way?

And fourth, Louisa? She always goes by Louisa Mae. So, just who was Louisa really?

I picked up the phone, and called the office where my friend works. A pleasant voice answered--is Louisa Mae there, I asked? Well, she is, but she's on the other line. Oh, I said, she's not out of the country? Not in England? No, came the answer, but I can put you into her voice mail.

I sensed an old email scam--maybe even originating in Nigeria. So I hit "reply all" and sent out a cautionary note--DO NOT ANSWER THAT EMAIL. It's a scam.

So, let the lender (would-be, of course) beware.

Gathering at the River

We have friends who have a summer cottage along the St. Lawrence River, and this last weekend we drove up to spend a couple of days with them.

The St. Lawrence is a magnificent and amazing river. It is completely navigable by deep sea-going vessels, from the estuary entrance at Quebec City, all the way to Lake Ontario, where it links ocean-going vessels to the Great Lakes.

We have visited the Thousand Islands area (where our friends have their cottage) off and on for many years. When our daughter was little, and we were on a family vacation with her and our son, she wanted to see a real castle. So we went to see Boldt Castle (not a castle by European standards, but enough for a four year old, at the time).

About 7 years ago, when we were also visiting our friends, we went into the little town of Clayton, NY--and encountered a woman walking a puppy that needed a new home. VOILA--our dog Tipper (so named because of TIP=Thousand Island Park. . .and for the white tip on her nose!).



So, to get to our destination, we cross the Thousand Island Bridge, which is a treat all in itself. From the top of this bridge, you can begin to see the charm of the Thousand Islands area--where individual cottages are built on tiny islands.





We arrive at our destination--our friends' cottage. The above photo of Tipper (and her master) is taken on the front porch of this cottage.



Our first evening meal--a cookout eaten on this lovely picnic table.

And then, our evening entertainment--a boat ride on the St. Lawrence to view the lovely sunset.

The soft pastel hues of the St. Lawrence are famous--and local pottery features these peachy, bluesy sunset hues. You bet I am going to make a large print of the photo immediately above and frame it.





Waiting for us at the cottage--our friends' new kitten (held by a little neighbor girl), and our friends' dog--Ada.



On our second day, we headed out to a local gift shop on an island. The shop is cleverly named The Boateak! We always find some whimsy there that we buy and bring back home.

The house is immediately next to the gift shop, and is the residence of the shop owner.

These crested white ducks were part of a flock that the shop owner had. Domestic ducks, they were reluctant to swim in the little pond next to their pen!

The loon planter is the type of item the shop might sell. This one, with the iridescent begonias, was NOT for sale.

A frequent sight on the St. Lawrence--a freighter passing by, as we shopped.

The dock at the shop.

And then, the weather began to turn--as it does shockingly fast along the St. Lawrence. We zoomed back to our dock--with us heading LEFT out of the photo! The rain held off until we got back.


The summer has been rainy there, and the flowers are thriving.

A few other sights--an osprey nest, seen on our first evening out.

An American kestrel has been visiting the island this summer.

Finally, on Sunday--our last day there--we headed to the Tabernacle where services are held: first Catholic and then Protestant. The Thousand Island Park was originally a Methodist community, established at the end of the 19th century.

A favorite hymn for Sunday services is "Shall We Gather at the River"--hence my title.

The Road to Happy Valley

This is a story about the road to Happy Valley. For many years, my husband and I have been going to Penn State games. A friend of ours (now dead) introduced us to Penn State football in the late 1970s. We began attending games before Penn State entered the big 10 (really 11). We have gone to most all the home games (excepting a brief hiatus when our daughter was born in October, 1981) and some important away games, including the thrilling Fiesta Bowl in January, 1987 (which capped the winning 1986 season.


This past Saturday, we headed out in the early morning for the noon game against Purdue (for the record, PSU won, and that's the last mention of wins or losses).


We love to drive the "back way" which takes us along the Susquehanna River, heading north on U.S. 15. Appropriately, the route is also called Old Trail Road. Just above Liverpool, PA, we head off on Route 104 winding along a lovely country road, where Amish farmers are out in their buggies on a Saturday morning.

We go through several small towns, including Middleburg.

The morning sky was laced with dramatic sweeping clouds on this autumn day.

We pass little country churches.

Winter provisions rolled up in plastic, under the morning sky.

Neat farm settings. We can tell that many of these farms are Amish by the lack of telephone or electrical wires heading into the farms. Also, there are frequently sturdy draft horses in the fields.

Our first stop is the Penn Stater Inn for breakfast. Sometimes it's for lunch, depending on the game starting time.

The Legends Pub where we eat is deserted this morning--too early for the food and football crowd.

Our season tickets are for four seats, so we bring along family or friends. The only requirement--just don't wear RED!

Penn State football means Joe Paterno--or in shorthand parlance--JoePa. He is an institution at Penn State. The best attribute about Paterno, in my opinion, is his dedication to education first, and football second.

Of course, there are the tailgaters. The crew below (no one we know) bring along their dog who is appropriately garbed in a football sweater. For several Saturdays, we have watched this dog (across from where we park) as the tailgaters toss a football back and forth over the dog's head. Eventually, the dog grabs the football and proceeds to deflate it.

Finally, we have cooler weather--football should be played in cold weather. This Saturday, our seats were frosted over.

Of course, the festivities begin with the Penn State Blue Band.

Somehow, the tradition began that the drum major would run and do a flip--his success supposedly foretells the game's outcome. Not very scientific, but fun.

Success!

And there is always the Nittany Lion. Once, when we went to a game with our son, who was a little boy at the time, he spied the Nittany Lion and said--look at the guy in the bear suit.

And here we have a well-dressed fan!

We must get into the stadium to see the warm-up drills.

And then the game begins.

Sometimes we have winning seasons--and sometimes not. True fans stick with their team--no booing. No calling for Paterno to resign, etc. etc. etc.

Then it's time to head home, leaving Happy Valley behind.

My favorite site along the road to Happy Valley is this lovely round barn.

I have noticed that the journey home is much sweeter after a victory!