Speaking of games

It's the last Saturday of the month and that means it's Game Day at Midwest Comics & Collectibles at 18th and Broadway.

So during the course of the day I will be spending a few hours huddled over a game board of some kind playing something with friends. We'll probably order out for pizza too.

Want to see what it's all about? Stop by and tell them Kevin sent you. There are plenty of folks who will gladly teach you one of the easier games that we like to play. Mention Settlers of Catan, or BattleLore, or even Axis & Allies naval miniatures...or just ask if there are any fun Euros you can try out.

And if you're really brave and you see me, you can ask for a turn or two of Byzantium Reborn, a game on the fight between the Greeks and the Turks post World War 1. Brave not because I'm any good at playing, but because it's somewhat more complex than the Euro-games that we usually play.

Midwest opens at 11. They start gaming at 12. I'll likely be there mid-afternoon.

And for those who think I'm nuts for playing these games, I'll post an After Action Report later tonight. :)

PS. If you don't want to play games, go to the rock show at John Wood, or any of the other activities taking place today. Really, honest, just get out of the house and enjoy the day!

It's the time of year....

...when there's too much football going on.

Of course, I would say that because I'm not a big sports geek. Sorry, that's just how it is. That is strange though, seeing that the game is all about using resources tactically and strategically to achieve your goals, and I'm a big strategic and tactical gamer. Why just last night I rolled over the French at Agincourt...but that's another posting.

I like baseball, high school basketball (come on, I grew up in Indiana and now I live in Quincy, you KNOW I have to like h.s. hoops :), even have seen some impressive soccer. But football leaves me cold.

My friend "J" doesn't understand this. He's a football nut--a freak--a fanatic. He looks at my pictures in my (now ancient) yearbooks and wants to know how I didn't get roped into football when I was young.

The fact is, I did play backyard football all through grade school. I have wonderful memories of a "big game" between my buds and myself against some kids from another classroom at Holman School in Peru, Indiana. We were in Steve Beiter's backyard, the ball was passed to me and I went across the goal line with five of the "enemy" trying to drag me down. I was too big and too strong for those little punks to stop. Thank god it wasn't flag ball.

But then in 6th grade they started a "real" football program for the kids. And they badgered me and badgered me to sign up. I wasn't interested in organized play but I finally gave in, figuring if nothing else it would be fun to re-enact some of our better plays from the backyard.

I played for less than 30 seconds in one game of the 8 game "season". The coach never explained, never offered instruction, never did much of anything, and I ended up being the one guy who never got on the field. And therein lies the foundation of my complete non-interest in football. No thanks, not even in a boardgame simulation or on the computer.

I turned my attentions to marching band, where I got to be involved in every event (albeit I was a pretty bad trombonist). That also wore thin, since I ended up having to learn a new show for every home football game, and that fouled up Friday nights for three years of high school. So there's some resentment of football, too, for messing up my free time. I quit band after my junior year in h.s. too!

So that's why I'm not into football and you won't see much beyond this post on my blog, "J".

But I COULD be coaxed into some backyard gridiron action sometime this fall, if the price is right. :)

Autumn arriving

For the most part, autumn has to be my favorite time of the year.

As the trees begin to turn, and the temperatures fall into a zone that I find very comfortable (60 to 70 degrees) and the sun loses its summer ferocity, I begin to feel the urge to take walks again, to breath fresh air, to ramble a bit (physically, not verbally).

Quincy is a great place to ramble about. There's one heck of a lot of cool stuff to see, from the riverfront to the airport, from the lock and dam to Moorman Park. Nature, manmade wonders, people, all kinds of stuff. Lots to see, lots to do. Or not do--I spent an hour yesterday just sitting in Washington Park and enjoying the day now that the heat finally seems to have gone bye-bye for another year.

Don't get me wrong: while I hate the incredible heat of summer, and the extreme cold of winter, those seasons have a beauty of their own in Quincy (and maybe other places, but I'm not talking about them today). I like them, especially that one night we seem to get every year when snow has fallen all day and now the sky is low and the snow undistrubed and its silent and no one is around. Or the K of C and the county fair and various other fun things in the summer.

But I'm a red and gold, scrubbed blue sky, chilly night/pleasant day, apple cider, corn maze, guitar and folk songs by a fire, let's-hear-it-for-fall fun kind of guy. Quincy fall days seem to have something special. Maybe it's just me, but there it is.

Sure, as a community we have issues, but all in all I don't think I'd want to live anyplace else, especially in autumn.

"And if I'd ever leave you,
It wouldn't be in autumn.
Seeing you in autumn, I never could go.
Your hair streaked with sunlight,
Your lips red as flame,
your face with a luster
That puts gold to shame..."

I like it here, falling leaves and all.

More ???s about Orthodox Christianity

This must be the month for questions about what it means to be an Orthodox Christian!

In conversation today a friend asked me why he wouldn't be allowed to take communion in an Orthodox Church. Best explanation I've ever found is this from Frederica Mathewes-Green, a journalist and NPR commentator--and the wife of an Orthodox priest.

Visitors are sometimes offended that they are not allowed to receive communion. Orthodox believe that receiving communion is broader than “me-and-Jesus”; it acknowledges faith in historic Orthodox doctrine, obedience to a particular Orthodox bishop, and a commitment to a particular Orthodox worshipping community. There’s nothing exclusive about this; everyone is invited to make this commitment to the Orthodox Church.

But the Eucharist is the Church’s treasure, and it is reserved for those who have united themselves with the Church. An analogy could be to reserving marital relations until after the wedding.

We also handle the Eucharist with more gravity than many denominations do, further explaining why we guard it from common access. We believe it is truly the Body and Blood of Christ. We ourselves do not receive communion unless we are making regular confession of our sins to a priest and are at peace with other communicants. We fast from all food and drink—yes, even a morning cup of coffee—from midnight the night before communion.

Only Orthodox may take communion, but anyone may have some of the blessed bread. If someone hands you a piece of blessed bread, do not panic; it is not the eucharistic Body. It is a sign of fellowship.

--F. Mathewes-Green, "12 Things I Wish I'd Known: First Visit to an Orthodox Church"

I couldn't say it any better myself.

That's "what's up with that", J.

---------------

"As this piece of bread was scattered over the hills and then brought together and made one, so let Thy Church be brought together from the ends of the earth into Thy Kingdom. For Thine is the Glory and the Power through Jesus Christ forever."-an anaphora prayer from the Didache

Random wanderings

I love the sun as much as the next guy.

A bright sunny day down by the river with a bag of sandwiches and some fruit to munch on, watching the river, maybe getting a lift from a friend for a trip up or down the Big Muddy for a bit, maybe sitting with the sweetheart, a little PDA, maybe doing the Friday evening Movies on the Muddy thing as the sun sets...

Sweet. Priceless. You get the idea.

But man I get tired of the sun rolling up over the post office roof and frying my eyes when I'm trying to sleep in the morning.

I think I'll move the bed and put up a shade.

------

Tomorrow's the big day. Paula is coming for a visit.

You know, if I kept up with my cleaning on a regular basis, I wouldn't be going crazy trying to get all 1400 square feet neatified now.

Yeesh, I'm such a slob. :(

OTOH, my sweetie's coming to town. :)

People say the nicest things

Early this week I had a conversation with a friend who does a lot of reading in the Quincy blogs.

In discussing the vagaries and foibles of some of my esteemed "brothers and sisters of the e-page" my friend commented that he wished I would do more "Quincy commentary" as some of the local bloggers do (read "get political and controversial and say how nasty Quincy is").

Then he paid me what he thought was an insult and I took as a great compliment.

"Your blog is getting to be as boring and self-centered as Hart's!"

I had to laugh, because I think Rodney Hart's blog is an excellent mix of light commentary, musings, oddball sidebars, and just interesting conversation. To be compared to his fine writing skills makes me feel pretty darn good.

Self-centered? Well, I do talk about my experiences and thoughts, but I hope it doesn't actually come off as self-centered. My apologies if it does--but it is what it is.

As for the nastified stuff on some of the other Quincy blogs...

There's some fine meat out there in the blogs, and I do peruse them from time to time. But I don't care for the foul language, the insults, and the junior-high behavior of adults who ought to know better. I don't want that happening here--I don't have the time to ride herd on a bunch of people who would never behave in person the way they do online.

When there are issues that I believe are worth offering a comment, I will. I have in the past. But it's not going to happen on a regular basis.

There's also the fact that I have certain responsibilities due to my work and it would not be appropriate for me to comment publically on things I'm reporting on.

But dude, thanks for the compliment! :)

Shilling for something good

Listen up.

If you happen to be 55 or older (no, I am not, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate this program for its value), consider participating in what qualifies in my book as an "educational pilgrimage".

I'm talking about the upcoming fall POLIS series.

POLIS is Quincy University’s program of continued education for retired and semi-retired persons over 55 years of age and there are a lot of interesting subjects to be discussed beginning September 6th.

Want to learn more about the experience of vets in World War 2? How about some seriously interesting stuff about the Father of Waters, the Mississippi--Quincy's doorstep, if you will?

There are also offerings on local media, law enforcement, literature, music, Islamic civilization and stress and depression.

No tests, no grades, no pressure, just inexpensive education. $30, plus a small fee for each course (you don't have to take them all)--that's a deal you cannot beat.

Keep learning or settle in to become mulch right now.

Want to know more? Contact POLIS at 228-5594 or by email at polis@quincy.edu, or visit www.quincy.edu.

What's in an Orthodox wedding

A couple of folks asked me just what makes an Eastern Orthodox Christian wedding different from a western Christian wedding.

For an overview, head here:

http://www.yasou.org/church/wedding.htm

It's primarily Greek in customs (though not in Tradition) but most of it applies to all the various Orthodox bodies.

The wedding of Paula and myself will likely have an odd mix of American, Russian, Greek, Syrian and even Serbian customs. :)

And for those who don't know yet--I am marrying my long time friend Paula of Franklin, Ohio next July 19 at St. Raphael Orthodox Christian Church here in Quincy. She will be moving here next spring.

Protection: A Story

On this Feast of the Dormition of the Theotokos (that's the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary for you Roman Catholics and high church Anglicans :), here's a little story I wrote perhaps more appropriate to the Feast of the Holy Protection, but I don't want to wait until October to share. They're both feasts of Mary, anyway.

--KNP

-------------

The rapid-fire tattoo of rolling drums drifted on the cold wind that blew across central Moscow. It scattered the sound, so that barely twenty meters from the high stone walls of the prison, all that could be heard was the hiss of the blustery gale.

On the first day of October, such conditions were unexceptional, as were the empty streets surrounding the structure. It was a dangerous thing even to pass by the hulking monolith of Lefortovo, the KGB's primary penal complex in the Russian capital. There was no protection from its prying, hidden eyes.

Usually there was no one to hear the rhythmic clatter of the drums and the subsequent tramp of military feet.

Usually.

Misha Korotev stood just across the narrow street, trying to blend into the bland gray wall and trying not to imagine what was happening inside Lefortovo.

The slim, fair-haired dockworker pulled his slouch cap lower on his head. He willed the brim to cast enough shadow over his face that any passing KGB informant would not be able to identify him. It could mean his own detention and likely disappearance if he were too obvious about his attention to the prison.

Misha moved slowly down the street, straining to hear the faint sounds that came over the towering wall. He knew there was a small courtyard just inside at that point in the fortification, and he knew his brother Alexei might soon be brought there. He feared what would happen if and when that occurred.

Misha glanced around nervously. Even with the multitude of reforms that had taken place since Mikhail Gorbachev had become leader of the Soviet state, it was still a good idea to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Hanging about the most notorious prison in the entire U.S.S.R. was not being unobtrusive.

The young man turned and shuffled down the street, trying to remain within earshot of the walls. As he went, his hand slipped into his pocket and touched the small, gold three-barred cross that had fallen from the package slipped into his lunchpail at work the day before. On the paper in which the religious symbol had been wrapped was a note:

Lefortovo. 1600 hours. Tomorrow. Painting ikons. Gospodi pomiloye (Lord have mercy).

Alexei Korotev was a religionist. He practiced and apparently believed the old Russian Orthodox Christian religion, and suffered because of it. Even in these days of perestroika, it was not safe to be openly religious. Alexei could not hold any kind of decent job, he was frequently in trouble, and was more and more outspoken on the issue of faith and belief. In the opinion of many, he was a man marked and thus avoided by more rational folk.

Only his younger brother regarded Alexei with something other than exasperation, though even Misha sometimes found disturbing his brother's passion for the bourgeois notions of the past.

"Those notions have gotten you carted off to Lefortovo," Misha sighed as he stopped, fairly sure he could not go further and still hear the faint sounds that echoed from the courtyard within the prison. There was nothing he could do for his brother now, no protection he could offer. All he could do was stand in the street and wait for what he knew would probably happen.

His hand clutched the cross and paper in his pocket.

Also on that paper had been a small pencil drawing. Misha had seen the image it portrayed once before when he had allowed Alexei to convince him to visit the Troitsky Monastery. There had been an ikon of the Mother of God bearing a white cloth, and Alexei had told him it was called The Protection of the Theotokos. It commemorated a supposed miracle in the history of Byzantium when legend said that Saint Mary laid a veil over the city to protect it from an enemy attack.

Misha scoffed at the idea. Miracles indeed!

Alexei had been quite upset at his brother's unbelief. "The day will come, Misha, when you will have to face the world without me," he had said. "The veil of the Protection of Our Lord and Saviour may be all that saves you from my fate."

And now Alyosha (the traditional nickname for someone named Alexei or Alexander) was imprisoned and perhaps to die for his stupid faith.

From behind the wall came the rattling of drums once again, this time followed not by the even steps of KGB soldiers, but by a single sharp crack, a pistol shot.

At that moment the wind circled through the compass, tossing up dust and debris from the street. It was biting cold, and it brought with it the sound of shouts inside the prison.

As Misha gasped at the sudden onslaught of the frigid gusts, he became aware of a shadow being cast on him from above. A glance upward revealed a what appeared to be linen drifting down, twisting and rolling in the wind.

The young man froze as the cloth settled on him, the ragged ends draping down his arms. His mouth fell open as he recognized the material, a military shirt, or at least a long piece of one. The sleeves were gone, and the collar, but the breast was untorn and there upon it was embroidered the name Alexei I. Korotev.

Misha felt a chill as he looked at the fabric that rested on his shoulders. It wasn't because of the wind, though.

Around the corner of the prison came an older model Zil, the kind that KGB officers would often drive when preparing to make a pickup. A man walked alongside the slowly moving vehicle, looking about.

The car and walker passed within 3 meters of Misha as he stood frozen on the curb, but apparently did not see him. How this was possible, the young man could not determine, but at the far corner the walking agent opened the door and got in, saying loud enough for Misha to hear, "He has gone, apparently, whomever he was."

A moment later the Zil roared off, vanishing around the corner.

Misha slowly turned and walked the other direction. Glancing up at the sky, he saw that the sun was trying to break through the clouds. His fingers toyed with the tattered ends of Alexei's old shirt.

"A veil of protection?" he whispered, feeling again a shiver of...something.

As he passed beyond the prison and into the next street, Misha wondered how soon he could arrange a trip to Troitsky.

---

Note from Dictionary.com

tat·too (n., pl. tat·toos)
A signal sounded on a drum or bugle to summon soldiers or sailors.
A continuous, even drumming or rapping.

Asking for trouble?

So I finally sat down this weekend past and jotted down some net links for possible birthday gifts, as my fiancee Paula asked me to do. There were six or seven items on the list running from the practical to the spiritual to gaming interests.

All in all it seemed a reasonable response to the question "Can you send me a list of things you might like as a birthday present?"

Now mind you, I don't NEED anything from her. The fact that she is coming from Ohio to spend two weeks with me beginning Sept. 1st, and that she loves me enough to want to share the rest of my life, is more than enough of a gift.

But she ASKED.

I showed the list to a longtime (female) friend here in Quincy and her reaction was "Do you REALLY expect to get those silly things?"

Huh? Did I commit some terrible relationship faux pas by actually assembling a list, as requested? My Quincy friend went on about how it was terribly selfish and rude to offer the list and I must admit to being totally bamboozled by her reaction.

On the other hand, it's not her reaction I really need to worry about, is it? And I guess the fact that she is once-divorced and been in four relationships since we met is a good comment on the value of her "advice".

I think I'll just wait til I hear from Paula as to whether there is an actual problem.

Even better, when she hands me the gift box on Sept. 13th I will kiss my beloved and thank her from the bottom of my heart, and my Quincy friend can go suck an egg.

Yeesh. People...you can't live with 'em and they don't allow you to bury 'em alive.

KNP

PS. Sorry for my spotting posting record. I admire those folks who can do this almost everyday. In my naturally lazy state I get a good fill of writing at work and there are so many other demands on my time that entail writing that this tends to fall down the list of priorities. I ,ust resolve to do better.

Why I went to Dayton

Actually I went to Franklin, Ohio, about halfway between Dayton and Cincinnati.

It was for a woman of course.

Her name is Paula. She is an "older woman". She's a former oncology nurse and medical transcriptionist.

Hopefully sometime next year, she will also be my wife.

That's why I went to Dayton. :)

PS. Yes, I sang for her. It appears to have done the trick.

Odds & Ends

I have been remiss, my friends. Oh so very remiss--I have not posted since December!

I have heard the cries from the masses: "What's up with 'dat, loser?!"

I have no excuse. The fact is I am basically a sedentary, lazy bum. Really.

The fact that I actually had some people who read my stuff on a regular basis absolutely amazes me (you can only imagine how I react to compliments from people on the stuff I do at work :). I thank you all and I will try to do better.

When I started the blog I didn't want to necessarily do a "personality" blog, but it wouldn't be right for me to do a "news criticism" blog since hey, that's where I work. One of the reasons I chose "Quincy Pilgrim" was because I could then legitimately wander all over the landscape, but would try to bring it down to a point of focus of "living in Quincy". I'm afraid my natural lazy-a$$ tendencies got in the way.

But I'm back now, and will post with more regularity. Philips is good for that. :)

So some odds and ends.

1. I don't care what you think about Josephus' apparent "position" and the articles he posts on his blog. His point is that he wants you to read and think. I disagree (strongly in some cases) with some of what he offers, but I welcome the opportunity to see how other people have worked out their beliefs--and the opportunity to offer my own if I want to put in the work to respond intelligently. At the very least, food for thought that challenges is a very good thing that helps prevent clogging the mental arteries. Cut Joe some slack and try to use your brains--you're allowed to disagree.

2. Dumb criminals. It must be something in Hannibal's water, the way criminals have been falling all over themselves to do something stupid in front of the city and county's finest. This week alone: a guy was arrested for selling prescription drugs in the lobby and in the parking lot of the Marion County Jail; a woman punched a Hannibal policeman in the stomach for no apparent reason--in the police department; and finally a young woman was engaged in conversation with a uniformed Hannibal policeman who spied a little plastic bit sticking out of her pocket, asked what it was, and she pulled out a baggie of leafy stuff, handed it to him and said "It's marijuana!" Then having realized the stupidity of what she'd done, she ran--throwing away some crack she was carrying in full view of the police. Maybe the bad guys have gotten a sense of civic duty and just want to make it easier for the men and women in blue?

3. The Gems. Nice to see some good baseball coming out of the Gems this year. Almost a throwback to the early days. Of course we could use more teams in the CICL. Also it sure looks like the Civic Center folks are getting their act together not only in supporting and promoting the Gems, but everything else to do with the OLC too. Good work folks, esp. executive director Rob E.

4. Driving in summer. Take my advice. Never set out on a long drive in the summer when you a/c is on the fritz. The trip to Dayton, OH and back was only 7 hours each way but it felt like 10 years.

5. Grumble. What is it with our state legislators and our governor? EVERY OTHER state group has their budgets set up and approved and ready to go, so where the heck is the Legislature and Rod? If I turned in a project this late, I'd (rightfully) be at the least suspended--more likely fired. GET ON THE STICK, YOU GUYS!

6. There is NO....point 6.

And now to quote the little girl in the second POLTERGEIST movie: "Theeyyyy'rree bbaaaaaack!"

Long live the music

It’s 4:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep.

All that keeps running through my head is: it started and ended in music.

There was music in-between too, but I remember the beginning and the ending most of all…especially the ending, which was long after the ending I thought was the ending. Music can be like that sometimes.

Maybe I never would have reached that moment when the tightly wrapped knot I’ve carried so very deep inside finally unrolled and untwisted and simply faded away if it hadn’t been for the music.

Finding that music clip on the net was, if nothing else, cathartic.

The piece is a simple little thing by a couple of “new classical/new age” artists, Eric Tingstad and Nancy Rumbel. They do nice stuff. Look them up—they record for the Narada label.

The work is called “Emerald Pavane”, though it’s really a waltz.

I first heard it working at WFMR in Milwaukee, the classical station there. They had a big stack of Narada albums they were never going to play and the staff got to go through and take some. I grabbed the album “Emerald” and in listening to it found this little tune touched me in that delightful way that seems to give you the flavor of winter apples and cinnamon—sweet but with a little bitter thrown in.

That was years before I met Andi.

She was my unexpected blessing. She was the “heart of my heart”. For a while, she was my wife.

The first time she visited me in Peoria, I played “Emerald Pavane” for her. She loved it, and it became “our song”. I even wrote some words for it, though I never sang them for her.

Look in my eyes
Tell me what do you see?
Can you see burning bright
Love shining forth from me?

Take my hand
and we’ll walk the road
Side by side
through all of life’s joys and pains
Hold my hand
and sing with me
Let our love be our song
Let our song
become a flame
A light that shines on and on
and on…

Whenever things would get tough, Andi or I would pull out this song and play it. It was a connection to promises we’d made, to love we’d felt, to a song that we hoped would be sung for a life time.

It didn’t work out that way.

There’s no sense in laying blame, or recriminations. The bare facts are that we could not live together. We set off all the negative tendencies in each other. So after three years we divorced and went our separate ways. I saw her a couple of times after the divorce then forcibly removed myself from any contact with her.

A couple of years ago Andrea tracked me down through my parents and we had a very nice phone conversation in which she apologized to me, and I apologized to her. It only took 11 years to get there, but if it gave her closure, glory to God for that gift to someone I loved.

It wasn’t my closure though. I thought I’d managed that within a year or so of the divorce. But the music wasn’t done, though it had been silenced for a time.

So I was poking around the internet, looking to see if Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Christmas work “Hodie” had been reissued on CD (it has and I ordered it).

One should never poke around the internet. One can find things that sting.

For some bizarre reason I thought “what was that song I used to like by that guitar and oboe combo?” I couldn’t remember the artists’ names or the title of the tune! I did remember the label was Narada though,so it was off to their website, a look down their artist list and there it was: Eric Tingstad and Nancy Rumbel. Cool!

They have a website too and even better, a complete discography—with samples!

The opening phrases on guitar and mandolin insinuated themselves under the armor of my composure and an ache, terrible yet beautiful, filled my heart. When the oboe came in with the melody, something broke inside. Not in a bad way, but more like a gate that had been holding back a flood simply surrendering to the inevitable and letting the waters flow.

Andi and I danced to this music once. I could see the white living room in Peoria, and Andi’s petite form in my arms. I remembered her warmth and how lovely she felt when we embraced. I remembered the first kiss, which neither of us ever agreed had been initiated by the other, but which was the first bonafide “fireworks” experience for either of us (she was 19 and I was 27 at the time).

I also remembered the screaming and the shouting, the anger, the evil things we said to each other. I remembered my fiery temper and frustration and biting words. I remembered her up-and-down emotions (she told me when we talked two years ago she was finally diagnosed as bipolar, and her meds make all the difference in the world) and her own blazing temper, and how in that regard we were definitely NOT a good match.

All this while “our song” played and tears flowed and my heart ached wth joys gladly remembered, pains unwillingly recalled, and songs never to be sung in duet.

And finally, finally after so long, I sighed and just…let it go.

Sitting here now at Christmastime, with soft music playing (actually it’s the Prego theme, of all things, and a very nice tune indeed even if it was used for a commercial) many of those memories will stay with me always, but they no longer hold any power to hurt. If I saw Andrea tomorrow, I could smile and chat without any qualms or wishes for what we once had or anger for losing what should have been a glorious lifelong symphony. Even the Emerald Pavane now elicits only a bittersweet smile and an appreciation for musical craftsmanship.

It began and ended in music.

Long live the music.

From C.S. Lewis

Either we are rational spirit obliged for ever to obey the absolute values of the Tao, or else we are mere nature to be kneaded and cut into new shapes for the pleasures of masters who must, by hypothesis, have no motive but their own ‘natural’ impulses. Only the Tao provides a common human law of action which can over-arch rulers and ruled alike. A dogmatic belief in objective value is necessary to the very idea of a rule which is not tyranny or an obedience which is not slavery.

--C.S. Lewis

Thank you to Jacob Aleksandr for this quote from his excellent Orthodox Christian website, "Incendiary". A link in my blogs list coming soon.

QSME Annual Show

Come on, you know it. I know it.

Everybody likes trains--at least the model kind. And this weekend is the annual train show at the Quincy Society of Model Engineers, on the lower level of Good Samaritan Home on Harrison Street.

As usual they have the HO-scale Hannibal Bridge layout by Dave Scharnhorst, this year with the barge running under the bridge (the bridge goes up first, of course, and that stops the trains).

There's the big G scale layout on the floor, very popular with the kids, as well as an old tinplate Lionel/American Flyer setup that you can operate yourself.

Top that off with a small N-scale demonstration loop that shows you how nice these small (half the size of HO) wonders of machinery look and run.

And I haven't even mentioned the "big layout", QSME's huge Chesapeake & Lake Erie railroad.

If you haven't been down to see it, go. It's in the basement at Good Sam, just go in the front door and follow the RR Crossing crossbucks.

They run until 5 p.m. tonight (Saturday 11/11) and then from noon to 5 on Sunday.

Come on, EVERYBODY likes trains!

:)

News story on WTAD

Last week when I got back from vacation, I was reading through the blog of a fellow Quincyan who is concerned about the job we in the local media are doing. That would be ALL THE NEWS THAT FITS OUR BENT, an excellent survey and review of what we media types are doing (or not doing) in the region.

He mentioned a missed story, namely the Better Government Association's study, released in late October, of Freedom of Information Act compliance by Illinois government bodies.

FIND IT HERE: http://www.allthenewsthatfitsourbent.blogspot.com/ and titled "Another missed story", and the BGA study is at http://www.bettergov.org/policy.html .

It was not a pretty picture: 62 percent of agencies contacted with FOIA (pronounced fo-ya) requests either denied the request, failed to respond in the required amount of time (7 business days), or didn't respond AT ALL.

I went to the BGA site, downloaded everything and set to reading.

ATNTFOB was right: it was a missed story and it needed to be reported. While it took me 10 days to talk to all the Adams County agencies involved, as well as the BGA's investigator Dan Sprehe (pronounced spray), the work is now done and, Mary Griffith willing, should air in two parts during the Morning Show news (6-9am) on WTAD, AM 930.

Thursday (11/9) and Friday (11/10) are the expected air dates for the two parts. Thursday will be the background and general results; Friday will look mostly at Adams County with some reportage on other Western Illinois counties. Sometimes I DO so wish I was in the print media so I could delve deeper into these things...Rodney, how about you or Doug pick up on this, or Ed?

I will say that the BGA report is not quite as cut and dried as it seems (and Mr. Sprehe agrees), and that many agencies had some good reasons for their failure. However by all the evidence the BGA did bend over backward to give the benefit of the doubt to the agencies involved, and they did run into some serious resistance (though not, as far as I can tell, in Western Illinois).

I hope you'll give the story a listen. Your comments and thoughts will be welcomed here.

An interesting article

In the tradition of my friend Joe Irvin, here is a thoughtful piece about hypocrisy by religious commentator Terry Mattingly.

(Sorry this isn't a live link but I cannot make heads or tails of blogspot's instructions for adding a link, and doing it the way they say in their "help file" does NOT work, so you'll have to cut and paste, I'm afraid).

http://tmatt.gospelcom.net/column/2006/11/01/

BTW, Dr. Mattingly is, as am I, a convert to Eastern Orthodox Christianity. He writes well, too.

Election Day

This is the day, my friends.

No matter what you may think, no matter how angry or disgusted or tired you got listening and viewing and reading from and about the various candidates, this is the moment when the rubber hits the road.

Today is election day and you NEED to exercise your right to vote.

In the last few weeks I've spent a lot of time listening to the candidates. I've had the opportunity to ask questions and, in a couple of cases, ask some pretty hard ones. I believe I got reasonable answers and I know how I'm going to mark my ballot later today.

You haven't had the opportunity I have though I've tried, through my job, to at least give you a hint of what I have learned so you can make an informed decision. I know that my confreres in the Quincy media have also tried to do that, and I hope you listened at least a little.

But now is the time for your decision.

For two weeks I have collected snippets from candidates and this morning I handed Mary G. a brief story titled "Vote Montage". It was a minute and ten seconds of candidates urging people--not just people in fact, but YOU--to get out and vote.

Of all the "sound bites" in that cart, the first and last were the best.

The first was from Treasurer candidate Alexi Ginaoulias. He said we have an obligation--if we like the way things are going, you must vote to keep things going that way, and if you're disgusted by how things are going, the aame applies.

The last was our own Senator John Sullivan. And he said that this was our time, our place to guide the destiny of our region, our state, and our nation.

So if you haven't yet, go. Step in the booth. Regardless of who you feel led to vote for, do vote.

Your voice, your vote, is a privilege and a responsibility.

Use it.

A long time away...

I've been a long time out of keeping any semblance of regular updates to the blog. Sorry about that. I'm jealous of Rodney Hart and Joe C. who keep their blogs regularly refreshed with new stuff. I have no real excuse--I'm just lazy, I guess.

Anyway, I spent last week in Oshkosh, Wisconsin visiting my brother and his family.

Oshkosh is a very nice community of about 60-thousand people, part of that line of cities from Fond du Lac at the south end of Lake Winnebago up through the big O, Appleton, Kimberly, Kakauna, and on up to Green Bay.

Its biggest claim to fame is the Experimental Aircraft Association Fly-in, an annual get together of all manner of cool aircraft. Of course they have a kick-a$$ museum too, which is open year round.

My point in all this was my visit to the downtown area of Oshkosh. It is in some ways a mirror image of Quincy's central business district.

There has already been some good development and growth in population in the downtown Oshkosh area, but only in the last couple of years have most of the industries that used to line the Fox River been tempted out to the edges of town. The riverfront therefore is even less developed than the Quincy riverfront--I guess the 93 Flood helped kick start some work for us by "natural" urban clearing.

Anyway, while we are ahead of them in that regard, they are miles ahead of Quincy in straightforward development of their downtown--and perhaps there is a lesson for us to learn there. They have large numbers of young, professional types taking apartments in the central city, and while there are still many delightful botique-type shops, the city has managed to get some "anchors" in to help make the area more attractive to residents--something I wish Quincy could manage.

One area we outshine Oshkosh is in historic architecture. We have a committment to saving and using historic buildings in Quincy, something I hope we do not lose.

Of course, Oshkosh *is* part of that long line of small cities, and during my visit I routinely accompanied the family to appointments and activities stretching from just south of Green Bay all the way back to the homestead in Oshkosh and even across to the other side of Lake Winnebago. We have nothing to compare to that population base and the consequent relief for Oshkosh from having to do *everything* to revitalize itself (because other nearby communities are doing some of those things and they don;t need to be duplicated).

Still, we are in a good position here in Quincy, and I hope we continue to push for re-use of our downtown resources and growth of the city through increased economic activity. If Oshkosh can do it (and they haven't done everything we have by any means) so can we.

Now if we could tempt the EAA *here*... :)

Anna Bernice Rosenkoetter

Sometime late Sunday evening or early Monday morning, my grandmother died.

Grandma Adcox was 89, my mom's mother. Grandma Payne died in 2004 (at the age of 95).

I saw Grandma Anna most days because she lived in the Lincoln Douglas Apartments, and the STARadio studios are on the ground floor of the building. I'd seen her just the week before during her more or less daily walk, and kissed her and talked with her for a while before getting back to work.

It's been a tough week. While Mom and my Aunt Betty have been handling the various things that need to be done, I've been continuing to slog away at work until the visitation (tonight) and the funeral (tomorrow--Thursday). Sometimes I just have to stop and put my head down.

Last night I went over to Mom and Dad's and spent some time, just to be with the family for a while.

Mom shared the following with me, from her Aunt Margaret (the wife of Grandma Adcox's brother, Richard, who died earlier this year).

It is a fitting tribute to a woman whom, for the first time, I am seeing was very much what I imagine a saint must be like.

Thank you for these wonderful words, Aunt Margaret. They sum up Grandma Adcox in worthy fashion.

ANNA BERNICE ROSENKOETTER
Today Anna left the cares - and joys - of this world.

Maggie, her eldest daughter called and said that she passed on while at home, in her
apartment. Instead of putting her in a nursing home they followed her wishes and agreed to let her stay in the apartment that has been her home for a number of years now. Margaret Ann (Maggie), her husband Fr. Payne, and younger daughter, Betty Jean have looked out for Anna and cared for her, doing all the necessary things to make her later years as comfortable and safe as possible for her.

Anna was - is - a Legend in her family. She was wild, wonderful and willful. Now, you might say, SHE DID IT HER WAY. But NO! Anna had a lasso around her. And she was corralled by - what?

Look and see.

She had a heart of pure gold. Anna would have - and did - given you the shirt off her back if she thought you needed it - and would have even gone so far, with a pure heart, as to give you her underwear too if she thought you needed it. She lived, to do good unto others - and it was her pure unadulterated JOY to give to you, what she had to give.

Anna had a gift of love. She was in love with life - with the days - with the very moment existing in her day. She loved her family - though sometimes we all misinterpreted that love. She, at times, expressed that love in ways that we did not see clearly as love. She sometimes chose as friends, husbands, comrades, people that seemed to us to be not worthy of her trust and love. And people often took unfair - or evil - advantage of her Christ loving nature.

Anna was in love with the Lord. Her prayers to the Holy Spirit were mainly, “Thy will be done; forgive us our trespasses as we willingly forgive.” She once expressed to me that she had a - I will call it - revelation from her Lord. One day she had an understanding that, to be forgiven, she had to forgive, without reservation. This seemed to be so freeing to her.

She said that, simply put to me that, she could not hold anything against ANYONE but HAD to (with the trust that she had in God’s word), forgive everything and everyone that came against her. She felt the heavy burden of the trials of this world that came against her many times but THE WORD of God stuck and she had to release it because she knew she had many things that she had to be forgiven of, by others.

This tremendous love that was gifted to Anna was expressed in her giving. She had a talent - gift - for making lovely things with her hands. Many were blessed with these pretty and useful things she made and sacrificially, gave. Her art form, I will call it, is in several different places throughout the world for she gave things to some whose travels took them outside of the U.S.

She had another gift. She could roll off the birthdays of her family and acquaintances that absolutely blew my mind. How could she remember all of these dates. And her family members were, as well as her acquaintances, truly numerous. She made sure that she had birthday AND Christmas gifts for everyone. How she could stretch her meager income so far (even if she might have had some help from others – don’t know if that happened) had to in be the grace of God.

Anna was a champion to her grandchildren. My, how proud of them she was. She loved to tell me of their accomplishments, aspirations and dreams. She always had on hand, pictures that she loved to show with parental pride. She had so much joy in the accomplishments and joys of her children and grandchildren, and THEIR children and THEIR children and so on - and on. Her love for them was a river unending.

Anna’s going on with the Lord, leaves a giant hole in many lives. Her love expressed, her deep caring for her loved ones, will be missed at surprising times and ways, as the days march on, for the rest of us left behind.

We will see her again in the glory that the Lord has in store for her. I can see her with her brother, my husband. What a fellowship they must be having. And with other loved ones that went before her - what a Holy family gathering must be taking place, for we are all CHILDREN OF THE MOST HIGH GOD - PRAISE HIS MOST HOLY AND RIGHTEOUS NAME. AMEN !

I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO MY TURN, COMING TOO, TO GO THROUGH THAT DOOR TO JOIN THEM - TO KNEEL BEFORE THE BLESSED ONE THAT CAME AND GAVE HIS EVERYTHING FOR ME SO THAT I CAN JOIN THEM AND BE A PART OF HIS HEAVENLY FAMILY.
--Margaret Rosenkoetter