Saturday, December 12, 2015

In Memorium


Eric, Jane and Leroy, playing cribbage.

Ben, Nathan and Hope
Pictures are from last Christmas,  Oh how things can change...
Homage to Leroy and Hope given at their funeral, December 11.
LeRoy, Spitz.  Connie, Corinne,   Hope.  Their names which interchange regularly ring generosity.  They have always been the great providers, even to a fault.  I am a recipient of their generosity, more years of their generosity than almost anyone here
I grew up in Hope’s place.  I was the seventh child born to our mom and dad in March, 1947.  We lived on a farm near Hay, Washington.  Those of you that do not know where Hay is, it lies halfway between Riperia and Dusty.  That June, at age 16, Hope graduated from Hay High School.  She ranked in the top 3 of her class.  There were only 3 in her class.  In September,  Hope went off to PLC.  She came home and mothered me at each break, and in the years that ensued she brought home LeRoy from PLC.  Later she brought home LeRoy and Randy, Marie and Kurt.   In several of those years, LeRoy came to the farm to supplement his meager teacher pay to work the summer harvest while Randy, Marie and Kurt, and Hope stayed on the “coast”   and Hope went to summer school.

The summer of 1959 was one of those years.  Leroy had brought over Randy, Marie, and Kurt to the farm and while Leroy drove truck in the wheat fields, Dad, Mom and I took care of me age 12, Randy age 7, my brother Dwight age 5, Marie age 4, and Kurt age 2.  Hope, who had been attending summer school, arrived on August 1 and just two days later our dad died. 

Why I tell this story here is that it speaks to the Spitzers’ insight and generosity.    While they lived 300 miles away from me most of the year, they showed a keen interest in our lives and work.  I remember how Spitz and Hope would sit down with me, as a teenager, to discuss my aspirations and dreams.  In many summers Hope and Spitz brought a bunch of books for me to read.  In those days, during harvest, one would sit in the truck for 20 to 40 minutes waiting for the combine to dump its wheat into your truck.  It would take at least 3 “dumps” to fill the truck so you had a lot of down time sitting out in the vast wheat fields of eastern Washington.  We read books to fill the time.

When school started for my senior year of high school, we had a new English teacher, Mrs. Moser.  In one of the first days of class she asked us to fill out a questionnaire as to our reading experiences; books recently read.   A few days later Mrs. Moser called me up to her desk after class.  She inquired as to my list:   Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye, Animal Farm, Lord of the Flies, among other now classics.  She was very interested in to how it came about that I chose to read these books.  “My sister and brother in law,” I answered.  “They encourage me to read them.”  Mrs. Moser was one of the finest teachers I had.  Her interest in fine literature and in writing is still with me today.  She wrote in my annual at the end of the year, “May your ambition be enthusiastic but less vaulting than Macbeth.” 

Ambition.  Corrine and LeRoy taught me and hundreds of others that ambition, put toward positive goals, required hard work, education, and astute application.  In order to perform at the highest level, one had to study, practice, prepare and perform.  Performance at the highest caliber is a premium that, if achieved, is very rewarding. However, the process toward one’s goal always had an element of taking care of others along the way.  Hope’s favorite song was Barbra Streisand’s “People”.  “People.  People who need people, are the luckiest people in the world.”

Often at memorial services one speaks to the accomplishments of the deceased – what one had achieved or “gotten out” of one’s life.  LeRoy and Corinne had many achievements and accolades but I think it is more fitting here to speak to what they achieved by what they have “put into” the lives of many.  They touched hundreds of lives.

In the musical Godspell, Jesus sings a song God Save the People.   Jesus is concerned that the people are consumed with anger, worry, fear, loathing and are only pursuing self interest.  Jesus sings to God, “Flowers of thy heart, oh Lord are they.  Let them not pass like weeds away.  Their heritage, a sunless day.  God save the people.”  Hope and Spitz are flowers.  They are a sunny day.  Their heritage blooms and shines all around us, throughout their community, the churches and schools they  served, their life work,  their University, and especially their family.

Thank you LeRoy, Spitz.  Thank you Connie, Corinne, Hope.  Thank you good and faithful servants.  Thank you and well done.

Monday, July 20, 2015

It Sounds Fishy


The phrase is, “That sounds fishy!” and the origination of that phrase comes from fisherman tales that are often embellished beyond belief.   This last week the local Aune and Kelly gkids went fishing with Eric and Papa and we have two stories that may not be believed by skeptical listeners.  On Monday, we parked the RV at East Creek Campground about 2 miles from the Mineral Lake. 
First night at campground.  Aune g kids with baby Madi.   Barb, Kari, Eric and Lizzy in background.  And Loki off leash in this very unusual and perhaps favorite campground.

Grayson 4, so loving, entertains his cousin Madi, 4 mos.

 Tuesday, Eric took the group out on the lake.  Jane (7), an avid fisherperson, caught the first rainbow trout, then Eric hooked one.  Jane caught 3 more in the 2+ hours on the lake.  The young boys were losing interest as they were getting no bites.  Meanwhile, Jane stayed attentive to her pole.  Greyson, a typical 4 year old was a bit careless and dropped his pole in the lake.  He decided that he didn’t want to fish any more.  Sometime later Jensen (6) hooked something and on reeling in, found a line hooked to his line.  Low and behold, it was the lost pole and Eric was able to pull in the hooked line to bring the lost pole back on board.

Jane, an astute fisherperson, always out fishes me.

I caught one, Eric caught one, and Jane caught four.  Her catch that day with Mt Rainier in the background.
 

The Kellys left that evening but the rest of us went back up to Mineral about noon on Wednesday.  We rented a pontoon boat and anchored in one of our favorite spots.  After getting no bites the first hour we moved to another spot and the fish starting hitting almost immediately.  Jane caught another, then Greyson caught his first fish.  Finally Jensen hooked one.

Jane telling me where she wants to fish.

Greyson.  I am going to catch a fish today!

He did.  His first at 4 years old.

Jane has another one on.  Notice that I am just sitting beside her.  She knows what to do.

That smile tells it all.


Jensen hooks one!

OK   Jensen can go home saying he caught another fish.
 

After another 2 hours we decided to reel in and head back to the marina.  On reeling in, Jane yelled, “I have another fish on!”  Just then from over our heads, an osprey dove down and picked up her fish.  As the bird flew off, the reel on Jane’s pole was spinning wildly.  I was awestruck about what to do.  I fumbled for my knife to perhaps cut the line.  Barb grabbed the camera and got a picture.  Jane stood strong and unnerved.  At last the drag and the weight of the line began to pull down the osprey.  It dropped the fish.  Jane, almost automatically and methodically, reeled in the fish. 

The seahawk (osprey) grabs Jane's fish.

After dropping the fish, the seahawk hovers over us for some time.

The fish.  Jane pointing at osprey.  "I beat a seahawk!"
 

“Jane,” I interjected, “you know the other name for an osprey?  The other name is ‘seahawk.'  You just defeated a seahawk.” 

“Alright,” said Jane, I just beat a seahawk.”

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

New Grand Girls

Reya Mckenzie Aune-Scheetz
born 2/22/15
in Atlanta Georgia
Madelyn Adele Kelly
born 3/19/15
in Puyallup



ReMaster







Jenill, a friend on Penny’s since grade school in Michigan, arrived at the house early and settled in with Reya’s care.  The two hour drive to Augusta was dominated by low gray clouds, sometimes a drop or two hitting the windshield.  Ben declared on the way, “It’s a Tacoma type of morning.”  On arrival at Augusta National, I strapped on my ankle brace and grabbed my cane, ready to roll.  Today, Tuesday, is a practice round, and although there are strict rules forbidding cell phones, they allow cameras today.  The security resembles a TSA approach, including metal detectors.  We stopped by the store and made our purchases.  Shirts, caps, glass, art, and a plethora of Masters’ memorabilia are quite abundant and not cheap.  The food, however, is very reasonable, a sandwich and an iced tea costing $3 total.    We set our chairs this time on the slope beside and near the 16th green then began our walk. 
16

 
We walked backwards 16, 15, 14, etc. to meet the oncoming groups.  We paused midway on 13th, the famous dogleg left, a par 5 of 510 yards with 1,600 azaleas in full bloom lining the hole. 
The approach to 13

along 13
 

We then made our way to the formidable 12th, at 155 yards, perhaps the most famous hole in golf.  There was a huge crowd as Jim Furyk, Ryan Palmer, Jimmy Walker, Tom Kite, and Ben Crenshaw were ready to tee off.  This was indeed a fortunate happenstance as Ben Crenshaw had recently announced that this would be his last Masters.  The younger pros teed of first and all landed on the green.  Ben Crenshaw then hit, finding the green as well.  Standing in the midst of the gallery, after the respectful cheering had stopped, I remarked to my Ben standing next to me, “This must be an easy hole.”   Several heads turned my way, looking in disbelief to find the one who would dare make such an ignorant comment.  Tommy Kite took three tee shots, two into the water and the third, still short, into the trap.  The caddies picked up the bags and the 5 some, party of 10, made their way over the Ben Hogan bridge to the green.
Crenshaw teeing off at his last practice round at Augusta.

Over the Hogan Bridge
 

The walk continued up 11 to 10 where we found the site of one of the most famous and remarkable shots in golf. 
Up 10 from the green
 
 Bubba Watson, in his 2012 win, hooked a shot deep out of the woods to roll onto the green, clinching a par in the second hole of the playoff, and a Masters win.
Bubba's lie.  Hole is hidden 155 yards away far to the right.
 

We then proceeded to the clubhouse area, walked up between 1 and 9, came back between 2 and 8, crossed over to 3 and 7.  We had lunch at the concession stand by the 7th tee. 

Planning the walk from 18

Lunch near 7


  After lunch we crossed to 16.  My ankles were beginning to rebel more loudly and for the rest of the day we sat in the sun, watching a unique spectacle.

Number 16 is a par 3, 170 yards.  It is the hole in which Tiger in 2005, laying left of the green, lofted a chip high on the back of the green, then we all watched the ball roll toward the hole, stop at the rim for a Nike logo promo, then drop in the cup for a birdie.  That shot allowed him to tie the 18 and win in a green jacket in a playoff.  It one of the most beautiful holes, water extending from tee to green, with turtles sunning themselves at water’s edge.   The unique spectacle that occurs during the practice rounds at this hole is, after the pros have hit their shot toward the green, the crowd (which is large as huge grandstands give view of 16 and 15) eggs on the pros to drop balls on the downslope to the water.  Then each, bouncing their balls across the water, vies to see who can come closer to the hole.  Bubba Watson had the most unique shot.  He bounced it off the water, skipping into the bank where it bounced off a turtle, high into the air to land in the back of the green.   I feel that, other than sitting in the grandstand on 18 on Sunday, that 16 has one of the best views on the course.  The gentle hills on both sides of the hole allow for unobstructed views with close proximity.
Seated at 16

Skipping ball.  Splash at center, ball is far left.

We sat in the warm sunshine but were aware that some rain cells were due around 5.  Alas, unexpectedly, a deluge hit us early before we could get to the car to retrieve our umbrellas.  Heavy drops came for around 20 minutes and thoroughly soaked us.  The only cover from the storm that we had, and we used them the best we could, was our chairs.  The deluge passed and the sun came out.  Within the hour, in the 80 degrees, we were pretty dry.  The shower did halt play and several groups either quit or skipped holes.  I only caught a glimpse of Ryan Moore as he played alone up nearby 7 but my ankles did not permit me to catch up with him.  Tiger played only 9 so he did not come through 16.

Rain shelter.

Rory

Bubba
 

Barb made several trips to the concession stands for $1.50 sandwiches and tea or soda at the same price.  Beer this year had gone up to $4 but I have yet to have a beer at Augusta as it doesn’t mix well with the Tylenol which I take to manage the pain.  We left Augusta National around 5 and drove home in heaving traffic.

My overriding impressions of the Masters still remain from the blog entry last year.  This is an event of deep respect.  There are no advertisements and no luxury seating. There is cheap food and thorough organization.  The emphasis is not drink, or cell phone, or golf equipment, or parties.  I saw only a few selfies.  I saw lots of golf, and I saw today, the best players in world, playing to the fans to show their appreciation to those of us who love the game so much.

 
 
 

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Premasters


We arrived in Atlanta around 6 pm on Wednesday, April 1, and made our way to B and P’s via Marta.  It was a 40 minute ride which would have taken us over an hour via car.  Ben met us at the station, saving us the 11 minute walk to their home.    Reya, asleep in her bassinette in the livingroom, had grown so much in the month since we’ve seen her.
Reya, our southern belle
 

We spent Thursday tending to Reya and on Friday afternoon, we headed to the lake.  Ben had projects in mind, sealing the recently pressure washed driveway, and putting the boat in the water.   Summer is on the way so preparations for the busy water season were put in place.  It rained off and on throughout the weekend, cramping our work and causing some anxiety over our Tuesday activity.  Barb and I attended an Easter sunrise service.
 
The lake home from the water's edge

Reya's Easter outfit

Resurfacing the driveway.

Preparing the chairs for a warm summer.

On Sunday evening we traveled back to Atlanta.  Ben went to work on Monday while we began our Masters preparation.

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Welcome Madelyn


Welcome Madelyn Adele Kelly who was born at 4:30 pm on March 19.  She weighed in at 9 lbs, 7 oz, and joined the family in quick fashion.  Quick is a relative term.  In our five grandchild births so far, labor, in each case, went on far too long.  Kari’s water broke at 1 pm, so, in our experience, this was a quick delivery.  Mom, Dad, sister and grandparents are elated.
 



Elizabeth meets sister Madi for the first time





With Grandmas

With Daddy


Holding Madi at home

With cousins Jane, Jensen, Grayson and sister Elizabeth

With oldest cousin Jane

Uncle Nathan and Aunt Caylyn

Monday, March 23, 2015

Vigil III

I flew home that next Saturday, February 28, but Barb stayed in Atlanta attending to Reya, Penny, and Ben.  I felt I needed to get home, honoring our original airline tickets, to be in proximity to Kari in case she delivered.  Alas, baby Kelly is taking its time, providing provocative rumblings, but no results.  Barb flew home on March 4.  Baby Kelly, still lurking.  Kari is ready.  Eric is so, so ready.  Kari is still teaching.  She serves till her due date, March 13.  She looks great.  Healthy.  But she is so big.  Her ankles and feet are swollen.  Have this child now, Kari.  Come, baby Kelly, come.  We all await you. Please give your host, my beloved daughter, relief.  Come, baby Kelly, come