Moscow did not escape the cold snap that recently swept across most of the country. When my sister, Kristen, held her outdoor wedding ceremony and reception during the final weekend in September, she was blessed with the last of our Summer weather. What followed was a typical Moscow mix of sun, rain, wind, and chilly temperatures. This past week brought lows reaching into the single digits, breaking records that stretched all the way back to the 1940s. Unlike other regions, we did not see any snow, but several consecutive days of freezing temperatures meant that many of our trees went straight from green to brown – not to mention thousands of dollars in lost agriculture, such as seed potatoes in southern Idaho, the University of Idaho’s corn maze in Lewiston (located in the Snake River valley, which can usually rely on warmer temperatures) and Washington State University’s organic pumpkin crop, resulting in the cancellation of their annual harvest party. The weather went from Summer to Winter and now back to Fall, with today’s temperature maxing out at a balmy seventy-four degrees. The trees in Moscow that did survive the freeze are still green or just beginning to turn colors, like this one down the street from the Big Haus. Also taking advantage of the warmer weather is a city-wide hatch of some sort of gnat or wolly aphid, which nearly resembles snow in the sunlight and is difficult to walk through without catching a few in the facial orifices. Click on the photo to see more.
When finding myself in casual discourse lately, I have had a tough time explaining to people “what I do.” Whether I am meeting old friends who are curious what I am up to or being introduced to someone new, the question is a difficult one to dodge. Over the Summer, I could fall back on answering about my job at SEL, even though I knew that was likely to be temporary employment. Between the time it ended in August and my sister Kristen’s wedding a month later, I was busy with preparations for her event, which both sufficed as a satisfactory response and provided a distraction at which I could divert the conversation away from its original point of inquiry. But the question has become increasingly problematic since then.
I have no argument with the question itself. Just this week, I was reminded by my framed copy of Evan Wilson’s “The Word of a Gentleman” that “A gentleman is employed: He is advancing when not in company.” At the moment, I do not have a paying job, which is often the expectation when a question like “What do you do?” is posed. An equally appropriate question encountered when living in two neighboring college towns is what I am studying. Allow me to clarify that I am neither enrolled at the university, nor putting my degree to good use. To make things easy, I have begun condensing this set of circumstances using the word “bum.”
What I appreciate about the aforementioned “Code” (as it was previously named) is that the implied question does not assume a paycheck. As much as there is to be said for steady income, to be “advancing” leaves plenty of room for the situation I find myself in, and which I have arrived at by choice. Over the past year, I have given fair consideration to a variety of attractive options that has included more traveling, returning to school, and resuming a career. In contemplating the alternatives – a fortunate position in itself – I have realized that simply finding something “to do” ignores the greater question of “Why?”
Granted, I will eventually need to rejoin the work force. Money pays for food and rent, which sustain us so that we can work, get paid, eat, and sleep. In between, we raise a family, hang out with friends, read our books, and worship on Sundays. It is our lot. I have just embarked on a study of Ecclesiastes, and I have no naïve intention of escaping the vanity of it all. But whatever I do, I want to do it intentionally. I spent five years at an office desk developing software because it was the logical step upon graduating from college with a computer science degree. I entered college studying computers because it was a promising field with the reward of a hefty payoff, and that much proved to be true.
But as a single soon-to-be twenty-nine year old, a hefty payoff is not what I need or want. I do look forward to raising a family, and to be honest, I thought I might already be there. The desk job could have provided ample munition for pursuing that objective, and I like to imagine that I would have been happy. However, instead of following the traditional progression to its end, I am currently faced with a unique opportunity to evaluate my life without pressing distractions. Many are able to read the lay of the land in stride, select the fastest route, and arrive successfully at their goals. I, on the other hand, am finding it necessary to pull out the map and compass before taking another step. Only now am I confronting a few sentences I once wrote years ago:
“There is a principle in physics called the Heisenberg Uncertainty, explained by the fact that the more precisely the position of a moving object is known, the harder it is to determine its momentum or direction. It is portrayed by a two and a half hour, three-actor play by Michael Frayn called Copenhagen, which not only addresses the brilliance and moral conflict behind the development of the atomic bomb, but also the way the world we live in reflects the subtle characteristics of what it means to be human. We can spend a lot of time thinking about who we are and where we are in life. But ponder the thought too long, and the more important perspective of which direction we are going and how quickly becomes difficult to see. Without purpose or destination, the question of who we are is irrelevant.”
In retrospect, I would argue against myself in proposing that one must first possess identity before any meaningful progress becomes possible. In other words, determining who we are is a vital precondition to a good life. To do so involves a recipe that combines ultimate philosophy and human history with my own particular desires, interests, and abilities. I have a vague notion of all of these, but never have I attempted to assimilate them into a coherent whole – something that could give me confidence, not only of who I am, but how best to use the short time I am given.
Which is why it came as a welcome surprise in early September to be offered a Lieutenancy at the Big Haus, a name which may sound familiar to readers of this blog. In fact, it was two years ago that the Haus played host to my birthday/going-away party before I set off on that first adventure to Kvitfjell. As I have mentioned before, the Big Haus is an open-door boarding house owned by Evan and Leslie Wilson, whom I have known for years through my initial high school friendship with their oldest son and later by attending numerous gatherings, celebrations, and banquets (Leslie is an amazing chef) in their beautiful home. I have even had the special privilege of spending Christmas morning with their family, all dressed in our pajamas.
In recent years, they have begun to shift the orientation of their operations from housing college students to a broader form of ministry, formally known as the Big Haus Society. Part of this ministry is something they call Lieutenancy, in which an interested individual such as myself is invited (or applies) to live at the Haus at little cost in order to conduct what can be succinctly described as an informal literature course, arranged by Evan, with the purpose of discovering how to attain a peaceful and orderly existence. My friendship with the Wilsons, familiarity with their ministry, and present personal circumstances made their offer the most appealing of any I had yet entertained.
Before accepting, certain provisions had to be made – namely, getting my sister married off and gaining the blessing of my parents, whom I had been living with since returning from Europe in May. Both feats were accomplished, and last weekend, I made the move into the Big Haus as a Lieutenant. With the Wilson home already being one of my favorite Moscow hang-outs, the move could not have been more natural: I have come into the company of old and new friends with whom I look forward to passing the Winter months until the end of my Lieutenancy sometime next Spring.
“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1. The word “season” has long been one of my favorites. I thought that I would return from Europe and get all of my questions answered over the course of the Summer. To the contrary, my questions only multiplied. What has become clear to me, however, is the nature of the season I am passing through. I did not realize it immediately. Indeed, with the benefit of hindsight, I may be closer to the end of this season than the beginning. I now look forward to explaining my Big Haus Lieutenancy to those who ask me what I do, and I expect by Christmas I will have added to that some sort of part-time job in order to pay the bills. Though I may have successfully escaped “bum” status, I sense that the challenging finale of this season lies ahead of me. The Lieutenancy will offer the opportunity to spread out my map and compass and serve as the stepping stone that will propel me into action – the sort that will make it easier to answer the question of what I do.
A perspective on the North side of the Big Haus. Betcha' can't find my room!
I have uploaded pictures of my room to Flickr. Additional photographs from around the Haus can be found on the website Evan and I put together some years ago.
It has been over a week since my sister, Kristen, got married. I knew it was naïve to think that things would settle down once the wedding was over. Even without a paying job, there are still not enough hours in the day. But I am accomplishing what I can, and I figure it is about time to at least acknowledge here the success of what I heard more than one person call the best wedding they had ever been to. I am no expert and perhaps a little biased, but it was certainly a day to remember. Josh and Kristen took a gamble on having an outdoor wedding in late September, and that bet paid off. Aside from the couple getting hitched, two of the day’s biggest blessings were the beautiful weather (which turned cold and wet by Tuesday) and everyone staying healthy on low sleep despite an early flu season.
Amidst all the preparation and celebration, I did not take a single picture of the wedding on my own camera, but there have been plenty of photos popping up on Facebook, which I have shared on my wall for any friends who are interested. With the help of Graeme Wilson, I did record the ceremony, which will eventually be made available; but first I need to catch up on video from the last wedding I recorded – that of my cousin Kari to Brent Andrews back in July. Incidentally, Kari was able to attend Kristen’s wedding, so I will refer you to her blog for a more thorough account of last weekend, including a few pictures. The only photos I can offer are of the aftermath. Early Monday, Josh’s parents rented an Idaho U-Haul to drive Kristen’s belongings to Santa Cruz, where the new couple will be moving in together. (In fact, their honeymoon was the same, albeit more leisurely, road trip to California in time for Josh to return to his classroom this week.) Including help from one of Josh’s groomsmen, Dan Ross, we had the over sized truck on the road by mid-morning.
When I moved back home at the beginning of the Summer, I jumped into several projects around my parents’ house. Between work and travel, those projects eventually got put on the back burner. Now, with my Summer job over and Kristen’s wedding quickly approaching, we have been digging in once again. I recently had the chance to hang out with my old high school classmate, Miranda, and her family. I realized that I have much to learn from her when it comes to getting things done and documenting it simultaneously (all while producing and managing offspring), but here are a few shots taken over the past week.
The first thing I tackled in May was an ailing garden with a dead rose bush on the west side of the house. The thorny remains were uprooted and replaced by a host of gladiolus bulbs that have finally decided to bloom more than three months later.
Another job that I had been wanting to do for years but significantly underestimated was the paint job around our front patio. I had initially gotten the go-ahead to repaint the trim, but when we discovered rotten wood underneath the railing, suddenly half the wall need to be reinforced or replaced; and if we were going to go that far, why not just repaint the whole thing? I’ll tell you why: because painting lattice work is a painstakingly meticulous, back-breaking, knee-crunching chore that I would never wish on anyone.
During her daily watering routine, mom has been keeping tabs on our pet mantis. When I was a kid, I used to be awestruck by these insects because of their rarity and beauty. However, after reading about their reproductive habits in Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, my regard for this species moved from awe to grotesque fascination.
Meanwhile, Kristen is convinced that even the sunflowers know there is a wedding on the way. Love is in the air.
Lest you think I heard from Bonnie, I did not.
I left work early today to find a sticky note in my Jeep reminding me that I needed to buy a sleeping pad on the way home, since I will be camping out for the second Saturday in a row in honor of my friend, Henry. Last week was his bachelor party, and tomorrow he will be getting hitched in Enterprise, Oregon. The Harbinger pad I used to have was worth its bulk in comfort, which is now being enjoyed by whoever stole my car from a parking lot in Norway last Fall. Snow White was recovered – unfortunately, the pad and about $1,000 of other gear was not. Last weekend’s padless experience convinced me that it was time to invest in a new one.
My first stop was at Idaho’s Most Interesting Store, where I dug a few affordable ALPS Mountaineering mats from a disheveled selection of expensive Therm-a-Rests. Despite the twenty minutes I spent comparing sizes and prices, I received no attention from the friendly folks at Tri-State and decided to try my luck at Hyperspud. On the way, I took a detour into Rosauers, thanks to Z-Fun DJ, Steve Shannon, who was broadcasting live on location to promote the store’s limited stock of Vandal-colored twenty-four packs of Bud Light. (You know you would have done the same.)
On my way in the door, who do I meet but Ian Warnock? Ian (salesman and public relations specialist for the Daily News) enthusiastically volunteered a free copy of today’s paper, which I accepted. His offer was promptly followed up with a solicitation to subscribe, which I responded to by politely relating my recently frustrated attempts to do just that. Ian, who by all appearances was still looking forward to puberty, didn’t skip a beat. Rather than give a confused apology or excuse things with an explanation, he simply existed to solve my problem. Ian was deterred neither by my lack of cash nor my interest in only an online subscription. A quick withdrawal from the Rosauers ATM and a completed order form was all it would take for me to wake up to the Moscow/Pullman headlines on my laptop every morning for the next three months. To sweeten the deal, he even threw in a ten dollar grocery card, a college coupon book, a Palouse dining card, and a 124 page guidebook to Idaho’s state parks. I seriously started to wonder if this guy was for real. To be honest, though, even if I never read a single story, I feel like I walked away with my money’s worth. Ian had made my day, and I was carrying a case of Vandal Bud Light to boot.
On to Hyperspud, where I had barely walked into the jam-packed Main Street shop before the owner was giving me helpful tips on sleeping pads. A well-spent fifty dollars later, I was the proud new owner of a dark red Big Agnes air core sleep pad. Not until I got home did I flip through my newly acquired coupon booklet to discover that with my minimum purchase of thirty dollars at Hyperspud, I could have also walked away with a free Nalgene bottle. I might have gone straight back if I didn’t already have one, but I am looking forward to breaking in my new pad tomorrow night.
Before then, I have a ten dollar grocery card to use on hors d’oeuvres for my ten year high school reunion. I had ruled out any chance of attending both the reunion and the wedding, but the timing is working out so that I will be able to drop in for a lunchtime barbecue in the park before hitching a ride to Enterprise. To see my old classmates tomorrow will not be too much of a trip – many of us have stayed in the area and have more or less kept in touch. What is strange to think about is that ten years ago, the eighteen of us graduated from high school. We were liberated, empowered, and the world was ours to make what we wanted of it. We went to college, got a job, made a family, or all of the above. A decade later, most of us have a career or kids or both. In May of 1999, I saw myself taking the same path.
Instead, when I walked out of the office to the parking lot today, I was leaving my job at SEL. For the second time. The first time – back in August 2007 – was a little easier, since I had an answer for everyone who was asking what I would do. I would travel in pursuit of my dreams and in celebration of my freedom. Little did I realize at the time how much I would experience over the next two years, and I never had a single regret about leaving behind what was a very promising career. But the road eventually led back home, and when I received an offer to pick back up where I had left off at SEL – if only temporarily – I was happy to accept.
To limit the opportunity to a Summer job versus returning to the company full-time has been my prerogative, only this time I don’t have an answer to the equally inundating questions of what is next. Part of me really wants to have an answer – even to make one up – when everyone else my age has settled on one option or another, and God knows I have tried. But the rest of me appreciates still having the same sense of independence and opportunity I did walking across that stage ten years ago, and I am getting comfortable with not knowing. So, ask me about my plans, and over a Vandal-colored beer can, you will hear about this sweet new sleeping pad I’ll be breaking in.
window gazing, outside in
at some elusive american myth
i know you want to believe they’re at peace
safe from life’s uncertainties
but would they agree?
take your time, make your mind up and
tell the world to wait
take your time, live your life
you’re the one that has to live it anyway
after the sound, the fury, the noise
has stifled the simplest of joys
the clock keeps spinning on and on
and once its gone, the time is gone.
the time is gone…
all you’ve built and done
is just a fraction of the you we love…
lyrics to World to Wait by Stavesacre
Following our Midwest vacation last month, my sister, Kristen, joined her boyfriend for a few days in Santa Cruz. Before they returned to Moscow, they were engaged to be married, and I couldn’t have been more pleased. Josh Davis is a great guy and an old friend of ours. In my humble opinion, they were meant to be. Last weekend, they gave me the honor of taking their engagement photos using Josh’s fancy Nikon D80. Since this was my first “shot” at legitimate photography, it is needless to say that I was a bit intimidated. Of course, with a couple this good-looking, it would have been a challenge to make them look bad. I have posted their favorites on Flickr and Facebook.
By the way, the latest TWO episodes of Twidgets are also up on Vimeo.
That is today, Saturday, June 27. If you are like me and have not had the chance to pitch your tent yet this Summer, today is the excuse you have been waiting for, and you don’t even have to leave home. Yes, it is a nationwide camping celebration right in your own backyard, and the weather here could not be better. It should tide you over until your opportunity for a free camping trip in one of the 100+ national parks that are waiving entrance fees on select weekends this Summer. The first was over Father’s Day – the first official day of Summer – but there are still two left.
Speaking of Father’s Day, my family plus Josh took dad out to Red Lobster in Lewiston last Sunday.
Josh, Kristen, and I followed that up with some shopping at Eddie Bauer, which was holding a bankruptcy sale where Kristen scored a sweet umbrella.
On our way back to Moscow, the three of us took a detour-turned-wild-goose-chase to find a Swedish Summer festival that I had seen advertised downtown. Unlike here, midsummer is a widely celebrated holiday in Scandinavia, where the longest day of the year means it never gets dark. We were unsure what to expect, except that it was being held at the oldest Lutheran church in Idaho and would feature some traditional fiddle playing. Despite the wet and chilly weather, we were glad we decided to stop by, no matter how it may seem from my facial expression in the following video.
More photos of Cordelia Church, as well as recent sunsets, rainbows, and homemade Indian dinners are up on Flickr.
There has been little time for blogging since I returned to Moscow a month ago. When not in the office, I have been spending evenings with family and friends and using weekends to work with my dad on several overdue landscaping projects. On the other hand, since my travels have been reduced to the daily thirteen-mile commute, I find myself with fewer adventures to tell of. Settling back into a familiar daily routine has not only sidelined my artistic creativity, it has robbed me of inspiration.
Of course, that is not quite fair. To everything there is a season, and even if this is not the season for blogging, I have no shortage of things to keep me awed, occupied and entertained. “Entertaining,” for instance, would be a good word to describe a couple of conversations I overheard at work last week. First there was the woman who, when asked if she had Vista, replied “Oh no, we use Clearwire!,” demonstrating that not all Schweitzer Engineering employees are computer geeks, or even computer literate. Then there was the Chinese woman who was told that the hardware for her project would be ready in a month, to which she skeptically retorted, “I’ll see it when I believe it,” (which I have since adopted as my modus operandi).
In family news, Josh has arrived in Moscow for the Summer so that Kristen doesn’t have to keep me up at night while Skyping with a boyfriend in California; and Heather has purchased a new laptop with some help from the in-house expert. I think we were equally excited when it arrived in the mail:
I wish I had thought ahead to take some “before” and “after” shots of the yard work we’ve been getting done around here. Some of these projects have been on hold since I was in college – or even high school – when my dad was too picky and I was too lazy to be any good to each other. A few years have done a lot of good, and now that Summer is here, we are bringing our cursed acres of earth into subjection, shoulder to shoulder. The weather has been cooperating, and the sunsets in Moscow still live up to their reputation, especially when the occasional storm does blow through.
Since I first read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard a couple of years ago, I have always imagined it would be the first book I would assign to my students if I were a biology teacher. Any who failed to be simultaneously mystified and terrified at the natural world by the end of the first chapter could feel free to transfer to economics while the rest of us unpacked the incredible masterpiece Dillard created from simply taking time to watch the small world around her. An excerpt from Publisher’s Weekly printed on the cover of my early copy from 1975 describes “This book of wonder [as] one of the truly beautiful books of this or any other season… which, on any page, offers a passage one can scarcely wait to share with a friend.” This is what I will do as a preface for the remaining photos I have taken around the mosquito haven that has been our backyard for the past couple of weeks. The following is an excerpt from one of the gruesome passages in her chapter titled “The Horns of the Altar,” yet the book contains equally beautiful passages with power to amaze and frighten any brave reader. In discussing parasites, Dillard provides this happy description:
“Parasitic two-winged insects, such as flies and mosquitos, abound. It is these that cause hippos to live in the mud and frenzied caribou to trample their young. Twenty thousand head of domestic livestock died in Europe from a host of black flies that swarmed from the banks of the Danube in 1923. Some parasitic flies live in the stomachs of horses, zebras, and elephants; others live in the nostrils and eyes of frogs. Some feed on earthworms, snails, and slugs; others attack and successfully pierce mosquitos already engorged on stolen blood. Still others live on such delicate fare as the brains of ants, the blood of nestling songbirds, or the fluid in the wings of lacewings and butterflies.”
I have been jet-lagged in Moscow four days now. I’m finally starting to get a decent night’s sleep, and I’m shaking off the cold Heather shared to welcome me home. (Oh, and her bedroom, and an amazing concert at the U, just for me. Pray for her – she gets her wisdom teeth pulled today!) It’s that time of year when Moscow and Pullman empty out as the students disappear for the Summer, so despite my lack of energy, I’ve managed to see a few friends while I still have the chance and was blessed to be back in the company of Resonate last night. I truly have much to be grateful for: the safe journey home; the family, friends and community I am returning to; and last, but not least, a good full-time job for the Summer. I return to SEL today.
I am glad and content to be home. It is good and right, but it is not without mixed feelings. I hardly need to mention that I would love to return to Norway (though not back to the mountain). Then there is the prospect of this coming Fall. Friends ask how long I am here for, and I tell them I am here for the Summer. The natural follow-up question is: then what? That is a question I cannot yet answer, and I pray that the Lord might share some of His plans for me over the coming months. I do not feel pressured to figure that out, except for the sake of being able to answer those who ask. Now you know, and I will forward updates here as I get Word.
In celebration of my homecoming, please check out this local photographer. She has the opportunity to raise a significant amount of money for some good work happening in Africa by selling an amazing print of hers for an amazingly low price. The piece is appropriately titled: Home, Home on the Range.
I am up early. I could hardly doze off last night because I was afraid I would sleep in, but prayer number one has been answered. It will be a long day, so please keep the prayers coming. It has been great staying at the Marlborough Hostel, and yesterday was another beautiful day in Dublin. I hopped on a bus tour of the city and visited Trinity College, Christ Church Cathedral, and the Guinness and Jameson museums. My camera battery was exhausted by lunchtime, though I did have my backup along. I have been having too much fun with still compositions to shoot much video, but since the camcorder also takes (unbelievably lousy) photos, I was able to document the rest of the day. You’ll have to wait to see that until I get back to the States, but I will say that one day exploring Dublin only made me want to see more. For example, I could imagine at least another day on a literary tour through the city that produced authors like W.B. Yeats, Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and George Bernard Shaw. Yesterday, however, was for sampling the brewing and distilling heritage of Ireland. I was going to leave you with a video of our whiskey tasting, but time is awastin’, and I must catch my bus. Good-bye Ireland. It’s Moscow or bust.
