On & Off the Road

Last weekend was Memorial Day weekend.  Scott and I celebrated by getting away for a 4 day camping trip in our trailer (we really don’t do any other type these days… though that could change!)

I had never travelled to North East Iowa.  And that is definitely my loss!  We drove up to McGregor, Iowa, home to Pikes Peak State Park.  And very nearby is Effigy Mounds National Monument.  Effigy Mounds was our true destination.  There are 200 burial and ceremonial mounds on this site, some in the shape of bears, others like eagles in flight.  Still others are conical, or other geometric shapes.  In this part of Iowa, and in surrounding areas of Wisconsin and Minnesota are literally thousands of mounds.  I never realized the extent to which these mounds are scattered around the country, particularly along and east of the Mississippi.  They number in the 10s of thousands!  So many have been lost, plowed under to make way for our farms and our cities.

It rained a lot while we were there.  On the first day, as Scott and I lay on our bed, Scott exclaimed “Oh oh!  Look at that!”  I followed his gaze to the vent.  “Oh C%$#!” I had to add.  In the ceiling of our trailer are three vents that we can open with a little crank to let air in, or smoke & heat out.  The one in the bathroom has a little fan to assist.  Well, anyhow, the vent cover in the bedroom had all but disintegrated, there were so many holes in it.  April and May were hard months here in Council Bluffs and Omaha.  Lots of hail storms!  The hail had taken out the vent covers of all three vents!  But the one over the vent was far worse than the others.  I knew what we would have to do on our return home!

The next day I was out walking around the trailer and came across Scott standing and looking up at the wall of the trailer on the front drivers side.  There was a huge bulge.  That can’t be good.  Something ELSE to do on our return home!

Other than those two little events, though, the weekend was fun!  I even cooked dinner one night, a RARE treat for Scott… except my cooking is rarely a treat for anyone!  I had come across a recipe for Paella, and I must say, I done good!  Quite tasty!

Monday, Memorial Day, we got started relatively early… by 9 a.m.  The weather was predicted to be windy.  And boy, was it ever!  It’s a 6 to 6.5 hour drive from McGregor to Council Bluffs.  But not MOnday.  Monday, it took us over 9 hours to get home!  The wind meant we drove with BOTH hands on the wheel, knuckles white and locked tight.  My arms were rigid to the point I thought I’d been lifting weights by the time I got home!

But that wasn’t the worst of it!  The wind worked its way in to the camper through that bulge I mentioned earlier… and peeled the siding away from the camper.  It happened as we drove south on I35, head on in to the wind!  Fortunately, a stop in Ames for a ladder, duct tape, a hammer and a screw driver put things in order long enough to trudge home.  We normally can drive 65 when pulling the trailer, but Monday we were generally driving between 40 and 50!

And of course, I came home to a ton of work, so we haven’t had a chance to get the siding looked at.  But today, Scott and I went down to the trailer, climbed up on the roof to see about fixing those three vents.  To our chagrin, it turns out that EVERY protuberance on the roof of our trailer has damage!  In addition to the 3 vents I mentioned there are 4 other vents… one is the vent stack for the gray water tank (where water from the kitchen sink or the bathtub goes)  one for the black water tank (that’s where the toilet refuse is held) and two that provide ventilation to the area between the ceiling and the roof, an area bout 3 inches thick…. Sort of like an attic, I guess.  All destroyed.  There’s a cover over the air conditioner and it is damaged.  And lastly there is the dome over the bathtub, a skylight of sorts.  All the plastic was brittle… kind of the consistency of a cookie.  Just touching it all made it crumble even more.  The skylight was fine, no cracks… until I touched it!  We got most of it all repaired today. 

And, talking to the guy at Camping World, it turns out we can expect to do this about every 3 years for as long as we own our trailer… there’s really not a lot we can do to prevent it!

The worst news is, based on what Mr. Camping World Manager told us, we could easily be done with camping for the season, as it only take a day to do the siding repairs, but it could take up to 4 months to get the new siding from the manufacturer… and no, the warranty expired last year.

And that, dear friends, is the story of our camping trip.

There isn’t a lot of news here, other than the trip.  Tomorrow is my birthday!  Yay!  And this coming week, I FINALLY will be undergoing the testing necessary to determine if I have narcolepsy!  In an odd way I hope I do!  (Its something we can actually treat!)

See you all on down the road!

As some know, I enjoy tracking our family genealogy.  Not long ago, I was hunting for some family names online when I came across a website called www.findagrave.com.  This is a site that lists most cemeteries in the USA, and many of those buried in those cemeteries.  Anyone can post to this site.  One thing you can do is locate a cemetery and then investigate if anyone important is buried there. 

So, while searching for information on my Strom ancestry, I found a link to findagrave.com.   It was a link to the grave of my grandmother and grandfather Strom (Dad’s folks).  At Findagrave, when you find a direct relative you can request that the person who put the site up transfer it to you, so I did.  And, so, in due course I met a cousin I had never known before, Linda Pelican Berney, the granddaughter of my Great Aunt Viola Hanisch Paulsen.

This past weekend, Linda and I got together at her Beaver Lake summer cottage… er, home.  We went through family photos that I had.  We invited my cousin Mary Beth Strom Hawkins and my Uncle Lyle.  And, by the way, no, these folks don’t go by these long names.  I’m just trying to provide lineage info, here!  We had a blast.

Just to give a little more context:

My Dad’s mother is a Hanisch.  Grandma was one of 9 Hanisch children, descended from Oscar Gustaf Hanisch and Louisa Sophia Dieterich Hanisch.  In order of birth, these 9 Hanisch children were:

Gustaf Frederick Hanisch (Uncle Gus), Edward Carl Wilhelm Hanisch (Uncle Ed), Viola Hanisch Paulsen (Aunt Viola), Louis Everett Hanisch (Uncle Lou), Millie Hanisch Buss and Minnie Rose Hanisch Hankey– Twins (Aunt Millie and Aunt Minnie), Eda Hanisch Strom (Grandma Strom), Carl Hanisch (died aged 11), and Beata Hanisch Hibben (Aunt Beata)

Here are some interesting photos that we came across:

This delightful lady is none other than my great-grandmother Louisa Sophia Dieterichs Hanisch, taken in July 1942, 2 months prior to her passing.

This pair is my grandfather and grandmother Strom.  Elmer Theodore Strom (1886 – 1937) and Eda Hanisch Strom (1891 – 1967).  Grandpa Strom died of Addison’s Disease in 1937.  This disease was the result of having been gassed during WWI.

Here’s a delightful photo of my Dad and Uncle Lyle at 6 months!

Lyle, Grandma and Dad at 18 months.

That’s Sergeant Major Elmer Strom, shortly after the conclusion of WWI.

And that’s Private Louis Strom, during WWII.

 Uncle Lyle served, too, in the Merchant Marine.

And OH! How we would LOVE to know who THIS IS!

There are a great many more photos, many of which still need to be scanned and cataloged.

The week before last it was cold here in the Heartland.  I mean mind-numbing cold.  It was so cold, I began to have serious thoughts about packing Scott and I up, along with Dad & Gary, and moving to the Holy Land.  The Land of Milk and Honey.  Of Gold and Silver.  Of Gypsum.  Of New Mexico.  God’s country, it seems to me.  A place I can’t wait to move to again.

And then I learned that had we dropped everything and gone to New Mexico last week… we’d have been in for colder weather than we were having here!  I mean, come on!  Minus 13 in Alamogordo and in Hobbs?  Oh, my no.  That is just NOT going to work.

It turns out my patience in waiting one week has been paid off… Thursday and Friday I walked the warm sunny streets of Omaha without jacket, in dress shirt (no tie), and am sweating!  It’s gorgeous out there!  Whyever would I want to leave this magnificent city?  This land of Gold and Silver?  Of Milk and Honey?  This Holy Land?

Until the next time the temperature drops below zero, that is.

Yesterday, Scott and I received a delightful surprise!

We were engaged in our traditional Saturday morning routine watching HGTV DIY programs when the doorbell rang. This in and of itself is a rare surprise, and usually doesn’t occur too frequently in winter.

It was the postman, with a huge box! This box was addressed to “Eric & Scott Hays-Strom” (yup, that’s us) and came from a company called “Harry & David” in Medford, OR.

It’s loaded with delightfully juicy and delicious apples and pears, some crackers, nuts and Havarti cheese.

Now, here’s what’s embarassing: Nowhere in the package was anything identifying who sent it! The only note says

Merry Christmas

And so, to whomever sent it… Scott and I would DEARLY love to be able to thank you personally. Please, contact us (you have our email if you like, or you can comment here, call us… or something!

But if the anonymity was intentional, please accept THIS as our thank you.

Scott and I have some really exciting plans for this Christmas season… we’ll be "On the Road"… but can’t say where, yet.

Ask me anything

Not a lot.

Ask me anything

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/elstrom99

Today, I went to church for the first time in a very long time.

Wait!  What?!?  What did you say?  You’re always talking about church, Eric!

Let’s backtrack a little and provide some background information.

For several years, now – more than I can remember really – I’ve not really felt… right.  I don’t know how to explain it, other than I just haven’t felt “right”.  I have talked about it every visit with my physician for years now.  It seemed like I had a permanent low-grade headache.  But beyond that my something just didn’t feel right about my head.  It’s weird, I don’t really have the words to describe what it felt like.  I described it as best I could though… it felt like my brain had shrunk, and was banging around inside my skull.

At this point I should pause and say that any comments from the peanut gallery are unwelcome.

Anyhow, I told my doctor this.  And I always felt like he was looking at me like I was some sort of alien.  I would go home, and nothing was ever done.  I always assumed that he couldn’t really do anything because I couldn’t give him any concrete explanations of what was wrong.

On top of it all, I have always been tired.  I say always… I mean for the past 10 years, I’m always tired.  I fall asleep at work… to the point I’ve had to talk to my boss about it.  I fight it.  I get up, I walk around, I go outside for fresh air.  I sit down, I start working and before I know it, I’m asleep.  It used to be I’d sleep for like 5 minutes, and wake up refreshed and ready to go.  No longer… I don’t know how long I sleep but it can be long.  At home at night, about 8:30, I start nodding off, and sleep sitting on the sofa until Scott wakes me up so that we can go to bed!  I go to bed at 10:25, fall asleep almost immediately, and sleep until 5:25 when I get up, whether I want to or not.

And my mood has been so grim.  People, in general, annoy me.  The only one who can really talk to me without me feeling resentful of the interruption is Scott.  I scowl at people to warn them away (it doesn’t always work.)

I wonder how people I know can like me.  I don’t like me.  I wonder how Scott could still love me as grumpy as I’ve been for several years now.

And my memory?  What memory?  I can’t remember things that were said 3 minutes ago.  Important dates?  Nope, can’t remember most of those… my birthday, yes.  Scott’s birthday, yes.  Our various anniversaries?  yup.  The day Mom died?  Yes.  My brothers or my sisters in law or uncles, aunts, cousins birthdays?  No.  Pardon the language, but my memory is just utter CRAP!  I tell people I’ll do this or be there or… well, you get the idea… all forgotten before I get home.  Sometimes forgotten before the conversation ends.

And then, I went back to the doctor in early September and as part of our conversation, I went through this litany all over again, especially the sleeping at work part.  And this time I know he listened.  He sent me for a Sleep Study.  (It was a class I was sure I’d pass… I got plenty of practice!

A week later, I was called and told I needed to go back for another one, a follow up.  On October 15, I went in for this second sleep study, I had to be attached to this CPAP machine thing.

A week later, my doctor informed me I have Sleep Apnea.  This doesn’t surprise me, actually.  I’ve had problems with Apnea most of my life; during the day I actually stop breathing frequently.  My body forces me to breathe and I sigh deeply.  So after my very first sleep study some 5 years ago, it was a bit surprising I wasn’t diagnosed then with Sleep Apnea.  Now, I’m told that based on the results of that first sleep study, and compared to my recent 2 sleep studies, I’ve probably been coping with Sleep Apnea for 7 and a half to ten years.

The past Wednesday, I went to pick up my CPAP machine.  It now sits next my bed.  That first night, I managed to get through about 3 hours before removing my mask.  The second night, I made it until 4:30.  Friday night, not so good, I only made it 2 hours or so.  Last night I almost made it to the end of my sleep period… I pulled it off about 5:15.

And so, this morning, I went back to church… and it was like going someplace I haven’t been in a VERY long time.  I staid awake through the sermon… AND LISTENED TO IT!  I met an greeted my friends, sought them out even and hugged them all!  One or two I hugged multiple times!  One guy who always hugs me and I get downright nasty with – I made a point out of giving him 4 hugs today… kind of like I was trying to make up for all those negative reactions.  I loved the music!  I didn’t notice ANY mistakes (like I can judge – I can’t carry a tune in a bucket!)  I was happy to be there!

I don’t know if this turn around after 4 nights will be long lasting or not.  I don’t care (okay, I do) I’ll take what I can get!  That head thing?  Gone.  The headache?  Gone.  And only time will tell this week if I stay awake!

And for the first time in 7 or more years, I can say “It’s a GREAT day!”

First of all, before I begin this essay (I know not what else to call it) I wish to warn my reader(s) that it may be considered objectionable to many.  It discusses my personal views of sex, sexuality, sexual orientation and sexual activity.

I delve in to areas which more conservative persons, persons by the way whom I love dearly, my find highly offensive and which find root in what many may pejoratively describe as radical Christianity… a "radicalness" which may be just too "over the top".  I would encourage my reader(s) to proceed with caution, but with an open mind.  Should such a thing as a ratings system exist for blog writing or at least for this style of writing, it is highly probable that censors might consider this to be rated X, or at the very least, NC-17.  If you feel that your sense of outrage or offense may be too great, I encourage you NOT to proceed.

Secondly, what follows does not flow as well as I would like.  It is filled with "asides", comments made to flesh out what I’m writing about.

With that in mind, if you have the time, and more importantly the inclination and stomach, please read on!

*****
Over the past few weeks I have come across three or four related "items" on the internet that have either not set well with me, or have caused me to think… and that’s always dangerous!  I wish to address these "items" individually, and in no particular order.

Is Love Profane?

This morning, I was visiting a friend’s blog.  On it, I found a picture: two shirtless young men engaged in a sweet embrace, kissing; behind the young men hung a crucifix.  The picture was captioned "The sacred and the profane."  It gave me pause, for the caption bothered me enough that I actually looked up the adjective "profane" in the online edition of Merriam Webster’s Dictionary.  Looking under the usage for the adjective the first definition of the word does, indeed, fit the caption, and in and of itself really shouldn’t have caused me any reason for discomfort.

But, taken in the context of all 4 definitions of the word "profane" I find it far more difficult to dismiss my discomfort over the choice of words.  When viewed together the four definitions for "profane" certainly convey a negative meaning, as if somehow, unless something is imbued with religious or spiritual overtones (and is therefore "sacred") it is necessarily less than desirable.

I find the picture of two men, perhaps in love, perhaps not, but behaving in such a manner as to imply love to be perhaps far more sacred than the picture of a crucifix, the image of a person hated and despised and hung to die.  Perhaps the ultimate profanity is that image of a crucifix, while the ultimate sacred act is the two people in love.

If my readers are still reading this after that last paragraph, let me hasten to point out that the image of the crucifix portrays an extremely important event, one with perhaps the penultimate act of sacred-ness in our Christian tradition.  (And less you wonder, for me the ULTIMATE sacred act is the Resurrection.) It was a necessary event, but one that had to happen only so that the next event could take place.  This article is not to, in any way, denigrate the series of events that form the basis of most Christian theology, but rather to lament that we should find two people in love being somehow a profane thing.

How is it that we come to perceive demonstrations of love to be profane?  If one accepts that God is love, and that the primary message of the Gospels is one of love, both of God for humankind and also the importance, perhaps even primacy of the need for one to love one’s neighbor (and remember who Jesus said our neighbor was) is the portrayal of an action depicting love somehow less sacred?  Love, in this context, and in my opinion, is sacred and can in no way be profane.  (To my friend who may well read this, please do not read in my words a condemnation of you in any way – I think I know you well enough to know that you did not choose the word for its negative connotation, but rather for its primary use as "secular".)

Is Sexuality/Orientation Good or Bad?

Another of my online friends writes a blog which I attempt in some small way to support financially, as I consider it to be an important contribution to society.  This friend writes from a definitely non-mainstream perspective, and is therefore one of the most refreshing voices I currently encounter online.  Nor is she all that radical (sorry, Kitt!)  Perhaps to those of a particularly conservative Christian point of view she may be viewed as such, but I do not perceive her writing overly radical.  Just perhaps a bit… queer!

Kitt’s posts are all about, in my humble opinion, the extravagant, redemptive love of God.  One of her methods is to look for and write about saints that may be relevant exemplars of that love for the LGBTQI community.  Perhaps to my family, seeing articles about "Gay (or Lesbian) Saints" may be problematic, but these are highly relevant to those of us seeking to live and perceive ourselves in positive light in the face of a church that until recently has painted us in very negative light indeed.  Many of us (certainly not all) struggle still against the self hatred and self doubt imposed upon us by the churches of our childhood and youth, many of which today have taken up very active combat against us.

Yes, Kitt writes about LGBTQI Saints, and serves as a news source to us on the writings of theologians who write from a queer perspective or artists who depict things of a religious/spiritual nature in the rainbow lights of a queer perspective.

In the second "item" I encountered, a commenter to Kitt’s blog rebuked Kitt for writing about a particular, possibly lesbian, saint, and said, in summary, that Kitt should focus on the best of this saint – namely those attributes for which the saint in question was canonized – and not the worst of this saint – namely the possible orientation of the saint.  It is as troubling to me that one would perceive one’s orientation as being either the best OR the worst of a person, as it is to see a picture of two kissing lovers labeled in such a way as to elicit (at least in myself) a negative reaction.

We are who we are, by God’s Grace and by God’s gift.  God gave us all, straight or gay or otherwise, the gift of our sexuality, a gift to be used in many ways.  Sexuality was not given us merely to serve to create children, though in that service it is certainly beneficial and good… and indeed sacred.  Sexuality was also given us to nurture our love, one for another, and as a means of expressing that love… a service that is of no less (and of course no greater) value than that of procreation… and is therefore sacred. Sexuality also was given for our pleasure, and I see this as no less sacred.  I’m sure others can do much greater service to this discussion and add ways in which our sexuality can be put to use.

Can sexuality be bad?  No, I really don’t think so.  Can SEX be bad.  In general, again I say I do not think so.  There are, however exceptions to this latter.  For me, there is one single criterion for determining the "goodness" of any sexual behavior or activity.  Is the sexual behavior/activity mutual, entered in to with mutual and informed consent.  Here’s where the "slippery slope" argument loses, in my opinion.  It is often opined by some on the right that if society accepts homosexual marriage and behavior, where will it all end… they point to the requirement to then accept such things as bestiality and pedophilia and all manner of horrors.  And yet, none of these can be entered into on a mutually acceptable, informed and consensual basis.  I don’t really intend to develop this thought beyond this.  Maybe some other day.

There is, in short, to my way of thinking, no way in which mutually informed and consensual sexuality and sex can be used in a negative manner.

In fact, I should finish my reaction to this comment by saying far from being the worst aspect of this particular saints’ life, her sexuality is perhaps among the highest and best qualities of her life, that which makes her particularly worthy of emulation for those who identify with her.  For it is her devotion and love for the one who may have been her life-partner that is most worthy of emulation.

Queer Thoughts.

The final comment, that which is actually first in time of this trilogy of troubling experiences for me, also pertains to Kitt’s blogs, one which reports on new theological writings from a theologian in New Zealand.

Here, another "aside" is called for.  We find ourselves living in what many refer to as the "Post-Modern" era.  It is an era in which scientific study, discovery and theory have tossed out what has become for many of us a "comfortable" theology.  It is an era in which society is no longer homogeneous.  Our society is heterogeneous, we live amongst all sorts of people of all sorts of racial, national and religious backgrounds.  We probably include amongst our friends a varied collection of all sorts of peoples from all corners of the globe.  In reality, this post modern era with its focus on scientific discovery and theory makes it very difficult to reconcile our theology with what is known about the world around us.  Because of this, I tend to consider theology that serves to reinforce old, comfortable ways of thinking as being, for me, largely irrelevant.  I WANT what I read about theology and spirituality to discomfort me, to cause my stomach to churn, to force my brain to think.  I want it relevant and irreverent, theology should trouble, not soothe.  For me, this is good, this makes me alive, forces me to consider God in ways that I never heretofore would have.

This particular theologian about whom Kitt writes, posits a different Jesus from that portrayed elsewhere, reads the Gospels in an altogether new, and erotic fashion, and fashions a Jesus that makes virtually everyone uncomfortable… a Queer Jesus.  Now, if my readers are STILL reading after all of this, I owe you an apology.  This writing is already becoming uncomfortably long to me.  And so, I cannot justify explaining in depth the word Queer in the context in which I write here.  Do not think of Queer solely in its modern sense, a pejorative and denigrating word referring to LGBTQI people.  Consider its’ original meaning, of something outside the norm, odd, unusual.  Numerous books have been written about this new/old use of Queer to refer to modern theological efforts, among which are considerations of "Queering the Bible", "Queering the apostles", etc.  If you ask, I’ll attempt to provide a bibliography of such.

In his writing about Jesus, his "Queering of" Jesus, if you will, he makes reference to Jesus walking along the seashore and calling out to various fisher-folk to leave what they are doing and follow him.  As we know, numbers did… and we refer to them today as apostles.  Peter, James & John come to mind.  But this writer sees Jesus, not out walking, but "cruising".  And it is to this that the second comment (my third "experience") is addressed.  The individual who commented on this writer’s use of cruising seemed to take great umbrage at this.  I have to admit that my initial response was one of queasiness.  But the commenter’s offense really caused me to step back and look at the passage again.  Whereas the commenter was offended to think of Jesus out cruising (a word with almost universal sexual connotation) I was struck by how (if I accept the writer’s portrayal) what might have started out as a "crass search for casual sex" instead resulted in deep relationships, lasting a lifetime… and millennia.

I guess what it comes down to is this.  I reject the notion that sex is in and of itself a negative.  I find, instead, that sex is primarily and fundamentally a positive, good "thing".  To personalize this, my own relationship with my husband began as an act of "cruising".  It has become for me, and I firmly believe, in the eyes of God, a most wondrous and beautiful expression of who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming.  I categorically and emphatically reject the supposition that cruising is in and of itself bad, anymore than any expression of sexuality is bad.  In so doing, I also recognize that I am categorically rejecting any teaching of any establishment which portrays sex, sexuality, sexual orientation or sexual activity (at least those that do not fall into the categories I defined earlier) as being immoral.  What is immoral is precisely that negative portrayal of these gifts of God in our lives.  And to the degree that institutions seek to portray these gifts as immoral, I see those institutions themselves as fundamentally immoral.