Patty the Pengoosatross

My wife left me [Steve] today. Though we live in the U.S. of A., she is headed for Argentina. She muttered something about the gauchos and walked out the door.

In truth, she is on a sojourn, not a rebellious abandonment. My wife, I call her Patty because that is what her parents always called her, was born in Argentina. She is returning to her place of birth, back to the old pampas stomping grounds.

Penguins trek back to their place of birth, too. Remember March of the Penguins
Every March, through an inborn instinct, the little penguins would start asking questions, like “Where am I from, Daddy? What is my purpose in life?” Of course, the answer to the second question was, “You have no purpose.” For the first question, though, the parents and aunts and uncles and next-door neighbors had an answer: “Here, let me show you.” So they all packed their fresh tuxedos and woolen mittens and took a long walk. They walked all month. This is what is known as The March of the Penguins.

You may think I have gone off track from the story. No. The point is that Patty is just like the penguin. Except for the nice suit. And except she is going in November instead of March.

Patty is also like the goose. How could this be? Because she is flying, not walking. Geese are forever migrating, always flying in that “V” formation. When the weather in the north gets cold, they fly south. By the time they get to their destination, it is so hot that they turn around and go back north.

Patty and her family, from various parts of the U.S. of A., will meet in Miami before their flight to Buenos Aires. Does this mean that Patty is like the flamingo? Well, she does love wearing pink. However, if she stands on one leg she tends to tip over. Thus, after due consideration, I have to conclude that Patty is not like the flamingo.

Patty will be going with her dad and her three brothers on this hiatus. Only Patty was born in Argentina, and thus only she is on this birthplace-sojourn thing. However, the family lived there for many years during the children’s formative years. Thus the inner child of all four siblings lives in Argentina. The inner child of Patty’s dad lives in Colorado, but a big part of his heart still lives in Argentina.

Patty’s mom has passed on to Heaven, but she will be so utterly close in heart and spirit, that she is truly traveling with them. Thus, the whole family will be sojourning to a very significant time in their lives, a place and time with so many memories that this beautiful family shares in such deep ways.

This will be an incredibly fantastic trip. First is the fact that the family will be on this adventure together. Secondly, the sites will be strikingly beautiful. Thirdly, they will be visiting with old friends who the sibs haven't seen in 37 years! (Dad visited them just 28 years ago, so it's just not going to be the same for him.)

One very beautiful place they will be is Patagonia, way down at the bottom of South America. It's further south than Australia or even New Zealand. For a few days they will be staying in Ushuaia. This is the southernmost city in the world! Now that’s really down under, mate.

In Patagonia they will see albatrosses. These birds have the longest wingspan among all birds! They soar gracefully through the sky as majestic as something — well, something very majestic. Is Patty like the albatross? You betcha. The emotions from the depth of her soul, from her inner child in fact, will be soaring like the albatross as she surveys the beauty all around her.

And guess who else lives in Patagonia. The penguins! Coincidence? I don’t think so.

So, to sum up, Patty is like the penguin. She is like the goose. And she is like the albatross. She is very much like the Pengoosatross.

Tortured Toy Story

We found the new Sid Phillips, the toy-torturing neighbor from Toy Story, when we went to Lucas, Kan., recently. Part of our tour included “The Garden of Isis”. This place would be creepy enough in the light, but we toured the place in the dark, the artist, Mri Pilar, leading the tour with a flashlight.

Artist said that Isis represented resurrection and recycling, so was an appropriate title for her work. I her creations made my skin crawl. Even though I love to recycle items myself, torturing what I find is not my style.

She had covered the walls of this house with silver fabric, furthering the eerie effect. I wanted only to escape the horrible, toy-haunted house, but couldn’t see a way to do it. I was trapped within the tour group and Hubby was game to keep going.

When we passed through the bathroom, artist pointed out a bathtub full of naked dolls. She said they were awaiting their transformation into art. I imagined them shivering and shaking in fear of what was about to happen to them. Poor things.

House previously belonged to Florence Deeble, who had created a rock garden outside. I would greatly have preferred to see the rock garden.

Garden of Eden

Unfortunately, I had forgotten to charge my camera’s battery before we left for Lucas, Kan., recently. I had to rely on a disposable point-and-shoot camera for our pictures there.

The town’s signature attraction is “The Garden of Eden”. Hubby is standing in front of it.

Civil War veteran S.P. Dinsmoor began working in Portland cement while he built his home. He first told the Biblical story of Garden of Eden, then Cain’s murder of his brother Abel. He then began to explain his Populist political philosophy in cement.

Murdered Abel is watched over by angels and a demon. The light is in a snake’s mouth. Dinsmoor electrified his house two years before the rest of Lucas got electricity.

Dinsmoor portrayed bankers and the era’s monopolistic trusts as giant octopuses using their tentacles to steal from the common man. His last, unfinished, work shows Labor crucified by preachers, bankers, lawyers and doctors. He built an onsite mausoleum for himself and his first wife. When she died, she was originally buried in the Lucas cemetery. He disinterred her and reinterred her in solid concrete. When he died, he ordered that his corpse remain available for viewing. Tour includes a look at Dinsmoor’s mummy. With our current economic troubles driven by financial “experts’” foolishness, Dinsmoor’s Populist vision continues to resonate today.

Among the innumerable stars

The stars were very numerous and bright at Stone Cottage Farm. Even in our small town, the street lights obscure the stars. But there, nestled in the hills miles from any town, the stars shine unimpeded by any man-made light.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s words in The Silmarillion
came to mind while I was looking upward: “…the Kingdom of Earth amid the innumerable stars.” I was seeing the stars somewhat like Abraham did when God promised to give him descendants like the stars in the heavens. “‘He (God) took him (Abraham) outside and said, ‘Look up at the heavens and count the stars — if indeed you can count them.’ Then He said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.’” - Gen. 15:5

Because the house’s thick stone walls drown out most noise, staying there is an oasis of quiet.

I sat in that lawn chair in the picture for awhile and read. I could feel myself unwinding.

Beautiful scenery, interesting books and innumerable stars: A recipe for relaxing. Next time we stay there, and I intend to have a next time, I look forward to laying in their hammock to stargaze.

Abraham and J.R.R. Tolkien make good company.

Standing stone

We took a several-hour trip to Lucas, Kan., over the long weekend. We stayed at Stone Cottage Farm Bed and Breakfast. Lucas is in Kansas’ Post Rock Country. On the treeless plains, settlers had to use whatever they could find for fence posts and building materials. Limestone lies very close to the ground in that area, so the settlers cut it out of the the earth to use.

Stone Cottage Farm features several buildings, all of post rock. They’ve landscaped with numerous post rocks. This one reminds me of a passage in my favorite author J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece The Lord of the Rings.

…Still round the corner
We may meet a sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone…

Still round the corner they may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun…