Benevolant Dictatorship

We were old fashioned parents. I don't think the children of today would approve of the methods that we used in our parenting. I think my son said it best when he announced he was raised in a "benevolent dictatorship". There wasn't much doubt in our house that dad was the captain of the ship and mom was first mate. While we didn't really make them walk the plank, they were never sure we wouldn't if we could find enough water and a plank!

We loved our children but we weren't always loving to them. We felt our first responsibility was to teach our children how to be responsible adults. That meant that sometimes they had to learn that in society there are rules and they have to be followed or there were consequences. Sometimes the consequences were punishments that involved loss of freedoms or treats. Sometimes it was more immediate and physical.

Did we hit our children? Yes, but not in anger as an outlet for our frustrations. Sometimes the lesson to be learned has to be immediate and unforgettable. You cannot reason with a two year old about the dangers of crossing the street. However, he will remember to ask if an impression of consequences (a swat on the bottom) is in his mind. It's a lesson that cannot be taught gradually. One dash into the street could mean a fatality.

Children are all different. My daughter could be brought to tears and remorse with a stern lecture. She still to this day says that I "beat her to death with my lips"! Some children don't hear you at all until you physically touch them. In our house, mom didn't appeal to your better nature, she issued ultimatums. Were my kids perfect, hardly. Was I a perfect parent, only in my dreams. However, we did manage to raise two responsible, accountable adults who are doing a pretty good job of raising their children.

I remember one event that made a lasting impression on my son and became a family legend. I had come home from work and frantically cooked dinner. A challenge every working mom faces, to get a hot meal on the table before the kids have driven her crazy complaining of starving. I filled the plates and set them on the table. It had been a long, stressful day and the kids were being particularly skilled at getting on my last nerve. My son, with the total disregard for self-preservation that only a 7 year old can show, curled his lip in distaste and whined, "Wha-at is this? YUK!"

Something in me snapped! To the amazement of my husband and daughter I snatched up his plate and snarled, "You don't have to worry about what it is because you don't have to eat it!" With that I marched to the garbage can and scraped his plate into it. Husband, son, and daughter sat in stunned silence. They looked at me in total astonishment as I calmly sat down and began to eat my dinner. It was not my finest hour, but I did get my point across. (My husband confessed later that he snuck a plate of food for my son, so he didn't starve.)

Years later we were sitting down to dinner with one of my son's friends. As the food was passed around the table the friend was heard to mutter, "What is this stuff?" My son shot back, "Don't ask, just eat. She'll scrape your plate in a heartbeat!" The friend looked at us like we were lunatics as we all burst out laughing.

Thank You God

It is amazing how quickly your life can go from carefree to terror stricken.


On Thursday our daughter-in-law received the call you pray you will never receive. "Come quickly. The baby has stopped breathing. I've called the ambulance." My son and wife arrived in minutes, before even the ambulance, to see the sitter holding the limp, lifeless form of their 3 month old daughter. She was breathing, but with great effort, and was only semi-conscious. The paramedics quickly arrived and she began to revive upon receiving oxygen. Within minutes they were on their way to the local hospital.

At the hospital they discovered her blood sugar was at 375. Everyone feared the sudden onset of diabetes. She began to show signs of returning to normal but remained lethargic. The decision was made to send her to the children's hospital in Louisville. She was once again loaded into the ambulance and mother and baby started on the trip to Louisville. At this point, my son returned home, (stopping by our house on the way ) to pack bags and gather up what they needed to stay with her in the hospital.


My first instinct on seeing the pain and fear in my son's eyes was to fold him into a hug and comfort him. Not the easiest thing to accomplish when you are 5'4" and he is 6'4". ( I wish I had a stool to carry around for these emergencies.) As one mother told me, "You hurt twice. Once for the infant, who is suffering this event and once for your child who is hurting, too." We assured him that we would take good care of the three boys for as long as they needed us to. With that he was off to be with his baby and wife.

Thank goodness for technology. Through facebook, texting, and phone calls we were able to keep up with the progress as they eliminated one thing after another in the search for the cause her spell. They quickly eliminated the threat of diabetes, thyroid, hormone imbalance,and seizures. The poor little thing suffered through CT scans, EKGs, x-rays, hundreds of sticks and blood draws, with each test showing that she was perfectly normal. The last test was an upper GI to check out the reflux she had suffered from since birth. That too, resulted in a finding of nothing abnormal.

The doctors gathered in her room to deliver the results. With all the major tests finished they were calling this an episode of ALTE, Apparent Life Threatening Event. Which, as my daughter-in-law said, is doctor speak for "We haven't got a clue what caused it, but it was bad!" With that bit of information they released them to return home. They did reassure them that it doesn't "usually" happen again, however they should be sure to burp her and to maybe let her sleep in an inclined position for the next few months.

They arrived home with a tired, but happy baby and rather shell-shocked expressions on their faces. I would guess that for the next few months they will be checking on her numerous times through the night. I don't imagine they will rest easy until she passes that magical 6 month age, after which these events seem to become very rare. In short, the baby is fine but the parents may take a little longer to recover.

I suspect if it hadn't been for a very vigilant and alert sitter we would have been dealing with a mysterious SIDS death.

Thank you God for watching over this little angel.

Walnuts for Sale

Today was a beautiful day in Kentucky. Sunshine, mild temperatures and clear blue skies. Just the sort of day to enjoy being outside.

My son dropped by the house this morning bright and early to bring me yesterday's paper. The paper man leaves it in the middle of our drive at the foot of the hill, so he had picked it up to bring to the house....then forgot to deliver it yesterday. While he was here he mentioned that his oldest son, who is out of school for fall break this week, would be on the farm all day. It seems that he wanted to earn a little extra money and had seen a sign that a neighbor was buying walnuts. This is a dandy little business opportunity locally. They buy all the black walnuts you can bring in and pay you, according to my grandson, $1/pound. The buyer then hulls them and sells them to a factory that will shell them and package them to sell to you in the grocery.

Now one thing we have in this section of Kentucky is lots of walnut trees. They grow in lots of fence rows, or in scrubby woodlands or about anywhere you don't want them (I have two in the yard that just volunteered). They aren't a very pretty tree since they have sparse leaves that they drop in late summer. So there they stand, mostly leafless and covered with big green balls. Rather like a strange decoration. These balls contain the walnuts, but mother nature didn't intend to make it easy to enjoy them. The outer green hull has to be removed then the nut dried and then cracked open to enjoy the rich nutmeat. We used to put them in the driveway and let all the machinery drive over them to crush the hulls and get them to come loose. When they start to rot and come off they turn black and stain everything they touch. Thank goodness now they have a machine that will do this nasty part for us.

Anyway, my grandson decided this was a quick way to get rich. He gathered up some feed sacks, a couple of buckets and some gloves and started on the trees in the yard. It wasn't long before he came in for a little help. Naturally, I "volunteered" to help him. We picked up several buckets but still had lots of walnuts on the trees. A search of the barns yielded a long piece of quarter-round molding left over from a remodeling project some years ago. This became our "whacker". We would stretch it up and "whack" the limbs and walnuts until they rained down on us. When we couldn't reach any more we resorted to a piece of stove wood. My grandson has a great arm and he could really wing it into the top of the tree, raining down more walnuts.

We spent a great afternoon riding the four-wheeler, picking up walnuts, and visiting. We managed to get nine feed sacks of walnuts but more importantly, we had a time of sharing...sharing the work, laughs, secrets, hopes, dreams, and a beautiful day. We probably earned all of $12 after they were all hulled, but the day was priceless!

Alaska Memories

My mind is so full of Alaska memories that I'm going to do one more post to clean out the corners of my mind. Just some random thoughts.

We were in Fairbanks, discussing how on earth you deal with temperatures that can go to forty below zero. One of the guides said that she lived in a cabin out of town with no running water. (That's one way to avoid frozen pipes) My thought was about living with no bathroom. She laughed and said that she did indeed have an outhouse. My mind refused to even think about "bare-ing" it all for a potty break. She replied that you simply kept your toilet seat inside and took it with you when nature called. Good story, but I'm betting they all have a good old fashioned "thunder mug" under the bed.

Ketchikan, of Deadliest Catch fame, is a wonderfully picturesque town that rambles along the shore with mountains jumping up right behind it. The locals tell you that the town is 3 blocks wide and 1 mile long. One of the neatest places is a series of shops that tumble down the banks of the creek running down the mountain, through the town, and to the sea. When it is high tide, you can stand on the bridge and watch the salmon begin their struggle from the sea to their inland spawning places. Creek Street is now home to a thriving collection of shops catering to the cruise trade.

It was in one of these shops that we paused to view the collection of beautiful hand-made jewelry, needle crafts, and wood carvings. The owner shared that this was her studio and she lived here year round. She said that the best part was all the fresh fish she could eat. At the end of the day she simply walked out on her balcony and dropped in her line to catch her supper.

A little further down was a prime example of Alaska ingenuity. A small booth was renting out fishing poles for $25. (They also sold fishing licenses for another fee). You would then take your pole to the bridge and fish for salmon. The salmon, which were pooling under the bridge waiting for high tide to flood in to start their journey, were quickly being reeled in. As you reeled it in a young man would help you land your catch and take your picture (with your camera) of your great Alaskan salmon catch. The fish was then returned to the water, unless you wanted to deal with icing it down and flying it back to the states. During this time, you can keep up to six fish a day, but these people were on a cruise ship, so it was a moot point. Tidy little profit for the local boys.

The people in Ketchikan think that anyone that lives in Fairbanks is crazy. The people in Fairbanks agree with them.

I spent some time talking to a lady in Skagway who lived there year around. Once it was a boom town that grew out of the thousands of miners who landed there to begin their trek to the Yukon over White Horse Pass. It is now a sleepy little community with the main income derived from the cruise ships that arrive during the summer months. The rest of the year they just snuggle in and do whatever they can. There is no hospital and no roads to get to a larger place. The common source of travel is either boat or plane. One shop owner revealed that a quick labor almost had her little boy delivered in the plane on the way to the hospital.

Alaska is our last frontier. It is occupied by that segment of the population that doesn't always take the easy road, look for the easy solution, or yearn for the easy life What they are is independent, hardy, and best of all, free to do things their own way. They live life to the fullest and meet all obstacles head on. It's the spirit that settled America and continues to make it the great country that it is. I hope, after visiting with these new acquaintances, I remember their zest for life and bite off the complaint about my "hard times" that was on the tip of my tongue.

Moose?

Probably no animal says Alaska like the moose.  I always think of the old tv show, Northern Exposure, where the moose is wandering through the town in the opening scenes.  You knew immediately that you were seeing a town in Alaska.  Where else would you see a moose in town?  So consequently, we spent a lot of time intently hoping to see a moose.

In truth, you really don't want to see one, especially up close.  The locals will tell you that few animals are more dangerous or more unpredictable in their behavior. They will charge on the drop of a hat and can kick in all four directions.  They are enormously tall and have a tremendous range in their kicks. They also tend to show up anywhere they think they will find a tasty shrub, which often includes cabin clearings. Moose meat tastes great and for that reason they are eagerly sought during the hunting season.  At all other times they are strictly left alone and avoided.  All this being said we still looked as hard as we could to see one.

Our efforts had been unrewarded until we took the train from Talkeetna to Seward where we would board our ship for the last leg of our journey.  The train took us through some of the beautiful wilderness that is so much a part of Alaska.  We had been rewarded on the trip with sights of beavers and their marvelous dams, eagles and their nests, but no moose.  We were entering one part that was actually part of the airforce base outside of Palmer, when our guide told us to keep a sharp look out because there were lots of moose in this area.  She said that during the winter they became real pests for the locals because they tended to walk in the road because it was easier.  These animals are really big, so in an argument with a car, the car is going to lose.  So about all you could do is wait until they moved on.

Naturally, we were glued to the windows from then on.  Suddenly the cry went up from the front of the car,  "MOOSE".  Immediately everyone lunged to the side of the train.  Sure enough there beside the railroad tracks was a huge moose, standing and looking away from the train and into the woods. In a blink we were past it and everyone was excitedly chattering about their "moose sighting".  The guide said she was very surprised to see one that close to the train since they were usually seen running away.  She said we were very lucky. 

About that time one of the couples returned from the lounge car.  They immediately started ridiculing us for being such suckers.  It seems that the car attendant told them that it was a fake moose.  A grand discussion (dare I say argument) arose between those who glimpsed the moose and those who thought it must be a trick.  To this day, part of our group insists it was a fake while the rest (me included) believe we saw what we saw.  It was quick, but  honestly it looked incredibly real.  After all who would go to the expense of putting a stuffed moose out in the weather just to fool some tourists?  Alas, we didn't get a picture. 

I'm going to believe I saw my moose. 

Sled Dogs

One of the highlights of our trip to Alaska for me was the opportunity to see the famous sled dogs in action.  During the winter that I was more or less housebound following my chemo treatments, I spent a lot of time playing on the computer.  During one of my spells of surfing, I discovered the Cabella website and the Iditarod.  Cabella's provided day to day and often moment to moment coverage of the famous dog race that takes place in early March. 

The Iditarod is a 1100 to 1150 mile race from Anchorage to Nome.  The miles vary because the route alternates every other year.  It is a grueling race that is accomplished in an amazing 10-17 days.  It follows approximately the route taken in 1925 when a diphtheria epidemic struck Nome.  The planes that would have normally been used to fly in desperately needed medicine were grounded due to the weather.  Someone came up with the idea of using a dog team to rush the medicine to the doctors in Nome.  Todays race is not a desperate race to deliver hope but remains none the less an unbelievable triumph of man and dog over elements.

Day after day I found myself glued to the computer as I followed the dog teams and their mushers as they passed through their check points.   Over fifty teams started the race but not all would finish it.  Each day I learned about the care and feeding of these marvelous dogs and the mushers who love them and the race.  Soon the names became people and I was immersed in their lives and what made them choose this dangerous and thrilling sport.  I followed them as they battled frigid weather, blowing snow, dangerous ice, dark nights, and the threat of a moose attack.  (Yes, a moose is the most dangerous animal they can face on the trail.  It is for this reason they are required by the race to carry a firearm.)  I began to see the strategy that would help them overcome their opponents to gain a few hours or minutes. 

Now that we were going to Alaska I was determined to visit a sled dog kennel and see these marvelous animals.  To my delight one of the stops in Fairbanks was to visit the kennel of Susan Butcher.  Susan died a few years ago of leukemia but she was a famous Iditarod racer who was a four time winner of the race.  Her husband now runs the kennel and still trains the dogs.  We were treated to an exhibition of  a team in action.  Since there was no snow for them to pull a sled over they use a four wheeler to train during the summer.  With the appearance of the four wheeler and the handlers the entire yard of dogs went crazy.  With tails wagging like wild, they jumped on and off of their houses, each enthusiastically barking "take me!! Take Me!! TAKE ME!!"  The ones chosen eagerly drug their handler to the sled to take their places.  Their excitement was absolutely palatable. 

Once in their harness they became all business.  Each was eager to get started and run, but obedient to the signals of the musher.  These dogs are controlled by voice not reins or whips.  They respond to commands of "gee", "haw", "whoa", and "get up" just like teams of horses did.  At the command of "get up" they lunged to the end of their harness and began to run.  I am still amazed at the speed and agility of these dogs.  These are the thoroughbreds of the dog world, bred for speed and endurance.  They aren't the hulking, heavy dogs of the movies but smaller, slighter and quicker.  Think draft horses versus race horses.  They aren't purebred but all show some husky influence but may be crossed with about any other breed.  All I can say about the demonstration is WOW!  The dogs returned to the starting point barely out of breath and looking immensely pleased with themselves. 

What a wonderful experience to see these dogs in their element, running like the wind.

Catching the Train

Visiting Alaska has really made me realize just how soft our living is.  We view ourselves as hardy farmers making a living on our land, but in reality we make our real living from my husband's insurance and real estate business.  We farm but not with real hardship as we do most of it with the help of a multitude of machines, from tractors to riding lawn mowers.  When I need something for supper, I hop in the car and run to the grocery and get it all fancied up in a box. 

What we saw in Alaska were people who really were self-sufficient and loved it.  As we traveled by train across the vast midland of Alaska we were treated to occasional glimpses of isolated cabins in snug little clearings in the woodlands.  Some were elegant and clearly professionally created, some were rough and clearly built with the hard work of the families themselves.  Some were neat with well cared for yards and some of the gloriously, profuse flowers I keep talking about.  Some were cluttered with all the paraphernalia of wilderness living piled on porch, yard, and walls.  Yet, all held a strong impression of competence and self-sufficiency.  These were people that relied on no one to do the work for them.  They obviously took care of their own needs in their own way. 

One of the most fascinating stretches of railroad ran for 60 miles through an area that was unreachable by road.  The people that lived in this area relied on the train for transportation when they needed to reach the outside and the benefits of civilization.  A signal was given and the train stopped at certain mile markers to pick up anyone who wanted to ride.  To reach the train tracks they arrived on their four-wheelers.  Up and down the tracks would run paths, which would follow the train tracks for a ways then shoot off into the forest and disappear.  Occasionally, we would see bright blue showing through the bush and trees beside the train.  Finally we realized that these were the four-wheelers and carts, covered with blue tarps, waiting for the return from town of their owners, ready to be loaded with supplies and taken to cabins off in the woods.

I envisioned lonely hunters living far from civilization and relishing their privacy, until our guide pointed out a neat homestead coming up ahead.  Soon we were treated to a idyllic view of a snug home in a manicured clearing surrounded by flower beds and bird houses.  Tricycles and bikes leaned against the railing of the neat deck, while clothes dried on the lines in the back yard.  The guide told us that they must be off somewhere because usually they greeted the train with waves from the yard.  It seems that this was a couple who had decided to move to Alaska from "outside", meaning the lower states.  They had arrived several years earlier and built their home and settled in.  The mother home schooled the children when they became old enough and the father did various jobs and worked at keeping them fed.  I never really figured out what he did but obviously it provided for his family. 

I looked at that neat homestead and thought of the little family it protected.  I thought about the long winter days when the sun barely shown and the snow was deep around the cabin.  I thought of all the illnesses and injuries that could happen and how far they were from medical help.  I thought about all the crises that arise that you need neighbors for help.  I wondered who the mother shared her worries with and who the father had to bolster him up.  Then I realized that these people didn't need all the things that we think are so necessary.  Medical help was available, by train, in an emergency, but for all else they had each other.  I'm sure there were others that were in the area, even if they weren't close.  There were too many four-wheeler paths for the area to be totally uninhabited, but still these people had reached down inside themselves and found a strength and fortitude that I found awe inspiring.   These were the types of people who settled our lands, "outside", many years ago. 

 I guess I thought all the heroes and pioneers were long gone.  No they still live and thrive in Alaska.

Plug it UP

This was our first time to visit Fairbanks, Alaska.  We flew in in the late afternoon, about 7:00, and were treated to the sight of Fairbanks spread out over the undulating tundra.  As far as you could see was a green rolling countryside, occasionally broken  by streams, with this small city sitting in the middle of it.  There is one road that goes in and out, which connects eventually to Anchorage and the coast.  The airport consists of the standard runways and several lakes, which have been created to accommodate the small float planes.   Air travel is the most common method of travel in this part of the state.  In fact, we saw several homes with airplanes parked in the drive, much like we would motor homes.

Fairbanks is a city of extremes.  The climate is extremely dry and extremely cold.  Their average snowfall is 8 inches, but remember, it won't be melting off.  Their temperatures dip down to 30 to 40 degrees below zero.  Which is what you would expect from a city located just 200 miles from the artic circle.  We arrived the last of August to beautiful fall weather.  The temperature was a mild 62 degrees with lots of sunshine.  We were assured that it doesn't last.  Mid-September is when they start to experience the beginning of winter.  From August on the days grow shorter quickly until eventually the sun just doesn't ever really come up.  They will have months of dusk, near dark, and dark.

As usual we took off the next morning to explore the city.  We were dropped off at the park running along the Chena river.  It was a beautiful walk from there to the main part of town.  The park, like all the places we saw in Alaska, was overflowing with flowers. Giant flowers!  Sunflowers, nasturtiums, pansies, cone flowers, daisy's, sultanas, and lots I didn't know the names of.   The flowers seem to grow especially beautiful as though to make up for the dark days of winter.

We were sitting in a coffee shop later that morning enjoying a latte when I looked out the window and noticed something that intrigued me.  Hanging from the parking meter in front of the shop was a plug, like the end of an extension cord.  I started looking and noticed that all the cars pulled up to the meters had a cord hanging out from the grill on the front.  We found out that there were plugs all over the town so people could plug up the engine heaters in their cars.  Without the heaters the cars would quickly get so cold that they wouldn't start up again when the owners returned.  All winter when the temperatures plummeted people would pull in, plug up and do their shopping.  One girl confessed that when plugs weren't available she just left her car running.  She laughed and said, that she even left it running when she went to the movies..  Better than no transportation at the end of the movie, I guess.

Somehow the fact that you could plug your engine heater in  while you shopped just fascinated me.  If cars require such extreme care to function in that climate, how do the people keep going.  I live in a state where if it gets to 5 below zero we practically close down the state.  The ability of people to thrive and live in conditions that seem unbelievable to me is wonderful.  Of course, they probably think our summer temperatures of 100 degrees (which it was at home while we were there) are totally beyond bearing. 

Amazing.

Cabbage Contest

The first time we visited Alaska I wasn't prepared for what we would experience.  After all I grew up on the edge of the Appalachian Mountains in a rural area, I thought I knew what to expect.  What I didn't expect was a vast wilderness, mostly unpopulated, settled by true pioneers of hardy stock.  The land itself is breathtaking and those that live there are worthy of it's rugged splendor.

As is usually the case when we travel, we are interested in the land and what it produces.  I hesitate to call it agriculture, since they have very few "farms" as such.  However, many can and do survive on what they can grow, catch or kill.   They have a very short growing season, in southern Alaska about 105 days, less further north.  That means that many of our slow maturing vegetables and crops just won't have enough time to grow.  Although they do have one advantage we don't have.  During the summer they may have as much as 20 hours of sunlight a day.  It's rather like growing plants under a grow-light in a greenhouse.

The crops that do well there are our cool weather crops that respond to the mild temperatures and the wet climate.  We saw rhubarb in an abundance, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, lettuce of all types, strawberries (in beautiful hanging baskets), and lots and lots of flowers.  It is as though the plants themselves know that they have only a short period to produce so they do it as dramatically as they can.  Everything is super big due to the extra sunlight, I guess.

Alaskans make a big thing out of everything being bigger.  They proudly tell you that they are the biggest state (2 1/2 times as big as Texas), they have the biggest bears (polar and grizzly), the biggest beavers (100 lbs.), the biggest mountain (Mt. McKinley) and the most airplanes and pilots.  Which brings us to the state fair.

The delightful girl who was our tour guide on the train ride to Anchorage, proudly pointed out that Palmer, AK, was hosting the annual State Fair.  She told us that her sister was carrying on a tradition started by her grandfather, carried on by her father and now it was her turn.  She was trying to win the biggest cabbage contest.   This is roughly equivalent to us wanting to win the State Fair Steer competition.  

This is serious business.  She had raised three cabbage plants in her back yard.  She started by building a frame and putting metal cross bars in it.  She then filled it with soil and planted her cabbages.  Then followed days of precise feeding with fertilizers and growth stimulants.  She harvested the first one a few weeks earlier to enter in another competition to feel out the opponents.  It weighted in at 73 pounds.  It was her smallest one.  To harvest it they used a sawsall to cut the stem and hooked an engine hoist to the frame to pick it up and put it in the pickup truck.  She has great hopes for the biggest one, which measures over 8 feet across, and will be her State Fair entry. She is carrying the hopes of her father and grandfather on her massive head of cabbage, that she will be the third generation to win "biggest cabbage".

All I could think of is what a mountain of slaw that would make and how many people it would take to eat it all up.

Hugs Across the Border

We have just returned from a two week trip to Alaska.  We ended our tour by arriving in Vancouver, Canada by boat.  The arrival brought back many memories of the last time we made this trip.  September 11, 2001.

Ten years ago we ended a wonderful cruise with six friends on the day the towers came down.  We arrived in Vancouver, scared, grieved, and unsure of what to do next.  Four of us were allowed to leave the ship since we had made previous reservations to stay in Vancouver and therefore had accommodations.  The other four stayed on the ship as guests of the cruise line until arrangements could be made for them.  We carried our luggage off the ship amid bomb sniffing dogs, police officers armed with assault rifles, and custom officials, feeling much like refugees. 

We arrived at our hotel to be greeted by warmth and expressions of sympathy and consolation by the staff.  Across the street was a beautiful, small church with a small churchyard around it.  On the board in front of the church was an announcement for a memorial service the next day for the victims of the terrorist attack on the United States.  We arose the next morning with the intention of attending the service and a hope of making some sense of the horrific events.  Heart sore and still scared we got ready for the service.  My husband opened the curtains to look out and called that I could probably quit rushing to get ready.  I joined him at the window to look down on the little church across the street. 

An hour before the service was to begin the Canadians had crowded the church, filled the church yard and were congregating in the street.  Traffic had slowed as more and more people arrived to remember, grieve and show their concern for the victims and their families across the border.  We watched as people hugged, cried and held hands as they offered up their support and concern for their neighboring country.  This outpouring of concern and support washed over us as we watched the crowd.  We realized that although we were in a foreign country with the borders closed we were not alone.  Others shared our outrage and grief and offered us the comfort of their joined concern. 

Throughout our stay until the borders were opened and we were able to fly home, the Canadians continuously offered us comfort and understanding.  From a shop lady offering a comforting squeeze to our shoulders to outright hugs from a waitress with family in Chicago, we were treated with warmth and love.  The people of Canada and particularly Vancouver left an impression on our hearts that will never be forgotten.  In a time a stress and fear they offered comfort without any thought of country borders or cultural differences.  Thank you for showing us that there is hope for a troubled world as long as we can hug and comfort one another in times of need.