Clowns, Cowboys, Convicts

Tornado and Amish Fair

Thu, 19 May 2011 10:45:24 -0500

Last weekend my daughter Heather and I went to deliver a pump to her friend Linda Scherder. Linda raises Elite Welch Ponies on her husband Paul’s large farm near Bowling Green. Several weeks ago their farm was struck by a tornado. Heather had been in a McDonald’s in Bowling Green when the tornado was viewed. She and other customers were herded into a bathroom until the tornado had passed. She then left McDonalds and went to see Linda, not realizing their farm had been struck by the tornado.
Heather arrived to find big farm sheds, other buildings, expensive farm machinery, heavily damaged or destroyed, the house roofless, huge trees lying about uprooted, dead cows lying about beneath the rubble and injured ponies wandering about in bewilderment. None of the Scherder family , Linda, Paul, their daughter Evan and their son Austin was injured. They made it to the storm cellar as the storm approached. Linda paused and got a photo of the funnel as they entered. They are extremely courageous and inspiring people and have endured their losses and faced the hard work to rebuild with faith and determination. The fact that hundreds of neighbors arrived to help within minutes of the storm, was a reassuring and even spiritual experience which brought everyone a sense of togetherness, caring, and hope.
By last weekend’s visit, Linda’s farm had been almost totally cleared of debris and buildings were being rebuilt. Some of the ponies are still over at our farm where Heather took them to doctor them after the storm. We told Linda how amazingly much progress had been made. They are all working hard to rebuild. They never complain.
The afternoon after this visit, Heather and I decided to go to the Amish Fair. It is held every year in the large Amish community spread about in the countryside near Bowling Green. We stopped at a service station in Bowling Green to get directions. A nice gentleman, who was familiar with the area, gave Heather detailed directions which she wrote down carefully on the back of a brown envelope. With these in hand, dressed in several heavy coats and big rubber boots for the cold and rain, we proceeded into the countryside, soon leaving the security of a blacktop road for the uncertainty of a narrow, hilly, winding gravel road. Turn right at second road, go over cement bridge and bear left, pass one story frame house go right, after three up and down hills take left T in road. Until you have traveled around these country back roads, you cannot understand the difficulty of following such directions. No traffic, to ask! At last a buggy came into view! Amish lady and little boy in black, black horse, black covered buggy, even black day. Smiling lady tells us we are going in wrong direction. We reverse and wind around some more. Finally, a red pickup comes toward us. “Block the road! Don’t let him get by!” I yell at Heather. She pulls into middle of gravel road, I wave out window, and pickup is forced to stop. A young man tells us we can follow him almost to the fair. He says he has been coming over to feed his family’s cattle for years and still gets lost. We follow him, he stops to feed at their farm and sends us over some more hills and around more curves but we soon arrive at the fair!!!!!
On a hillside we see several large white tents, there is a horse ring near the road with all types of horses being held or tied up around it. The entire hillside is swarming with Amish. I have never seen so many! Heather tells me to get out and she will go park. I am a bit hesitant, feeling very conspicuous in my non Amish clothes, but I march on up the hill to mingle, observe, and shop. It is tough walking in the mud with those heavy boots and my non bending knee does not cooperate. In the ring two lively Amish auctioneers are selling a small “well broke but not for beginners” pony.They prance around as does the pony. Sitting picturesquely on the ring fence are
several young Amish girls. They have black bonnets, black dresses, black shoes and stockings, and white aprons. Their white apron strings hang down in back of them and I want to take a picture from the back. It is enchanting!!! But Heather has not allowed me to bring my camera phone. Amish do not allow photos of themselves. I said I would just take food, quilt, horse and buggy photos but she said she knew me better than that.
I keep moving up the hill and mingling. I feel as if I’m in another time, another world. Everyone in black or dark blue clothes. Old men with long beards and big brimmed straw hats tottering about, groups of young boys in broad brimmed black hats running about energetically and mischievously, clusters of young girls in their black bonnets and white aprons, shy and giggling. I enter the first big tent and see all ages women selling all kinds of pies lined up on long tables. Another group is kneading the dough and cooking homemade donuts. There are some beds along the side of the tent and here sit granmas tending little babies. Heather and I indulge in donuts, delicious chili, porkburgers and several types of pie. Rhubard custard is my favorite. We decide to take several pieces with us to have at the Tornado Fundraising Trivia party that night.
I get lost from Heather by going to the next tent where they are auctioning aprons and quilts. I sit on a bench in the first row between two huge non Amish women. I find out one has to have a number to bid and I try to no avail to buy one from the women next to me. Soon they are auctioning pillows which don’t interest me so I decide to look for Heather. Back at the food tent I finally find her eating more donuts. We go back to the auction tent as the flowers she wants are there. We are pretty cold and wet and my knee is not good. Back at the auction tent, I look at some guns (including a cute little pistol) but Heather drags me away over to where I see they are selling homemade ice cream. I buy a dish of that and a young Amish man, who was staring at me when I looked at the guns after trying to bid on the aprons, comes over to me and says he will run across the road get me a number so I can bid on things. We find each other interesting but Heather says it is raining more and we’d better go home and get ready for the Trivia party that night.
On the way down the hill and past the horse auction ring I see a pinto horse being held by a black boy and a white girl I go talk to them about the horse and find out they are brother and sister as is an oriental girl and a mideastern boy who soon join us. This family interests me. I think of all the stories that must make up these children’s lives. A big white middle age woman comes over and takes them all away. Heather says she is probably their foster mother. We go and look at a beautiful big black Percheron horse tied to the fence before we walk back to our car. I feel so sad leaving that world and plan to come back next year and bring my photo camera for horse and buggy pictures.

Rehab Resort Vacation

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 13:37:55 -0500

, How do you like my self created Mardi Gras mask for the Rehab Resort Mardi Gras Parade? Since being at the rehab place was sort of like a vacation, I decided to pretend I was at a resort. After all, I had nice nurses bringing me things and helping me, a lovely dining room with handsome waiters and a menu to choose from. We also had entertainment, singers who sang such songs as “Let a Smile be your Umbrella”, we had balloon tosses, bingo games, even bowling of sorts. It didn’t really matter that the other participants were all in wheelchairs and out of it mentally, as the staff was so much fun and treated everyone with humor and kindness.
The night I had arrived there, I was attended by a beautiful Jamaican nurse who wore a uniform emblazoned with Betty Boop figures. The minute I saw her I knew I was in the right kind of place.
The food was fine and the waiters were attentive as I played rap and opera music on my IPhone at the dining table. We were the only table in the huge dining room which had music and sometimes even laughter.One of the waiters gave me his phone to listen to his music. Another one pretended he liked opera so he could borrow my phone.
Heather came with Siegfried and played bingo with us. We each had four cards and Siegfried got petted by everyone who went by and chewed up chips which dropped o the floor and sat up for admirers. He loved bouncing on my hospital bed and I held the leash while he pulled me down the hall in my wheelchair.
When I went to PT and had to push with my arms or legs, the trainers all said WOW because I was so much stronger than what they were used to.They all amused themselves watching my trapeze act on utube on my phone.
One of my Shakespeare friends and I decided we should entertain everyone with a Shakespearean scene so I got the wonderful Activities Director to allow this. We rehearsed a short scene from The Taming of the Shrew in the dining room. Several “guests” were present and we did the scene between Kate and Petruchio where she hits him. I gave my fellow actor a blow that sent him reeling and the people in the dining room didn’t even bat an eye. It was if they were used to seeing women hit men in the dining room. A difficult audience! It all went well even if not many came to see it
A very nice friend as well as Heather & Siegfried came to our Mardi Gras Parade. He brought me Shakesbear (pictured above) and knew several of the guests at the resort. I felt very sad leaving there as the staff was so nice, the place so attractive and the atmosphere so caring.

Clowning is more dangerous than Trapeze!!!!

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 12:08:35 -0500

Here’s how I found that out, the hard way, of course. About the middle of December I performed my trapeze act at City Museum for an enthusiastic audience which included several friends. In fact, I did it twice, in the show and again after the show for friends who were late. We had a nice wine and cheese party after.
The very next night I was carrying bags of recycling down the cement steps, which. were icy though salted, and I slipped and fell down the six steps. My hip and shoulder were bruised and my eyes were black, but nothing broke!!My neck was hurt somehow so I couldn’t do trapeze anymore and decided to enroll in the clowning class at the circus school.
Clowning is a matter of timing and connecting with your audience. It is very challenging, fun and difficult but I learned several tricks from the talented teacher there.
About a month later, I was at our monthly Shakespeare dinner. We had all recited our soliloquies and had dined very sumptuously. In the kitchen after dinner, I decided to show my friends one of my clown tricks, which consisted of walking merrily along and tripping but not falling. Well that night I fell, landed on my knee, and shattered my kneecap. Yes, a really bad injury caused by “clowning around”!
An ambulance was summoned and I ended up at the hospital having surgery on my knee. The ambulance and hospital people all found it very entertaining that I had been injured “clowning around.” They also like the fact that I had once been in the circus.

Writing a Memoir

Fri, 5 Nov 2010 13:40:11 -0500

Have been neglecting my blog writing for a long time now as I am in the midst of writing my life story. this seems like a very egotistical thing to do but my grandchildren have asked me to do it and so have some friends.
Actually, sometime ago I had a screenwriter friend who was writing a film script about it all. I worked with her very hard for about a year and we were almost finished. We wrote scenes, descriptions, and some dialogue for almost the entire thing. It was long hard work and then she just disappeared. Found out recently that her partner had been transferred and they had moved to another city, so she is no longer working with me.
So I started writing, and it just pours out of me. My heart and mind are in it. It is really difficult for several reasons. First of all, it is hard to remember the sequence of events, when things happened in relation to each other. Second, as you write about events, you actually relive them. this is fine for the good things but really heartrending for the bad things. Third, you are an entirely different person than the one that existed in the times long ago you write about. It is hard to understand who you were, what you thought, and why you did certain things.
There are hundreds of technical difficulties also to be encountered. I have gotten as far as I’m going to go, but feel like continuing as so much is happening in my life. A wonderful writer is going to help me edit things. She warns me the pain is going to begin when we do that. Anyway, on I go. Lord help me. And Thank you Lord that I have had such a blessed life.

Fourth of July Frolic

Tue, 6 Jul 2010 14:10:45 -0500

Fourth of July Frolic