Month: July 2025

“Summertime” is an aria of the 1935 opera “Porgy and Bess.” The lyrics jump to my mind from time to time as I reflect on the summer months of my youth.

I couldn’t wait for school to be out and summer to come while growing up. I liked school and also loved the freedom of summer–running barefooted everywhere, helping my dad bale hay, working on 4-H projects, and eating summer foods like corn on the cob and homemade ice cream. Although I didn’t give it thought back then, growing up on a farm was a time of demanding work as well as special festivities.

4-H activities were paramount in my life from the time I was 10 years old until I graduated from high school. Having a vegetable garden was a labor I loved. I couldn’t wait every morning to get to the garden and see what had popped up overnight. In addition to the garden, I also prepared and practiced into mid-July for our local 4-H achievement where my sewing, refinished furniture, or baked goodies were judged to be qualifiers for the County Fair.

The County Fair was a week of 4-H activities where I demonstrated my homemaking and gardening skills as well as showed my sheep. I worked for weeks quieting the sheep enough so I could show them off best. My goal was to get blue ribbons for all the judging events I was in. I was never good enough to go to the State Fair, but just being with friends and family for that Fair week was fun. After the Fair, it felt the dreaded countdown to when school would start again in late August.

Summer in Iowa was hot and humid. Thunderstorms were common as we prayed for rain for the crops but feared the possibility of severe weather with wind and hail. I have always loved following the weather and summer offered cloud formations and weather variety more than other times of the year.

Despite the work on the farm, I remember summer as a time for short respites. We often had family reunions that involved swimming. My family had a tradition of several times a summer going to Pinicon Ridge County Park on Sunday evenings (after needed farm work was done) for a cookout—hamburgers, potato salad, chips, and watermelon was my favorite menu. We sometimes had watermelon spitting contests (back in the day when watermelons had seeds!)

I also remember cool summer nights when neighbors came to have homemade ice cream and my mom’s famous green apple pie. We couldn’t wait until the apples on our trees were sweet enough to make pie and applesauce. We played games outside like Hide n Seek and The Ghost Is Out.

I was delighted in those days of my childhood. I suspect that I have idealized them more than they really were, but I like thinking about how easy living seemed to be back then.

My late sister, Mog, took over Karla’s blog from time to time to offer her views of the world. She was the literary genius of our family, so I never bothered to get online. Now that Mog is no longer with us, someone needs to make observations about our household.

I miss my sister even though we had our frequent sibling spats. We had been together since birth (see photo of us at 8 weeks). She was the calm, demure gal who loved to be cuddled. I was her independent contrast. I am prone to zooming outbursts and following the purrs in my head. Things are different now that she is gone. Mom needs calming forces in our home.

Mom pays a lot of attention to me. I wish she knew what I was thinking. I can tell by looking into her eyes that she adores me. I also see the sadness of missing her soul cat. My relationship is different than the one she had with Mog. I am good with that and just don’t want her to be sad.

I don’t think mom was always a cat person, but our 15 years convinced her that being a crazy liberal cat lady is OK. She asked me if we should get another cat. I have mixed feelings about that. It would be nice to have a companion, but you just never know what you are going to get. Mom said that she would like to adopt an older cat that needed a forever home in its elderly days. That might work for us. We will wait and see if such a cat comes to us. If it does, I will try to be nice. I am secure in mom’s love, and I hope I am “cat-enough” to share her affection when the time is right.

I have had some health issues. All seems to be fine now. We are both dealing with the recognition of aging. My naps are longer these days and physical activity less intense, just like mom.

Mom and I are both seeking to make sense of our world. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but we will be in it together. We are hopeful “to live happily ever after.” I am one lucky cat.

I am no longer a highly competitive person. In recent years, my attitude has shifted related to games of all types. I only compete in limited ways as I play sports and other games. I carefully choose the games I play which may or may not be competitive in nature with outcomes determined by skill, strength, or luck.

I enjoyed competition throughout my life. As I get older, however, I find less need to compete against others. I played pickleball for the first two years I lived in Estes Park. It was a wonderful way to meet people. Over time, however, the players became far more competitive than I liked so I stopped playing.

Some people have family traditions associated with game playing. Games were not a tradition in my family of origin, much to my mother’s consternation. We always got a family game from Santa. We often played it on Christmas night, but it was not usually popular beyond that evening. I have few fond memories of those family game nights other than my mother thought that a better name for Scrabble was Squabble. I have friends who enjoy playing card games when we get together. I play because it is a social thing, but it is not something I actively seek. I especially enjoy playing Farkle, however, if I am backpacking and a rock is the playing board!

Having said all that, however, I play computer games as a form of diversion in the evening. I am not a “gamer,” but I have played Free Cell for years and consider myself good at it. The competition is with me, so the outcome doesn’t matter that much. I play Sudoku occasionally and have played Wordle every day for the past three years. I don’t take any of those games too seriously although I once had a 107-game streak going with Wordle. I don’t have the patience so I doubt I will ever get that run again. It is fun but just not important to me. I know people who have much longer winning streaks than me and that is more than fine.

Playing games should be fun and I do enjoy the efforts from time to time. At this stage in my life, however, I choose what is fun and no longer care about competition and winning.

The current world situation depresses me as I absorb the news. I am appalled by the lack of attention paid to the natural environment as well as the cruelty that exists in this country and throughout the world. In my inadequacy to change the trajectory, I seek ways to feel better about the present and the future.

One way that has helped me is to recognize the beauty that is around me. I love this time of the year with the abundant wildflowers in the meadows and woodland areas. As I frequently note, baby animals make me smile. I am mindful of other forms of beauty in the commitment of people to find meaning in their work and relationships. I appreciate the splendor of written words as well as music.

I cannot live in an “either/or” world so I seek wisdom to balance both views. Focusing on goodness does not make me oblivious to the tyranny of the moment. I was reminded recently by a colleague, John de Graff, of the complexity of the world in which we live. de Graff produced a documentary about Katharine Lee Bates’ writing of the poem that was set to music, America the Beautiful. She acknowledged the coexistence of beauty and strife in her words, even though most of us do not get beyond the first verse of praise for America.

Bates drafted the poem while visiting Colorado’s Pike’s Peak in 1893. She was inspired by the “purple mountain majesties” to the west and the “amber waves of grain” on the eastern plains. She wanted to celebrate the nation’s natural beauty. She also recognized the values of the US that she hoped would prevail. Verse two includes, “God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!” Verse three notes, “O beautiful for heroes proved. In liberating strife, who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life!” These verses illustrate to me the desire for a better world.

I celebrate the beauty around me and the principles upon which our country was founded. As is true of countries as well as individuals, however, we can do better. I dislike the political paralysis I feel. At the same time, I desire to thrive in a “both/and” world that acknowledges good and strives to address evil. I need grace. I seek the transcendence Katherine Lee Bates intended in her poem.

My parents graduated from the same high school two years apart. For years I heard them talk about their class reunions. The number of classmates, however, became fewer over time and eventually the formal reunions ended. My parents were among the last to pass of their peers. I did not give much thought to that reality for them until recently.

A friend from my Class of ’67 died a few weeks ago. As I grieved her passing, I realized that she was one of twelve classmates no longer with us. For a class of 48 (the largest ever to graduate from my high school, which was the same one my parents attended), one fourth were now gone. We still have plenty of folks to host a class reunion, but our numbers are sadly dwindling.

This truth for me is mind boggling. Where did the time go? My high school prom seems like yesterday. I mourn for those mates that passed too soon and recognize how fortunate I am to continue to be among the living. Based on the longevity of my parents, I hope I still have a few years to go but no one ever knows. I do not want to be overemotional, but I have been thinking about death more often in the past few weeks.

I recognize that death is inevitable. Senator Joni Ernst noted that “We are all going to die.” I prefer, however, what Haruki Murakami noted, “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” Most of us, nevertheless, would prefer to die later rather than sooner. Facing others’ deaths such as my classmates is more difficult that facing my own. In the time I have left, I want to live meaningfully. How can I live my life with gratitude and compassion?

Death is an unknown. The idea of heaven or reincarnation gives some peace. Regardless, the known is the hope that the impact of any person’s life can live on. As I think about my departed classmates, I recall them with warm memories. To know that their families and friends cherish their lives gives me comfort.

The reminder of death also brings me more fully into the present moment as I appreciate the time I have on this earth. I think about how blessed I have been in my own life as well as in knowing those people who have gone before me. My favorite book, Markings, by Dag Hammarskjöld has a quote that sums up my feelings at the moment, “Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment.”