Sunday, August 06, 2006
Day 18: It’s all about family
Threat of rain diminished, the journey to Dansville was simple. A three-hour drive down fifty-two and seven miles to go at Williamston. A dozen monster raindrops brought an awareness that only yards ahead a wall of water, biblical proportions stood in the path. Very literally, putting on rain gear with only 
a few drops hitting us, I looked down the road watching the line of rain on the highway. And it was INTENSE. I now understand events in the bible that sounded so exaggerated. Being comfortable in the rain deferred intelligent thought – Joe dove for the saddlebag and I turned on the fire. It rained hard, harder than I have ever driven in. Fortunately the roads were country and the traffic was sparse. Unable to read the GPS, but having memorized the dozen turns of this last segment, I turned into the Brady compound barely able to see the house (well that’s a ‘little’ exaggerated).
And in ten minutes the rain stopped and the sun shone everywhere. From left in the photo, Janet, Pat, Aunt Catherine, Uncle Bill, Colleen and Nancy.
The rest of the day was reliving more memories over a half century old. Ward Staffeld, a retired and burgeoning writer has the ambition I know only rivaled by brother Bill. He’s building a studio out of old barn and restoring and refinishing everything on the property on a scale I only dream of. We toured the property, an endearing collection of corn fields, deep woods, old buildings; stopping on the Gator to observe to whitetail a deer fattening herself on the corn before bounding off at our approach.
Then we popped in next door on Aunt Katy and Uncle Bill. And we talked and the entire trip was so worthwhile at that moment. Nancy left work early and joined in. And we talked, and she remembered things I had forgotten. And Pat, the “oldest and wisest” arrived, and we talked, and more and different ancient thoughts emerged and burst into existence.
And little Janet, the youngest girl, arrived, as cute as I remembered. Her sweet comment as we hugged, “you probably changed my diapers” Well she’s not that much younger but it touched me lovingly, how far back and how long ago that we had any time together. And Colleen arrived “I’m number three”. And we talked some more.
A beautiful country dinner, photos, garden talk and the most family, country living experience
that I know, the evening bonfire. By now the skies were solid blue and the sun was well over Oregon, hopefully inspiring the country friends I share back there. And Pat, bless her heart, recognized Joe’s fondness for a nip, brought a flagon of JD. Joe joined us at the fire, made the rounds, kissed the girls, and lounged against a tree, a smug and satisfied look on his face.
So many memories brought to life, perhaps new dreams launched, content with family around the campfire. I love them all. We MUST meet again. And next time with Dan, the youngest and working in far off Milwaukie to be along.
a few drops hitting us, I looked down the road watching the line of rain on the highway. And it was INTENSE. I now understand events in the bible that sounded so exaggerated. Being comfortable in the rain deferred intelligent thought – Joe dove for the saddlebag and I turned on the fire. It rained hard, harder than I have ever driven in. Fortunately the roads were country and the traffic was sparse. Unable to read the GPS, but having memorized the dozen turns of this last segment, I turned into the Brady compound barely able to see the house (well that’s a ‘little’ exaggerated).And in ten minutes the rain stopped and the sun shone everywhere. From left in the photo, Janet, Pat, Aunt Catherine, Uncle Bill, Colleen and Nancy.
The rest of the day was reliving more memories over a half century old. Ward Staffeld, a retired and burgeoning writer has the ambition I know only rivaled by brother Bill. He’s building a studio out of old barn and restoring and refinishing everything on the property on a scale I only dream of. We toured the property, an endearing collection of corn fields, deep woods, old buildings; stopping on the Gator to observe to whitetail a deer fattening herself on the corn before bounding off at our approach.
Then we popped in next door on Aunt Katy and Uncle Bill. And we talked and the entire trip was so worthwhile at that moment. Nancy left work early and joined in. And we talked, and she remembered things I had forgotten. And Pat, the “oldest and wisest” arrived, and we talked, and more and different ancient thoughts emerged and burst into existence.
And little Janet, the youngest girl, arrived, as cute as I remembered. Her sweet comment as we hugged, “you probably changed my diapers” Well she’s not that much younger but it touched me lovingly, how far back and how long ago that we had any time together. And Colleen arrived “I’m number three”. And we talked some more.
A beautiful country dinner, photos, garden talk and the most family, country living experience
that I know, the evening bonfire. By now the skies were solid blue and the sun was well over Oregon, hopefully inspiring the country friends I share back there. And Pat, bless her heart, recognized Joe’s fondness for a nip, brought a flagon of JD. Joe joined us at the fire, made the rounds, kissed the girls, and lounged against a tree, a smug and satisfied look on his face.So many memories brought to life, perhaps new dreams launched, content with family around the campfire. I love them all. We MUST meet again. And next time with Dan, the youngest and working in far off Milwaukie to be along.
# posted by Bob O @ 4:58 PM 
