Daily Connector | What I think I knew | Phil Hart
Julie and I have been spending way more time walking in the park and sitting on the deck than we ever have. And during those walks and sits I have been caught off guard by some things I have seen that I had assumed were not possible. For example, after living for fifteen years in the woods down in Hocking County in the 70s and 80s, I had become pretty proficient (maybe arrogant) in my knowledge of tree species, to the point I can probably identify 7 or 8 by the smell of their saw dust. White oak vs. red oak, cherry, sugar maple, etc. We have been back here in Columbus for 14 years now, and I have wondered why some of my favorite Hocking County trees weren’t growing up here. In May I was stunned to see the biggest Dogwood tree I’d ever seen in the wild, growing
Daily Connector | COVID-19 Life | Tracey Lehman
Before COVID-19, I logged thousands of miles on the van, plowing through audio books, yelling at boys, and listening to NPR. We went to therapists, doctors, schools, Taco Bell, and sports. Then, it all came to a disorienting halt. We were told to stay home. The introverts couldn’t believe it—really? Stay home? Our oldest son worked and schooled from his room, appearing briefly for dinner. The younger boys, Jonathan and Mario, began remote learning and in-house pestering. Online schooling had its ups and downs. There was a steep learning curve for those of us who had not kept current with new technology. The boys no longer had their familiar routines and the all-important structure and role-modeling they needed. But they could still see a few of their friends and some of their teachers. Best of all, they could see them in their native habitats. The boys and I beheld sleep-deprived
The joy of rereading
I’m usually not one to re-watch a movie or reread a book. Maybe it’s the combination of limited time with seemingly unlimited viewing and reading options that makes repetition feel like a missed opportunity. But I’ve noticed that’s been changing. It coincides with Eve and Lily now at an age when they can…ahem…better appreciate the…ahem…high art that graced my earlier years. Princess Bride. Groundhog Day. Seeing through my and their eyes at the same time makes for a new experience. For example, about 20 minutes into the first Lord of the Rings, Eve said, “Wait a minute, is this just about a bunch of white guys.” Oh, well, I suppose it kind of is. This has been the summer of the girls rereading Harry Potter and me getting refreshed on the increasingly intricate details of that story. With Abbie and the girls in Kansas this week, during my meals and
Daily Connector | Life-giving music | Karen Mareco
I often wake up in the morning with a fragment of a hymn going through my head. Or in the middle of the day, an old hymn or something newer suddenly is there…going round and round. Sometimes I end up having to go find it in the hymnal because I don’t know quite all of it, but it’s often reassuring or soothing to have those words and that tune accompanying me during the day. The idea of not having the ability to sing with the congregation or small group or choir is one of the bitter loses of our current way of life. There were many years when I didn’t attend any church and I missed congregational singing then, too. A few times we tried congregations where the singing was awful…and maybe I should have been more charitable, but I just couldn’t do it. Too much was missing for me.
Daily Connector | Finding my roots – St Anne Cemetery | Larry Less
Genealogy is all about discovering and telling family stories. I mentioned last week about “getting the genealogy bug” at my Aunt Beverly’s funeral in 2010. We started taking trips to visit cemeteries to take photos and record headstone information that wasn’t readily available back then. I started with St. Anne Cemetery next to the church and school that I had gone to growing up. My Great Grandfather Joseph Opferman was buried there along with my Mom and Dad on the same hillside. I knew that my Grandmother Anna Opferman Hoffman was buried in the new part of the cemetery further up on the hill since she passed away in 1988. However, I never knew my Grandfather Hoffman because he died unexpectedly when he fell off a roof while helping a friend re-shingle and I wondered where he was buried. My Uncle Ray, who had been only 10 years old at
