Lothlorien at the Isthmus

Most of life on Lothlorien was like normal living anywhere. We did laundry, went to work, fixed meals, washed dishes. I qualified for a homeowners exemption and we were even visited by the census taker for the 1980 census.

Erik was a junior in high school at the time. Each morning as we left for school, he and I found more and more interesting things to watch as we walked down the dock toward the car – starfish, tiny black crabs, even a baby octopus. His teachers couldn’t understand why he was always late for class.

Sometimes, on school holidays, when I was able to get away from work, we would go off on a short (and nearby) cruise. One of our favorite places was the Isthmus of Catalina Island, one of the California offshore islands with a fascinating history (http://www.catalina.com/history.html). Sometimes we picked up a mooring at Avalon, but our favorite spot continued to be at the Isthmus.

Now, I say “picked up a mooring” like it was easy. Wrong! It was a steep learning curve, and warrants an entire post on its own. But we had to learn soon enough or bang into some angry boaters!
http://virtualguidebooks.com/SouthCalif/ChannelIslands/TwoHarbors/IsthmusCoveWest.html

The Isthmus was quaint, laid back, neighborly, and generally more fun than Avalon. It was a place where even the local sheriff would hang out and smoke a doobie with us. There was local musical talen and sometimes a group would put on a little outdoor theater in town. Everyone who moored there quickly became friends with both villagers and boaters. http://virtualguidebooks.com/SouthCalif/ChannelIslands/TwoHarbors/DowntownTwoHarbors.html

I was accepted as just another sailor, but it seemed to be an outrage among some of the male boating population that a woman could have purchased a boat that size on her own without winning it in a divorce settlement! I have many stories about that prejudice, and I’ll leave them for another time, but there is one that I’ll never forget.

One year I took off from work, and spent two weeks there with my son Erik and my daughter Inga. While I lazed in the cockpit, they entertained themselves by taking the dinghy back and forth to shore, polishing the hull, catching some rays. A man and his wife with two teenage daughters pulled up and moored beside us. Their girls were sunning in skimpy bikinis for the benefit of my son (who seemed to be oblivious, but maybe wasn’t).

After about a week the man couldn’t stand it any longer and asked me if my husband was coming over for the weekend. I told him I didn’t have a husband and that the boat was mine. He gave a salute with a very sarcastic “Aye, aye, skipper!” and never spoke to us again.

If I didn’t have to go back to work to make mortgage payments on my floating home, I could have stayed right there on Lothlorien at the Isthmus forever!

Back to DaVinci

In my May 8, 2008 post (http://lothlorien-lucy.blogspot.com/2008/05/davinci-and-camels.html), I started using DaVinci’s principals (as described in Michael J. Gelb’s How To Think Like Leonardo DaVinci) as a general guideline for writing these posts. I began with his principal of “curiositá” (curiosity).

This week, I shift to his principal of Dimostrazione. According to Gelb, Da Vinci was committed to testing his “knowledge through experience, persistence, and a willingness to learn from mistakes.” I spent many years studying and preparing for several careers. The desire to know more and more never seems to end. I continue to study and learn (and make mistakes), rooting any new knowledge into a strong foundation of my old knowledge. So many careers - so little time and energy!

This past Saturday was the graduation ceremony for the community college branch where I teach. What a joy to see my students complete one stage in their education! This is one gratifying career that brings me happiness and hope for the future. Our “parking lot campus” in an abandoned strip mall may be tiny, but the students remain eager to learn. http://hawaii.hawaii.edu/ucwh/

Here you see some of the dignitaries (faculty and staff) in all their academic regalia, although I’m the one with the camera so I am not in this particular picture.

As a college instructor, I pass the torch to others, sharing my experiences, helping students learn how to use their experiences and learn through their own mistakes.

How are you using your life experiences for re-creating your future?

Talk Story - Interlude

I was born in Granite City, Illinois toward the end of The Great Depression. It is an old industrial town along the Mighty Mississippi across from Saint Louis, Missouri. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Granite_City,_Illinois

My father went North from Mississippi to college and my mother went South from Illinois to college. The two met as students at Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky. The Myth in which I grew up claims that my father, both of my grandfathers, all my great-grandfathers, and even for a prior generation were Methodist ministers. I have various family artifacts that indicate The Myth is mostly true, although my mother did have the typical Irish propensity for stretching a truth beyond normal limits. While Myth is Truth, greater than truth, it is often factual.

A few years ago, I heard another Myth that may have Truth (or truth) in it. During the Holy Roman Empire, part of the royal line and keepers of the faith were called “margraves.” Because the family name of my great-grandmother was Margrave, it is possible my priestly background goes beyond a few generations of simple Protestant clergy. Since I inherited Mother’s ability to amplify facts, I cherish a fantasy that perchance the long line of my spiritual ancestry goes as far back as the hallowed order of Druids in early Celtic lands. The Myth lives on.

Every family carries traditions of heritage that are merely shady facts, so I will pass on those from my background to my children and let them either sort it out for themselves or add their own embellishments. However that may ultimately play out, there are undeniable details to which I can attest. My father was a Methodist minister, both of my grandfathers were Methodist ministers, and I have evidence of at least two great-grandfathers who were Methodist ministers. There are countless uncles and shirt-tail cousins who were pastors as well – an erudite lineage!

Now, why all this heritage stuff?

All preachers love to tell stories, it seems, and I was no exception. When I was pastoring in Arizona, I was referred to as “StoryTeller Woman” often. Native American StoryTeller dolls represent that tradition. www.montgomeryschoolsmd.org/schools/TRAVILAHES/pueblo.html

After many years of travel, I ended up living in Hawai`i, a land of storytelling, more commonly referred to here as “talk story,” which is what locals do at any gathering as a way of truly connecting with others. As a storyteller, I couldn’t stop with writing only one blog, so I have another one you might check out. http://talkstory-lucy.blogspot.com/

Come “talk story” with me!

DaVinci and Camels

One of my favorite books is How To Think Like Leonardo DaVinci by Michael J. Gelb. (See the Amazon link to the left.) Every second spring semester, I teach a college course called “Psychology and the Expressive Arts.” I use Gelb’s book to help students develop their creativity.

One purpose of this blog is to help me define and embrace variety within DaVinci’s seven principles throughout my whole life. It is in the creative realm where I discover many areas of interest and ability, as I aspire to be a “Renaissance Woman.”

Periodically, I will post something here that relates my everyday life (past, present and future) to one of his seven principles. It will be as much self-assessment as it is a way to share my interests with friends and family.

DaVinci’s first principle was “curiositá.” Gelb defines this as “an insatiably curious approach to life and an unrelenting quest for continuous learning.” My unique way of walking in this world keeps exploration and curiosity at the center of my life.

Riding a camel certainly has been one of my more unique experiences! I’d been riding horses for many years, so I thought a camel would be a cinch, but camels have a nasty disposition! Also, along with their constant complaining, they bend down in stages to let you climb on, which gives you the sensation of being on a very fluky rocking chair (or a slow roller coaster).

I ventured out on the guy in the above picture near the Qumran where ancient scrolls were found http://www.ibiblio.org/expo/deadsea.scrolls.exhibit/Library/library.html. Later, I visited the museum where these scrolls are on exhibit.

One of the exercises in Gelb’s book is to write out 100 questions of things you are curious about. Riding a camel can be marked off my list now.

But I do love being curious!

Gulf Coast

Traveling along the Mississippi Gulf Coast has been part of my life since birth. We lived in Southern Illinois, but since my father came from “Miss’ippi,” we went down South to visit our relatives fairly often. So many places are no longer there, but they continue to live on in my memory.

Being in a preacher’s family, we didn’t stay in fancy hotels or go out to eat much. We pitched a tent and cooked over a camp stove! In fact, I was an adult with children before I realized that people went anywhere without camping. One of the first purchases I made with my own young family was a heavy green tarp tent from Sears.

My folks camped anywhere that would hold a tent peg. One spot I loved was the Methodist campground across the street from the beach. My younger brother and I learned how to tie old bacon into a crab net and bring up loads of blue crabs off the wooden dock. The last time I traveled in the South, that spot had become a retirement home for Methodist preachers. I’m not sure I could afford to live there now, and I’m a retired Methodist preacher!

Located two miles East of the Biloxi Lighthouse (http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=543), Fisherman’s Wharf was always “the” place to get the best fish and chips on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I have no idea how long it’s been there, but without fail, my folks took us to eat there on every trip. Even by the mid-70s, it was still there, standing alone on a bunch of rickety pilings. In the 90s, I went back and found it almost eaten up by a massive casino next door, but still open.

Unless Katrina flattened it, Fisherman's Wharf was still operating the last I heard. If it is gone, a great landmark and truly terrific eatery has been lost to our next generations. My hunch is that it’s no longer there.

As my own children grew, I took them back to the Mississippi Gulf Coast and told a few stories. For example, their paternal grandfather had been the project engineer for building the seawall. I hope they will take their own children there and introduce them to a culture that is slowly disappearing, and to meet some of their distant kinfolk.

But things change. www.gulfcoastnews.com/gcnkatrinaphotoslandmarks.htm With the ticking clock and Katrina, much of the charm and beauty of the Old South is vanishing – has vanished.