2024-10-05

After the Storm _ Walking the Neighborhood

Typically, notes on this blog range from the ridiculous to the sublime. I’ve used it as a place to empty my head of the chaos that often dwells there, and to record a little family history. My musings are typically light hearted. The bottom line is that it’s my blog and I love being able to use it as I wish at any given time.

But the events of the last week left so many of us in the southeast totally overwhelmed as Hurricane Helene picked us up, put us in a blender and drown us in water. In the aftermath, we were left without power, without needed services, and an unimaginable clean up. Worse than that has been the loss of life that is still being tallied, the loss of homes, and whole towns that have literally  washed away.

Many have asked why we weren’t better prepared to deal with the Cat 1 hurricane. Well, it dumped 10 or more inches of rain, and brought 75+ miles per hour winds with it when it blew through. This was after days of “regular” rain that left things already saturated. Why weren’t we better prepared? Um, that would be because storms like that don’t happen here. They just don’t happen… until they do.


This was our state of preparedness. 2 empty oil lamps and a glade candle.

What you’ve seen in the news about the condition of Ashville, NC is widespread, damaging Tennessee, Virginia, Florida, Georgia and South Carolina as well.


Hurricane Helene

I decided to take a walk around my corner of the world to see how the neighbors were faring. A lot of clean-up has been done, and after a week with no power, it’s back on in some areas of the neighborhood. I’ll admit to doing a happy dance when the house “turned on”. Then I just stood still and quiet in the kitchen, not really trusting that it would continue. Like if I moved I would jinx it!  Be glad you didn’t see it. It wasn’t pretty.




What really struck me on our streets was the contrast. Enormous piles of debris and heavily damaged homes sitting right next to perfectly manicured places, with nothing more than a small pile of grass clippings at the curb. 






I saw collections of detritus, large and small, waiting for pickup. Every street was the same and several piles stood taller than I am. A stately 5'2".






Some houses took a direct hit with the trees still resting on the roof, while others had huge trees laying between their house and their neighbors. Almost as if the massive trees had been gently placed there. One of our neighbors lost all of the trees in her backyard. Looking at the front, you’d never know.





We live in a mid-century subdivision with many of the original trees. I was prepared to lose some big ones on our property, but the big ones stood firm. It's was the smaller, newer ones that twisted and split.

The first thing of note when I stepped out of our front door was the overwhelming smell of rotting food. Long powerless refrigerators had been cleaned out and a lot of good steaks oviously met their end on the pavement instead of the grill.

Thanks to a big hail storm about a year ago, many of us had new roofs. We do get those, but can't really prepare for them. Most of the mark left by Helene was on the vegetationn and the aftermanth of flooding.

We still have standing water on our streets, but the work of restoring our town goes on. 




We are thoroughly blessed to have men and women from all over the country working with our local talent to bring us back online. 

I picked up a few treasures from the curbs in the neighborhood. What started as destruction from Hurricane Helene will now become driftwood, (after a season in the elements, you'll never know it isn't legitimate) and archetectural salveage.








And now that Amazon is back in the neighborhood, we're prepared for what might come next! The process continues...




Candles and oil for the lamps




'Ah Lord God! Behold, You have made the heavens and the earth by Your great power and by Your outstretched arm! Nothing is too difficult for You.

Jeremiah 32:17




2023-11-14

My Psalm

Have you ever written your own psalm? 

By definition, a psalm is a sacred song or hymn. 

There is an entire book in the Bible that contains 150 psalms that are wonderful. 

About 10 years ago, I was challenged to write my own psalm; to voice my own worship of God. I really enjoyed the process and the quiet space I had to record my thoughts. The main reason I'm recording it here is to challenge you to write your own if you haven't tried. 

The one that I wrote so long ago, is still valuable for my life right now. A wonderful reminder in the turbulent times in which we live.

Written on September 10, 2013 as a part of a CBS retreat.


My Father, my Savior, my God;

Loving, eternal, longsuffering; You alone deserve all glory and honor.

I praise you as the One Who actually knows all when I think I already know what I need.

I praise you as the One Who leads when I think I'm already on the right path.

I praise you as the One Who paves the way when I think I've already chosen the correct direction.

I praise you as the One Who provides just what I need when I think I've already filled my barns.

I praise you as the One Who, as a part of Your plan, allows evil for a time, and builds hedges around Your children.

I praise you as the One Who knows the end from the beginning and possesses prefect perspective over what is happening now.

I praise you as the One Who is big enough to use me and my many failures for Your good and Your glory.

I praise you as the One Who 

Empowers the powerless,

Directs the directionless, 

Motivates the unmotivated,

Gives worth to the worthless.

I praise you as the One Who saves me from myself.

As I look back on what has been, and forward, wondering what will be, 

I thank You for the ability to trust You with all of it.

I praise You as my own.

My Father

My Savior

My God

Loving, eternal, longsuffering; You alone deserve all glory and honor.


 

"Then Samuel took a stone

and set it up between Mizpah and Shen.

He named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far, the Lord has helped us.'"

I Samuel 7:12














2022-06-05

The Maker

 


5 Newbs looking fancy in 1989

Little brother, Bunns, is a high school teacher. When he came into this world, it never occurred to me that he would eventually have the power to influence thousands of other peoples children during his lifetime. I'm kind of glad. Knowing what the future might hold would have been frightening.



A typical little kid... protecting the neighborhood



Taking a break from influencing America's youth

He reached out recently requesting some assistance with a project that he had assigned one of the brainiac classes that he teaches. He was walking his students through an assigment to create a brief oral history  that centered on an artifact they might have in their homes. The project would involve an item and a story about that item as a part of the larger tapestry of their family's history. 

He wanted to provide an example of what he expected and asked if I would record a short description of our dad

He identified one of dad's gifts as being "a maker." Since I am so much like my father in being a "maker" as well, he asked if I would record a bit about him. I thought that preserving some memories of the man who raised me was a pretty cool way to spend an afternoon. 

There was a lot I could have said. Dad was a renassiance man who dabbled in a lot of things. But he was definitely a creative type with the ability to envision a final product and the steps to achieve it. 

He was good with his hands and was willing to give anything a try and as a result, not only taught himself new skills, but also left some pretty cool items for us as his children to treasure. 

Dad also had a beautiful singing voice. I wish that I had a recording, but I enjoy the many  music books and memories he left behind. 


The Scribner Music Library

Though I barely scratched the surface trying to describe my dad as a maker, I'm thankful I could leave an audio recording about him here as it helped little brothers students understand a bit more of what he wanted in the completed assignment. 

A Maker

Dad left a wonderful legacy in so many ways. Being a maker was only a part of it. He was a man of creativity and integrity. And he is sorely missed. 


This was taken about 10 years after the one above. 
My hair completed the journey to white and the brothers are well on their way.
It's another part of dads legacy!

Little brother said the assignment went brilliantly. "It's one of the best things I do all year." It was a sweet legacy project to be a part of.




 As for those twelve stones which he had taken from the Jordan, 

Joshua set them up at Gilgal. 

And when he said to the sons of Israel, 

"When your children ask their fathers in time to come, 

saying, 'What are these stones?' 

then you shall inform your children, saying 

"Israel crossed this Jordan on dry ground."

 Joshua 4:20-22




Other projects from this "maker"






2022-04-21

TSA - "I'm Carrying Human Remains"

There is no getting around the fact that travel is no longer fun. Gone are the days of making a last minute decision to go somewhere, dropping everything and jumping on a plane just because we could. 



I'm thankful that our travel privileges came during a time when it was easy and fun to use them. Rarely did we have  trouble getting seats. In fact, we had friends who used to hop on an airplane just to eat lunch in flight and then turn around and enjoy dinner on the return trip home. We never loved airline food that much, but it was nice to have meals and not just a bag of air and three pretzels.

Those were also the days when  we could come and go in airports easily to meet people at the gate, or just hang out. Some of the best food and shopping in Pittsburgh, PA was in the airside terminal.




But times have changed. Mask mandates accompanied by dire warnings for not complying or wearing them incorrectly, abbreviated flight schedules, overcrowded airplanes, getting through security, and mask mandates. Did I already mention that?

TSA is often one of the first agencies encountered when flying and, depending on the airport, are responsible for adding one more layer to the challenges faced during air travel. Some of the most cheerful people in the airport, and some of the most miserable we've encountered have been TSA agents and the general public doesn't hesitate to criticize these folks.





TSA is a federal agency. So one would think that they would be uniform in the way they function from airport to airport but that's not the case. Because of that, people never know what to expect. The list of travel requirements is long and you never know which ones will be enforced. We call it TSA roulette.



But I recently had an experience with TSA that I didn't expect and polite interaction always deserves a pat on the back.

A phrase I never would have imagined having to utter was "I'm carrying human remains." And the first time I said it was to a TSA agent in the Greenville Spartanburg airport in South Carolina.

My mom had ended her earthly journey in October of 2020 and because of COVID, a move, and our retirement, ended up spending a year and a half in a quiet closet in our home.

But the time had come to take her back out west to join my dad at the Riverside National Cemetery in Riverside CA. 



We placed dad here in 2004. I've really missed him


Mom always hated travel. Cars were difficult, but air travel was especially bad. 
This trip was pretty peaceful.

We did our homework with the airlines and read up on what to expect while travelling with her, but there was a lot of conflicting information as to how to make it all come together.

So I arrived at the airport early in the morning, still having no idea what would be required of me. I stepped up to the podium, showed my ID and boarding pass and uttered those words, "I'm carrying human remains."

The first agent politely pointed me to another agent who walked me through sending this unassuming little box through X-Ray. But before doing so, they placed the box in it's own bin sitting on a velvet cushion and held in place there by a velvet tie.



The bin was sent through on it's own with no other articles and then respectfully set aside. While still sitting on the velvet cushion, the box was tested for explosive and drug residue, which I fully expected, and the agent performing the tests was careful to keep me informed as to what he was doing. When he was finished, he carefully handed back my moms remains. 

To say I was shocked was putting it lightly. I never would have expected such a show of respect for her and for me in the way they treated this little cardboard box. 

I was reminded that these folks who work for TSA are just ordinary people. Not always polite, but working with the travelling public, I can't say I blame them for a little impatience.

There was obviously a system in place for travelers like me and they performed their tasks admirably.

Travel still isn't fun, but those folks did their jobs well. Thank you, TSA, for doing what you do. And for stepping up for me when it counted most. 


 

Big Bear means we're almost home.





For He will give His angels

orders concerning you, 

To protect you in all your ways.

Psalm 91:11





Other Projects

2022-02-09

I Married a Pilot - What It's REALLY like!

 When our children were small, they were riding in the car with a friend and when he passed the airport, he pointed to it and proclaimed "Look! That's where your daddy works!" Our youngest, in her matter of fact way, replied "my daddy doesn't work. He's a pilot ." Just one of the misconceptions people have about my husbands career.

I find it amazing what some people have always thought our life was like. Some reactions have been entertaining, some have elicited eye rolls, and a couple really hurt. 

But the time has come when I can actually tell some true stories. 



Enjoying a classic!


Hanging out between the runways.





When my husband went on active duty, one of the first activities I attended as a newly minted USAF wife was to go to a luncheon hosted by our CO's wife. Her intent was to get to know us, open the door for questions if we had them, and also give a little advice. She was a lot further down the road than we were so was well qualified to do so.

She had several helpful things to say but 3 points really stuck with me: 

    1. "Your husband is going to be flying multi million dollar, sophisticated aircraft. So keep things happy when you send him off." (In other words, save your drama for another time.) I thought this was good advice and always sought to follow it. That was easy because I've always been short on drama, and it actually became automatic for me.

    2. "No one really wants to know who you are. Leave the schedulers alone." Not all of the pilots at my husbands first duty station would go on to experience careers that included long absences, but that's what we ended up doing. And I had a number I could call to ask the schedulers where he was. I used it very sparingly thanks to this bit of advice and many didn't even know I existed. 

    3. Her last bit of advice was a defining moment for me and I kept it religiously for over 43 years. "When your husband is gone, those who need to know WILL know. You don't need to blab when you're alone. This one is for your own safety." 

And so most people never knew just how much he was gone. I remember a conversation with his parents about 30 years into his career and they were actually taken by surprise when I did the math for them. They knew he travelled and was gone, but I don't think they really ever put together just how much. 

An average of 18 days a month quickly adds up to years and then decades of absence. We've been married nearly 44 years and he just retired a couple of months ago. With the exception of a couple of years in management that kept him home a little more, the 18 day schedule was typical and it adds up.

Sometimes training kept him away for much longer. When we got to our second  duty station, I moved us, set up housekeeping and got a job while he went through training in another state. The neighbor kids thought he was my brother when he finally came home. "You ain't married!" 



When daddy went for training, the girls wanted to go along!

The people I worked with even thought I was making him up. I think they were relieved when he finally showed his face. 

Over the decades, he's done different types of flying, but the schedule was always similar and my behavior never changed. I never felt the need to talk about him being gone. It was just a part of our family life. I never questioned it and never made a big deal about it. He loved to fly, and I loved him. So that was what our life looked like. 

Because of that, most people had no idea when the kids and I were solo. Over the years I learned a lot about basic home maintenance and the like so rarely had to ask for help. 


When the kids got old enough to start answering the phone, I taught them how to do it so as not to give anything away. It wasn't a big secret, it just wasn't anyone's business.  


I've already told the story of his flying career from his perspective while I went along for the ride. Now that he's home every night and I'm no longer alone for long periods, I feel free to tell the story from my perspective.  Some of the things we experienced at the courtesy of his flying schedule were rather funny. Others were heartbreaking.

As a family, we traveled. A lot. And for free! The airline portion of his career afforded us the opportunity to see and do some pretty cool things. When he began the last portion of his flying career and left the airline business after 20 years, my biggest concern was how I'd fly because I knew I'd lose my flying privileges. No worries. We've managed. I just don't fly as much or as cheaply!



But whether he was flying in the military, airlines or corporate, Murphy's Law ALWAYS  applied when he was gone. Washer decides to walk down the drive during the spin cycle? Yeah. he's gone. Water main breaks? He's gone. Weddings? Birthdays? Broken sprinkler system? Yup. Gone. Dryer fire? He missed that. Threatening phone messages? That was a weird one that he missed. 

Car trouble? ER visits? Accidents? Going into labor? Yup. He was gone, but miracle of miracles, made it home by the time our daughter came!

Holidays? The only time I actually cried when he left was on a Christmas morning. He had flown Christmas's before, but the kids were home. This time it was just me. That was tough.

Anniversaries? I think he missed more of those than he made!

I learned early on to be strong and take it in stride when he was gone. I knew he was going to fly when we got married, but I had never flown before meeting him, and I had no idea what it would actually be like. So I understand when people really don't get it. 

One man expressed condolences when he found out how much my husband was gone.  That was so sweet of him. From him I learned that many people assumed  my husband was home every night and just flew days. Uh... nope. 

A woman actually got really angry at me when I assured her that I understood what her children were going through being separated from their spouses by their work. We had known each other for years but apparently, it never occurred to her just how much the kids and I were alone. That one hurt.

Another woman got pretty critical when she learned we travelled separately. Not sure how else we could do it when that was my husbands job.

Most of our experiences while my husband flew came with the ability to laugh them off. Humor helped us survive his schedule. But there were those times of crushing grief that just had to be survived. 

He wasn't able to be with me when my dad died. I had extended family there, but I missed my person. He was also flying when my mom reached the end of her life.

But by far, the most painful experience at the hands of his flying schedule came in the first few years of marriage. Shortly after Christmas 1981 he took off and within a couple of days, we lost our first child. Coming to terms with that by myself was how I spent New Years. 

Looking back, I probably should have called his commander, but I was in such a fog, I just waited until he came home to tell him. There were no cell phones or computers, and when I called the squadron on occasion to ask where he was they talked a big talk but truth be told, had no idea typically. 

So while he was on the other side of the globe, I walked one of the hardest paths I've ever walked, and told him about it 10 days later. I was 10 days into my grief. His just started. 

His career was hard on him too. All of those broken things, missed celebrations and losses? He was alone too, in some hotel or military Q. He didn't like me having to field the challenges alone any better than I did. But I had to learn to trust him from the get and he had to trust me too. 

So... why am I telling my story? Because it's my blog and I can. I waited for a long time to tell what it's really like. If you landed here and stayed until the end, now you know. 

Do I regret spending my life this way? Absolutely not. Aviation equipped and strengthened me in a way nothing else could have and whether people knew I was  alone or not, I still learned my lessons and became better for them. 

I have to laugh when I hear about the glamorous lifestyle people think we must live. Being married to a pilot is fun and hard, enriching and draining, interesting and sometimes mind numbingly boring, unique and nothing like what most  people think. It's airplane decor everywhere, lots of airshows, learning  pilot jargon and how to identify different "equipment", clothes that smell of airplane exhaust and stale air, unpredictable schedules, and never knowing when he'll be home so being unable to commit to anything because of it.





Our home decor is "Early American Aviation"



I was a diligent student. I am able to say with complete confidence that these are two very different cockpits.

We lived a schizophrenic lifestyle because I couldn't possibly function the same when he was gone as I did when he was home. Our children just assumed everyone had a mommy world and a daddy world.

I've also found myself answering the same questions over and over:

"Yes my husband is a pilot. No I don't know where he is. Yes, he's flying. No I don't know when he'll be home. Yes, he's real. No I didn't make him up. Yes I iron his shirts. No I don't have a maid..." and they go on and on.



I finally bought a Tshirt!


 Even with the hard times, I thank the Lord for the gift of taking this ride with my husband. I can't imagine doing life any other way. 

Now you know.


The drop offs and pick ups were, more often than not, always either late at night or very early in the morning. This was our last 4am drop off.

\

He always had the best seat in the house



Our youngest daughter got to park her dads final flight while I just went along for the ride. Our oldest daughter was busy having a baby but was with us in spirit.



42 years apart




Who are these who fly like a cloud

And like the doves to their windows?

Isaiah 60:8


Your wife will be like a fruitful vine

Within your house,

Your children like olive plants

Around your table.

Psalm 128:3


For my husband is not at home;

He has gone on a long journey.

Prov. 7:19