College-Bound

 This little one is no longer little. She's nearly 18, and this week she's gone off to her university for Orientation. In a matter of weeks, she'll be gone for those interesting, magical, transformative four years that we call college.

 This isn't really a post about Julia, although I'd love to do one, but she'd hate that. Still, I'll just post photos of her :)
What's on my mind is this whole complicated concept of college. Why do we do it? Why do our children do it?

 My father was the first person in my family who went to college. None of my grandparents did. My mother would've flourished at college, but her first exposure to the setting was after she married; my dad was attending Ohio University on the G.I. Bill, and she got a secretarial job in the university English Department. She loved it. I can tell by conversations with her that she loved the setting, she loved the academics, she loved the professors. She would've loved to take classes, write papers, read (and read and read, which she's always done anyway). My mother's a learner. But before she knew it she was pregnant with Baby #1, followed in very rapid succession by Babies #2-5.

Julia and the boy cousins

My brothers and I grew up in a home where college was expected of us. These days, some say, "Well, it was easier back then; college was cheaper." And it was. But it was not easy for our family! There were five kids, and my dad, although always a very hard worker, served in Christian ministry. He didn't make enough money to "send his kids to college" and foot the bill. My brothers got their high school education at an inner-city school in Jackson, Mississippi, not a swanky college-prep academy. We were expected to get scholarships and grants. We are a smart bunch, an intelligent family. Expectations were high, not for prestige or privilege, but for sheer intellect. We were expected to be brainy, independent kids.

 My oldest brother attended a state university for his degree. I think we didn't really know what other path to take; even most of the Christian kids we knew were going to either Ole Miss or Miss. State, so this seemed normal.
But our family had also been involved with a Christian family camp in Georgia for decades -- Camp Westminster. The second boy in the family attended that camp the summer after high school, and it altered his life course significantly. It altered all our life courses significantly. In fact, you could say that my son Philip would not be married to his lovely bride Kara if my brother Mark had not worked at Camp Westminster that summer.

 Some friends he met there were attending Covenant College that fall, a small Presbyterian college just a few hours north on Lookout Mountain. Mark had no other set plans, as I recall. (I don't recall much; I was 12 years old.) He went to Covenant. Then the rest of us followed him there. My four years atop the mountain reached mythic proportions for me. So when I presented my oldest child with college options, Covenant was at the top of the list. (I just dug back into old blog posts about Philip's last days at home before departing for college. It feels like a lifetime ago. I struggled to let loose of my first born.)

 Now Adam and I are rather old hands at this college thing. He and I went to college, and we both got graduate degrees. In this way, we exceeded our parents academically. However, we have not been more successful than they, financially. College degrees don't automatically produce wealth. Still ... one does not want one's children to have less education, or worse education, than oneself. So Adam and I have steadily encouraged our children to go to college -- in spite of the cost, the debt, the time, the risks, the distance, the travel, the worry.

I know lots of families whose kids won't go to college. It's simply not the norm in those families, and those kids will do fine. They will go into the military, or they'll get a certification or a 2-year degree at a community college, or they'll do vo-tech work and find good jobs. College is not the magic bullet. Kids finish a 4-year degree at a residential university with tens of thousands of dollars of debt. So why-in-the-world have we still encouraged our kids to do it?
1. Philip and Peter met their spouses at the colleges they attended.
2. Anna would not be in Japan in the adventure of a lifetime, if she hadn't gone to her college.
3. Kids separate from their parents and mature at college, at least many do. Ours did. Since all our kids have been desperate to get away from us well before high school graduation, I'm glad to send them to campuses where there are rules, oversight, accountability.
4. College is work. It's not a 9-5 job, but it's still a lot of work and responsibility. It's a good transition for a teen when you want him to understand that he must begin to be responsible for himself, but that his time of learning is not over. In fact, if you want your children to continue to be life-long learners, attending school until they're 22 or 23 helps. If they close the book on learning as 17 year olds, they're more likely to think that "education is over." That's a generalization; some people are self-taught, and are that way no matter what they do.
5. For many people, a college degree still means a better job, or better pay.

College is still, in 2017, a wonderful experience for many kids. It takes courage for a young person and his family to embark on college admission, especially if it's not in their family history. Isn't it amazing to see a family send that first child off to college -- the first one in that family ever to go? Dozens of obstacles and hoops stretch before you. But you're giving your child a gift. As homeschooling parents, the immense effort we've put into Julia's transfer to university is part of our commitment to her education, and I know she knows that, she feels that, she absorbs that and takes it as her own.

Visiting the Kids

The destination for my trip last week was Chattanooga, where Philip and Kara live. How wonderful and strange it is to visit one's grown children who have set up house on their own!

The lovely painting is by Ann Calvert,
one of my mother's dearest friends.

And set up house they have. This is their living room. We watched Olympic events on that lovely TV screen. Kara has many beautiful books, the classics. Their home is tidy, neat, comfortable, quiet, peaceful. It lacks the clutter that comes with decades of thrift store shopping, a clutter my mother and I can't seem to rid ourselves of. I very much enjoyed my days with them.
The first night Philip drove us up Lookout Mountain to the college all three of us attended!

The Covenant College Chapel

Carter Hall

The college has been renovating the elderly matron of the campus, Carter Hall. It was a swanky hotel in the early 20th Century, and the main campus building when I attended in the 1980s. They are spending a pretty penny restoring the facade to its original look -- the dark windows, the stonework and crenulated tower.
Just before I came in the early '80s the building had been renovated then too. The look they chose then was more clean, sleek -- no bumpy stones or medieval edges. The back of the building still shows this look. However, this facade did not hold up well. The walls are stained and tired-looking, and the plain windows look particularly bad, like deteriorating government housing.

Interestingly, there are still portions of the old, original facade in the far rear of the building. I think they were never redone in the '70s either. Notice the textured exterior. That's the look they're trying to return to, at great cost.

Philip said portions of the building were actually falling off and crashing on the ground a few years ago, so it was absolutely necessary to do something. It does sadden me to think of how many students could have been offered scholarships with the money spent on the building. But it was money specifically designated for the repairs, I imagine, and it had to be done if the building were to be kept at all.
The lobby looks much the same.

I always loved the pool. What a view!

Here's the front, north end. The windows have such a pretty Tudor look. The tower looks a bit bizarre to me, but I do love the cap on top.

They've beautified the porch on the far north end. Sweet, sweet couple.

Philip and Kara just moved into their first "real" home together a few weeks ago. Philip had lived in a house in the city with some roommates, and then a duplex into which Kara moved with him when they married last year. But this is the first home they chose together. When her family came to help them move in, they left this sweet message on the refrigerator.

If you look closely, you'll notice there's a shortage of "e's." So I had to improvise with my message that I left for them:

We ate at the Yellow Deli, a Chattanooga landmark restaurant since the '70s. I never ate there as a student, strangely enough! I didn't get out much because I didn't have a car. And most dates I went on consisted of "Wanta to sit with me in chapel?" or hanging out in some hallway or stairwell until 2:00 AM. Or a sunset walk through woods to the bluff overlooking the valley.

The Yellow Deli has this cool dumb-waiter to carry food up and down. 

It rattled away gently, ascending and descending, as we enjoyed our meal.

We had yummy sandwiches and interesting tea. The restaurant is owned and run by some strange religious group called The Twelve Tribes. They have readily-available literature to be read. They are world-wide. They are gentle, soft-spoken folk with lots of hair and slightly hippyish clothes and good food.

I had a safe trip with lots of driving, and I got to see my two grown boys. I visited with a very dear friend in Chattanooga -- how good to see her! I relaxed. And I took all my old home movies and VHS tapes with me because Philip works at a company that transfers old movies, reels, photos, tapes -- anything you have hanging around in a box that you someday intend to see again -- onto DVD, CD or zip drive. Philip took a box full of audio and video and put it all on a tiny zip drive for me. I have it on this laptop. I have my sophomore piano recital. I have Mr. Halvorsen singing songs that he wrote. I have two years of Covenant Choral concert music. I have Peter's birth. I have our wedding, I have lots and lots of Julia as a baby and toddler. She missed the years of disposable cameras, so I lack photographs of her. But boy, do I have video! I'll write a separate post about the effect of all this viewing on me. Suffice it to say, it was emotional, as was this lovely trip. It's good to be home, but I was so happy to spend time with Peter, Philip, and Kara.

To Jennifer, Wherever She Is

Thirty-four years ago as a freshman in college I made some amazing friends. Some I still have (thankfully!) and some I've lost. One I lost is Jennifer. She lived on my floor, was a musician -- a singer and guitarist. She had long red hair and a bold personality, but also a sad depth in her soul. I liked her a lot. On September 2, 1981, I sat in my room with the window open. She sat in her room a few doors down, playing her guitar and singing. I wrote this (very bad, but normal for a 17 year old) poem:

A Few Doors Down

Your haunting notes flowed through my window

On the back of the chilling mist.

There was a mellow warmth in your tone;

I knew you were singing all alone.

I took in all those lines you'd kissed

And blown out to the world.

You stopped, but I still heard them

For I'd taken them as my own.

I  don't know what Jenny was singing that day, but it was probably something she'd written. I probably shared the poem with her, a kind of reciprocal gift, and I imagine I was silly enough think it worth sharing, and she was silly enough to think it good. And if you were ever a student at Covenant College, you probably know exactly what kind of day it was, when that cloudy mist that shrouds the campus and blots out the world slides through your window and begins to take over your room. I loved that school, but the weather was formidable.

Jennifer graduated that May and I lost touch with her. The one time I saw her after that, while I was still at the college, she seemed distant and changed. Angry, lost. And as we often do with people who change on us, I held onto the Jenny I'd known, and I did that by keeping her music.

One evening we two sat in the dilapidated wooden building that passed for the college's practice rooms, looking over a song she'd written called "Moonbeam."

Jenny wasn't a great music writer but she had heart. Most of the piece is clunky and poorly written. She wanted me (a pianist of sorts) to embellish and improve it, which was way beyond me. But I kept the piece because I keep things. I've had it for thirty-four years. I pull it out every few years and play through it. It has one especially beautiful portion that (for me) redeems all the rest.

The only way to share it with you is with a recording, which I will attempt to do. If I succeed in posting it here, please forgive its poor quality. I hope you can hear the lovely interplay of piano and vocal lines. It's simple, but really lovely. The poem is by Wm. Zieglar. I can find nothing of him online. Jenny wrote the music.

To Jennifer, wherever you are, I want you to know that your music made a deep impression and continues to do so. Music does that. Poetry does that.

Moonbeam

If I were the sunlight

Through your window in the morning I'd shine.

But then I'd miss you in the night,

And that's my favorite time.

If I were a moonbeam

Glowing from above,

I'd shine my way into your dreams

And offer you my love. 

Offer you my love.

Love is all I have to give.

Catching Up

I'm sorry to say that I'm still struggling with my photo situation here on ye olde blogge. Hmm. Google Photos does a lovely job of syncing all my photos immediately onto their website. It even lifts them straight from my phone without my doing anything at all. However ... for some reason there is NO quick, easy, intuitive process to upload photos from that website to this blog. And both things are Google's. Why? Bleh.
Yesterday Oriental hosted yet another sailing event, the Hoop Pole Regatta, a kids' sailing race on sunfishes and FJs. A girl in our church participated in this race and placed 10th.

 I shot these photos from the end of the Lou Mac pier.

 Many of the races on the Neuse look like wandering chaos, to be honest. And if you're in them, they sometimes feel like long, languid, wandering chaos! But these kids had guide boats and the course was pretty tight. So they looks like little sails doing an intricate dance on the river dance floor. Waltzing boats -- there's an idea! It was lovely to watch.

 And here, my friends, is the REAL Farley, whose picture I snapped at the farmers' market yesterday. He's a character in my latest Dog Days of Oriental story, "Muffin Comes to Town."

 Hiya, Farley!
I finished a green shawl for the local Prayer Shawl ministry this week. I got down to the final two stitches (as you see on the needle), and I had less than two inches of yarn left. Knitters, has this ever happened to you? I had to start an entire new skein of yarn, for those two stitches. That's ridiculous!

 Peter returned to college this past week too. I hugged him quite a few times and felt rather teary. He does so well at school and was excited to go back, but I loved having him here this summer. He had a great time, made lots of great friends, had fun and worked hard. He'll miss these two pups, and they'll miss him. They slept with him at night, all snuggled up together on the futon.

 And he's off!

Come home soon!

Well, I did get these photos to load fine. I uploaded them from "my phone" directly, instead of trying any other uploading method. That's great ... except it means I will never be able to edit a photo, because I can't edit it on my phone -- cropping or anything else. Grr. I can do that on Google Photos, but then I have no clue how to get the photos to the blog. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I had a bugbear of a time getting photos to load into Trip Advisor, to do a few reviews. If you have ideas about how to use Google Photo for blogger, please do tell!

Three Poems by Nick Barker

A Ten-Year-Old's Wisconsin Summer

From the dark of the woods where damp bark rots,
Dave the handyman lugged by its spiky tail
The biggest turtle I had ever seen.

That night with prehistoric ease it nudged
Its bushel basket prison noiselessly
Right-side-up again, left a crescent flaw
in the screen door, and scratched its way back home.

Mary the cook said they were good for soup
And under tough wrinkles their blood was not red
But black like oil. I didn't believe her.

Seasonings, p. 7

Discovery 

The fish bending incuriously away from the hook

Is last to become aware of his element.

His father on the wooden pier flop-gasping

Understands water as never before.

Seasonings, p. 55

Sunday Afternoon

Wafer flat snowflakes

Drop with more sound on browned lawns

Than your just removed stockings

On our waiting bed.

Seasonings, p. 70

Dr. Nicholas Barker was a professor at Covenant College. During my four years there he worked in administration, and rarely taught a course. But I was fortunate enough to take a poetry class from him during my last semester with a handful of other girls. We met in his elegant, quiet office. At the end of the class, as I recall, he gave us copies of his book of poetry, Seasonings. How I admired him for giving his precious writings away, sharing such personal thoughts of family and experience! Shuffling through a box of old photos and documents today, I found the unbound, unpublished (I think) volume. I chose three of my favorites to share with you.

When They're Far Away

On our trip last week we spent several days visiting Anna, but we also dashed up to Cullowhee to see Peter at his college. It was good to see both of them. I love having adult children; they're delightful. You get the satisfaction of seeing all those years of hard work paying off, producing a lovely full-fledged human :)

Anna and Julia stand outside Anna's housing unit.

Anna's dorm room. College girls are messy.

I spotted this painting on her wall! It's one my mother had for years. (My mother has many artist friends, and accumulated much lovely artwork.) I didn't know this one had gotten away! I think it was painted by Ann Calvert, a dear friend. I told Anna that if she ever doesn't want it ... it must come to me! :)

Adam attended several classes with Anna, most in this building where her department is located.

Of course, we visited the famous Toccoa Falls. The water plummets in a 186 ft. sheer drop. Julia hadn't seen it before.

We'd gone shopping the day before, and both girls bought these loose, comfy pants at a great outlet store in Toccoa.

Adam was definitely the dog-corraller for the week.

Julia clambered on the rocks.

Adam's expression doesn't change. Drives me nuts.

Modern girls and their machines!

We spent Saturday with Peter. He's having a busy junior year. He's an R.A. (resident assistant), and that takes more time than when I did it, years ago! He's also doing well in his Business-Law degree.

We got lunch and ate at a picnic table at the public library in Sylva, NC, overlooking the old town.

We strolled around the shops for a bit. Julia always hides from my camera unless I plead. Peter told me flatly that he would NOT tolerate any photos of him this time. The one I posted above had to be sneaked from a distance.

Here's Peter's dorm this year. He's in charge of one floor of students.

He has a private room, as an R.A., and he has office hours. He's in charge of social events on the hall. They make "door decs," these little name decorations. Each door is littered with them.

Western Carolina University is probably the most beautiful UNC campus.

We drove back to Anna's college that evening. She worked on some of her embroidered pillow cases while I knitted on Adam's sweater vest.

I find it difficult to watch my children's lives -- not unpleasant, mind you, but just emotionally challenging. I'm not a domineering or over-protective parent. No helicopter mommying here. But I worry. I worry more about them now than when I had them carefully tucked under my own roof each night. When you fling them out into the world, you fling a chunk of your heart with them. I listen as they consider dating, marriage, career choices, graduate school, overseas travel. Peter is such a natural at sports; he plays ultimate frisbee for fun and works out in the gym to stay in shape. Anna is determined to return to China as soon as she can. She's contacting agencies who hire English teachers there. All I can do it sit, listen, pray, encourage. But it's all so uncomfortable! What would feel comfortable to this mama's heart? Why, having them all home under my roof again, of course! Which is a ludicrous thought! To have children grown is to be in a state of constant discomfort as they go do all the things they are meant and destined to do, and we watch in wonder. But I am only ever perfectly at rest when I have them in my arms. That lasts one moment, then I say, "I love you," and they are gone again.