Love or Money

There are some things I will not do for love or money---or any other reason. Then there are some things I will do for love that I would not do for any amount of money. Caring for my parents in their terminal illnesses was one of those situations. And there are other things I will do just for the love of it whether it is profitable or not. Writing falls into that catagory.

I have been asked more than once how many hours it takes to write a book. I have no clue. I figure my time in years, not hours. Yesterday I worked all day to write a little less than a page that you could read in two minutes. Today it went a little better and I wrote a page in half a day, but I'm a long way from finished. There is no way writing could be profitable if I was being paid by the hour.

Some people think having a book published means instant riches. Guess again! Unless a person writes something that sells millions of copies, the royalties are very slim pickin's. The writer does the hard work but by the time the publisher and bookstores have dipped their hands into the cash drawer the royalty that is left for the writer may only be twenty-five cents per book. At that rate, how many books do you have to sell to come up with even one thousand dollars? You do the math.

I'm not complaining. I just trying to make it clear that I don't write for the money. A little spare change is nice, but not the incentive. I write for the love of doing it. The problem is that once a book is finished the fun is over and the only remedy is to start another one. Sigh! Writing is a wierd self-inflicted disease that feeds on itself and is done for love rather than money.

Exeter Friends Meetinghouse

I saw in this morning's newspaper that the Exeter Friends Meetinghouse is observing their 250th anniversary this weekend. You can see the article here:

http://readingeagle.com/article.aspx?id=159751

They had four speakers scheduled for today, beginning at 10:45. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go. Leroy had other plans so I headed down there myself.
I had a great day---after I finally got there. The address in the paper was incorrect (19 instead of 191 Meetinghouse Road) and the place Mapquest sent me to was about 7 miles from where I wanted to be. I got there and knew right away I was at the wrong place. Thanks to cell phones and some fancy maneuvering, Gerald was able to direct me to the right place but I missed the 10:45 speaker.
I decided to hang around for the second speaker at 1 pm and while I was waiting I got to talking to the man who had been the first speaker. He wasn't busy so he took me inside and did a re-run for me. He was a member of that congregation (they call it meeting) and talked mostly about their beliefs and practices. The values they stress are simplicity, integrity, patience, peace, and equality. Women have always had equal rights with men in speaking at meetings. They do not practice baptism, communion, ordination ceremonies for their leaders, or take offerings. (One of the tourists said if they'd spread the word about no offerings their group might suddenly grow!) They still sit in silence until someone feels led to say something. They sit for an hour and if no one says anything, that's it. They shake hands and the meeting is over. A Quaker meeting for real! After the meeting they divide adults and children for First Day School (Sunday School) when they have discussions and/or other activities.
The second speaker was not a Quaker and talked more about the history of the Oley valley and architecture of the building. That was very interesting too. There is electric in the building but it is very well hidden so as not to spoil the colonial look. The benches date back to the 1700s. Daniel Boone's family worshiped in a log building across the road from the current building which was constructed in 1759. The Boones left for North Carolina in 1750 but Daniel would have been in the 1759 building when he came back to visit his relatives. Abraham Lincoln said his grandparents were Quakers from Berks County but the records of Exeter Meeting do not show President Lincoln's grandparents being members. They may have attended there without being members for there is a record of a Boone-Lincoln marriage and also of Lincolns being buried in the cemetery.

Outside of the Meetinghouse (above) and inside (below). The ministers and elders sat on the "facing" benches on the right side of the picture, facing the members of the meeting. The wall in the middle divided the men and women's sections. Movable panels could be pulled down to completely close off the wall and provide some privacy when men and women had their separate business meetings. Quakers were very organized and kept detailed records which today are a delight to genealogists and historians.

The cemetery was a disappointment. There are quite a few Boones and Lincolns buried in it but they carried their idea of equality too far. Some people could afford more expensive stones than others so, to keep everyone equal, no stones were erected for anyone. The cemetery is just an empty lawn inside a stone wall. They kept a good cemetery record so they know who is buried there but there were no Boone or Lincoln stones to photograph. I don't know how they knew the cemetery was full, but sometime in the 1800s they ran out of space so they hauled more ground in and buried people in a second layer at the upper end of the cemetery. Quakers did begin to use gravestones later on but in a cemetery this old they did not and they kept it that way. The members are proud of their old stone-less cemetery. Makes mowing a cinch, I guess.

They were running a shuttle bus to the Boone homestead a couple miles away so I went over there for about a half hour. Nothing was going on so the buildings were closed but I walked around the grounds and took a few pictures.

In 1730, Daniel Boone's father, Squire Boone, built a log house over a spring on this spot. Daniel was born in that log house in 1734. After 1750 the portion of the house on the right was added to the log house. Then the log house was replaced with the stone portion on the left after 1770, using the same foundation on which Squire Boone had built the log house.

I rode the last bus back to the meetinghouse at 3 and got home at 4. It turned out to be a longer day than I expected but I enjoyed it---even if I was alone and had the run around getting there. I have thought for years I want to see the Boone homestead sometime and never got there. I've gone across the ocean to look at historical things and never crossed my own county to see this bit of local history. Now I have! But I want to go back sometime when the buildings are open and more is happening there. At least next time I will know how to drive directly there instead of taking the scenic route.

Philosophical Questions

Some of the philosophical questions which are supposedly difficult to answer are:

1. Who or what determines right from wrong?

2. What comes first, the chicken or the egg?

3. If there is an all-seeing, all knowing, and all-capbale Creator, why did He create imperfect creatures?

4. What happens after we die?

The answers to all of these "deep" philosophical questions can be found in the Bible. If you take God at his Word, they are not difficult at all.

There are other philosophical questions which are more abstract such as "Why don't we have all the answers?"

Eve's desire to know the unknown was part of the original sin that created the mess we're in and actually resulted in more questions than answers. But then, would you really want to have all the answers? I don't. It would save me a lot of work if some of the answers were easier to find but we would be bored stiff if we had all the answers. There would be no need for education or research. Wonder is the beginning of the journey and questions are what makes the trip interesting. An active imagination that wonders and keeps asking questions is a great antidote for boredom.

Just My Luck!

Blessed Are The Flexible

"Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape." This weekend was one of those times we lived by this rule.
The weekend started out calmly enough Friday evening when I picked up Leroy's handicapped sister, Kass. She is staying with us for the weekend so she could get in on some of the family weekend activities. Saturday morning, Leroy went to a demonstration of plowing with a steam engine. I made some food and got things ready to go to Camp Swatara where most of the Stauffer family was camping for the weekend.

Dale and Cheryl (and their families) both had campsites this year so we went a little earlier in the day than we normally do. That turned out to be a good thing because things started going downhill at 3 p.m. when we felt the first drops of the predicted rain begin to fall just as the men were putting the chicken for supper on the charcoal. It was so cool some of us huddled around the campfire under umbrellas while the chicken was cooking. The tempo of the rainfall increased and by 5 p.m. when the food was ready, an umbrella was no longer sufficient. We moved under four canopies which provided enough space for all the food tables and a relatively dry place to eat.

Just as we started eating, Gene called and said the transmission broke in his car. He and Amy were stranded up in the Pocono Mountains two hours away. He wanted Leroy to bring a company truck and trailer to bring them and the car home. After Leroy finished eating his chicken barbq supper, we held a tribal council to decide how to arrange everything. In the end, Leroy and Dale went up with the truck and trailer. I drove our car over to the warehouse and let it set there so they have a way to get home when they come back with the truck. Daryl and Velma brought me and Kass home.
Cheryl and Richard had decided not to drag their camper all the way in here from Ohio but just set up a tent. With the steady rain falling and our good solid roof only 15 minutes away, they packed up their family and moved in here for the night too. We all went to bed and Leroy finally got back at midnight.

This morning it was still raining. Leroy had to teach Sunday school so we went to church and came home for lunch instead of going to the campground as we had planned. The rain was giving up by the time we finished eating so we thought we'll go back and collect some of the things we left there. But while I was washing dishes Dale came and dropped off our things. He said everyone had enough "fun" and was clearing out. It was not worth going.

The game we played this weekend was one where you make the rules as you go. Everything worked out in the end and everybody wound up safe and dry at their own homes. So I guess we can call it a success even if there were all kinds of twists and turns along the way.

Realistic

Yesterday I served again as a tour guide in the little museum at the Lancaster Mennonite Historical Society. Things are marked so people can take a self-guided tour of the museum but we do provide guided tours upon request. Guided tours are divided into three sections with one man portraying the farmer, another man as schoolmaster, and I show the domestic section. The tour group is broken down into small groups of no more than ten so that we usually repeat our presentations four times. A bell is rung at a set time to tell the little groups when to move on to the next section.

To do my little show, I wear a black dress and apron with a shawl and an old fashioned head covering with black strings that tie under the chin. I always begin at a spot in front of the log cabin and end across the room at an old quilt. Yesterday when the bell rang I went back to my spot in front of the log cabin and waited for the next group to assemble. As one of the ladies in the group walked up she looked at me and said, "She looks very realistic." Then I moved and she threw up her hands and said, "She IS real!"

That was the first time I was taken for a wax figure! I guess I never stood still long enough before for that to happen.

New York City

Our church has been going to the Bowery Mission in New York City to have a service every year since about 1975. I don't remember when we last went along but it was not in this century. Leroy was saying the last couple years he'd like to go again but there was always some kind of schedule conflict. This year we crossed off other things and joined the group on the fully loaded bus to make the trip.
We got on the bus at 7 a.m. and arrived at Battery Park in New York City around 10. Our group walked to the Staten Island ferry and rode it both ways back and forth from Manhattan. We sang four or five songs on each trip. At the end of the first crossing one of the passengers told me our singing was beautiful and asked where we are from. Someone said they saw another man taking a video of our singing. We were not doing it to get attention for ourselves but to point people to the Lord as their hope and rescuer. From the ferry we had a good view of the NYC skyline. The ferry passes close to the Statue of Liberty and Leroy got a good picture of it. Someday I want to go up in the statue but we did not have time yesterday.

After we got back from the ferry we ate our lunch in Battery Park and explored the park a little afterward. The weather cooperated nicely and gave us a beautiful day to be in the city.

There is an old circular stone fort in Battery Park which was built in 1808. It was the last of a series of forts which guarded lower Manhattan, beginning with the one built in 1624 by the first Dutch settlers. Just across from the fort is a monument to the Walloon Settlers (Belgian Huguenots) who sailed with the Dutch on the ship Nieu Nederland (New Netherland) in 1624. The momument was dedicated in 1924, the 300th anniversary of the arrival of the settlers in New York (then called New Amsterdam). We are rapidly approaching the 400 year mark! This is the entrance to the fort. On either side it curves outward to begin the circular design. (You know I will find something historical everywhere I go, don't you?)

After lunch the bus inched toward Bowery Street where the mission is located. Traffic was heavy and some streets were closed for an Italian festival. We saw Ground Zero where some construction was being done but it is a long ways from being anywhere near finished. Because of the traffic we were late getting to the mission where our group conducted the 2 p.m. service (which didn't start until 2:30). Things have changed on Bowery Street since we were there last. The piles of trash and junk have been cleaned up and the drunks that used to line the sidewalks as they slept off their hangovers are gone. The neighborhood looks much more respectable now. The parts of the city I saw yesterday are cleaner and greener than they used to be. I saw quite a few rooftop gardens and flower beds planted in islands in the streets.

After the service ended at the mission, the bus again inched its way out of the city. It took an hour to get to the Holland Tunnel. We stopped for supper somewhere in New Jersey and got back to the church at 8 p.m.

As I looked at the streets of New York teeming with people I could not understand how so many people would be attracted to living in such cramped quarters. We saw all makes and models of people dressed in all sorts of ways and speaking a multitude of languages. I guess we were just one more variety added to the mix. I noticed the inquisitive looks we got from passers-by in the park while we were eating our lunch. Leroy heard two men discussing us and one of them identified us as "A-mish." New York is a nice place to visit but I'm a country girl to the bone. We had a good day in the city but I am thankful to be back in the quiet country again. I need my space!