Birthdays, ZAGS, New Year, Home Sweet Home

Willie and Debbie at their new home.

Barbara and Laurie, earlier this fall.

On this last day of 2009, we'll be celebrating some momentous occasions.

We'll be saying "Happy Birthday" to two family members.

We'll be saying good bye to one year and hello to another, along with a new decade.

We'll be yelling and screaming "GO ZAGS" as they take on Oklahoma at the Spokane Arena this evening.

We have already said plenty of "Yay's" for the Idaho Vandals who won a thrilling Humanitarian Bowl game yesterday.

We'll say "Welcome Home, Loves, Welcome Home." Willie and Debbie spent their first night at home on Lake Pend Oreille last night. The grandpuppies stayed with us.

Bill and I were reminiscing this morning that it was this day 33 years ago, three months before Willie was born, that we signed on the dotted lines for our first-ever home of our own. Actually, we've had only two, having lived here for 3.5 years.

Of course, I have reminisced a lot about this day 50 years ago when my mother went to the hospital late in the afternoon. In those days, new dads sat outside in a waiting room while their babies were born. Not long before midnight, Dr. Hayden came out and told our step-father Harold that he had a new daughter.

Thus, began Batch Two of our family. I had been the baby for more than 12 years, and I welcomed the moment when I could be someone's older sister. Well, I've enjoyed that for 50 years now with Barbara being that new daughter and the new younger sister.

Another sister, Laurie, would come a year or so later and then a little brother, Jim in 1963. My two brothers and I were ecstatic about Barbara's entrance into the world. Everyone always talked about how beautiful she was with her dark hair and big dark eyes.

In 50 years, Barbara has accomplished so many wonderful achievements, and in many cases, others have benefitted----horses, young people and anyone willing to learn. That's what Barbara is all about. She is the consummate animal lover, especially horses and her dog Pita.

Barbara is smart (class valedictorian with perfect 4.0), talented (especially with photography and horses), dedicated, and deeply caring of those she loves.

Fifty years later, I'm just as thrilled to be Barbara's older sister as I was that night when Harold came home and told us that she would be named Barbara Iva Tibbs. Her grandmother Iva was a teacher who taught in many of the one-room school houses in this area. Barbara's teaching achievements and accomplishments with students have kept the tradition going.

On this day, I throw out a great big happy birthday to my sister. And, I'll pass along another to my sister-in-law Joyce, yet another teacher and talented quilter. May both of you have a wonderful day.

And, to everyone, enjoy the last hours of this year, be safe, and many good wishes for next year.

GO ZAGS!!

Damn that Death Anyway

Why is it that Death always wins? So far, undefeated and on a bigtime victory streak lately! Time to bring in some forces to at least put up some roadblocks to slow down the Juggernaut of late.

Our community has been reeling for the past several days after the tragic death of a bright, talented, likeable teen. Even people, like me, who did not even know the young man felt the hard blow to the gut when learning of his passing at age 15.

Why so young? Why just before Christmas? Why this kid, with such a bright future, who wore a constant smile and brought a smile to the faces of virtually everyone with whom he came in contact? Why rip the hearts out of his family, friends and the community in general?

There are the stock answers---that it's all part of a plan, that God takes His angels, etc. That still doesn't do much to soothe the hearts of those who are left to grieve and to deal with the void of yet another missing light of their lives.

Death has been busy among my friends lately, and it makes me mad. I remember years ago when my friend Helen and I were at a meeting coordinated by the Spokesman-Review.

Can't remember its purpose---maybe part of the paper's efforts to reach out to the communities within its readership. What I do remember---and that was years ago---was Helen's frank comment about living in her community for so many years.

It was something to the effect of "I'll be going to more funerals." Being six years younger than Helen and being much younger than I am now, her comment opened my eyes, but I still hadn't lived long enough to fully grasp such a statement.

Well, I've reached that point, and I've mentioned it a time or two on this blog. One of the most profound negatives of living in one's community for a lifetime is dealing with the ravages of Invincible Death. We all know it's coming to greet ourselves one day, and there's not much we can do to fend it off.

When it methodically takes those we know and love, however, the anger is sometimes hard to contain. I guess that's what I'm feeling this morning as I write this posting. Yesterday, I heard of three people I know who have died. Earlier this week I learned that our former next-door neighbor on Great Northern Road died after battling cancer for more than three years.

Her name was Nancy Thorpe. As I wrote in response to her daughter who had contacted me, I'll again say that Nancy was the light of most everyone's lives with whom she came in contact. She was a fun, caring neighbor. We enjoyed many conversations during the years she, John and their family lived down the road. My kids knew her kids.

We talked about development around the airport. We talked about our kids, and I'll never forget when we talked on the day that John ran for his life when the Pentagon was bombed on Sept. 11, 2001. John was serving with the Naval Reserves at the time.

The Thorpes eventually moved to Oregon where John serves in the Oregon State Fish and Game. Nancy was passionate and positive, and I do recall becoming her Facebook friend, shortly after she had surgery this fall. She even sent me a couple of notes.

It was sad to receive her daughter's note and to share the information with the rest of my family.

Yesterday I learned that Death had snatched our new neighbor who has been building a new home and farm north of us. He always waved. Last summer he and another neighbor rounded up our three horses who had managed to get loose and go for a run down the road. He seemed like a good man who was anxious to make the permanent move to this neighborhood with his wife and daughter.

I heard about another death that disturbed me greatly, but I'll not get specific about that just yet because I've heard from only one person. While trying to find more information about this person, I discovered the supreme blow of the day.

There, on the funeral home webpage was the name of my hairdresser, Joyce Campbell. Three weeks ago Joyce fixed me up with the bi-monthly zapping and haircut the day before I left for Maui. When I called to make an appointment, she said, "Let's do it the day before you leave so it will look really nice."

Joyce was more than a hairdresser to me. I did write about her beautician skills and Sandpoint's beloved Hair Hut in my last book. Over the years, Joyce was a good friend and confidante. We shared our family stories, our philosophies and just plain good conversation as I sat in her chair for nearly three hours each time.

I always gave Joyce a hug after she gave me her time and her talents, and as we both looked in the mirror and agreed that the newest "do" sure did look nice.

Yesterday after the first shock of learning about Joyce's sudden death, I called my friend Helen---the one who talked about going to so many funerals so many years ago. I knew that Helen and Joyce were classmates.

"I've got to sit down," Helen said, clearly stunned. "Joyce and I went to grade school together." Helen talked about the recent 50th-year SHS class reunion they had enjoyed.

I've become a veteran of reading and sometimes writing obituaries of people I've known, admired, loved and maybe even just met occasionally. You'd think one would get used to the fact that Death always comes out on top as the Invincible Victor.

After the bad news of the past several days, however, I'm not at all impressed with our ultimate opponent's flawless record. Couldn't there be an "off-season" for a while?

My deepest condolences go out to all families who are suffering in each of these recent heart-breaking losses.

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

The picture is small, but the smile is big: Mother at last night's ZAGS game.

A new coating of snow today. In some places there's "leg-breaking" ice beneath it, so folks need to take careful steps around here. Still, the weather is pleasant, and we have no complaints.

My mother won't be complaining too much today. I'm wondering if she even slept last night, thinking about the storybook adventure she enjoyed yesterday. She saw her beloved ZAGS play, in the McArthey Center in a box seat.

"Like a kid in a candy store . . . a singular life event." That's what my brother Mike wrote after the big event. His daughter Laura had a birthday yesterday. She and the triplets were in Sandpoint for the morning hours; then she headed home to Plummer for what was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon.

While on the road, she received a call from some friends who had access to the box seat. They offered her tickets for last night's game, which including viewing from that nice perch. She called and asked if Mother wanted to accompany her family and her parents to the game.

It didn't take much prodding. First, Mother worried about what clothes to wear. "It's a basketball game," my sister told her. "Some people wear sweat pants." Of course, she did wear her Gonzaga sweatshirt.

Her next concern was making sure her beloved cat was safe in the house. People took care of getting Rowdy to come inside. Meanwhile, my brother washed her car; they checked the oil, and by 3:30 they were on the road to Spokane and the big game.

The expected crowd at my sisters' house suddenly diminished to four---my sisters, Bill and me. While watching the news before the game, my sisters spotted Mother pushing her walker behind the sports reporter who was giving his life report about the ZAGS upcoming game with the Eastern Washington Eagles.

The ZAGS won handily, and my mother now has great memories to take her through the winter and some firsthand experience to share with all of us as we watch all upcoming games on TV.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. That team has no idea how important they are to providing a most powerful, long-lasting elixir for elderly fans like my Mother. Thanks to all who had a part in providing her a very special experience.

~~~~~~
Willie and Debbie and the dogs arrived here about 11 p.m. last night after leaving the U-Haul at their new rental home. I now hear dogs upstairs very anxious to begin another day. Down the stairs they come and across the living room they're bounding.

So, I'm gonna call it a day on the blog. It will be a busy day, helping them transport boxes, et. al. from the truck to the house. By day's end, they may be one step closer to settling down and enjoying their new life as a happy family of Loves in Sandpoint.

Happy Tuesday to all.

The Monday after

Bill's about to head off to work. I saw on Facebook at 6 a.m. that Annie was back in Seattle (nine hours ago). Willie, Debbie and the grandpuppies could be on the road by now or soon. The great holiday is over, and we move on to the New Year.

This is a monumental day for Willie and Debbie. They'll arrive tonight from Boise after staying one more day than expected. The Silver Sage Council of the Girl Scouts of America wanted to do a going-away party for Debbie, so that happened last night.

A new life starts for them today as they get ready to move into their rental home on the lake. It will be fun for them because Willie's coach and friend, Cheryl Klein and her family live next door. Cheryl, who recently retired as SHS athletic director, is the one who told him about the house in the first place. So, we're all grateful to her for steering them toward such a wonderful set-up.

Here at the Lovestead today, I'll be taking down the Christmas decorations a little earlier than usual. I had no choice last year with that hemlock tree. Most of its needles had already fallen off, so it went out the door a couple of days after Christmas. In this year's case, I'm thinking that the grandpuppies might be in need of space and a chance to watch what's going on outside.

Since the tree is at the sliding glass door, their access to the outside world view would be limited. So, the decorations will go to their storage spots for another year. I've got my card envelopes all organized in alphabetical order for a new list.

Since I lost one whole page of my usual list and had to play the guessing game, I've got to start over on that, and I hope to post the new list on the computer while it's still fresh in mind and so next year will not be quite the hassle this year seemed to be.

By the way, I've also redone my link list for this blog. Yesterday while trying to add Annie's Flickr address, I pushed one wrong button, which erased the whole link list. So, if you read this blog, and your link has been on my list and doesn't appear now, let me know. I'll add it to those I could remember this morning.

Ah, the fun of trying to remember everything. It gets to be somewhat trying during this time of the year. We're on "remember it all" overload, it seems. We do the best we can, but that never seems to be enough.

We have seemingly a gazillion birthdays in this family this week, so I'm going to issue an all-out birthday wish to all who are turning a year older. I do know that my niece Laura has a birthday today, and I realized on Facebook this morning that a grand-niece celebrated her second birthday yesterday. As the family continues to grow and as some of us get several years old, a lot slips through the seams.

It was a wonderful Christmas here, helped along considerably by beautiful weather that allowed us to engage in activities with relative ease instead of with a weary mind wondering if we were gonna make it out the driveway, let alone go for a drive up in the mountains. We're very thankful for the great weather and for friends and family who made the Christmas very special throughout.

And, as we move on, it's always exciting to start focusing on the future. In 2010, Bill and Annie plan to climb Mt. Lassen in Northern California. Debbie will be biking from Seattle to Portland with her friend Paige and any followers who want to tag along.

Willie will be preparing for new classes to teach and getting himself firmly grounded as an educator. I might be working on a book (for someone else), and I know I'll be saddling up my horse to take to the trails as soon as possible. We're hoping lots of cousins will join us in Seattle in mid-March as we participate in the annual St. Paddy's Day Dash. Annie says you can sign up online.

There will also be gardening, geocaching, lawn mowing, hiking, picture snapping, horseback rides, Lodgepole Log ceremonies, horse shows, swimming in Big Blue, Facebook fun, cheering for Zags and Broncos and Vandals and more moments admiring the beauty of nature and the people who make every year special.

Life moves on, and we're ready to take it ALL on as we continue to act out the next few chapters.

Ice-cold Beauty

After an adequate time for slouching around the house and catching our respective breath from all the Christmas festivities, we took a late afternoon trip with a goal in mind. Annie wanted to find a waterfall to photograph.

Bill and I both knew of a couple of scenes along Rapid Lightning Road, so dogs and humans piled in the car and headed out.

We found a waterfall all right, but along with it came an array of exquisite icy beauty, created by the hand of Mother Nature and a cold, flowing stream.

We took lots of photos, and, Annie's more refined shots will soon be up on her Flickr account (www.flickr.com/photos/nnlove/).

Later, we hiked to a great setting for sunset shots.

It was a memorable outing that exceeded our wildest expectations, and we feel privileged to be able to do such things on Dec. 26 after two winters of being cooped up and overwhelmed with cleaning up Mother Nature's dumps.

This year, thankfully, she's providing us a great supply of her more welcome natural artistry.

Artist Annie at work

On to the next spot.

Guess the location.

Scenes from Christmas Day, 2009

We couldn't have asked for a prettier Christmas day.

Schweitzer looked magnificent, as did everything else here in North Idaho.

Our big events, besides the morning unwrapping of gifts, centered around dinner at my sisters' and the bonfire at the Lovestead.

It all turned out to be both lovely and fun.

I hope you enjoy the images as much as we did our day.

When Kiwi has to help with the Christmas bonfire, it's a two-coffee can day.

Mount Pend Oreille in the Cabinet Mountains behind the Lovestead house.

Christmas dinner at Barbara and Laurie's

Grandma Tibbs adds her touch to the gravy.

A new angel for the Love family Christmas tree.

Thank you, Mary.

Jacob and Laurie

Justine picked out a new horse for the Tibbs Arabians.

Laurie sez its mane looks like Scout's.

A visit to the Lovestead stable

Burn, Baby, Burn-----pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze!

Family members fired up

It takes a spark or two (and a little diesel) to get a fire burning.

Bill, the forester, feeds the fire.

Gracie grooves at the sound coming from Jim's creation.

A consensus among all dogs? Paws down.

Grace, Laura, Jacob, Barbara and Jim.

Jim sends a little energy into the fire, via his didgerydoo; he made the Australian instrument out of PVC.

Clarinets and didgeridoos aren't quite the same, as Laurie learns.

Jim and Sefo

Good desserts at Russian tea at the end of a long, lovely day. Laura, Mike (behind), Justine, Grace and Sefo.

~~~Merry Christmas~~~

True gifts cannot be purchased

We always worry about the shopping days. Well, for the record, this is the last shopping day before Christmas, 2009. And, yes, I need to go to the store. My list will include yams, rolls, and other assorteds to have on hand for tomorrow's dinner at my sisters' house and the dessert/bonfire which follows here at the Lovestead.

Most of my purchased gifts are wrapped. Most of my most cherished gifts will never be wrapped nor given just at Christmas. Oh, they may be covered up with clothing, but, in most cases, that will be every day throughout the year. And, I'll celebrate them as best I can most every day of the year.

Most of my most cherished gifts walk on two or four legs, and occasionally I take them for granted. They come as friends, as family and as my collection of critters. They also come as living, growing, flowing things that surround me everywhere I go----trees, shrubs, beautiful mountains, streams, rivers and lakes.

Christmas is a time of celebration and gift giving, and we do our best to keep up with it all, sometimes enduring more stress than is necessary. It occurs to me at Christmas, however, that the efforts to keep this earth spinning 365 days a year with some sort of reason are only accentuated at Christmas.

Gifts are given every day through friendship, thoughtfulness, laughter, compassion and, yes, material items, either crafted by caring hands or bought with varying amounts of money. The greatest gifts cannot be purchased, however.

Christmas time reminds us of what is truly important in our lives. Yesterday, it wasn't the cookie plates and apple jelly delivered to the neighbors that meant so much to me. It was the feeling of hospitality at Geneva's house when the annual cup of coffee and the cookies from that cannister up on the shelf that only Stan can reach served as accessories to good conversation, laughs and sharing of stories about family members and friends.

It was also the tears in Mary Taylor's eyes as we talked passionately about how Christmas helps us reflect on the potpourri of kindness and caring we've witnessed or received from years past.

We agreed that Christmas brings together all those important in our lives, either through cards or cookie plates or telephone calls, or even in our newest method for keeping in touch---Facebook.

We may not think about some people all year long, but the Christmas season, through all the busyness, reminds us of our assortment of special friends and family who have played a role somewhere along our chosen life journeys. We may even build new relationships as we Loves did last night when our new neighbors, Chantel and Scott, came over offering a cookie plate.

By the time they walked out the door each receiving a big hug, they were carrying a set of Love-penned books, some applesauce, apple jelly and even a special geocaching coin for Chantel to give to her dad. And, it was agreed as they went out the door that they'll be over in the spring to collect some of that well-aged horse-apple compost for their garden next year.

There's no way to buy the intangibles that mean the most to us. These are given freely, and they are accentuated at Christmas time because of our reminders of what started all this hoopla in the first place.

The greatest gift at Christmas is knowing that we can give and receive all year long. And, generally, the purest of love, friendship, compassion, laughter and natural beauty we share every single day does not cost a cent. Merry Christmas!

Now, it's off to the store to spend money one last time before the big day!

Hot off the Press!

The Lovestead Christmas bonfire is on for 2009. Bill made the announcement this morning after seeing that the ground is once again freezing, and no rain is in the forecast for the next several days.

He even has a big pile of brush, built up over the year, out in the same area where we had the bonfire two years ago. So, there won't be a lot of preparation needed.

We've been enjoying the event several times over the last few years, except last year. I think people's hearts weren't into it because they were all spending so much time digging out of the never-ending record amounts of snow. Plus, a lot of folks never made it to their destinations for Christmas last year, thanks to bad weather.

So, the festive event has taken a year's break, and this year looks prime for a great family time. The usual drill is that everyone does their thing---dinners, relaxing, playing with presents, watching movies---during Christmas Day. Then family and friends converge at either the Colburn home or the Lovestead, and before dessert, we enjoy the bonfire.

Adults and kids sing Christmas carols. Jim says he's bringing a didgerydo this year; that ought to wake up the hybernating bears. Bill spends his time stoking the fire. Snowballs go flying through the air, aimed at anyone and everyone except Grandma Tibbs, of course. I don't know if she'll be wanting to sit out there, but she'll surely be in the house waiting for dessert.

After we've spent enough time enjoying the revelry and roasting a few marshmallows or making smores, we head to the house to get "s'more" sweets----pies, cookies, cakes, candies, wine, cider, cocoa, whatever. During this time, there are usually a lot of wet, snowy clothes flung in the dryer.

There's plenty of visiting, lots of musical chairs cuz, of course, there's never enough room in the house for everyone who shows up. It's generally a free for all with plenty of good cheer.

So, this year it's on, and if the neighbors get tired of the noise, they can just come and join it all.

Well, enough of that. It's two more shopping days and two more days to finish up all those projects. For me, today will include some cookie plate deliveries, maybe even to my friend Gary's house.

Happy Wednesday.

Update: There might even be ice skating cuz Annie's already been out skating in the pasture on this gorgeous morning.

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

On this second second shortest day of the year, we've already had more light. The rain has finally stopped. We could actually see the lights of Schweitzer for the first time in several days this morning. Looks like we'll be dried out and cooled off for a while, which is okay, considering the amount of moisture we've received in the last week.

By the way, we even got a nice coating of snow overnight to brighten up the landscape. So moods should be lifted around the area for the next several days.

~~~~~~~~
I just realized that our beloved morning newspaper banter ends today. Willie got up early on this vacation day of his. He's sitting on the love seat, reading the paper. Of course, he noticed and noted out loud the same typo I had seen in the front-page cutline talking about puppy "delibery."

We also talked about the MSNBC interviewer who recently apologized to his guest for being rude in an interview. Apparently, he pressed the guest further than she cared to be pressed for real answers.

Willie and I discussed both sides of the coin, which included the thought that good interviewers should try to dredge something out of their guests besides the normal prepared talking points.

These talking-head shows have become so predictable and uninspiring because of the prepared answers the guests come to spout out and because we already know as soon as they're introduced what they're going to say.

Basically, they just fill up a lot of cable television minutes without filling our heads with anything new to think about. So, I can empathize with an interviewer who gets tired of just "playing the game" rather than landing any information of substance.

Our Lovestead living room discussions are probably a lot more lively and fun than anything you'll see on the cable networks, simply because we enjoy the folly of it all and often come up with some good zingers while providing our early morning quarterbacking of the news, the news gatherers and the newsmakers.

That fun free-for-all is ending after today cuz Willie and Debbie are headed to Boise for Christmas. When they return, they'll have a house of their own, and Willie will have to share his sarcastic nuggets with Debbie instead of with Mom and Dad.

Mom and Dad will continue on with morning newspaper commentary, but having a third voice in the mix has been fun these past several months. Maybe some day I'll just have to invite them to stay overnight so we can get an occasional reminder of the fun we've all had with each morning's latest local, regional, national and world news and its various modes of "delibery."

~~~~~~~~~~~
Yup, we're in musical chairs mode here. Two kids head out; one kid heads home. I'll be picking Annie up at the airport tonight, and she'll be staying until Sunday. That's when Willie and Debbie return with all their household stuff. They plan to move to their rental house Monday.

As for Christmas, I finished up the cookie plates last night and am winding down on the cards. There's still a batch yet to mail and, of course, there are those with changed addresses. So, I'll wait to see if I hear from them and waste no time putting their cards in the mail on this end.

Santa has been busy around here, but the work in that department is still not quite finished. One last push on my trip to Spokane ought to finish the job there too-----then, maybe some time to relax and enjoy what we're supposed to enjoy at Christmas----family, friends and quiet time. That's sounding good to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Guess that's enough twittery contributions from this mind today. Hope all is going well at all households in preparation for the big holiday. Happy Tuesday.

Love this day!

The countdown is over! We have reached the shortest day of the year. Winter solstice, according to a chart I just found, occurs at 9:47 PST this morning. So, whatever you're doing at that moment (figure out your own time zone), take time to celebrate.

After today, here in North Idaho, we get to see more light each day, and, believe me, after the past three or four days of dark fog and abundant rain, a little more light on the subject will be very welcome.

But we have to get through today. The fortunate part about winter solstice in these digs is that there's so darn much to do, one has little time to worry about darkness and light, so hopefully today will speed by quickly, and we'll be noticing a pleasant change soon.

This morning, I'm going to play Garrison Keillor and use my blog to send out a few specific messages, so feel free to eavesdrop.

To Robyn in New Zealand, the package arrived. I loved the photo album and, as always, your letter. Yes, the goosebumps still come on every time I hear from you and think of the wonderful time Annie and I spent there----six years ago. Hard to believe.

I'm saving the DVD for when Annie comes home (that will be tomorrow night), and we'll watch it together. And, yes, when Gisele's new CD comes out, I want to be first on your list.

Finally, I am sending you something---just haven't had time to put it together since coming home, but it will be in the mail one of these days. For the time being, please know that I loved hearing from you and we send our love to you and all of your family. And, dear Robyn, DO start that blog; it will be on my links as soon as the first posting hits the Web.

~~~~~~

To Mary,
I have read your note about the Christmas night bonfire and have brought up the subject to Bill. At this point, it's undecided. Weather will play a factor as everything around these parts is soggy, soggy, soggy. That could change, though, after today as it's supposed to turn colder.

So, we'll keep lobbying. At the very least, we can certainly get together out here north of the bridge for dessert Christmas night.

I must tell you that Bill is a bit reluctant about the bonfire, only because of his awful memories of the last one we had at the Lovestead, when he and Willie had the effects of food poisoning coming on and had a hard time enjoying the festive party. This year, we'll keep him away from any bleu cheese dressing which might have sat out too long. So, I'm thinking the thumbs are on their way up for some kind of outdoor celebration.

~~~~~~
To Janet,

I saw "Squat Bod" Friday night at Slate's. He told me he was "out trolling." Of course, he had Bill with him so I don't know if either one of them hooked on to anything. Bill did tell Debbie he liked her hair, though.

It was great to see them both, and we did have a few quick belly laughs----just like the old days. I told him I'd be sure to document my "Squat Bod" sighting on the blog.

~~~~~~

To Cathy Russell from down there on Center Valley Road,

We LOVED the neighborhood get-together yesterday. It was great to see so many familiar faces. Thank you for inviting us.

And, I must mention that if anyone sees Bert Wood, tell him once more how good the fudge was.

And, Cathy, after we returned home, I pulled out the second Beautiful Bonner and went to the page about the Center Valley School and its teacherage.

It was neat to enjoy the party in your house and to imagine so many years ago how it played such an integral role in the era of one-room schoolhouses. I still think it needs to be put on an historic register.

Maybe we need to start an official Selle/Center Valley register where we can document all the wonderful historical spots around this neighborhood. I'm sure there are some colorful stories to go along with each.

Thanks again for a great neighborhood gathering.

~~~~~~

Well, that's enough personal messages. It's time to get moving and finish the last of the projects for festive time ahead. Happy Monday to all, and may more light shine upon you in the upcoming days!

Love Family Christmas Memory -- Dec. 20, 1984

Today marks a family milestone of 25 years. The story below (unedited version) ends the collection in my most recent book Lessons with Love (www.amazon.com).

Our house burned down 25 years ago today. Indeed, it was a singular, momentous event in our lives. The aftermath of the fire, however, rose from the ashes in a profound, poignant and meaningful way---not only for a teacher but also for this season.

I'll let the story illustrate why . . . .

Teaching Moment No. 1: Supreme Lesson: It was a Thursday, the day before Christmas vacation, 1984. We had experienced a wintry week with temperatures going below zero, roadways posing hazards because of solid ice surfaces, and snow blowing in from the north. Bill had gone to Louisiana. His father had died the previous weekend and had been buried in Oakdale the day before. On this Dec. 20, I’d taken my time picking up the kids from Patti Howell’s Day Care center. After all, we had an abbreviated class schedule the next day, so I could afford some extra time to go to the post office and mail cards. While there, I even enjoyed the luxury of yakking with Pam Parks, one of my colleagues. Stopping at Patti’s, I chatted with the kids' babysitters, Bernetta Young and Carol Blessington, before summoning Willie and Annie to load up in the pickup, which I'd driven that day because of the scary roads. We headed north on Boyer and broke into a lively chorus of “Jingle Bells.” Turning on to Baldy Road, we continued our merriment.

Days before vacations---especially those of the two-week variety---always brought on a sense of euphoria for me as I thought about the good times ahead. Once the Christmas craziness ended and company had headed home, we could enjoy the silence of winter and a temporary break from the down-to-the-minute time management of school. There’d be lots of lazy hours, lying on the couch watching TV. I also looked forward to cross country skiing and pulling the kids on their sleds around the fields, quiet afternoons reading----definitely a time to savor. Bill would be home soon from Louisiana. All would be well for the Love family within the next couple of days.

While these festive thoughts resounded through my mind, our voices continued to celebrate “one-horse open sleigh.” Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something unusual off to the north, toward Greenhorn Mountain. A dramatic, orange conflagration reached skyward, lighting up the night sky. In front of the giant flame, I could see the silhouette of our majestic classic red barn. Within an instant, joy turned to horror. Our house was burning up across the open fields less than a mile away. The driving route at that moment stretched a bit further. We’d have to continue down Baldy for half a mile, turn off on Great Northern Road and proceed another three quarters of a mile to our driveway. We all instantly began to shriek, sob or wail as I composed myself enough to control the pickup from sliding off the icy road. The remaining drive home lasted seemingly forever as we finally turned north.

I have no clear memory of the next few minutes----just fragmented images of myself screaming hysterically while standing before the giant flames as they shot into the night air. Neighbors like Pat Gooby and Eddie Nordgaarden tried to comfort me. Fire trucks with flashing red lights and wild sirens maneuvered their way from out of the darkness up the snowed-in driveway. I do remember a sheriff's deputy interviewing me, asking my name----did I know how the fire started? I knew nothing at that moment. All I had to offer anyone was uncontrolled emotion.

In seconds, I realized the reality that our possessions amounted to the clothes we'd worn that day, a sweater left in the back seat of the station wagon, and ironically, a freezer full of meat lugged miraculously by adrenalin-filled neighbors from inside the laundry room. In the light of the next day we would discover another item ironically rescued from that room just off the kitchen---a lone green plastic bag filled with garbage.

As the minutes passed, my family members---my dad, my mother and my siblings came down the driveway. All had spotted the flames at almost the same moment from different locations in the neighborhood. Seeing my condition, Mother immediately insisted that we go with her to the family home about a mile away. Annie, then just six years old, stood just a few feet away from us, but we could not find Willie. We frantically looked among the crowd of people and still no sign. As I walked over to our Ford Escort station wagon, parked near the huge willow tree, thinking he might be sitting inside, my eyes were drawn upward toward the expansive tree trunk. The kids played in a partially-completed tree house, calling it their apartment. That’s where Willie was crouched with an expression reflecting the horror of the moment----his huge, fearful brown eyes transfixed on the leaping flames which cast an orange tint on his face. He was silent, but his statue-like pose spoke far more eloquently of the depth of this catastrophe than any words I was able to utter.

In less than one week’s time, Bill had lost his father, and we had lost our home. We faced a daunting situation, especially five days before Christmas. A lifetime’s worth of philosophical sayings would be uttered or would drift through my mind over the next few days. This event would demonstrate their truth firsthand in so many ways. Material possessions are fleeting, but life is precious. Possessions can be replaced, but lives cannot.

After convincing Willie to come down from his perch in that giant willow, we accompanied Mother to her house. In the kitchen, my sister Barbara had been tutoring Rod Berget, also one of my students. His mother, Judy, another teacher, had come to pick him up. She teamed up with Mother to try to calm me down as I, still blubbering like a baby, headed to the telephone to call Bill in Louisiana. The two women immediately urged me to calm down before making the call. Knowing that words would not quite do the trick, my mother held out a small bottle of whiskey, a souvenir from an airline flight she'd taken to Spain that summer. Judy held a glass.
“Drink this; it will help you,” Mother announced.

“No,” I said. “I'll be all right.”

“No, Marianne, this will help calm you down,” she insisted.

“I'm NOT going to drink it,” I shot back just as Mother began pouring the whiskey into the glass in Judy’s hand. It was obvious these two women were on a mission. In that split second, however, the “calmers” stood over the “calmee” and accidentally proceeded to pour the entire bottle of hooch into my crotch.

Although I did not imbibe a drop, the whiskey did jerk me to my senses. If ever there were a need for comic relief, this was it. I had to laugh. Looking down at my Jim Beam-soaked khaki slacks, I reacted calmly as the two women who hovered over me immediately broke into apologetic laughter.

“Thank you so much! The only clothes I own in the world are the ones on my body,” I announced taking great pains to enunciate each and every word. “And now you've spilled whiskey all over my crotch!” The incident served as a turning point. Humor does help in the depths of despair.

The momentary levity put me back on course for the obstacles that would lie ahead. I called Bill, who had ironically been having dinner with the Oakdale, Louisiana, fire chief. His location 2,500 miles away spared him the horror that all of us in Idaho had just witnessed. It was shocking, yes, but in his usual fashion, he remained calm, knowing that he'd have to concentrate on a pretty big obstacle of his own---getting home earlier than planned in the midst of hectic Christmas airline traffic. We had a lot on our plate that night, but we would soon learn that we also had a lot of guardian angels looking over us.

As soon as I hung up, Mother's phone started ringing. It rang steadily that night. In every case, the caller had heard about the fire and wanted to offer help----a temporary home, clothes, money, food. The gestures seemed endless and continued the next day when cars started streaming into Mother’s driveway with bundles and baskets with envelopes, containing cash or checks. A student in my first period class, Robbie Hubbard, brought a plate of cookies, a hug and a simple “I'm sorry for your loss.”

School lasted until noon, and soon thereafter, my sister Barbara came home from the high school where she also taught. She carried her books and a heavy cloth bag, which she set in the middle of the kitchen table. We all stood, wondering what it was for a second. Then she explained.

“This is from the high school staff and students,” she said. “There's over $1,000 cash in that bag. They collected it this morning. You are also to go to the counseling office at the school when you have time to pick up the other items.” A later trip to the school revealed a huge room filled with dozens of piles of items stacked to the ceiling, all brought to school by students and colleagues that morning. Overcome with the magnitude of such widespread generosity, I broke into tears after Barbara finished telling me about the efforts that had transpired overnight and during the morning hours at school.

“How can I ever repay all these people?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed. “There's no way possible.”

“You have a gift,” my mother suggested. “You have the gift of writing. You can write something for the paper, and they'll know that you appreciate what they've done.”

Later that day, my brother Jim and I drove into Spokane to pick up Bill, only to learn that his flight had been delayed until the next morning. After a few hours sleep, I sat in the motel restaurant with a yellow legal pad and penned my thoughts, which later appeared in the local paper.

The fire and its aftermath involved a tapestry of giving, caring people representing every age and every interest in our community. It changed my outlook forever. I couldn't repay each person individually, but since that time, I've followed the simple suggestion of one of my favorite folk hymns “Pass It On.”

For several years afterward, whenever it came time for the school-wide food/toy drive, I looked forward to galvanizing my students into action by telling my Christmas story of 1984 when our family became recipients of that very drive. I told them about the sack of money gathered in less than three hours, the room filled with boxes, the dozens of visitors to my parents’ driveway. “You never know when a split-second incident can put you on the receiving end,” I said. “And when you are, I know from experience that you're overwhelmed with gratitude for living in such a caring community.”

After telling the story, I'd challenge them to do their best and to have a good time attempting to unseat the “master of all food-drive organizers,” my colleague, Rick Gehring, who taught math at Sandpoint High School. Every year a plaque went to the classroom that topped the charts for items collected. We always exchanged friendly banter between our classes to inspire enthusiasm. Although always competitive, we never did win first-place because Rick, never showing his hand until the last day, had calculated a foolproof strategy for getting his troops to comb the town for donations. I believe his homeroom held an undefeated record for more than a decade---regardless of what method was used to determine who was the best. One year my students chose not to compete in the drive.

“Let's pick just one family and put together something really special for them,” Christine Bauer, then a senior, suggested to her fellow photography students. So, we followed her lead and gathered money, food and clothing. We also extended our fun by meeting at my house one Saturday and baking Christmas goodies. The satisfied pride among those students when their collection was ready to be delivered rivaled the thrill experienced by athletic teams capturing the state championship. Whether they won or lost the annual food drive title, each year wonderful stories emerged about students sacrificing for others as homeroom classes gathered thousands of pounds of food and welcome items for families in need.

Because of these annual holiday food drives and thanks to one life-changing catastrophe, I learned the ultimate “Lesson with Love.”

SHS Scenes et. al.

The last time I spent any time talking to the young lady on the left she was a fourth grader at Sagle School.

I had been invited by her teacher to read stories from my books.

That day I learned she was the daughter of a former students, Carol Peterson Millard and her husband Eric.

Carol served as ASB president at Sandpoint High School her senior year.

Nowadays, she works with the Head Start program in Sandpoint.

It was fun running into her daughter yesterday when I was supposed to substitute for my sister Barbara.

I did not substitute.

I was not legal.

I had not filled out the proper paperwork, nor had I been finger-printed.

Dr. Penny Tenuto, pictured below, met me as I came into the office and told me she'd been trying to call me.

"We've got to have the paperwork," she said. "Sorry."

Actually, I could have been really upset for rushing around at the speed of light, doing my chores, stopping by my sister's for instructions and hurrying to town to be at school by 7:30. It was quite an effort, to say the least.

I could have been mad, but I wasn't.

Even though we all thought it was ultra ridiculous that an old veteran from SHS could not return to her workplace to watch after kids for a day, I was glad that Penny adhered to the rule.

Those rules are made to protect kids, and they should be enforced consistently, no matter who's walking in the door to help out.

So, I salute Lake Pend Oreille School District for keeping the best interests of kids in mind.

Plus, I was glad the situation turned out as it did because the morning turned sad.

After visiting with some staff and students and snapping a few photos, I headed home.

On my way, I received a call from my sister Barbara. The situation with yet another of her beloved horses was grim.

"I need help," she said.

"I'll be there," I told her.

Sadly, my sisters lost their third horse in the past few months.

Phansey was one of the reliables in their string of lessons horses. Many young people, including my daughter Annie, enjoyed some wonderful rides on Phansey.

She was a beautiful mare---a dark liver chestnut with white stockings and wide stripe.

Phansey, overnight, had incurred a severe twisted intestine.

She now lies with her friends, Tellie, Rosie and Mnisha in the cedar grove south of the indoor arena.

Again, the family is so indebted to our veterinarian Cherise for her wonderful care and compassion, along with neighbors who came to help with Phansey's burial---Steve Wood and Roger Thompson.

It was another sad day at Tibbs Arabians, and I was glad Penny sent me home from school yesterday. I could be available to help support my sister as she said good bye to another beloved equine friend.

~~~RIP Phansey~~~

Students in the senior hallway at SHS on the day before the beginning of Christmas Break.

Sandpoint High School finally feels warm and welcoming.

A school levy provided funds to remove the ugly, ugly gray carpet from the floors and walls and to provide a new surface.

I doubt too many people would disagree with me that most staff and students hated that school from the day we moved in back in the fall of 1992.

Part of it was the drab hallways, part was the administration which laid down draconian rules from Day One, making most sane folks want to hate the place.

I'm envious when I enter the building these days because it now has an upbeat, positive atmosphere, not only in its cosmetic changes but also in the wholesome attitudes of those who spend their days there, both adults and kids.

Dr. Penny Barfuss Tenuto, SHS assistant principal, 1979 SHS classmate and U of I college roommate of my sister Laurie and former student in my sophomore honors English class when I convinced the students that my firstborn would be named Theodus.

Nowadays, at SHS Dr. Tenuto calls that same young man Mr. Love.

It's the day before vacation and all through . . . arghhh!

It's been seven years since I stepped into a classroom to be anything other than Barbara or Laurie's older sister. It's been one hour since the call came, "Can you substitute for Barbara today?" I was awakened from a deep sleep so I didn't hardly have time to think of what was the matter or TO COME UP WITH A BIG EXCUSE.

Besides, I don't say no when my sisters ask. They have a sick horse.

I've fed the horses, cleaned the stalls, read the paper and am speeding along the keyboard to get something done on this blog. Just a second ago, Willie piped up, after his initial shock that Mom would be going to school, and asked, "Do you have an ugly sweater?"

Seems it's "ugly sweater" day today at Sandpoint High School.

Actually, my sweater looks okay. I'll opt for an ugly old goat showing up in a nice sweater. Howz that? After all, substitutes can be ugly old goats or pushovers. I'll take the former.

So, this is short. I'm off to school, and Willie had to put his own sheets in the wash rather than having his "domestic" mom doing it for him today.

We'll both be down there "teaching the children" on this day before vacation and all through the house, the mice will be stirring, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

Happy Friday and pray for me!

P.S. Bill's just now announcing to Willie that he'll have to be checking in on his mother today to see how she's doing. Talk about tables turning!

Christmas Trivial Pursuits

I'm getting there. "There" this week is the point where I can answer "yes" when the umpteenth person asks me, "Are ya all ready for Christmas?" I think everybody asks with the same intent that goes along with the perennial automatic question, "How are you?"

Half the time, we don't really care how the other person is; it's just something to say, and usually the answer is "fine." Occasionally, I catch myself halfway between "fi" and "ne," flog myself for lying and spout out a much more truthful, " No, I'm not fine. I'm sick and I have too much work to do and my pet mouse died this morning."

Well, okay, maybe it's not that bad, but there are those moments when we realize we're lying to half the world when we say we're doing just fine. But we say it anyway and move on. After all, most of the time people don't really care if we're fine; they just expect a grunt or any noise acknowledging their robotic greeting.

Anyway, I'll be glad when the day comes and I can go to town and answer "Yup" to the "Are ya all ready for Christmas?"

At this point there's a pinhole of light at the end of the tunnel. Earlier this week, I wrote a really quick Christmas letter to stuff in the cards. After copying it off, I realized a lot of highlights from 2009 had been left out cuz of the haste. Oh well, maybe I can put a P.S. next year, informing everybody that "By the way, I forgot to tell you last year that we had a good crop of acorn squash and that the blueberry crop was bountiful."

Do they care?

Probably not, but I must admit I love those Christmas letters, which years ago were thought of as "sinful." Anyone who would write a group Christmas letter should be put in the stocks. Now, I'm wondering what percentage of families DON'T write those annual letters. For everyone's information, I read every one of them and love knowing what's happening in my friends' and family's lives-----even if they didn't tell ME personally.

As of today, I have about one third of my cards personalized with the usual two or three sentences directed specifically to the recipient. Stock letters are inside, envelopes are stamped and sealed shut, so I'm getting there.

Yesterday I started wrapping presents. With Willie and Debbie here for just the weekend before Christmas, I had to get a move on with their presents. I even wrapped a few more just to have that many fewer to do when I'm really rushed.

And, the baking has begun. So far, snickerdoodles with an orange peel flavor and lemon bars made into orange bars. They're actually pretty good. There's much more of that to do before next week when I send Bill to town for delivering cookie plates and visiting, and I do the same here in the neighborhood.

I've come to enjoy the time spent over at Meserves when I deliver goodies and catch Geneva busy as a bee getting ready for the arrival of her family. In the midst of it all, she insists that I sit at their kitchen table and have a cup of coffee while she works with presents or cookies.

I know that Gary Finney will be waiting patiently to see if all that honking every day all hours of the day and night with all Gary Finney vehicles will inspire a bigger plate of cookies than usual this year. Two years ago he even came an plowed the driveway as an excuse to see if I had baked that year.

The more I think about the baking the more I think I'd better speed up on my progress in that department.

One area of the "must do's" of Christmas has been occurring every morning while I type my blog posting. It's the music.

The music requires nothing other than inserting a CD and pushing the play button. Then, I sit back in a state of relaxed nostalgia while thinking and typing. Forget the presents, forget the food, forget the cards and letters. All are good and always welcomed but to me the the music of Christmas is the best.

As a less than stellar Christian/Catholic, I derive great inspiration and peace from listening to the beautiful voices and wonderful instrumentation associated with Christmas music. The lyrics and the notes tell me the story of Christ's birth and His impact better than anything I know.

Yesterday some CDs came in the mail. They were from Annie. She had gone to a Hawaiian store and selected some Hawaiian holiday music. That's what I'm listening to this morning, and I did get a kick out of the lead-off song on today's menu. It was about sleigh bells and snow and a winter wonderland, straight from Hawaii.

Sure enough, the trivial pursuits of getting to the point of saying "Yep" when someone asks me if I'm ready for Christmas are marching along each day. And, I must say I enjoy them because they all reflect so much of what is important in life on this Earth.

And, today as I plug along some more, I'm doing just fine, thank you!

Are ya ready for Christmas????????

Magic and Misery of Snow

Bill hurt his back shoveling. I strained a muscle below my shoulder blade shoveling.

Willie got stuck in the driveway. It took us about ten minutes this morning to get his car to travel a correct pathway through the gluey, slippery snow. He finally headed on his way.

I just watched several hundred pounds of snow go shooting across the deck from our steep-pitched roof. Cats are staying inside until the roof completely empties itself.

We received nearly a foot of snow over the past 24 hours.

There's nothing more exquisitely beautiful and nothing more exasperating.

They called off school in Boundary County this morning. School is in session in Bonner County.

Cars were crawling past here this morning because of the ice under snow, causing slick, slick conditions.

I can hear blasting up at Schweitzer. Gotta get the conditions safe from those avalanches so the skiers can enjoy the gift of a new dump of snow.

There's no moderation, it seems when huge amounts of snow fall. It's miserable trying to get anything done, but it's also a grand treat for the eyes.

Winter has come, but maybe by this afternoon, all the beauty and the misery will turn into yet another seasonal memory.

And, then we'll get ready for the next picturesque dump!

Our Scotch pine lovers tree

Looking south in the front lawn

Overnight artful snow dump

Snow tires and life changes

On this morning where every window view looks like a magical snow globe, I was happy to think about the note I received from my daughter-in-law last night.

She bought snow tires yesterday, maybe the first she's ever purchased.

She did so on the advice of our neighbor Sherry who lives down on Forest Siding Road. Debbie and Sherry have gotten acquainted through cyberspace, and, if all goes well, she and Sherry could be working together on a common goal. I'll keep that under wraps for now, just cuz it's bad luck to tell too much when you're keeping your fingers crossed.

Debbie will be driving up this way from Boise Thursday, staying overnight in Spokane with a friend, going to a job interview, and then coming to Sandpoint for the weekend. Then, she and Willie, who will be on vacation for two weeks, will drive back to Boise to spend Christmas with Debbie's family.

After Christmas, they'll fill a U-Haul with their personal belongings and head back up this way. Willie will drive the U-Haul, and Debbie, her car with those new snow tires and with the doggies in the back. They'll move into a lovely rental home south of town and on the lake, thanks to information about the house's availabilty from my much respected colleague and friend Cheryl Klein who lives next door to the house.

A little help from some of the family "outlaws," Mike and Corky, helped this situation along also. We all appreciate these folks for their aid in putting together a great living situation for Willie, Debbie and the grandpuppies. I'm truly excited about the day when I can stand in their new home here up north, and say, "Welcome home, Love's, welcome home."

And, we'll be looking forward to visits from Debbie's family as the kids settle into a new life here. Our neighbor Sherry gave Debbie some good advice about purchasing those snow tires, and we're hoping they'll keep her safe and sound as she takes on the daily challenge of dealing with weather conditions while driving to work.

As I walked into the house this morning from getting the paper, Willie was starting his car. I told him he was gonna have to purchase some boots. He agreed. Boots, snow tires, ski passes, wood for heat---all big changes for these kids as they make the transition from life in Boise where spring comes early to life in Sandpoint where winter seems endless.

I can't help but believe, however, that this move is one of the adventures of their lives, just as it is for us Loves here in Selle. We never imagined this happening and are still pinching ourselves in disbelief.

The term "giddy"could easily be included in the discussion too, as the anticipation of seeing them more often and having more get togethers with the grandpuppies and their Sandpoint canine friends is just downright exciting.

And, to the folks and our friends in Sandpoint, I'm anxious for all of you to meet and get to know Debbie. She's a keeper, and we feel so fortunate to have her in our family.

So, snow tires, do your thing and keep our lovely daughter-in-law safe as she travels the next leg of her life's journey.

Christmas tree stories

Bill and the doggies looking over an area where we found our two trees yesterday.

A grand fir for the house and beautiful spruce for outside.

I'm so glad we've decided to search for our trees rather than purchase them at the various venues around town.

I can't imagine any better situation for creating memories that will last for years.

And, once we get the tree to the house and begin the decorating, that bag of ornaments holds endless glimpses of history from years past.

What a treat it is at Christmas time to remember the lovely ways others have touched our lives over the years!