The Number of The Day

Like many kids, I grew up watching Sesame Street.  I loved it and had hopes Nathan would love it, too.  Success!

When we get to the dessert course (fruit) of Nathan's dinner, we on-demand an episode.  Nathan loves Elmo and Count Von Count:

:)sbc

No Laughing Matter

Can you call in sick to your own blog?

It's been a rough couple days, but I think I am on the mend.

Nathan thinks it's funny:

:)sbc

John C. Stabler, Sr.

Age 92, John C. Stabler, Sr., passed away February 11, 2012. Born January 13, 1920 in Philadelphia, PA, the son of John C. and Anna E. Stabler.

He was a WWII veteran and served in the Michigan Army National Guard for 30 years, retiring in 1973 with the rank of Lt. Col. He was a past president of the National Guard Association of Michigan. He was a member of the Lansing City Council for two 2-year terms 1953-1956. During this period, he was also a member of the Ingham County Board of Supervisors. Subsequent to the period he served on the Lansing Public Service Committee for two 3-year terms. He was a member of Lansing Masonic Lodge #66 F.& A.M., a member of Grand Rapids Consistory of Scottish Rite Masons, Lansing Commandery #25 Knights Templar, Elf Khurafeh Shrine Temple, Capital Caravan Shriners Club, John S. Bersey Sojourners Chapter, a past president of the Lansing Masonic High 12 International Club. He was a past Adjutant of American Legion Post 12, a past Commander of the Military Order of Foreign Wars and past Chairman of Ingham County Soldiers and Sailors Relief Committee. His hobbies were camping with his wife in their RV trailer and traveling, square dancing with The Happy Hoe Downers Square Dance Club of which he was a past president, and volunteering as a Red Cross representative for several years in assisting servicemen and their families in need.

He is survived by 3 children, Sandra (Phil) Crockett, John C. Stabler, Jr., Vicki (Ken) Schnepp, 6 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. He was predeceased by his beloved wife of 62 years, Dorothy, his parents and a sister Ethyl.

A memorial service will be held at 11:00 a.m. Thursday, March 1, 2012, at Mayflower Congregational Church, 2901 W. Mt. Hope Ave., Lansing. Inurnment of John and Dorothy’s ashes will take place in the spring at Chapel Hill Memorial Gardens. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Mayflower Congregational Church or Great Lakes Caring Hospice.  The family would like to thank Sterling House staff; Tessie, Janelle, Lisa, Laura, Lance, and Randy for their loving care.

Nathan meeting his Great Grandfather

My heart goes out to my mother-in-law, Sandy during a difficult time.  You and Vicki are in our thoughts.  We love you, Nana/Sandy/Mom!

sbc

Honey and Salt (Updated)

Today my parents celebrate their 44th wedding anniversary.  44 years.

That's 44 Christmases.  88 birthdays.  176 seasons.

That's a long time.  Maybe that's why their advice is always so good.  On the inside of my parents' wedding bands are engraved the words Honey and Salt for poem of the same name by Carl Sandburg.  I guess because in life--and in marriage--sometimes it's honey and sometimes it is salt.  Or, that you have to have the salt to appreciate the honey?  I asked my parents.  An excerpt from my dad's response:

Shelby-

Why the words "Honey and Salt."  I knew that our marriage began in a non-conventional way.  I had used the poem in classes and liked the view of life it portrayed.  I guess "Honey and Salt" was an oath to our life together; that we would prevail in spite of the hills and valleys we might encounter.  I knew and know that marriage is work and that it isn't always rosy.  I understand that, like investing, one must keep his eye on the distant goal to weather the incidental, accidental and intentional interruptions a couple experiences throughout a lifetime.  I know that marriage is best if based on "truth."  I know that "truth" is not always comfortable, convenient, pleasant, absent of guilt or popular, but I know that it is necessary because living lies is devastating, counter productive and a sure way to "go down in flames."

The words serve as a preamble, an oath, a performance standard, a symbol of resurrection and rejuvenation and will undoubtedly, one day, will stand as the declaration of our love and life together.  It is simple, compact, easy to remember and has been significant to us.

Dad

Here's hoping it has mostly been honey for two of my favorite people in all my put together.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad.  I love you.

Honey and Salt

Carl Sandburg

A bag of tricks—is it?

And a game smoothies play?

If you’re good with a deck of cards  or rolling the bones—that helps?

If you can tell jokes and be a chum and make an impression—that helps?

When boy meets girl or girl meets boy—what helps?

They all help: be cozy but not too cozy: be shy, bashful, mysterious, yet only so-so:  then forget everything you ever heard about love for it’s a summer tan and a winter windburn and it comes as weather comes and you can’t change it:  it comes like your face came to you, like your legs came and the way you walk, talk, hold your head and hands—and nothing can be done about it—you wait and pray.

Is there any way of measuring love?

Yes but not till long afterward when the beat of your heart has gone many miles, far into the big numbers.

Is the key to love in passion, knowledge, affection?

All three—along with moonlight, roses, groceries, givings and forgivings, gettings and forgettings, keepsakes and room rent, pearls of memory along with ham and eggs.

Can love be locked away and kept hid?

Yes and it gathers dust and mildew and shrivels itself in shadows unless it learns the sun can help, snow, rain, storms can help—birds in their one-room family nests shaken by winds cruel and crazy—they can all help:  lock not away your love nor keep it hid.

How comes the first sign of love?

In a chill, in a personal sweat, in a you-and-me, us, us two, in a couple of answers, an amethyst haze on the horizon, two dance programs criss-crossed, jackknifed initials interwoven, five fresh violets lost in sea salt, birds flying at single big moments in and out a thousand windows, a horse, two horses, many horses, a silver ring, a brass cry, a golden gong going ong ong ong-ng-ng, pink doors closing one by one to sunset nightsongs along the west, shafts and handles of stars, folds of moonmist curtains, winding and unwinding wisps of fogmist.

How long does love last?

As long as glass bubbles handled with care or two hot-house orchids in a blizzard

or one solid immovable steel anvil tempered in sure inexorable welding—or again love might last as six snowflakes, six hexagonal snowflakes, six floating hexagonal flakes of snow or the oaths between hydrogen and oxygen in one cup of spring water or the eyes of bucks and does or two wishes riding on the back of a morning wind in winter or one corner of an ancient tabernacle held sacred for personal devotions or dust yes dust in a little solemn heap played on by changing winds.

There are sanctuaries holding honey and salt.

There are those who spill and spend.

There are those who search and save.

And love may be a quest with silence and content.

Can you buy love?

Sure every day with money, clothes, candy, with promises, flowers, big-talk, with laughter, sweet-talk, lies, every day men and women buy love and take it away and things happen and they study about it and the longer they look at it the more it isn’t love they bought at all: bought love is a guaranteed imitation.

Can you sell love?

Yes you can sell it and take the price and think it over and look again at the price and cry and cry to yourself and wonder who was selling what and why.

Evensong lights floating black night water, a lagoon of stars washed in velvet shadows, a great storm cry from white sea-horses—these moments cost beyond all prices.

Bidden or unbidden? how comes love?

Both bidden and unbidden, a sneak and a shadow, a dawn in a doorway throwing a dazzle

or a sash of light in a blue fog, a slow blinking of two red lanterns in river mist or a deep smoke winding one hump of a mountain and the smoke becomes a smoke known to your own twisted individual garments:  the winding of it gets into your walk, your hands,

your face and eyes.

:) sbc

Nathan & The Ladies

After my workouts, I get such a kick out of the scene I encounter when I pick up Nathan at Seoul Club's day care.  (Yesterday they had him in a toy car next to a huge stuffed bear and were pushing him around the room while making "vrroooom" noises while he squealed with delight).

Today after my swim I remembered to hit record as I walked down the hall.  I thought you might like to see...

:)sbc

Be Mine

Yesterday Kyle and I had a conversation that went a little like this:

Kyle:  Honey, if you get a strange call tomorrow from someone who only speaks Korean, please don't hang up.  Just say, "Yes, I will accept delivery."

Me:  In English?

Kyle:  Yes.

Me:  Why?

Kyle:  I've already ruined the surprise, please just say, "Yes, I will accept delivery."

Me:  Did you get me flowers? Awww!

Kyle:  Um, let's put it this way,  I know what I meant to order you, but I am not entirely sure what will end up being delivered to your door.

(Gotta love the language barrier).

Success (this is what he intended to order)

Happy Valentine's Day!

:)sbc

Forward Motion

Guess who started crawling last week?

And so it begins.  "Operation Mobility" is a go!

:)sbc

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish!

As in every city, large or small, there are "must-see" places and "must-do" things.  One of those places is the Noryangjin fish market (or the Korean site here.) Kyle and I have been here over a year and a half now (can you believe it?) and have not been.  We have heard stories, but never made the journey.  It's one of those places that you are told to "bring a Korean" because they hike up the prices for westerners.  That was enough for us to wait for just the right opportunity.

For 2012, we have renewed our efforts to be a tourist in our own town.  Our friend Steve, and American who is founder and editor of 10 Magazine here in Seoul, has lived in Seoul for 16 years and organizes an outing to the fish market about three or four times a year.  All are welcome.  So we went.  We had such a blast.  We met new friends (and already have plans to visit the pub in the basement of the British Embassy--who knew there was a pub in the basement of the British Embassy?!--on the 24th with our new friends).

Guess who is super happy that I thought of taking a picture in the subway?

Kyle made sure we got the sign, but not me :) 

The food was so good.  And so big.  Now I know why you go there as a group! One box of 50 oysters for 10,000 won: check (that's less than $10 USD).  Two, 10 pound lobsters: check.  Prawns longer than my hand: check.  All fresh, all delicious.  You buy and either take it home or take it to one of the restaurants and they prepare it for you with all the sides and beer and soju.  I had my first soju bomb--or something.  It was just the kind of fun we needed to encourage me to fall back into love deep-like with Korea.

Truth be told, Kyle and I both got a bug on Monday.  At first we thought it might be from Saturday's restaurant. But after hearing how the flu is surging through all the foreign schools/expat communities (and learning no one else in our group got sick), I think it maybe was just the flu.  Hope you and yours are feeling well.

My valentine

:)sbc