New Windows Version 20.09

We have a running theory that the builder of our house really intended it to serve as a summer home. As I've written before, the drafts through all rooms are many and cold in the winter-time; so one of the continuing missions for us is to upgrade all aspects of the structure to preserve heat and increase the quality of life within our four walls.

One part of this mission is replacing windows. Last year we had four windows replaced by a local company called Madison Vinyl, who delivered an excellent product with poise, professionalism, and few marks that they had been in our home when the work was done. So this summer, inspired by a federal tax credit for installing energy-efficient windows, we hired them again. Earlier this week Ivan and Carlos came by to do their usual good work.

Here are a few before-and-after shots.

Our kitchen window, which had never had a screen before:

now allows us to do the dishes, enjoy a breeze, and keep the bugs out at the same time:

Our kitchen picture window gave us both a gorgeous view and a horrible heat sink:

But now has a triple-paned heat transmission factor of 0.21 (look up what that means, then be impressed):

The tiny first-floor bathroom window had that retro-feel from the glass blocks, but once again, not much heat efficiency:

And now it can be opened, cleaned entirely from the inside, and looks a little more not-out-of-the-seventies:

The upstairs central window went from a cranky split window with a misbehaving lock mechanism:

To an easy-to clean double-hung:

The north-east window lacked a screen, and the eastern-facing picture window had lost its seal, leaving us with a foggy view:

Now we can open them both, thanks to double-hung technology:

and we can see our driveway:

What's more, they don't look good only from the inside. The original exterior beauty of our windows came from shaped wood trim and accent-colored shutters:

Now, thanks to Ivan's diligence and creativity, our new windows are wrapped in the accent color, which will keep the elements off the wood trim and remove the need for shutters (which produce a problem of nesting bats and the resultant guano):

Thanks to Ivan, Carlos, and Madison Vinyl for adding beauty, convenience, heat efficiency, and value to our home. (And praise the Lord for tax credits!)

~emrys

Strange Finds

Still only halfway through the first box of stuff from my dad's estate, I find strange things that bring back specific memories and remind me of the uniquities of my family life. The following photo is of a dissection kit, including one-hundred-percent solid metal scalpels, probes, and forceps, all in a felt-lined snap case:

As the son of an old-school physician (who used still to do house-calls) we had several of these lying around the house, and when it came time for Mr. Checcini's biology class or Mrs. Polentes' human anatomy and physiology class, they went to school to do their duty. Hence the cloth medical tape bearing the bold moniker, "TYLER," written in my dad's hand with one of his ubiquitous black felt-tip pens, designed to prevent any classmate from taking home the wrong kit.

Sigh. Those were the days, when excitement came with the dissection of a shaved and embalmed cat.

~emrys

Blueberry Picking - Round 2

Today we managed to pick another 2 gallons of blueberries at Stone Hill and kept GBaby happy and beat the storm. It was a good afternoon! (Read about the first 2 gallons here.) Today's pickins are in the dehydrator and freezer and waiting their turn for round two in the dehydrator and freezer.

Beauty's Demise

What happens when a vase of daylilies wilts against your living room wall?

~emrys

Gods and Parents

Some time ago I reviewed the first three books in Rick Riordan's series Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I recently finished the fifth book in the pentalogy, and I would like to add something to my review.

First, I reiterate my kudos to Riordan for struggling honestly with the social-emotive culture of abandonment that many of this generation's youth experience. As the fifth Olympians book comes to its stormy climax, we discover that the central crisis of the narrative is, in fact, whether the gods--who are the parents of our heroes--will take an active role in the life of their children.

In the fifth book, The Last Olympian, the question gets a finer point on it: Will the gods help their children save the world, or will our adolescent heroes have to do it on their own, abandoned by their divine progenitors?

The answer to both questions--narrative and meta-narrative--is, Yes and No.

With this answer Riordan harmonizes faithfully with our present world and simultaneously fails to strike a significant note of hope for the next generation. We discover that the great desire of the heroes is to be remembered by their god-parents, and for this they struggle and fight and plead. This yearning to be claimed as belonging to the heritage of the gods runs through the sub-story of every hero in this series. However, observant readers of Riordan's novellas will detect a deeper and less articulate need--a need which also resonates with greater power for our world.

Youth need not only to know who their parents are (to get a last name, as it were), but they need also to know that their parents are walking with them in life. They need not just knowledge, but presence. Wisdom prevents us from advocating parents who believe they are best friends with their children; but the same alerts us to the need not only for official pedigree but also for present involvment.

Riordan's narrative offers the hope that perhaps the teenage heroes will live in the full knowledge of who their divine parents are; but this does not cancel or cure the fact that the god-parents remain powerfully absent from their children's lives. And we--readers and real-world people--need a hope that will cure this latter problem.

Perhaps Riordan cannot see that hope; or perhaps he is preparing us for greater things in his next series. But for us and our children, for now, we need this higher hope: that our children may be given not just last names, but also the living presence of parents. It is not enough to be claimed; we must also be loved.

Let's hope the Greek gods figure it out next time.

~emrys

Naptime Snuggles

Since GBaby was about three months old, she's been very good at napping in her crib. Give her a snack, lay her down and out she'd go. A true blessing, really. But today as we have a bit of construction going on in our home, her sanctuarial crib is not providing the solace needed to lull a little one to sleep. So, to the mai-tai it is. We sit on the back porch, summer sun all around us and she's curled up on my chest, peacefully sleeping while I write. We haven't done this in a few months and it's a nice treat!

~sjt

Gratitude with Filling

I like to make pies. I'm not sure how this joy came about for me, though it may have something to do with the challenge of making pie dough just right (from scratch, of course). At any rate, I enjoy both the process and the product. What's more, I've noticed that others also enjoy the product, even when they don't enjoy the process so much.

I have also discovered that gratitude is a healthy discipline. This principle goes not only for one's attitude toward God, but also for one's attitude toward other people. Being thankful just plain improves one's quality of life and one's view of others. I could go into the whys and wherefores, but not today. This eve I'll just offer the observation that being grateful colors the world a bit brighter each day.

Somewhere along the line (after I discovered my joy for pie-making) I decided that for those who give me (or my family) gifts of service or favor, I would express my gratitude by making them a pie. It is the best of both worlds for all involved.

It has turned out quite well so far. It's fun to make pies, to deliver them, and to hear that folks are enjoying them. Furthermore, my pie-making skills are improving. (The peach pie pictured above only leaked a little filling, as opposed to the dripping cascades of ooze I usually leave behind in the oven.)
Of course, by entering this in the blog, I run the risk of receiving a host of favors from those hoping for pie.

Oh, well. I suppose there are worse fates to contemplate.

~ emrys

Future Footboard

After completing Headboard 2.0 for our bed, I decided I liked the overall product, but had a few minor things to tweak in the process and design. What's more, no bed is really complete without a footboard. So I've begun the production of a footboard, to be completed as early as autumn 2010 and as late as when I retire from ministry.

The wood for posts, crossbars, and spindles will come from a pear tree that had to come down on our property, and from an oak tree that our dear friends Sharon and Jay donated to the cause. Here are the rough beginnings, starting with the limbs of the pear tree:

Here's the outdoor workshop where the limbs get pared down to usable sizes:

And here's the stack of oak branches cut and ready to go into the second floor of our garage. There the temperature gets high enough that they will dry in a season. Then I'll cull the cracked pieces, shave off the bark, and tool them for the footboard:

Sara says I'll need to make a toddler bed once I've done the footboard. Oy! One project at a time!

~ emrys

Choices

As we grow from adolescence into adulthood, we make choices about our identity. We look at our parents and realize--often to our initial shock and dismay--that we become more like them every day. At first the similarities seem only coincidence; then with a creeping horror we realize that our inherited traits are like a tide. They "wait for no man," and will claim the shores of our identity like the ceaseless beating of waves.

Then, as we pay attention to our behaviors and the thoughts that engender them, we discover that from the briny foam of our parents' traits something new emerges: choice. We learn to see distinctly our inherited values and, if we see clearly enough, that we can embrace ones and let others go.

Lehigh Valley Hospital, on its Muhlenburg campus, has a relatively new Wound Care Center. My dad was one of the physicians who invested a great deal of time in the Wound Care Center from its beginnings. So last spring they commissioned a painting in his memory that now hangs in a gallery hall on the second floor of the hospital.

I missed the unveiling ceremony for this painting, so last weekend I took an opportunity to visit the hospital and find the painting. I went to the Wound Care Center, thinking the painting hung there. When I introduced myself, the staff told me of their great appreciation of my father's work. In fact, there is a picture of my dad hanging in the Center in honor of his dedication to it. But the painting wasn't there, so Ginger, the senior administrator of the Center, walked us down to where it hung.

On the way I asked about my dad's service to the Wound Care Center. She told me my dad stood out among physicians who worked there because he would go above and beyond staff and patient expectations. Patients came to the Center because they had wounds that would not heal normally; Ginger told me that my dad would not stop searching for the key to healing a wound until he found it. She said he would come in on his days off--apparently something significant for a physician--if he had struck an idea about how to address a problem wound. He was driven to help people heal.

The staff also remembered how my dad would bring in flowers from his garden to adorn the Center--a personal touch to a potentially impersonal environment.

As I look back on the traits of my father that have begun to surface in me, I think I'll choose to keep these two: dedication to healing others and an interest in persons rather than "the job." Those are worthy pearls in my sea of genes.

The painting that now hangs outside of the Diagnostic Medicine offices on the second floor is gorgeous. The staff all thought that it reflected dad's character, and I agree. I hope someday soon to get a photo of it and enter it here. For now you'll just have to imagine a painting that evokes light and dark, music and silence, depth and perspective.

~emrys

Liberal Education

I believe in a strong, expansive liberal education for my daughter. I think she ought to have a broad range of experiences, be able to relate to a vast spectrum of people, and be able to think critically within a wide field of environments and challenges. It's never too early to begin this education, and what better place to start it than at Sonlight camp? Thus, while we enjoyed the hospitality and beauty of this haven in the Rockies last month, we also took advantage of all sorts of educational opportunities.

Here Gwendolyn meets the bouldering wall. It's a good place to start, since no safety equipment is necessary. The complexity of any bouldering experience is in finding the holds. So we did just that:

The most important qualifier for whether a hold is any good is, of course, how it tastes. Our daughter, no slacker in any way, examined the run exhaustively:

Once one masters the bouldering wall, it's time to get climbing. Climbing walls trains perception, decision-making, and patience in the climber. For most of us, it also trains the ability to come back from failure and make another attempt at success. We couldn't pass up these learning opportunities for Gwendolyn, so we got her harnessed up:

Once again, you can't trust your equipment unless you examine it thoroughly first:

Once we were sure of our equipement, we were ready to climb. With capable staff to belay her, and appropriate headgear donned, we began training:

Gwendolyn, always a stickler for safety and quality control, tested the rope herself before attempting to scale the wall:

Now for those of you who haven't been to Sonlight, you must know that in 2005 we devised an excellent water balloon slingshot. This tool, which trains teamwork, control, and adaptability all at once, has become a mainstay at Sonlight. So I deemed it necessary that Gwendolyn be trained in the nuances of giant slingshot use. Not content to simply watch--and not tall enough or strong enough to actually operate the weapon--my daughter decided she needed an insider look at how these things work. All in the name of education, you understand.

With some helpful campers and staff, Gwendolyn got an up-close look at how the giant slingshot works:

After a call into Houston, we were ready for launch:

For some reason, Sara wouldn't let me post the "after touchdown" photos, but here's a great action shot. It's hard to see Gwendolyn in this one, but if you zoom in maybe you can see her sunhat, about halfway to the van:

What better place to go than Sonlight for a good liberal education? Of course, the measure of one's education is the value it has in one's life. So what did Gwendolyn think of our learning experiences at Sonlight? Well, she's not really into words yet, but I think the look says it all:

~emrys