Half Dome ……. The Cables

Part Five: Kathryn made the first move. As we sat there contemplating those cables, Kathryn exclaimed that having come this far and covered so much ground already, she was not turning around without at least touching them. As she headed across the saddle toward the cables, Bailey spoke next. “You know she isn’t going to stop there so I guess this means we’re going.” And that was that. By the time we reached the cables, Kathryn was already climbing. We pulled on our gloves, grabbed our backpacks and followed; Bailey went first, then me and John right behind us.

It was then that the first mistake was committed. For whatever reason, Kathryn decided to leave her backpack on the saddle. This included her water bottle. By now, we had been walking for nearly seven hours. We were tired, hot, and though we had been trying to stay hydrated, this was not the time to leave behind such a precious commodity. But, already almost 100 feet above us, Kathryn was not coming back down. And so we climbed.

The first hundred or so feet were reasonable. The angle of climb was near 45 degrees but doable. We were getting comfortable with the cables and proficient at switching our carabiner each time we reached one of the stanchions, but that didn’t last long. At around 150 feet, the pitch increased to over 60 degrees. At this point, it was like climbing a ladder. The carabiner switch became more and more difficult. We were now reaching behind us to unhook and then re-hook on the other side of the stanchion. Every time we reached back, we got to look straight down, not just the 200 feet of cables, but all the way down the sides of the dome to the valley over 2000 feet below. And that is when our next problem arose.

To be continued ………

Half Dome ….. The Ascent

Part Four: 3:15 am, time to get ourselves going. The sun would not be up for another two hours, but we were, and with good progress, we might get to see sunrise from the top of Nevada Falls.

man standing on brown rock cliff in front of waterfalls photography

Photo by Oliver Sjöström on Pexels.com

We set out from camp by 3:30 as planned. We had put on rain slickers and donned our head lamps so we would be able to see our way as we followed the trail up the falls, but we still had close to a half hour walk to get to the trailhead. From there we would take the Mist Trail, aptly name as it follows up the south side of Vernal Falls and is blanketed with mist floating off the thundering cascade. Cut into the rock wall that created Vernal Falls, we would follow the steps of the trail up the side of the falls to a crossover point midway between the top of Vernal Falls and the spillway for Nevada Falls.

Half Dome 7

Everything was going as planned. We hit the trailhead at 4:00 am and with some degree of effort, managed the climb through the maze of rock steps in the predawn darkness. The mist would shimmer off the light from our head lamps as we negotiated the trail and then bounce back of the wet granite walls. The saying, it’s always darkest just before the dawn, was taking on a very literal interpretation. We eventually crested the top of Nevada Falls just before sunlight began to creep over the peaks and gently spill over the valley now two thousand feet below us. We took a well earned break and ate our first snacks of the day as we watched the sunrise display its artwork on the peaks around us.

The next leg of the ascent was the easiest as we hiked the three miles on a nearly flat trail snaking alongside the Merced River. This area is called the Little Yosemite Valley and for many climbers it is where they spend the night before summiting. This cuts two to three hours off the climb and allows for an earlier summiting. We simply trudged on and actually made good time through this section all the while knowing that the next section of trail would be much more difficult.

Once you leave Little Yosemite Valley, the trail links up with the John Muir Trail and the ascent up to and around the backside of Half Dome starts testing the legs. Through what seemed like a never ending series of switchbacks, the trail rose steeply for another two or three miles and twenty-five hundred feet of elevation. Eventually the trail reaches the lower part of Half Dome where another set of switchbacks awaits, this time above the tree line and set on the granite of the lower dome. It seemed to us that this leg of the climb from Little Yosemite Valley to this spot at the lower dome actually required the most encouragement. With each switchback, we would expect to see Half Dome just ahead. The reality was, more trail, more climb, and another switchback. When we finally reached the lower dome, we were near exhaustion, but at least feeling like we were getting close. Five hundred more feet of elevation and we arrived at the saddle.

A saddle is the connecting ridge between the two halves of a mountain. It is often called the false peak due to the real peak being obscured by the lower half of the face. Reaching the top of the saddle, we got our first views of the three thousand foot drops on either side of the saddle and, straight ahead and above us, the cable route. No picture can do it justice. The summit is just over six hundred feet above you at this point, but it’s the steep incline that grabs you, close to 60 degrees for over two-thirds of the route. The cables are strung about four feet apart and pass through stanchions hammered into the granite at six to eight foot intervals. Though not required, most climbers use carabiners to clip onto the cables for some sense of safety and gloves to deal with the rough steel braid of the cable itself. Both the view and the task ahead is daunting.

Half Dome 4

We are here, but our apprehension level just went off the chart. As we sit on the rocks, staring up at the challenge of the cable climb, we are asking ourselves some fairly serious questions. Are we ready to make the next move? Are we ready to clip on?

To be continued………..

Half Dome …….. Anticipation

Part Three: We arrived in California on July 6th, 2009 seemingly ready, excited and a little apprehensive. We had decided to spend several days with my sister and brother-in-law in Bishop. Bishop is located on the northern end of Owens Valley, situated between the Sierras to the west and the White Mountains to the east. Our stay here would give us time to visit but also time to get acclimated to the altitude and to get some last minute advice on our climb. During our stay, we planned on quizzing both my sister Kay and her husband, Horst, about the times that they had lived in Yosemite and more specifically about when they had made this climb we were about to attempt.

Kay and Horst were able to give us much better descriptions of the route. In our pre-planning, we had intended to hit the trailhead by no later than 6:30 am, but Horst suggested that we plan on leaving from our encampment by 4:30 am so as to reach the trailhead by 5:00 am. In the meantime, a friend of Horst was called in for more up to date info as he had recently been to Yosemite. He informed us that at this time of year the route was getting crowded and there were actually log jams on the cables making them slow but also more dangerous. His suggestion was to be at the trailhead no later than 4:00 am to beat the crowds. This meant a 3:30 am start. It was starting to look like we might as well skip sleeping all together.

On our second day in Bishop, Horst, as mentioned previously, agreed to hike us up on Mt Tom where we could get up to some higher elevations. This would test our legs, lungs and our mettle. What ensued was a great chance to not only see some incredible scenery, but the opportunity to test out our gear and our hiking ability as we continuously climbed on the trail eventually reaching the glacier at 10,000 feet of elevation. Hike accomplished, now we were really ready and chomping at the bit to get going.

Day three found us entering the park and taking the two hour drive across Tuolumne Meadows and eventually down to the Valley Floor. Our entrance to the Valley did not disappoint. There was Half Dome looming high above us, just daring us to try. After longing glances at its huge granite half dome features and Half Dome’s prominent beak like overhang, we headed to our encampment in Yosemite Village.

trees under white cliff

Photo by William Brand on Pexels.com

Our accommodations consisted of a canvas tent placed on a raised deck. We had cots to sleep on, but that was the extent of the amenities. In a way this was okay. Considering our wake up time would be around 3:15 am, we at least wouldn’t be giving up a comfortable bed begging us to keep sleeping.

five green plastic armchairs near canopy tents

Photo by Vikas Sawant on Pexels.com

Before hitting our cots, we packed all our gear and food into the bear box situated just outside of our tent. This necessity only added to our anxiety, all we would need is to be raided by a bear if not eaten by one sometime in the night. This thought alone was enough to keep us awake but we were given even more to think about when just about the time we were dozing off, a family noisily passed near our tent. As fate would have it, or stupidity, we clearly heard them drop their cooler of food only to hear the father say, “just leave it, we can’t eat it now anyway.” Oh, but we were sure the bears would be interested. Needless to say, between the anticipation, the uncomfortable cots, and every little noise that for sure had to be a bear, 3:15 am rolled around without a whole lot of sleep having been accomplished.

To be continued…………

Half Dome…..Planning Begins

Part Two: Kathryn had taken over and we were now in full on planning mode. Where Bailey and I had approached it as a hike, no, almost a stroll, Kathryn was going to make sure we understood the importance of knowing what we were going to attempt.

She started with a route map. This was no stroll in the park. Here is the excerpt from the Yosemite guide book: The trail to Half Dome from Yosemite Valley is an extremely strenuous hike covering over 17 miles. Hikers gain 4,800 feet of elevation along the trail that passes highlights such as Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall, before reaching the cables on Half Dome’s steep granite domes. If that wasn’t sobering enough, she reminded us that it would be July, one of the hottest months in the park. We were going to need to condition, gear up and do some research.

We started with the research and soon were looking at maps of the route. The climb up Vernal and Nevada Falls wasn’t a cake walk but it was at least a trail. There would be lots of rock cut stairs, some bouldering but all in all, relatively easy. Once on top of the falls, a long hike and eventually some fairly steep trail with lots of switchbacks awaited us. Eventually, we would reach the dome with its cables to assist us to the summit of Half Dome. We figured ‘cables’ sounded easy. And then we saw the pictures.

Half dome

So, we conceded, Kathryn might be onto something. Again from the guide book: The most famous–or infamous–part of the hike is the ascent up the cables. The two metal cables allow hikers to climb the last 400 feet to the summit without rock climbing equipment. Since 1919, relatively few people have fallen and died on the cables. However, injuries are not uncommon for those acting irresponsibly. A little more reading had their mother trying to pull her, at best, weak support of this ‘adventure’. The book warned that though at least 60 people had met their demise somewhere in the process of this ‘hike’, only 20 were on the dome and its cables, and with proper behavior and planning, it was relatively safe. Sorry mom, sounds like we’re still on.

With research completed, it was time for outfitting our trek. In no particular order, tennis shoes were traded for quality hiking boots and heavy socks. Shorts gave into hiking pants that could be easily converted as early morning cool temps gave way to afternoon heat. Of course there would be quality backpacks to carry climbing gear consisting of carabiners and gloves for the cables, lunches and snacks and more importantly, water. Throw in a water purifier, just in case, and head lamps, it was going to be dark when we needed to start, and we were outfitted. We had by now become REI and Shepherd & Schaller’s ‘best customers’.

Headlamo

We now had two months to get in condition. Our conditioning started off with hikes and trail climbing at a local state park. We started adding gear and weight to our packs and the hikes got longer. Eventually, we hiked the Bear Skin Trail in Northern Wisconsin and except for an occasional glance at those pictures of the Half Dome cables, we were bordering on cocky.

Early in May, we had secured our accommodations at Yosemite Valley and had settled on an early morning start of 6:00 am. However, after a discussion with our brother-in-law, Horst Klemm, who had once worked as a backcountry ranger for the National Park Service, two suggestions were made. First, he would take us on a high country hike to a glacier on Mt Tom near their Bishop, California home, just south of Yosemite’s East Gate. This would serve to acclimatize us Midwest flatlanders to the much higher altitude at which we would be starting our climb. Second, Horst suggested that we up the departure time from the trailhead to 5:00 am to give us the time we would need to complete our summit and of course our return to camp.

We were ready….or so we hoped.

To be continued…………

Half Dome…..Our Adventure, Our Quest

Yosemite National Park has always held a special place in my psyche. From my first visit to the park in 1985 to my last trip and the story this narrative will tell, I was continually drawn back to the park. In the 1970’s, my sister moved from Wisconsin to California and found work with the National Park Service as a resident nurse in the Yosemite National Park hospital. The stories and pictures she sent back to us, pulled me west to see the park. I vowed that once I got through college, I would discover the park for myself.

Founded as a National Park on October 1, 1890, Yosemite encompasses a grove of giant sequoias, Tuolumne Meadows and the Yosemite Valley floor carved out by the Merced River. Upon entering the valley floor, you are greeted by majestic waterfalls and sheer granite walls; El Capitan, Glacier Point and the iconic Half Dome are among its most famous. The park is a haven for some of the best climbers in the world as well as amateur climbers utilizing alternative ways to reach the peaks high above the valley floor, leaving the technical climbs to the professionals.

In 1985, I finally realized my goal of visiting Yosemite. I was accompanied on that trip by my wife and my just barely one year old daughter, Bailey, who due to her diminutive size, spent much of the trip riding in her carrying frame on my back. From the moment we entered the park, the majesty of the park took my breath away. We were surrounded by sheer walls of granite rising from the valley floor and holding us captive within the canyon carved out by the glaciers of eons earlier. Everywhere we turned, we were greeted with yet another waterfall. From the slender strands of Bridal Veil Falls to the incredible power of the twins, Vernal and Nevada Falls, we were drawn into the allure of Yosemite. We knew long before we left the park, that we would return. Hiking the Mist Trail to the top of Vernal Falls with Bailey asleep in my backpack, I made a promise to her that we would one day return and she would hike this trail with me, and maybe, just maybe, we would climb to the top of Half Dome towering some 4800 feet above us.

Yosemite 1985

In July of 1996, we were back. This time we were a family of four as my youngest daughter, Kathryn, was along for her first taste of Yosemite. Bailey, after years of hearing the story of that earlier trip to the park, was holding me to my promise. Without much planning, we had decided that Bailey and I would attempt the hike to the summit of Half Dome. After a road construction delay entering the park, followed by a fairly long hike to reach the trailhead, we began our climb. We managed the top of Vernal Falls and after another hour or so of hiking, had reached the top of Nevada Falls. This is the moment reality set in. Our first sight as we crested the trail, was a sign explaining that unless you had reached this point before noon, you should not attempt to reach the summit of Half Dome. As it was well after noon, we heeded the warning and after just enough time to enjoy the view, took a solemn oath that we would return one day and finish this adventure.

Yosemite 1996

The years passed but we hadn’t returned. Oh we talked about it. Every year as we planned our summer vacation, the topic would come up. Suddenly it was 2009, Kathryn was now eighteen, graduating high school and an avid amateur climber. As we discussed summer plans, she looked at us and stated, it’s time. Bailey and I were all in, their mother, not so much. She had been envisioning a beach somewhere but after sensing our resolve, she capitulated. The trip was planned and Bailey and I dug out the photos from our 1997 trip. One stuck out for Kathryn. It was an image of Bailey and I standing atop Nevada Falls dressed in shorts and sandals. This might explain why it took us so long that morning to get where we were in this photo and too late to finish what we had started. I still remember Kathryn’s response, “Look at you. Did the two of you do any research at all?” Sheepishly looking at each other, we confessed that the thought had never crossed our minds. And then, in that moment, Kathryn took over the expedition.

To be continued………………

Adventures in Coronavirus Quarantine, or how my past gave me hope for the future

I am entering week three of social distancing. The isolation can get a bit overwhelming at times but it also brings out the opportunity to do things you always thought about but never followed through on. We have all been finding time to do some of the things we never found time to do before coronavirus, or Covid-19 as it has come to be known. I still find it interesting that its original designation had to be changed. In the meantime, the “safer at home” rules have created an opportunity for binge watching TV and in my case some nostalgic surfing.

Earlier tonight we enjoyed our third “stay at home virtual get together”. If anything good has come out of this pandemic, it might be that baby boomers have gotten comfortable with live streaming and that we figured out that we could get together with friends for whom the distance between us, had gotten in the way. After spending a night reminiscing with a friend from Arkansas for whom I hold many fond work memories, I found myself longing for just a little more nostalgia.

Enter any one of a host of cable TV apps. I am a child of the sixties. For those of my readers too young to remember those times, think the birth of Star Trek, Bonanza and I Spy. Think the birth of technicolor! The creation of color TV. It was an era of innovation for the baby boomers. We had cut our teeth on Gun Smoke, Have Gun Will Travel and Lassie, all presented in stunning black and white. Suddenly our world exploded with color and our movies gave us something breathtaking, something called Living Technicolor. It was as if God had recreated creation for us right there on the big screen.

I was eleven years old in 1962. I was impressionable and yes naive. Girls were just entering my sphere of awareness and I admit, I had begun writing notes to many of them. This might in fact have been the moment I fantasied myself as a writer. At the very least I was pouring my poetic self into those notes. For you in the world of texting, tweeting and Instagram, I can only express pity for the joy you missed out on in the creation of writing a note and then finding a way to secretly pass it through what was then our crude version of the internet. It was, back then, the friend to friend to friend net. And we never signed a privacy agreement, ever.

It was at this time that a movie came along that to this day remains one of my favorites. I am sure it was not for the acting, though it starred Jimmie Stewart and Maureen O’Hara. It wasn’t for the plot, after all they all followed pretty much the same story line, Jimmie the easy going dad with the mixed up kids trying to define the perfect family. It wasn’t necessarily the acting. What it actually turned out to be was the setting and the girl. The setting was always somewhere you had never been and only imagined you might one day be, and all brought to you in the splendor of “living technicolor”, somehow brighter and clearer than your actual life. The movies took me to a Hollywood Eden and beckoned me to follow. And then there was the girl. She was always the perfect girl, the one you knew one day you would eventually meet, fall in love with and then magically end up with in one of those perfect movie scenes. She was cute, borderline beautiful or as beautiful as an eleven year old could envision, and somehow available if only you knew the right lines. You had to compete with Fabian or Paul Anka but then they were no match for the charm you were imagining you could muster.

My movie was Mr Hobbs Takes a Vacation. I probably had seen it half a dozen times already and each and every time I fell for the daughter. In my defense, she was only a couple years older than me and she checked all the boxes, cute, sophisticated and looking for her true love, aka, me. The fact that Jimmie Stewart was her dad only enhanced the relationship. Who wouldn’t want Jimmie Stewart as your dad?

So I have definitely digressed, but you needed the background, whether you wanted it or not. I had just ended our virtual get together, I had enjoyed a scotch or two, and I was waxing nostalgic. When my wife suggested we find a good movie with which to end our evening, who was I to let the opportunity pass me by. She had never heard of the movie, deprived childhood I suspect, and she trusted my opinion. After all, she loved Jimmie Stewart and I convinced her it was a classic. To my sheer delight, two phenomena occurred, it turned out she loved the movie and my memory and expectations were not disappointed. My wife enjoyed the nostalgia that only a Jimmie Stewart movie can bring and my crush was still as idyllic as I remembered her to be.

There is a point here. Coronavirus has forced us into isolation. You would be lying if you weren’t longing for at least a bit of the old normal. I needed an escape. We all need an escape. For me, tonight was all about that escape. The virtual get together gave me a sense of being with my friends even if it was only virtual. Mr Hobbs took me back to a time when life was simple. No work to stress about. No virus for me to worry about. No crashing market and no isolation. Just a moment in time when an eleven year old could imagine a life beyond their everyday existence and a future where the boy meets the girl of his dreams and spends a lifetime getting to woo her. And all in living technicolor.

They Said the View was Worth the Climb

We have been in St Lucia for all of two days. The views from our deck and likewise those from the beach are both spectacular and relaxing. We are on Island Time as they say here. Everything slows down and your perspective changes. Things that others said mattered were suddenly less important and the things that were truly important became clearer. We sometimes get the two mixed up. I have decided to let a week of Island Life help with my perspectives.

There is a peak across the bay with a fort high atop its summit. It beckons to be seen. Not from afar, but from up close. On top of it to be precise. Upon some investigation, I was told that the fort is really not that tough to reach. Seems a trail leads almost all the way and that the short climb at the end is really doable. it’s the second, much higher peak that draws your attention. A good 600 feet higher and much more exposed, it too asks you if you are up for the climb.

I have done my homework. Mapped out the trail. I have even quizzed several other guests, eventually finding someone who has made the climb. To quote him,”the first climb to the fort is easy. It’s the climb from there to the higher peak, Signal Peak, that requires some effort.” So what is some effort? A longer walk? A steeper trail? The answer was both but the encouragement was other than climbing over some rocks on the way up a “sorta” trail, it was a walk in the park. I was sold. I would take the hike with Deb in the early morning and beat the heat.

So let’s talk for a second about perspective. Should I have asked my source’s age? Definitely, as he was much younger than yours truly. Next time, I will try to consider that.

We left for the fort around 8:30 and reached the base about 30 minutes later. We huffed and puffed a little on the last 100 feet, but a short climb up a set of steps that we would classify as a ladder and we were at the summit of the fort. I must admit the view was incredible as the Atlantic stretched out in one direction and the Caribbean in the other. But there, right in front of me rose Signal Peak. It was no longer a question of can I do this, let alone should I do this, but how fast could I convince Deb that I needed to do this. The answer, five minutes with an agreement that she would quietly stay behind and read her book while I was off in search of my fleeting youth and perceived manhood.

The climb was, to say the least, strenuous, but a half hour later I was at the summit, makes it sound so much higher when you call it a summit. Was it worth it? I still had the walk down, and they weren’t kidding when they said it was a “sorta” trail. They also weren’t kidding about the rocks, let’s be honest, near boulders that had to be negotiated on the way up. They were all going to be there on the way back down. But, they were right, the view was worth the climb. I could see everything including the views you couldn’t see from ocean level, and you could see them from an entirely different perspective, one of height.

And with that, I have to tell you that the climb is really a metaphor for life. Sometimes, to get the better perspective, we need to climb. We need to climb above the noise and clutter at ground level and find a point above it all. A point where we can take in the entire view. Only there can we gain the true perspective. Only there can we get the full picture.

My view was worth the climb. Next time you feel you just can’t get the full picture, find your peak to climb and then enjoy the view.

Sure Feels Like a Travelogue

Our week is coming to an end and we will fly home tomorrow night. We will be leaving clear skies with temps in the upper 60’s and return to a recent dumping of snow and bitter cold. We will trade long leisurely walks for house bound days and snow shoveling. But we knew that was the deal when we left. And with that in mind, we definitely made the best of a great opportunity.

San Diego surpassed every expectation. Besides the incredible weather, we had surprises every where we went. Seal watching in La Jolla. Old Town San Diego with its historic streets and buildings. Balboa Park, our biggest surprise and truly a San Diego gem, with its 1400 acres and the 1915 Panama Exposition village. And lest I forget, the Hotel Del Coronado where movie stars and dignitaries have reserved its rooms since 1888. San Diego has something to offer to anyone and everyone willing to explore this city.

We wanted a quick get away and picked San Diego rather at random. We were prepared for the usual trip trip ups. You know, the less than expected accommodations, the over priced under valued tourist trap, the transportation screw up or even just bad weather. We have spent a week and never experienced a disappointment. Instead, we enjoyed exceptional accommodations, friendly people, super helpful Uber drivers and perfect weather.

We wanted to do something special for our last night so we took our Uber driver’s advice and went to Sunset Cliffs. There, with a few hundred people, we watched an incredible sunset and oohed along with the crowd as the sun slowly sank into the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. I swear we could hear it sizzle as it touched the water. And then, after a round of applause from the appreciative audience, we bid farewell to day and headed back to our hotel for one last night.

I do apologize for this shameful travelogue but San Diego is so deserving of the praise. If you haven’t already, add San Diego to your bucket list and if you have, I am betting you would gladly go back. I know I will.

It Can Be Fixed

My two year old granddaughter’s face appeared on my phone before I could even answer. Alligator tears were streaming down her face and clearly something was wrong, something it seemed I was needed to fix. We, her mother on one end of the call and I on the other, eventually got Adela settled down enough to show me the problem. Some thirty-five years ago, I had made a small rocking chair for my daughter. Please understand that other than the fact that it was still in use all these years later, it was not exactly a work of craftsmanship, hardly worth the effort it would require to fix it. It was however, clearly loaded with sentimental value. My granddaughter Adela had now claimed it as her own. But accidents do happen. She had been towing the chair to her downstairs playroom when it found it’s way down the stairs the hard way. She was now showing me her rocking chair with the lower half of the rocker broken off, and thus the tears as she pleaded with her Opa to fix it!

Long story shortened, the chair was just returned to her, fixed, almost good as new! After a trip to the “furniture hospital”, aka my good friend Larry’s unbelievable wood shop, some glue, clamps and a patch, the chair now sits proudly in Adela’s playroom, once again allowing her to rock and coo her babies.

Things can be fixed and there in lies the point of this story. Even though we try our best to be careful, things break. Sometimes they are just that, things. Other times they are much more important, our relationships. When we believe they can’t be fixed, we tend to take the easy route and toss them away. All too often we don’t take the time nor put forth the effort to repair them. But remember, it is only a mistake if we fail to try. If there are things or relationships in your life that are broken, consider this. Look at the problem, consider any possible solution and then put forth the effort, even if it means swallowing your pride, and attack the problem.

It was only a chair, but what it represented for my granddaughter meant the world to her. Thank you Larry for helping me resurrect a crude little rocking chair and thank you Adela for having faith that I could.

How Big is Your Family?

I have been thinking about family a lot recently or I guess reminded a lot. Last weekend we held the funeral for the last remaining sibling of my father’s family of twelve. A week ago my well respected and deeply loved aunt Hazel, passed away a month shy of her 99th birthday. It was a day filled with reunions, stories and celebration of her life. It was surprisingly easy to reconnect with my cousins, some whom I had not seen for years. But, as they say, the years fell away as we shared our stories and caught up with our past.

What struck me more than anything else is the closeness that exists in strong families. I know as I write this there are readers who may have come from less functional families. From families where relationships may have been strained through time and differences. My heart has always gone out to them. I was fortunate enough to come from a family whose bonds were strong and remain strong to this day. That is not to say that there weren’t some relationships that were not as strong as others, but for me to remain as connected as I am to the cousins produced by a family of my father’s size, there must have been more that connected us than just our common blood line.

Families are a dynamic entity. Thus the question, “How big is your family?” Who does the term family encompass? How big is the circle that defines your family? Mother Teresa was once quoted as saying, “The problem with the world is that we draw the circle of our family too small.” Think about that. We spend so much time making our circles smaller, exclusive in their make-up. If we agree on principals, if we share the same beliefs, if we have common friends, then we draw our circle to include these people but not others. If we thought of the people we know, the people we work with, the people we simply interact with as family, then we would have widened our circle. If we then think of them as family, think how much better we would treat each other. Widen the circle. Make it inclusive, not exclusive.

Once we have widen the circle we draw to define our family, then we need to follow by being positive. By loving our circle unconditionally regardless of the differences that might try to separate us. What follows is compassion versus intolerance, unity versus divisiveness. Start to imagine what a better nation, what a better people we could be.

Today I listened to a sermon by our new minister, Heather Hayward and wanted to share an experiment she told us about. The experiment was done with water by Japanese author Masaru Emoto. Emoto experimented with water molecules and the effects of positive and negative words and music on the structure of the crystals they formed. (see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qQUFvufXp4 ) The results were stunning and beautiful when positive words and music were applied. They were confused and in some ways ugly when the opposite was applied. Whether you choose to believe his experiment, the images are impressive. When you consider that the human body is comprised of 60% water, isn’t worth at least trying positive words versus the negative words we are bombarded with daily.

We do not choose our family. We are born into it. But we can choose the people we would treat as family. So I ask you, how big will you draw the circle of your family? Will you make it big enough to include me?
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