Terrapin Station

Just an average day

Our family Christmas on New Year's Eve 2022

Life looks like this now...

I'm 57. I'm retired from a state university job and work with my husband in our contracting business. I spend 2 days a week with my granddaughters and visit my mom (who lives 5 hours away) about once a month. Mom lives near my sister which is great because I can see family when I visit and stay in their home. 

I read every day. That's the main thing that defines who I am. Much of that is reading I source via online sites...Facebook primarily, but Insta, emails, etc. are also in the mix. I read on my phone or tablet a lot, but I'm also crazy about checking out stuff from the local library. 

I wake up with the daylight, not an alarm. I love this about my life these days: rarely do I need to use an alarm to get up in the morning. And I can take my time with waking up and getting up. Sundays when I serve at the 8 am service are usually my only alarm days. 

I have a cup of coffee, or two, or three, while I do my morning prayers (currently following the Benedictine Daily Office) and browse the news and the socials. 

I work at my desk, flipping from thing to thing. I have a note pinned to my monitor that says, "DO WHAT YOU'RE DOING" because the older I get, the less facile I am at multitasking. But I still have too many tabs open at a time, mentally as well as on the screen. 13 on the screen right now. Estimating, billing, banking, sales tax and other taxes, there are a million of these little tasks.

I sometimes order parking lot signs from a shop in Grand Prairie. When they're ready I drive to pick them up, 45 miles. It seems far because I rarely make trips like this, but compared to where I grew up in Houston, a trip like this is nothing.  

I have Zoom studies three nights a week in the Spring. My church group is continuing our study of how we can support the flourishing of ourselves and other humans. My Daughters of the King chapter will begin our discernment study next week. And next week, I'm starting as co-facilitatator of an Enneagram Curriculum group for 12 weeks. 

Mondays and Fridays we pick up Nash and Nova. We have a variety of things we do: play games, go to the park, get snow cones, make snow cones, play Roblox (which drives me insane), go to the library, read, play with the little boy down the street. Ken hung a great big swing from an oak tree in the front yard and that's a popular activity. 

I don't eat until noon (intermittent fasting) and I usually have a salad for lunch with some kind of meat on it. I do yoga weekly and I try to walk every day. I try to do something regarding cleaning or decluttering in the house every day. Often I fail in this regard. 

It's a good life. Having been a caregiver to a cancer patient 11 years ago, I'm very aware that I want to mark the unremarkable days. These are they. 

 

 

Lambeth

The nave of Canterbury Cathedral, which I did NOT visit in 1988

Although I was born into a family of Episcopalians, I first became aware that there was a thing called The Lambeth Conference in 1988. That summer I was a graduate assistant on a study abroad group doing British Lit survey and Introduction to Architecture. Our visit to Canterbury Cathedral happened to fall on one of the days of the once-a-decade conference, so we couldn’t go in. At that point in history (it was 34 years ago, so surely, it’s history by now) we didn’t know in advance that the conference was happening then. I was part of the staff that prepared and made reservations for that group, and to schedule hotels and classrooms and tours, we were typing letters on a typewriter and sending them in the mail. There was no internet to look at, to see that we ought to schedule our Canterbury visit in another of the five weeks of the program. There was no cathedral website. It Was A Different World.

Today I am what you call a very involved Episcopal layperson. I follow the processes of my diocese, and of the triennial General Convention of The Episcopal Church. And now that the bishops of the entire Anglican Communion and their spouses are meeting in Lambeth, I’m all over that news too. It would be hard to miss it; it’s all over the headlines that we are, once again, having a “tense” meeting regarding issues of human sexuality.

I have had the fascinating experience in the last few days of becoming Facebook "friends" with several bishops who are sharing about the proceedings. First, I was watching my own diocesan bishops, and a couple of others I follow; but they are sharing their colleagues’ posts and many of those have been gracious to welcome me to their pages. One of them went to college in my city!

It appears that the Holy Spirit is moving mightily at Lambeth. It’s tough, it’s contentious; the bishops who married to same-sex partners had the slap of their spouses being uninvited to the proceedings. The “Global South” bishops believe in a traditional view of marriage as between one man and one woman only. The US bishops (mostly) believe in a less traditional view. There are shades of grey in between. It does not appear that minds are going to be changed on this large issue. But. It does seem that both “sides” are going to be willing, at least for now, to say, “You are wrong about this, and we are still in fellowship with you.”

The bishops appear to be talking to each other as humans, and in my opinion that's the absolute starting point of changing hearts. Without that, nothing. 

Bishop Audrey Scanlan of Central Pennsylvania wrote today:

"In a dramatic exercise, the bishop of ANZP challenged the bishops to remove their pectoral crosses from their necks (cherished and precious items) and to give them away to someone in the room whom they did not know. If this sounds like a bit of a stunt, I’d encourage you to try it with something that you love and cherish- like your wedding ring, your mother’s pearls, your father’s fountain pen. In this exercise, we were not invited to part with these items forever- it was about an hour, for the balance of the plenary session- and… it was still very powerful. The exercise was about trust and building relationship which are critical steps in reconciliation. It worked. I put my cross over the neck of a bishop from Malawi. And he gave me his."

I wouldn’t still be part of The Episcopal Church if it hadn’t changed its official view of same-sex marriage and ordination of women during my lifetime. But within my own family, this divide between the viewpoints has been troublesome. My parents’ church left The Episcopal Church over this issue in 2011 (they will say “over issues of biblical interpretation” but c’mon, let’s be real). So, following the current example, my parents were the Global South and I was TEC. My dad was a plaintiff in a lawsuit against that diocese over property. I would go to church with them and sometimes have to get up and leave during the sermon, but I refused to let the division take away from me the pleasure of attending church with my folks, one of the first and most important things they taught me to do.

My dad has died now, and the lawsuit is settled. My mom has dementia. She often remembers that there is something that our churches disagree about and asks about it. To simplify the issue, I tell her that we all love Jesus and want to do his work in the world. And really, isn’t that it? I may still consider that some people are wrong on the issue. But I still want to be at the table with them. And all the others.  

97 of the female bishops of the Anglican Communion. The FIRST female bishop was consecrated in 1989, the year after my visit to Canterbury.

 

Bishops of Texas & Western North Carolina 

Sad Stuff

I spent some time this evening poking around in Ancestry.com and Fold 3, which is a site with a lot of military records. 

I followed the trail back on Ken's family and was reveling in the names of his great-grandfather's siblings. Paralee! Ferdillen! Tipton Cicero! Parisade!

Then I checked Fold 3 and realized that two of the eleven siblings in that family died in the Civil War. They were both Confederate soldiers in the Alabama 10th Infantry. Ferdillen Pritchett died of diarrhea in 1861. Davenport Pritchett was taken prisoner of war after Gettysburg, and died in captivity...also of diarrhea. What a horrific waste. I need to lie down with a rag on my head. 

What's Happening Now

Because The Q suggested it, no, threw down the gauntlet and challenged it, I'm here to blog. We'll see if I have anything to say these days. 

When I typed that title, what came to my mind was "The Church of What's Happening Now." I remember my born-again parents using that phrase with scorn about churches that were all about being tuned into the culture of the day. (Note, being born again was kinda the culture of the day. Remember "I FOUND IT"?)

I Googled the phrase and found that Flip Wilson coined the term on his show in the early 70's, which I faintly remember. It's also the name of a now-defunct podcast that I had never heard of, a talk show hosted by Joey Coco Diaz. At this point, there are so many podcasts on my list that I probably won't be going back to that. Just a note that there is so very much media content out there that I never even hear of. I've been old since before I was born, and I've never been very interested in keeping up with the zeitgeist.

But:

My granddaughters have their own cell phones (they are secondhand ones for game play). The four-year-old has been begging me to play Roblox with her. You. All! I don't like video games, I've never played them outside of arcades, and I don't want to learn to play this game. I've been trying it and I'm so damn awkward at it. All I do is fall down and run into the wall. Last time, I was finally so annoyed, I told her, "NO, I love you very much, and that is something I won't be doing with you." And then I started listening to Sanjay Gupta's great new book, Keep Sharp: Build a Better Brain at Any Age. And wouldn't you just know it, I'm going to have to learn to play the darn game. One of the main things the book says, from all the latest brain research, is to challenge yourself and learn new things. But the most surprising thing it says is that we must continue and increase our connections and our relationships. So Lumosity might be fine, but sitting in your easy chair playing games on it is not the best thing for your brain. Getting engaged and involved with a wiggling young lady who's laughing her ass off because Gramma keeps falling down, while trying to play a damned computer game, that would be better. 

So check in here for updates on my attempts to exercise my mind. My body, more on that later. :) 

ps: please note that I revel in being the most well-rounded Gramma I can figure out how to be. So we also definitely play pick-up sticks, Go Fish, we do crafts, I have a set of jacks to introduce, and there are lots of other no-tech options. We read books every time I see them. I'm not giving up without a fight. :) 

 

 

 

William Lehnholf Marshall, A Renaissance Man

This story was compiled for the Finding Family contest in the San Angelo Standard-Times. Due to the coronavirus pandemic, Mom and I were unable to meet in person, so this was dictated by her to me via her Facebook Portal. The entry won a special recognition and a $20 gift card to the wonderful local independent bookstore, Old Town Books.

By Mary Jane Butler as told to Mary Beth Butler

Today, I am 89 years old, and I have been a resident of San Angelo for over 20 years. This is home now, but I have come a long way, from a vastly different place. I was born in Tallahassee, Florida in 1931, into a large and close family. My paternal grandparents lived a few blocks away and were very much a part of my everyday life. Today, I particularly remember my grandfather, William Lehnholf Marshall, who was born on April 28, 1873, and died on March 26, 1957. His life was a rich tapestry of creativity and public service, with the sea always in the background.

Granddaddy was the sixth son of John Marshall, who came to America from Portugal on a whaling ship as a 10-year-old cabin boy. At that time in Portugal, the inheritance structure dictated that the oldest son received all the property, the second son would be destined for the military, and the third son was dedicated to the priesthood. John Marshall did NOT want to be a priest, so he went to sea.

He entered the United States in Baltimore, Maryland. The immigration officer couldn’t spell his Portuguese name, so they chose his new name in honor of the Supreme Court’s fourth Justice, John Marshall. In 1862 John married Miss Wilhelmina Lehnholf, an immigrant from Prussia.

John and Wilhelmina had seven sons and a daughter, of which my Granddaddy Will was the sixth child (born in 1873). John had served in the Navy, and in Baltimore, he had a good career as an oysterman. Sadly, though, things went wrong for John, and he left his wife and sons on their own.

To help support Wilhelmina (who was called Minnie) and the younger children, the older boys signed on with a traveling circus that moved across the United States. They were also looking for a new place to settle down. They experienced lots of places, but when they reached Apalachicola, Florida, and smelled the salt water, they knew they were home. Apalachicola is a port city, the seat of Franklin County, Florida, in the “Big Bend” region of the Florida Panhandle. The Marshall boys sent for their mother and began a life of seafaring and construction. They built many boats and many beautiful homes in the city, as well as doing masonry and concrete work.

Back in Baltimore, John Marshall served for seven years as a janitor at the Friends Gospel Mission on Light Street. He died on February 5, 1885 and was buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery.

As a young man in Apalachicola, Will Marshall was employed as a contractor and was also much engaged with fishing, shrimping, oystering, boat building, and other seagoing endeavors. In 1901, Will met Miss Grace Spiller, a belle of Tallahassee, who was serving as a nanny for some children in Carrabelle, Florida. He won her heart, and they were married at her mother’s home that May. They returned to their Apalachicola beach home to live. The home he built in Apalachicola is still occupied to this day.

When their first son, Lehnholf Spiller, was born in 1902, the consternation of the Tallahassee relatives and society was great! The distance between the two cities is only 75 miles, but in those days, that was a long trip. Within one year, the new family had moved back to Tallahassee. Lehnholf was my daddy, and their home was right across the street from that doting grandmother.

Will and Grace Marshall had three sons and a daughter. Will was a Boy Scout pioneer, a city commissioner, and Mayor of Tallahassee. He was also a 32^nd degree Mason and a leader of St. John’s Episcopal Church. The two stained glass windows on the back wall of St. John’s are dedicated to Will and Grace Marshall.

Before I could walk, Granddaddy and my daddy took me out onto the dock one day and my daddy tossed me into the water. The idea was to see if I would swim – my Granddaddy was right next to me for safety. I came up swimming!

Next door to Granddaddy’s house were two young boys. I knew them from school and we all played together. They were the same ages as my older cousin Grace and me. One of Granddaddy’s habits was to give us treats in the form of bread and butter and with sugar on top. As you can imagine we always gobbled it up. One day, he gave us the treat (or so we thought!) The two oldest took one bite and stopped. I stopped after two! The fourth child sat chewing stolidly, drooling as he ate. We had to tell him to stop eating: the treat was made with lard this time.

On his desk Granddaddy had a bone china skull with a detached lower jaw on a wire. He would set the jaw in motion and tell us it was saying, “Someday you’ll be just like me!” I knew I should be horrified, but I was fascinated. We’d always ask for him to make the skeleton do his thing before we went home from a visit.

I had a pet chicken and would put her in the basket of my bicycle and ride over to Granddaddy’s house to visit. He was always very amused to see me and my chicken.

My grandparents had a beach house at St. Teresa Beach, and we went to visit one or two times a month. My older cousin Grace and I were allowed to spend the night with them on our own because we were the oldest. It was a very great honor. Our friend Betty Ann Roberts lived down the beach and together we would put on plays. Everyone at the beach was requested to come and sit and watch. We’d climb in and out the porch window as a way of getting “on stage.” I remember Granddaddy just sitting and laughing.

Granddaddy also taught me not to dawdle over my food. He had tried everything he would think of to try to get me to eat faster. But I wouldn’t do it. So, he conspired with Grace and one morning after breakfast, he told Grace, “Okay, you can go swimming now. But Mary Jane, you have to stay here.” I protested! But he reminded me that not only had Grace finished her food, she had waited the required hour prior to swimming. I still had food on my plate and THEN an hour to go after I was done. What a sad lesson, and one I still remember!

One of my best memories of my life was singing on the porch together at the beach. We’d sing old songs from World War I like K-K-K-Katy, Keep the Home Fires Burning, and It’s a Long Way to Tipperary and others like Oh My Darling Clementine. We also sang lots of hymns.

When Social Security came in, Granddaddy told me, “I don’t need that, I have my own Social Security.” I said, “tell me about that.” He showed me an area behind his home where he’d built several small apartments and had planned on that as his retirement income. I’m sure he eventually accepted the payments from the government, too! The apartments were much in demand, because people who worked at the State Capitol always needed modest places to live.

After my daddy came home from World War II, he and Granddaddy built us a cinder block house down the beach about 2 miles. That house is still in my family, owned and maintained by my youngest daughter, and it is my idea of heaven on earth.

Granddaddy was an exceptionally talented carpenter and woodworker. I have a sheet of his business letterhead stationery which reads as follows: “W.L. Marshall Novelty Works. Termite Eradication. Tallahassee, Florida.” The following other items are noted: “Repair work a specialty” “Wire screens that work” “Cabinet Work of All Kinds” “Phone 121.” The footer states, “Marshall can do it!”

Grandma Grace died during the war. The daughter and daughters-in-law tried to help after her death so Granddaddy could remain in his home, but they had many responsibilities. The Marshalls had four female boarders in the upstairs bedrooms, and those ladies pitched in too. Mrs. Bessie Lee, a widow, was one of these. After some months, Will proposed marriage to her and she was his companion and caregiver until his death in 1957.

I genuinely believe that I led a charmed life in a loving and vigorous family. My grandfather and my father were both determined that the best thing for a child was to be exposed to boats and the ocean, and they were committed to providing those opportunities for their families. The influence of the Portuguese cabin boy remains strong in my family, extending to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I am grateful for William Lehnholf Marshall.

W.L. Marshall, Mayor of Tallahassee

 

W.L. Marshall, Senior Grand Commander, Knights Templar of Florida

 

Addison Marshall and Lehnholf Marshall, ca. 1904

 

Lehnholf Marshall, first gun, age 2

 

Four Generations: William Lehnholf Marshall, Lehnholf Spiller Marshall, Mary Jane Marshall Austin, and William Lehnholf Austin

 

Mary Jane Marshall Austin & William Lehnholf Austin, 9 mos.

 

Visit to the Potter

https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g34640-d6997779-Reviews-The_George_Griffin_Pottery-Sopchoppy_Florida.html

Today I drove into the Apalachicola National Forest to visit the potter. George Griffin has had a studio there since 1975. He is a lovely and gentle soul and has been a friend to my family for a long time. 

He doesn't do computers, therefore no social media except the sort of listing you see above. He doesn't have a cell phone. He doesn't take credit cards - just cash and checks. He doesn't watch the news. 

His home is a beautiful oasis of nature. George is committed to living lightly on the earth and creating lovely and harmonious things. He has many years' worth of photos on his walls, Polaroids he used to take of all his visitors. There are lots of us. Here's another (I'll send him a print)

 

 

 

Butternut Squash & Blackeyed Pea Curry - Vegan

Fell in love with this recipe that Jemma brought to us from New Zealand at the RevGals Board meeting last fall. 

 

Butternut Squash & Blackeye Pea Curry – vegan

1 butternut squash

Coconut or olive oil

1 Tbsp. Garam Masala

Salt and Pepper to taste

1 tsp. mustard seed, whole

½ tsp. ground turmeric

1 serrano pepper, without seeds, cut lengthwise

½ onion

3 cloves garlic

1 can blackeye peas

1 can diced tomatoes

1 can coconut milk

Cilantro for garnish

Cooked Brown rice

1. Set the rice to cook.
2. Preheat oven to 400F. Peel the squash, scoop out and discard seeds, and cut into crescent shapes about ¼” at the widest. Transfer to a big bowl, drizzle with oil, and sprinkle with garam masala, 1 tsp. of salt and ½ tsp. black pepper. Toss to coat evenly, then arrange on a baking sheet lined with foil or parchment. Roast for 30 minutes, or until fork tender.
3. Meanwhile, put 1 tsp. of oil into a large dutch oven over medium heat. Once hot, add the mustard seed and turmeric. When the seeds pop, add the pepper and the onion. Cook for 5-7 minutes until translucent, then add the garlic. Cook for another couple of minutes, then add the blackeye peas and stir to mix. Add the tomatoes and cook 2 more minutes.
4. Add the coconut milk and season with salt and pepper. Add the roasted squash to the pan and stir to mix. Cover and leave to heat through, 5-7 minutes. Taste for salt and seasoning (you may add chili powder if desired).
5. Serve curry over rice, garnished with cilantro.

Source: www.thekaibox.com, New Zealand.

Note: I like this more soupy, so I add extra tomatoes, coconut milk, and blackeye peas.

COVID 19 Time Marches On

Today's Friday, the 27th of March. We are supposed to have been playing with Nova today, but her mom is not working so she gets to be home playing with both girls instead. 

Tomorrow I'm supposed to have been headed to San Angelo to visit Mom. I knew that I wouldn't be able to go in, but I was going to sit outside her window and talk to her on Facebook. But it seems like a foolish thing to take the risk when I could do the same from this very chair. 

I'm doing a lot of walking outside, though the oak pollen had me wake up with vertigo yesterday. 

When I go to the grocery store, I sort of scurry around and try to figure out where I am in a store that doesn't look right because it's missing a lot of stuff. Then I bring home the groceries and wash everything, and rinse out my nose and gargle with salt water, and change my clothes. 

Is this too much? too little? Next week, will I be shaking my head about all this? 

It's a precious gift that this is coming in Springtime. The last few weeks were horribly rainy, which seemed really unfair. But now, things are bursting out all over and we have temps into the 90's. 

I have nothing to complain about. We are well and healthy so far. We have more than we need. Our air conditioning works! 

I've found some old photos in albums and am scanning.....

and I have a Zoom yoga class in 1/2 hour! 

 

 

 

COVID19

It's Saturday, March 21, 2020. It seems important to say that, even though this blog post will automatically date itself. I'm hoping that by writing this I can pin my feet to the earth and keep from flying off into the stratosphere. 

Things have changed so insanely rapidly since this pandemic entered our awareness. I remember that on Wednesday of this week (the 18th) I thought about the Wednesday prior (the 11th) and how different the world looked then. That was Spring Break week, so things in my two-university town were blessedly quiet. Traffic was minimal. I was sorry to miss our Friday with our granddaughter, which would have been two granddaughters because of the break. But they had gotten a fun offer with some friends. (It starts early, y'all.) 

Since that time, the world seems to have slammed shut. No one is going anywhere they don't have to go. The phone is hardly ringing on my work phone. Long-anticipated trips and vacations have been canceled. As I said to a friend, I totally get how much privilege I've had to have been able to schedule such things. But it's still okay to grieve the loss of them. 

Yesterday we had both granddaughters (school is on hiatus). I had lots planned, but nothing worked out as I intended. The library was Facebook Live-ing their storytime, which we regularly attend....but their phone/broadcast device was sideways. It did NOT hold the interest of the girls, even when Ken turned my 24" monitor on its side (which actually worked). The "Color Changing Slime" kit I had bought was a bust. Nash and I have made a LOT of slime and this, my friends, was no slime. It was a mess.

OH, and I'd made peanut-butter cookies with googly candy eyes. Guess what? they "don't like peanut butter." Can they be American children?!

Now, as Ken pointed out, the girls had a great time. They like to come to our house and they didn't want to go home. That's always gratifying. We played with Barbies a lot, amused ourselves with googly eyes (not the candy kind), and read a lot of books. So the day was a success...just not according to MY plan for how it will go. If you need a metaphor for life, hang around with little kids. 

In the "so much togetherness" department, Ken wanted me to watch a YouTube video of a woman talking about "the Deep State." It's hard for an Enneagram 5 who has found something VERY INTERESTING AND IMPORTANT to be married to an Enneagram 9, who does not want to think about any such thing as "the Deep State." It might be real all day long, but I don't feel that anything will be changed in any positive way by me knowing about it. Hard feelings ensued. This is not unusual, but: especially right now? I don't need or want any more bad news. Thanks so much. Especially when the president goes on TV at all hours and tells lies and is horrid. That is reality and more than enough. 

I'm horrified at the stories of medical supply shortages. I'm enraged at the lack of care and testing for people who ask for help. If anyone needed proof that our medical system is broken, we are all set for that. I'm also scared...not for me, although certainly, I could get sick...but my husband is at risk in multiple ways, as are many people I love. 

I'm grateful for virtual community. I'm thrilled to read Morning Prayer with Anchor Worship folks, hear Marci read the poetry of David Whyte, join Chad for Morning Office and The Compline Consortium for end-of-day prayers at 8 pm. It gives shape to my day, which is sadly lacking. I also have a list of daily to-do's which include personal hygiene, going outside, and exercising. 

That's what it looks like today. 

The Days of Awe - Ten Questions

As the year begins to slow and turn in on itself, winter approaching, I wonder: where have I been? 

Then, I get another email from 10Q: The vault is opening!

Do You 10Q? is a site I've joined for three years now to reflect on the year past and look ahead. It's based on the reflective practices of the High Holy Days of the Jewish year. 

You have ten days to answer one question each day about the year past and the one to come. At the end of the questions, at Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), you have time to reflect on your answers and save them. At the end of that time, as they say, "the vault closes." Perhaps you don't think about this again until you get an email in the fall of next year, and you can review your answers from past years and reflect anew. There's no cost and I commend it to you. 

Also recommended, a book I learned about from my dear friend Fran Rossi Szpylczyn and am reading for the first time this year: This is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation by Rabbi Alan Lew. 

As I continue to walk out of the place where my Dad died in March, and live in the liminal place where my Mom is, it's good to stop and be still, to spread the flotsam of days away and think of the time to come. What will the year bring? Who will I be? How will I change, and how do I want to improve?

May your year be sweet, friends.