Author Archives: kzmclain

Agape

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Jen called me early Sunday morning, and she was very excited.

“I know you’re getting ready for church, but I just wanted to tell you that you are going to LOVE today’s readings,” she said. She knows me well.

I really did love all three of the readings.

First of all, the weeks following Easter Sunday, I enjoy the stories from the Acts of the Apostles. In fact, I like the stories so much that it makes me wonder why I don’t simply READ the Acts of the Apostles several times a year. It is my most sincere hope that I don’t get struck down by lightening generated by St. Paul, but I mostly enjoy reading about the time before Paul’s conversion. I love reading about the apostles’ enthusiasm right out of the box and St. Peter’s rather bungling ways. But in Sunday’s first reading, Peter is not bungling. He thumbs his nose at the Sanhedrin  when they tell the apostles that they must – they simply MUST – stop preaching about Jesus as they had been instructed. Peter tells them, “We must obey God rather than men.”

No bungling. As clear as a summer morning in the Rocky Mountains.

The second reading was from Revelation, but instead of being confusing, as I find most of the Book of Revelation, the message is clear: Worthy is the Lamb that was slain. And perhaps I like this reading because as the lector reads the words, I hear Handel’s version of Worthy is the Lamb that was slain being sung in my head. Next to the Hallelujah Chorus, that is my favorite Chorus in Handel’s Messiah.

But actually, what grabbed Jen’s attention and to what she wanted me to pay attention was the St. John’s Gospel. It was actually kind of a two part gospel. The first part tells the story of a handful of the apostles going out fishing and having a terrible day. They caught nothing. Suddenly, a man on the shore suggests they cast the net again, which they do. This time, the net is so full of fish that it begins to break. All of a sudden, they realize the stranger was actually Jesus. (Well, actually, in John’s gospel, here’s how he puts it: So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish. SO THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS LOVED said to Peter, “It is the Lord.”

John refers to himself as the disciple whom Jesus loved several times thoughout his gospel, and it always makes me laugh. Biblical scholars probably have theories about this; I, on the other hand, always want to slap him aside the head and tell him to have some humility. It’s the mom in me.

The second part of the gospel tells us that Jesus takes Peter aside (ahem, leaving THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS LOVED behind; just sayin’) and asks him three times, “Simon Peter, do you love me?” Three times Peter says yes, getting a bit crabbier each time. I always found it understandable that Peter got annoyed. At first glance, Jesus sounds needy.

Here’s where Jen’s phone call came in. The homilist at her Mass explained why he believes Jesus asked three times. In the Greek language, there are three words for “love.” One refers to intimate love such as that between spouses. The second refers to the love one has for a friend. That word is phileo. The third refers to a deep and profound love, such as the love God has for us. That word is agape. In the Greek interpretation of this gospel, Jesus uses the word agape. When Peter responds to Jesus’ question, he uses the word phileo. Jen’s homilist suggests that Jesus wanted Peter to promise that he loves Jesus with agape love. It is only when Peter feels agape love that he can truly follow Christ.

I think that Jesus asks me every day of my life, Kristine Rae, do you love me? I’m pretty sure my answer is pretty much what Peter said. Of course I love you. But is it phileo or agape?

Guest Post: Driving Fast

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By Bill McLain

Bill Hot Laps 2 4.16Three hot laps at Phoenix International Raceway. That was my Christmas gift from my son and daughter-in-law, David and Jll. Just like with all race cars participating in NASCAR, I had to enter the blue and white race car through the passenger side window opening, no easy task. There was no side window either, just a net, presumably to keep me in the car should the need arise (e.g., the car flips over). After I was buckled in, off we went out of the pits and onto the race track itself. The impression of speed and power was remarkable, and together with the sound of the lightly muffled engine, it made the ride one that I will not soon forget. Although the track is banked in the corners, centrifugal force had me hugging the passenger door (or where a door would be if there had been one), and my head pushed against the right side of the helmet. This may sound unpleasant, but it wasn’t.  It merely increased the sensation of speed and kept the adrenaline pumping.

The attached video will give you some idea of this experience, but to get the full benefit, you should “just do it.”

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BzTPykCL25WoUHdZTnIwUUZZUFU/view

Nana’s Notes: My role was designated observer, and it was really fun to watch. I had wondered whether Bill would wish he could drive (another option that some were doing). However, at the end of it I knew (and he confirmed) that it was more fun to leave the driving to the professional driver. The people who were driving were being understandably more cautious, while Bill FLEW by. Those who know me and have seen how nervous a passenger I am will be surprised to learn that I think it would be fun to do what Bill did on Saturday. 

This post linked to the GRAND Social 

Saturday Smile: Spring Break Travels

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When we were in Denver this past weekend, all of our Colorado grands were at the tail end of their Spring Breaks. As you might recall, Kaiya and Mylee spent Saturday night at our house. For reasons I will never quite understand, those two girls think sleepovers at Nana’s are something special. They love packing their little suitcases for the night at our house, which is maybe 15 minutes south of us.

Court told me that he asked Mylee Monday night after her first day back from Spring Break whether any of her kindergarten classmates had done anything fun for spring break.

“Yes,” she told him. “Some played video games, and some took a trip. You know, like we took a trip to Nana’s house.”

Sweet girl. So easy to please.

Mylee in pjs 12.15

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Worst Hard Time

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518eRa9qECL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_I don’t read a lot of nonfiction. However, if there is a topic in which I’m interested, a book about that topic that has received pretty good reviews will grab my attention.

The Worst Hard Time was such a book. Author Timothy Egan tells the story of the Great Dust Bowl of the 1930s in such a way that it almost reads like a novel. I’m interested in that period of time because my mother and father, having been born in 1926, would have lived through the Great Depression in Nebraska. Though they would have been children, since they lived so close to the area that is designated the Dust Bowl, I’m sure they felt the effects.

Egan tells the story largely through the lives of six or seven families. He takes us through the years leading up to the tragic drought, years that were wetter than usual. The wet weather, along with the need for wheat to feed the troops during World War I, led to plowing up land not meant to be farmed. Subsequently, the drought resulted in land that would normally have been held into place by the natural grasses being literally blown away.

Egan’s stories – really the stories of the families – give a clear picture of an almost-unbelievable period of time in our history. Dust storms, dust-caused illness, famine, insects, and wind, wind, wind that literally drove people mad are presented like a horror story.

I will admit that, not being a particular lover of nonfiction, I sometimes skimmed through information that was particularly scientific in nature or just of little interest to me. But mostly I was riveted to the stories of these amazingly strong and resilient people who lived in the Dust Bowl (the panhandles of Oklahoma and Texas, a large part of Kansas, southeast Colorado and southern Nebraska).

People must literally have believed that the world was coming to an end. And yet, the area survived.

A wonderful read for anyone interested in U.S. history.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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Birds
The first thing I did upon returning to our AZ house was check on the status of Mrs. Mockingbird. There she was, still patiently sitting on the nest in our front yard tree. It’s a good thing her brain is about the size of a dime because otherwise she would go mad and drown her eggs in a bathtub. As for me, I can’t wait until the eggs hatch. A couple of years ago some mockingbird eggs hatched in that same tree. We weren’t here for the hatching, but by time we arrived, the birds were being delicately persuaded to leave the nest by the mommy bird. There was drama, drama, drama as the little birds tried to fend for themselves. A couple of them were unsuccessful, I’m sorry to say.

Kaiya and Papa 4.16

Papa gets a kiss from Kaiya.

MELT
It was fun to see all of our grandkids. All of them are very affectionate, full of love, and give hugs easily (well, Alastair has to be persuaded a bit). The evening of Alastair’s birthday dinner, we stayed a bit after taking him back home. They were all watching something really funny on YouTube called Kid Snippits (watch it if you have a chance!). Before you know it, Addie was lying on the couch using Bill as her pillow. MELT. Dagny came up on five or six occasions and just put her arms around my legs. MELT. One afternoon when I was getting ready to leave after babysitting Cole, he came up to me with his shoes in hand, wanting to come with me. I crouched down and told him that Nana had to go bye bye and that he couldn’t come this time. He dropped his shoes and came up and put his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder. MELT. Cole with lei 4.16The first day we saw all of the kids, I was sitting on the outdoor swing late in the afternoon. Kaiya came and sat by me. She sighed and said, “This feels so good.” MELT.

Class of ‘72
My high school class was particularly close. I attended a Catholic school from kindergarten through 12th grade, and many of my classmates were with me the entire time. Because of this, we have gathered as a class every five years since we graduated in 1972. I haven’t missed a single one. I can’t remember if it was the 10 year reunion or the 15 year reunion, but sometime around then, the person putting the reunion together noted in the invite that the songs which we made out to, played at high volume on our car radios, danced to, and requested on the radio were now being played as background music – MUZAK essentially – in the grocery stores. It was true. This thought came back to me yesterday while getting some groceries at Fryes Market.

This is Nana about the time See You in September was being played on the radio!

This is Nana about the time See You in September was being played on the radio!

Playing over the intercom was See You in September by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. I’m quite used to hearing some of our old favorites as I shop. However, for whatever reason, I was unable to NOT sing along with this song. I tried not moving my lips and just humming, but pretty soon I was singing it out loud again. I was quite embarrassed until I walked past a man about my age singing the song just like me. Here is a link so that you can sing it as well. I’ll bet you can’t help yourself.

And Speaking of the Grocery Store….
It is the first part of April, and I have noticed that the so-called Winter Visitors are quietly diminishing. Apparently many stay through Easter, and then make their way home to work on taxes and get their yards ready for summers in Illinois or Minnesota or Nebraska or, well, Colorado. This time of year is kind of nice here in AZ because while it’s still not too terribly hot, you can suddenly find a place to park at the grocery store, get into restaurants without a 45 minute wait, or find a seat in church more easily. It won’t be long and Bill and I will be heading home too.

Ciao.

Janis Joplin and Staring at Walls

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Bill and I flew home separately on Tuesday. Bill’s last minute decision to join me in Denver required that he be somewhat creative in obtaining affordable airfare, so he flew back on Spirit while I flew back on Frontier. His plane left two-and-a-half hours before mine, so I had time to kill. He killed time on the other end.

If you have flown in the past few years you know that the price of a plane ticket merely gets you the right to walk onto the plane. They will decide where you sit, likely between a 350 lb. man who smacks his gum and smells slightly like beef jerky and a 68-year-old woman wearing strong perfume that smells like roses in a funeral parlor and breathing through her mouth. By time you select a seat, check a bag, and buy a bag of M&Ms, you might as well have departed for Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris.

There is nothing Bill likes more when flying than to be in the front of the plane. It matters not in the least that in the event of a crash, he will turn into dust as the plane dives nose first into the ground. He, being that optimist that I always tell you he is, presumes the plane will NOT crash and he will be the first one off. Spirit Airlines is the king of airlines if your definition of royalty is requiring any passengers with legs to be happy chewing on their knees during the flight. So he is more than happy to spring for the $25 fee to sit in the front row where there is actually leg room. “Look at this,” he said as he showed me his ticket indicating his seat number was 1C. I sadly looked at my seat assignment of 20C. Oh well.

I love watching the people at airports. Only 1 in 100 passengers is not connected in any way to technology as they await their flight. Me included (in the 99, not the 1). What did we all do at airports before cell phones? Drank heavily and read tattered paperback books, I guess. You see all manner of folks. Lovers. Loners. Families. Happy people. Grouchy people. People praying rosaries (oops, that’s me). People playing Janis Joplin songs from his iPad without benefit of earphones (oops, that’s the person sitting next to me). Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.

After I kissed Bill goodbye at his gate, I went to kill time by eating lunch. I had decided to enjoy a nice meal including wine, so I wandered to the airport chapter of the Denver Chophouse. “One,” I said to the greeter at the restaurant. “Would you like a table?” she asked me. As opposed to rolling out a blanket on the floor? “Yes please,” I answered. I should have smelled a rat right then and there and turned around and headed for Panda Express where we are all equal.

“Will this be ok?” she asked me. I answered in the affirmative, though it became quickly apparent that I should have said no. I was seated at a tiny table in the back corner, facing the wall.  I’m actually not kidding…..

airport table

But I enjoyed my salmon and cheddar mashed potatoes, and my wine was yummy. I read a book through my whole meal anyway. I must admit, however that I was quite surprised when I turned around to leave after paying my bill to see that there were a multitude of tables available that wouldn’t have required me to face a wall. I am woman, hear me roar.

But it occurred to me that if this was the worst thing that would happen to me that day, given I will be 30,000 feet in the air flying over the Rocky Mountains, it wasn’t so bad. The wine was good.

My plane came from somewhere else, and it arrived well on time. We boarded quickly and were ready to pull out of the gate a couple of minutes before the scheduled time. Except that we didn’t.

The captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Hello. This is your captain speaking,” said the captain. “You may have noticed that we’re not moving. That’s because there is a City of Denver truck parked behind our plane, and no one seems to know who is the driver and where he is, exactly. But we’re looking.”

Bathroom break, perhaps? It didn’t occur to the driver that perhaps parking behind a passenger jet wasn’t a great idea if you need to go potty?

Happily, they quickly rounded up the driver and we were on our way only a few minutes late. All-in-all, it was better than something that happened to my niece Jessie recently on a trip home from the Bahamas.

She was on a red-eye flight, and it had been a long day. The plane she was on wasn’t moving. Time was ticking by. The captain (apparently always the bearer of bad news) came on and explained that there was a crane parked at the end of the runway. They were trying to get the crane removed, he assured them. They waited a bit. After quite some time, the pilot came back on the intercom. Here’s what he said (or at least my version of what he said)….

Ladies and gentlemen, the crane is still parked at the end of the runway. Here’s what we’re going to do. We are going to turn off the air pressure and get our speed up as fast as we can. We think by doing this we SHOULD be able to fly over the crane. Have a nice flight.

The it might be a good time to grab a rosary and pray your ass off was implied.

See? When flying, things can always be worse. The plane, by the way, did successfully make it over the crane.

Add flight attendant to the list of occupations I never would want to have.

And Finally, There’s This….

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Today is our grandson Alastair’s 11th birthday. Shortly after I post his blog, we will see him (and his sisters) very quickly in the morning before they leave for school to say goodbye. We are heading back to the desert for one more month or so.

As the kids get older, birthdays change. In some ways it’s easier to figure out what to get them; in others, it’s harder. But the change in season means a new sport for the grands (in his case, baseball), so a gift card to Sports Authority was the perfect answer. He was so happy with the card that he wanted to go out shopping Sunday night. At 8 p.m. His persuasive skills didn’t work. Spring break ended Sunday and it was back to school on Monday.

Bill and I had a spectacular evening on Sunday night. We took Alastair out for a birthday dinner. As one of four, he doesn’t get a ton of alone time with any of the grandparents, so we all had fun. But what made it even more special is that of all my grandkids, Alastair is the one who LOVES good food. He loves to cook it. He loves to talk about it. He loves to eat it. And his meal of choice will always — ALWAYS — be fish or seafood.

I offered him his choice of restaurant. He chose Pappadeaux, a Cajun seafood restaurant not too far from our house. Bill and I ordered a glass of wine, and Alastair ordered a fancy before-meal drink that consisted of lemonade and strawberry syrup. He considered the hibiscus lemonade, but he wasn’t quite that brave. He asked the server what hibiscus tasted like. She was kind of vague, but I think the term “floral” was the nail in the coffin for the hibiscus lemonade.

The menu was quite large, and he carefully studied it. After much consideration he finally made his choice. Seared salmon with a spicy Cajun sauce and topped with scallops and shrimp. He ate every bite. And I mean EVERY BITE. When I asked him if he wanted the 7 oz. or the 11 oz., he considered carefully, and chose the 7 oz. “I want room for dessert,” he said.

Because it was his birthday, he got his choice of dessert on the house. They have something like 600 selections of every dessert under the sun. After it was all said and done, he chose cheesecake. His Papa, by the way, chose a big honking brownie cut in half with a layer of caramel holding the two pieces together. For the record, Alastair insisted that we sing him Happy Birthday, and he gave great consideration to the wish before he blew out the candle.

papa nana alastair pappadeux

Papa, Alastair, Nana, and the cheesecake and the brownie.

So today he turns 11. I think of all my grandkids, he’s the one I’m most excited to see what he becomes.

Now it’s back to the desert!

Grandkidpalooza

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The central plains in general – and Chicago in particular — had snow on Thursday. That wouldn’t normally impact us. After all, Bill’s mom lives in assisted living and has no reason to be out in the snow. No concerns there. Our kids who had visited her for Easter were long since home, so we didn’t have to worry about their safety.

Nevertheless, the Midwest weather conditions resulted in our plane – waaay down in Arizona – being delayed by a couple of hours. The plane, you see, originated in Chicago.

However, it was all good because we had nowhere we had to be once we landed in Denver. At least not that night. And it was a good thing because security in the Phoenix airport was as bad as I’ve ever seen it. Between snowbirds heading home after Easter and Spring Breakers’ vacations winding down, we settled in for a good long wait. It was fine because we had nothing but time. What’s more, when I checked my email later, Frontier had given me a $25 voucher for my trouble. I won’t turn that down.

We had not a lick of food in our Denver house. It seriously looked like the home of Cindy Lou Who down in Whoville after the Grinch had stolen all of their presents and the roast beast. So once we were settled (and we are grateful that the house was standing in one piece), we ordered Greek food to be delivered, because as usual, the Yellow Bug refused to start. Dead as the proverbial doorknob until such time as we could get the battery a charge. Which we eventually did.

Starting Friday, from 8:30 on, we had grandkids. The number varied based on the time of day. It started with two — Dagny and Alastair. Three more arrived at lunchtime — Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole. The original two went home for a bit, but two more came in their place — Addie and Maggie Faith. Finally, the other two couldn’t stand that there was fun going on without them, and showed up at my front door, cheeks red from riding their bikes the three-block distance to our house from theirs. I bought a family pack of Oreos Friday morning and they were mostly gone by Friday afternoon. Meghan Trainor may think It’s All About the Bass, but in our grandkids’ minds, it’s all about the Oreos.

Besides Oreo crumbs, here’s what time with the grandkids largely consisted of…..

lego

LEGOS!

And…..

cole play dough

PLAY DOH!

As you can see, now that Cole is almost 2, he is no longer happy just carrying around the Play Doh can; instead, he wants to get his hand in the mix.

Jen came for a visit on Saturday and spent the night, along with Kaiya and Mylee. Cole came for the day, but went home in the evening with his mommy and daddy. A couple of things have changed since I saw him last. First, he has lost all of his little toddler looks. He is now all little boy. Second (and related), he will have nothing to do with the portacrib in which he used to comfortably and cheerfully nap. It’s not enough that he weeps bitterly when I put him in it because he doesn’t want to miss out on the fun; now he is able to crawl out of the crib. After his cries subsided on Saturday afternoon, I quietly tip-toed into the room to see if he had fallen asleep. He greeted me cheerfully at the door. Oh boy.

A swing full of girls. Well, and Cole....

A swing full of girls. Well, and Cole….

Saturday evening we had a princess party. When you are the grandfather and brother of girls, you adapt. As you can see, Papa and Cole were happy to join the festivities. Anything for the pound cake and ice cream with chocolate toffee sauce that were the princess treats.

cole papa princess party

Cole princess party

It’s the story of life with two sisters….

Sunday following church, we dropped the girls off at their home and had lunch with the other grandkids.

I’m tired.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Easter Blessings

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Our grandkids enjoyed their Easter in various ways. They had the fun; I got the pictures.

Adelaide, Alastair, Dagny, and Maggie Faith, along with their parents, spent Easter visiting Wilma in Chicago. I understand they all had a wonderful time. This photo proves it….

mclains and grandma

 

Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole, on the other hand, enjoyed an Easter at home. I’d say from the size of their buckets, they scored in the candy and Easter egg department…..

zierks easter (2)

 

As for the Vermont grandkids, Micah is representin’. And he is taking the Easter bunny very seriously….

micah easter

Have a great weekend.

 

Friday Book Whimsy: Fallen Women

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searchAuthor Sandra Dallas once again takes us to the Old West in the 1800s, this time to Denver during Gold Rush days. As we all know, the money from the gold in them thar hills brought about a variety of seemly and not-so-seemly enterprises. Establishments for prostitution abounded in the big city of Denver.

New York socialite Beret Osmundsen travels to Denver when she learns of the death of the sister from whom she was estranged. She soon learns that her sister was murdered. What’s more, her sister – herself a rich woman – was a prostitute and had been murdered at the house from which she worked.

Beret might be a rich New Yorker, but she is no weakling. Having devoted herself to working with poor women in NYC, she is familiar with some of the more unseemly aspects of life in the big city. She is determined to help the police detective in charge of her sister’s case find out who killed her sister, and more importantly, why. Though her murder appears to be the work of a serial killer, Beret is not so sure.

Fallen Women is a murder mystery, plain and simple. Many of Dallas’ stories are really more about relationships and character development, Fallen Women is about solving a murder.

I loved the characters in this book. Having read a lot of books that take place in the 1800s, both in London and in cities in the US, I am aware that in the 19th century, police officers and detectives were considered to be low-lifes, likely because most of them took bribes or were not willing to pursue a case unless they were compensated handily. I found this story interesting because the police detective who handled the case was from Denver’s high society and only worked as a policeman because it interested him.

Having lived so long in Denver, I really liked the fact that the story took place in downtown Denver. Thought the street names were different, I could envision where Beret was walking or where some of the places she visited were located.

There is a bit of a romantic element, but very unobtrusive to the main story.

I enjoyed the book very much, and would consider this to be one of my favorites by this author.

Here is a link to the book.

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