I'm Not a Fan of Snow, BUT...

I love Missouri for several reasons - one of them being the fact that we have all four seasons in reasonable, equal amounts. Some hot, summer weather for swimming, some cold and snow for snuggling and sledding, beautiful autumns and refreshing spring-times. However, the older I get, the more I dislike winter in Missouri. I've started thinking that I'd be happy to become a snowbird after retirement - spending the winter months in Florida, Arizona or the Maldives. (that last choice is in my dreams - when we become as rich as Bill Gates)

However, within the past few days I've realized I am actually longing for snow. Not just a dusting...but inches and inches...perhaps even a couple feet of the stuff! Do I really want to go sledding that badly?  No, of course not. It's just that my college girls will be heading back for the beginning of their spring semester within a few, short days...and I wish we had just one more day where we all had an excuse to stay home and do nothing but spend some time together as a family.

Two feet of snow usually does that for us. No one goes anywhere, no one expects anything out of us, and we just hang around with each other. Christmas day did it for us this year, but I'm selfish and was hoping for just one more day like that before everyone went back to their separate lives.  Sometimes it's those little inconveniences - like snowstorms - that cause life to come to a standstill for a few hours and give us a reason to slow down and bask in our loved ones.

That's the real reason why I hear myself humming, "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!"

The Never Ending Story

A rather momentous day occurred in the Kohl family genealogy books on December 3rd, as a new generation made its debut.  Grandma Kohl passed away before the majority of her great-grandchildren were born. Grandpa Kohl died years before his first grandchild was even married. Yet, as happens continually throughout history, their family and legacy continue. One of their great-granddaughters just gave birth to the first great-great-grandchild.

It's a bit mind-boggling to think about, this thing called "generations." None of us will ever live to see the long-term, generational effects of our descendants...and yet those effects will continue, perhaps for centuries. Will one of your descendants be a future president? Could one of them help cure a deadly disease? Perhaps one will create some wonderful, new invention. Deeper and more profound than that, however, is the impact they could have on the world around them. The longer I live, the more amazed I am at the tremendous influence the humblest people can have...and that influence isn't limited to their immediate descendants. It can overflow and touch numerous families and an entire community.

None of us can know whether or not this newly birthed generation will produce a famous inventor or world-renowned scientist. However, I am certain of this. Grandma and Grandpa Kohl would be in awe of the family tree that continues to flourish after them. Not because any of their progeny are rich or famous, but because so many of them continue to value the things they valued...commitment, integrity, strong work-ethics, serving others and valuing family.

I probably have a warped view of heaven. But I like to picture some angelic being approaching Grandma Kohl (who's probably sitting in some heavenly rocking chair, crocheting), and announcing, "Behold, for unto you is born..."
And then she laughs. That wonderful, jolly, contagious laugh that was uniquely hers.

Whether or not that's the case...the next generation is certainly worth relishing in and rejoicing over. These new little ones make all of our efforts and struggles through life so very worthwhile.
So, congratulations Matt and Haley - little Caden is carrying on quite a legacy.

The View from Mayberry

This isn't the first time I've touted the benefits of small town life. There's such a simple charm to it at times that I can't help mentioning it once in awhile. We've had a couple of experiences over the past month that have reminded me once again of why I like it so much.

Just last week, Nate and I stopped by the local Harrisburg gas station/garage/furniture building shop. As the owner, Ken, was pumping our gas he said, "You all are an intelligent couple - what do you know about Romulus and Remus?"

Wow...how many city convenience stores can you pull into and not only have the owner pump your gas for you, but also compliment your IQ level and quiz you about Roman mythology?

Before that incident, I was reminded again when we went to visit my 22 year old at college.  Bethany attends school 9 hours away from home...in a little Arkansas town that perhaps could be "Hicksville, USA," especially if you judge it by the local people's dialect. However, we recently found one of its small-town advantages.

We can't afford late model vehicles.  Thus, during Bethany's years of attending college in Arkadelphia (yes, that is really the name of the town) she's had her fair share of needing to deal with local mechanics. It's such a helpless feeling as a parent to have a daughter that far from home with a broken down vehicle. Of course we want to go help her out and solve the problem for her, and yet reality (and her father) says, "Bethany, you need to do the best you can with this and we'll advise you along the way." Thus, in 3 1/2 years time, she's probably tried that many automotive places in Arkadelphia...only to eventually be frustrated and disgusted with the level of care and service her and her car receives. This year has been no different. Thus, when we went down there last month with the knowledge that her car, once again, needed attention, we were determined that if a good mechanic existed in Arkadelphia, we were going to find him. (My apologies if that is sexist to assume a mechanic will be male. ;-)

Bethany had already asked around amongst her college friends. A couple of them recommended one certain shop that they liked. We weren't completely convinced that college kids from out of state might know the very best, local mechanic. Thus, that evening after we arrived, we walked into the local "U Save More" mart...or was it "Save U More?" Either way - it was very local.

Two guys with chewing tobacco stained teeth were "shootin' the breeze" near the front of the store, so Nate asked them point blank, "Where's the best place to find a good mechanic in this town?" They looked at each other...thought a minute, then said, "Well - you gotta go across the tracks..."

Ah ha - that was the key.  We hadn't yet tried the wrong side of the tracks.

The next morning, Nate went looking for that mechanic. Nate liked him right away when he mentioned, "Well, my daughter's car had over 300,000 miles on it when we finally sold it - these old cars will go forever if you take care of them."  The other mechanic - the one on the right side of the tracks - didn't even have time to look at the car and make a guess at what might be wrong with it when he heard it was a 1994 model.

We also liked "wrong-side-of-the-tracks" mechanic later that day, when we drove up in our family vehicle, ready to make the long trek back home.  It had been making a continually louder and louder noise the day before as we drove farther and farther south.  Nate wondered if perhaps this small-town guy could tell him if it was serious or not. The mechanic said sure, he could listen to it and give us an idea of what might be causing it.

He crawled under it with a stick (I kid you not - it resembled a long, skinny baseball bat.)  Moments later, after holding his stick up in the motor while it was running, he clambered back out from underneath the vehicle and said, "You'll be okay - but you probably don't want to use your A/C, because the compressor is going bad and will probably lock up on it pretty soon."

Wow - that fast? No "come back later," or no computer hook-up analysis?  And the best part? (Well - not from a pocketbook standpoint.) The guy was RIGHT.  Just last week, on a warm day - Nate forgot the Arkadelphian's advice and turned on the A/C for the kids in the backseat who were complaining of being hot.  And the A/C locked up - smoke, sparks and all.  I tell you what - it made me a believer.

Call me nostalgic, but I'll choose Gomer Pyle with a stick any day over a city mechanic with a computer.