Magic in Song: Dan Alan Sings “O Great Island”

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This was BEYOND magical!!

I’ve periodically posted pictures of Daniel, a young man who helped me rescue a bunny a year or so ago. I’ve run into him now and then since then, down by the AmTrak terminal in Fairhaven, and have always enjoyed those encounters.

The last time I posted a pic of Daniel in the Seeing Bellingham group, someone mentioned that Daniel is a great musician – she’d heard him busking somewhere.

So today I found myself walking around in that part of Fairhaven again, and I saw Daniel going into his bus. I called out to him and he turned around and waited for me. I told him I’d heard he was a great musician, and he smiled kind of shyly and nodded his head – said he’d done some busking, but wasn’t doing that so much anymore because people aren’t as likely to give him money as they were before – he thought it might be because of the price of fuel and stuff nowadays.

And this is when I got my genius idea. I said, “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you play me a song.” He grinned, and agreed to this arrangement, and went to fetch his guitar.

When Daniel had his guitar strapped around him, and he was ready to go, he asked me, “Do you want an original or…?”

“Yes, an original, please,” I said.

And then THIS happened! I was totally blown away by Daniel’s talent. This is one of the most beautiful ballads I have ever ever heard.

Afterwards, I asked Daniel if I could sing a song with him, and we sang George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” together. That was so fun! We hugged and I said, “I got to sing with Daniel Alan!” He laughed, and nodded his head, and said he liked singing with other people.

His full name: Daniel Alan “River” Miller
Instagram: treasuremaker369
“River Pendragon”
YouTube linke to the video I recorded of Dan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gm2mxjnAnYA

Thank You, Life, for All Good Things

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I felt impelled to get up to the boardwalk today and connect with “my people.” I’m so glad I listened to my intuition. Today’s sojourn to Bellingham brought pups, new friends, boats, and a way cool heron eating his breakfast in a tree.

As I drove up Chuckanut to Bellingham, I passed a young man walking along the side of the road with a bedroll. I debated stopping to offer him a ride, but, in the end, kept going. (He will enter into this post later.)

I drove to Boulevard Park and started my walk there. I hadn’t even reached the trail when I found my first new pup friend, little Stuart. Stuart is still a youngster, and is a little shy – but he gathered his courage and came up to me for a sniff and a pet. Stuart’s courage in approaching me, totally melted my heart.

When I passed over the first section of boardwalk, I glanced up at the tree where I sometimes see a heron perched, and saw something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before: the heron was there, and he had his wings sort of tucked underneath him. A couple of other people stopped to watch with me – they were pretty fun. One of them imitated the heron with her arms and said the heron was doing yoga. I moved to the other side of the heron to get a better shot with my camera and saw that the heron’s gullet seemed to be moving something down it. The woman who’d imitated the heron said she’d seen it with a fish in its beak earlier, and we all guessed that we were watching the heron eat his breakfast.

Not long after my stop for the heron, I met pups, Buddy and Phoenix – I could tell they were good friends. We use the word “humanity” when we talk about kindness, but I’m thinking maybe we could also use the word “canineity.” These canine buddies moved along next to each other in sweet concord.

And then little Bella appeared. Her humans told me Bella was scared of the edges of the boardwalk, but she was very brave in approaching me and letting me give her a pet. Before I moved on, I saw Bella move past her fears, and peek over the edge of the boardwalk.

After my walk, I stopped into Wood’s for a lavender green iced tea. Jessi was there, stocking the shelves and tidying up, and she gave me a shout out when she saw me walk in. The woman in front of me in line had a beautiful tattoo on her arm – the face in her tattoo actually looked like her, I thought. I learned her name was Jess – and Jess graciously agreed to let me get a photo.

I’d been keeping my eyes on a schooner in the bay – I love schooners! – watching for it to unfurl its sails. Just before I left, I saw that it had its sails fully unfurled and snapped some quick pictures.

I loaded my tea, camera, knapsack, and self into my car and headed for Chuckanut. Just after I’d passed the place where people park to go to Teddy Bear Cove, I came upon the young man with the bedroll again. He looked really tired. I’m guessing he’d hiked three or four miles since I’d last seen him.

Once again, I debated stopping to offer him a ride, and, once again, I kept going. I drove four or five miles past him, before I pulled off into a parking lot and stopped my car. The thought that came to me was, “That young man is someone’s son.” And then, “I hope someone would stop for my sons if they needed a ride.” And then suddenly, in my mind, that young man wasn’t just someone’s son, he was my own. I mean. He wasn’t REALLY my own, but he felt like my own son in that moment. I decided to turn around and, if I found him, I’d offer him some apple juice and snack bars I keep in my car for people who might need that. I wasn’t sure, yet, if I’d feel comfortable offering him a ride. I’d save that decision for after I met him.

I drove back along Chuckanut, looking for him, and finally spotted him. I found a place to pull over, rolled down my window, and asked him if he’d like some juice. He nodded his head and crossed the street to me and said, “That’d be great. Thank you.” He had beautiful blue eyes, and there was kindness in them. My mother’s heart reached out to him, and I asked him if I could give him a ride. He said that would be good – told me he was headed for the downtown.

So I moved things around in my car – apologized to him for the mess – and made room for him. He got in, and I headed for Waypoint Park near the bike course. I learned my new friend’s name was Logan, that he’d started his journey in Colorado, and that he’d grown up in Bellingham. He had people there who were expecting him.

When we got to Waypoint Park, I parked and got out of the car to say good bye. “Are you going to be alright?” I asked, and he nodded and smiled. Then he reached out an arm for a hug. Every mother will understand what that meant to me.

Thank you, Life, for all good things – for puppies and herons, schooners on the bay, and kind people.

Navigating the Eff Bee Whitewater

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I wake up and reach for my phone
to find the time
and moments later I’m bobbing
along in the Eff Bee whitewater
with my fellows posters –
good morning, world! –
and I’m trying to dodge the flotsam
and jetsam of a culture that seems
Intent on keeping the world’s
hatred and fear fueled.
I’m dodging words: “libtard” and “Karen”
and “POS” and “asshat” –
and there’s talk of violence –
mob mentality – coming from both sides –
all sides –
and, of course, there’s the logjams
of the “experts” appearing periodically
to provide background info on
the history of Nazis and the Civil War.
I was a history major myself
and I can relate to the urge to show off
my expertise on these things, but my
intuition is telling me that, for the people
flailing in the whitewater with me, now
is not the time to pause to give a history
lesson – maybe we can do that later when we
reach a quiet eddy in the river.
Right now the roiling current pulls us towards
the boulders – tribalism, greed, me-firstness,
bigotry, bullying, ego –
and I point my feet down the river
as the whitewater guides told me to do –
and I choose to keep my survival simple
for myself – Love. Love is my lifevest.
Keep it simple. I don’t have to choose sides
or who to love.
Keep it simple. I choose Love –
all-encompassing, all-enveloping,
universal, unconditional, all-inclusive Love.
I let Love guide me through the whitewater.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Below: Anderson Creek. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.

A Fourth of July Gift from the Cosmos

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My friends, something really cool happened today!

I felt the need to go to a quiet place – somewhere away from the crowds and noise. I headed for Clayton Beach.

I’d gotten about half-way down the trail to the beach when I heard happy laughter and chatting behind me. I turned around to see about a dozen women coming down the trail. I pulled off to the side so they could pass, and they stopped to chat for a bit. I learned they were a hiking group from Hillcrest Church in Fairhaven. And then one of the women in the back stepped forward and I recognized Francine – the mother of three of my former eighth graders – and the pediatrician who’d been called in at the birth of my oldest son. Francine is one of my favorite people, but I haven’t seen her for years. It was cosmic to run into her in the middle of a trail in the Chuckanut woods!

But wait! There’s more!

The group of women went ahead of me, and I followed behind, stopping to snap pictures every now and then. When I crossed the bridge over the train tracks, I found one of the women waiting for me on the other side. She asked me if I’d ever lived in Kitsap County. I told her that I’d actually graduated from high school there. She said she had, too, and then she asked me if I’d ever taught there. I almost answered no, and then I remembered that year I’d taken over a fifth grade class a month into the school year, years ago. It had been my first real teaching gig, and it had been a challenge for me. I told her the name of the school that had housed my fifth grade class, and she said she’d gone there, and so had her younger brother, David. She said she thought I’d been her brother’s teacher, and gave his last name. Immediately the face of her brother came into my thoughts – I remembered him, and I remembered what a cool kid he was!

I asked her where David was now, and she let me know he’d passed ten years ago. My heart sank. I told Julie how much I’d enjoyed her little brother. And then Julie told me that she remembered me as being a positive part of David’s life, and she remembered her parents had liked me. That meant a lot to me – I hadn’t felt like a success that year. To know that I’d had a positive impact on even one child’s life was a healing thing.

I went on down to the beach, took a right between the big rocks, and looked out at the water for a while. There was a nice breeze blowing down there. I always feel Love speaking to me when there’s a nice breeze, and I feel the love of loved ones who have departed. I thought about David and Francine and Francine’s children. Sweet memories. Sweet connections.

I moved back to the main beach. A pup came bounding down to the beach from the trail, leaped onto a log, bounced onto another log, and scampered back to her humans. She was delightful. Her humans gave me permission to take more photos of Tulia, and I managed to capture one of her as she peeked over a log at me.

I met up with the women from the Hillcrest church again before I started back up the trail. I told Julie that she had David’s eyes, and she smiled and asked, “I do?” I told her yes, I remembered David’s bright eyes. Francine and I hugged again, and she took a picture of us together to show to her daughter.

When I got to the bridge over the train tracks, I moved to the mesh wires to take a picture of the tracks, and just at that moment an AmTrak train came around the curve as if just for me! Grinning, I waved to the train and snapped pictures as it moved towards me.

It was a lovely walk back through the woods and to my car. My heart was all filled up with the wonder of the unexpected gifts the Cosmos continually sends me.

Thinking of Pop on His Birthday

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Pop was born on June 21, 1918, and lived 101 years after that. He died the day before the first case of the pandemic was reported in this country. He had impeccable timing.

Pop was a well-known mountaineer. You can find him here in wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dee_Molenaar

But more important to me, personally, than his mountaineering achievements, was who he was as my dad. In the last years of his life, he lived near me, and we were able to spend a lot of time together – going on drives, and exploring the highways and byways of this part of the state.

I wrote a couple books about our adventures together in his later years. Here’s an excerpt from the first one, *Are You Taking Me Home Now?: Adventures with Dad*:

“I Don’t Want to Run Errands”

May 29, 2017

Dad: Let’s head out into the open countryside, head towards the coast.
Karen: Let’s do it!
Dad: I don’t want to go into the city. I don’t want to run errands with you.
(I nod my head in understanding.)
Dad: (His voice cracking.) I love you.
Karen: I love you, too.
Dad: It’s nice that we have each other to love.
Karen: Yes, it is!
Dad: Thank you for including me when you take these drives.
(I smile – I take these drives FOR Dad.)

I turn onto Samish Island Road, thinking maybe I’ll go to Bayview State Park.
Dad: Have you ever been to that little island that’s connected to the land?
Karen: Samish Island? Do you want to go there?
(Dad nods his head, and I head out to do the loop around Samish Island.)
Dad: Is Mom alive?
(I shake my head no.)
Dad: I had a dream that she’d died. (He starts tearing up.) I think I’ve already mourned her.
(Dad’s quiet for a bit. We’ve almost finished the Samish Island loop now.)
Dad: Can we see Mount Rainier from here?
Karen: I think it’s hidden behind those hills.
Dad: Let’s go someplace where we can walk on a beach.
(I head for Bayview State Park.)

After parking, Dad and I make our way to a bench near the beach. When I’m getting Dad’s walker out of the back of the car, I see the cans of root beer I put in there months ago – I’d bought them for Dad, and had forgotten about them. Now I grab one, join Dad on the bench, and hand the root beer to him. His face lights up and he smiles and takes it from me.
Dad: Do you ever dream about Mom?
Karen: Yes. I had a dream that she was sitting on the top bed of a bunk bed, dangling her feet over the edge. She had a happy, mischievous smile on her face. There was an open casket on the bed behind her. She said, “I’m done with this!” and hopped down. I felt like she was done with the whole dead-thing, and was happy. Have you had a dream about Mom?
Dad: Yes. I dreamed she died.
Karen: She loved you, and loves you very much.
Dad: She was such a wonderful person.
Karen: Yes, she is!
(Dad and I are quiet for a while, just enjoying the sunshine.)
Dad: This is nice here. I’m glad we made this stop. That’s a nice, gentle breeze. It smells like saltwater. (He belches and laughs at his own belch.)

When we get back in the car, Dad says he had a dream where he had to fart once, but there was no place to fart. He starts laughing – cracking himself up. I’m laughing, too. Then Dad asks, “Do you and Mom have a lot of nice conversations?” And I tell him that we do.

As we’re heading back to Dad’s home, he turns his head and points, “That would make a happy picture! That house all covered in flowers! But I don’t have my camera with me…” I turn the car around and head back to the flower-bedecked house, and get out my camera for Dad to snap a photo.

We get back to his home, and Dad doesn’t recognize it at first – he has moved three times in the last year, and it’s all a little confusing. I explain that their last home couldn’t take Mom and him back when Mom got sick. And then when Mom passed, we had to find another home for Dad. I tell Dad that I felt that Mom had directed us to this place – a place with hummingbird feeders and cats and dogs. Dad asks, “So Mom knows these people then?” And I think about this, and then nod my head yes. (I believe Mom does know these people, even if they never actually met in the person.)

Dad gets back in the house and doesn’t recognize anything. I ask him if he wants to go to his room – and he asks, “I have a room here?” I point the way, and once he enters he says, “Oh! I remember this place now!” He sees his paintings on the walls, and pictures of his friends and family. He realizes he’s home. He starts grinning at himself and says, “I’ve been thanking these people for allowing me to stay here.”

Dad points to a book by Leif Whittaker about Leif’s father, Jim. “I think I got that book for Christmas.” I tell him that I think Jim Whittaker gave him that book when he came to visit him here. “Jim visited me here?!” Yes, I tell him, also his friends Rick and Cindy, and Tom Hornbein, and Mary from the Mountaineers. Dad is shaking his head in amazement now. He says, “The things I’ve forgotten would fill a book!”

Karen: Are you going to take a nap now?
Dad: Yes, I want to make that transition into the dream.
Karen: What dream is that?
Dad: (Tearing up.) The dream about the real world. (And I know he’s thinking about the world where Mom is still with him.)
Karen: I love you, Dad.
Dad: I love you, Karen.

“Gramma Karen”

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She searches for me,
and when she finds me,
she smiles and says,
“Gramma Karen, come.”
Being invited into her world
feels like the greatest honor,
ever.
Bigger than an Oscar.
Bigger than a Nobel prize.
Bigger than a Pulitzer.

She clasps her little hand
in mine, trusting me
to get her safely across
the road, and looks up at me,
and we grin at each other
in mutual adoration.

There is nothing better than this.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Seeing the Humanity in ALL People

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I’m going to assume that when Michelle Obama speaks of seeing the “humanity in all people” she really means ALL people – every race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, age, size, and political leaning – and, yes, that includes the MAGA folks, too. It saddens and distresses me when the inspiring speeches made by the Obamas are used as just another way to vent hate on “the others.” We have enough of that already. Maybe we can take a moment and honor the Obamas by trying to look for the good in EVERYone, and nurturing that.

“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them… And God saw everything He had made and, behold, it was very good.” – Genesis 1

No Matter What History We’re Living Through…

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Here are some of the cool new friends I made in Grove City, PA, this week:

I always love visiting the Bookends bookstore on Broad Street when I’m in town. It’s one of those places where you feel the kindness and magic as soon as you walk in. When I went into the shop this week, I’d just come out of Beans on Broad, where I’d introduced my toddler granddaughter, Linh, to Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat. I was hoping the bookstore would have a copy of the book I could buy for little Linh. Tonya, the owner of the store, greeted me with a smile as soon as I walked in, and led me right back to her Dr. Seuss collection. Allie rang up my new book at the cash register, and then she and Tonya graciously agreed to let me snap their photo. There is such power in friendly smiles.

Up the block from where my mom-in-law lives is a corner lot with flowers blooming out of every nook and cranny, and a little pond with gurgling water that always brings me peace. It was very cool when I finally met, Andrew, the owner of this little paradise. As well as being a gardener, Andrew, I learned, teaches history at Grove City College. I told him I’d been a history teacher, too – but for 8th graders. We talked about the history past generations have lived through, and the history we’re living through now, too. And Andrew pointed out that no matter what history we’re living through, there’s always good around us, too. Right on!

On my walk yesterday, I saw a man zip across the street with a lawnmower, and begin mowing one of the yards I was passing. On my return trip I passed him again – moving at a quick pace down a different street, pushing his lawnmower in front of him. I stopped to have a chat with him and learned his name is Ryan and he mows 65 yards in the neighborhood! Whoah!

Trooper pup saw me from across the road and started wagging his tail, and smiling at me. I asked his human if I could give Trooper a pet, and she let him skip up to me. Trooper’s whole body wagged as I scratched him behind the ears and petted him. Happy pups are one of life’s best things.

Humoristianity Not Included on Defense Department List

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My dear Humoristian hooligans –

The U.S. Defense Department does not recognize Humoristianity on its list of religions. We are humbled by this gratifying acknowledgement of Humoristianity’s non-acknowledgement, and are pleased to join the likes of the UU, atheists, agnostics, Wiccans, deists, followers of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and others in our non-inclusion. It is an honor we do not take lightly.

Humoristianity was established in 2007 on the Amazon Religion forum by…well…me.

The mission of Humoristianity is to spread laughter and good will across our planet. Here are the tenets to the one true fallacious faith:

1) You must be able to laugh at yourself.

2) You must be able to recognize how ludicrous your beliefs might appear to others.

3) You must want nothing but good for everyone, everywhere in the universe.

4) You must have a natural aversion to meetings, committees, and scheduled events (as we will be having none of those).

***

May your irrepressible good will reach those athirst for kindness in a desert of bigotry and fear. May you bring laughter to those in desperate need of a good laugh. May your joy lighten the burden of those carrying a heavy load of hopelessness and despair. May the stodgy, stuffy, and stingy, the bigots, bullies, and busybodies, be transformed by your good humor and love for humanity.

Long live Humoristianity!

Karen

I Needed an Adventure

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When I woke up this morning, I felt myself going to that dark place – that place of fears and worries and dread.

I needed to get out of the house and go for a walk and smile at people. I needed an adventure.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend I’d met in the Seeing Bellingham group – a friend I’d never actually met in the person – invited me to join her and her friends for coffee at the Way Cafe in Birch Bay. Julie told me that they meet every Thursday morning there. She invited me again a couple days ago. I was kind of nervous about sitting around a table with people I’d never actually met – but, this morning when I started going to the dark place, I realized a drive to Birch Bay and joining Julie and her friends was exactly what I needed.

So I googled and made a list of directions for myself – exit here, turn right there, take another right here, and then a left – and I set out for the Way Cafe.

Oh, my friends! It was so fun meeting these women this morning! Tricia and Nancy, Jean and Julie and Carol, were welcoming and wonderful. I needed the laughter I found with my new friends, and I soaked up their kindness.

When our time together came to an end, I decided I wasn’t done, yet, and headed up to Blaine with L&L Bakery macarons on my mind. I love the L&L Bakery! Lili, the owner, was there today, and it was so good to see her again. Lili radiates kindness and good will and makes the world a better place. She and her staff also make really good baked goods. I snagged myself a couple of macarons, wished Lili a good day, and headed down to Marine Park.

When I got to the park, I could see workers setting up fences around the perimeter in preparation for the “Scottish Gathering” Blaine is hosting this weekend. Liam and Joe let me snap their picture as they helped set up the fences. (When I introduced myself to them, Liam said his mom is named “Karen,” too – which brought me a smile. Karens rock!)

I walked on down to the pier and took some photos of Semiahmoo across the water to the west, and Canada across the water to the north. An AmTrak train came through Blaine, and I watched it make its progress past the Peace Arch and on into Canada. I wished everyone on board happy adventures.

I had happy adventures myself today. I’m so glad I talked myself out of the house, and up to Birch Bay and Blaine today.