History

The Way to Isandlwana

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One year ago today I was in South Africa traveling to the Isandlwana Battlefield. In January 1879 it was the site of the first major encounter of the Anglo-Zulu War.

This trip was part of a group tour with the graduates of the 1973 Nottingham University Mining Dept. It was a 50 year anniversary/reunion for them. Ten guys and their wives including my husband Chris and me.

To be honest when I read the itinerary included this stop, I thought it was really a guy thing. I was not interested, but it was their celebration and after all they were all guys, therefore it was a stop of interest.

We started the journey on the seaside in Durban and travelled 5+ hours by coach to Isandlwana. The countryside was beautiful and I took many pictures of the villages and locals along the way.

We stayed at the Isandlwana Lodge. The lodge is cut into the rockface of Nyoni Rock with an expansive view of the mountain and battlefield below. The entire lodge is shaped like a shield, and built with rock and thatch to resemble the native huts. Per the Lodge’s website, the lodge was opened in 1999 and was formally opened by Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi, a direct descendant of King Shaka.

Just the beauty of the lodge and the serenity of the surrounding area made this a magical place. Hard to believe this magical serene space witnessed a brutal horrific battle.

The whole sordid story is too long and complicated to recount here but for three days we had the most magnificent guide, Thulani, who told the story in such captivating detail that I wish I could have recorded the entire visit.

In a nutshell it goes like this: 1) British Empire decides they want Zululand; 2) the Zulu King doesn’t agree; 3) war ensues; 4) over confident British commander camps at Isandlwana; 5) Zulu King and his forces overpowered the armed British with only spears and shields; 6) a majority of the 1700 British troops were killed; 7) after a series of battles over the next several months the British gain control of Zululand; 8) in 1887, Zululand was declared British territory.

In walking the battlefield, I was surprised to see most all of the monuments were to British officers and troops. Well, makes sense as most of them were erected by the British after they took control. However one would have thought in recent years there would be monuments to honor the Zulu warriors who fought for their land.

I asked Thulani and he told me that a monument had been dedicated to the Zulu’s in 1999. It was commissioned by the KwaZulu Monuments Council to commemorate the Zulu army involved in the battle and it was unveiled on its 120th anniversary.

It was a large replica of a necklace of valour worn by deserving Zulu warriors. Just two months before our visit the monument was cut into pieces and stolen. A small section that was left had been moved to the porch area of the small museum.

Istock photo of Zulu Monument

So that’s the story. One year ago I surprised myself by a visit to a place I thought I had no interest in seeing. Not only was I in awe of the beauty of the lodge and surrounding landscape, I also learned about the sad history of the land.

SubTerra: A 33 Year Synopsis

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In 1991 Chris was working in Germany for a Redmond, WA based geotechnical company. He was transferred there to open and manage two new companies in Celle just south of Hamburg and in Claustal-Zellerfeld in the Harz Mountains.

When he left early in the year, we had a one year old son and a son just finishing his Junior year in High school. The plan was he would go, get things started, check out high schools and look for a place to live. I stayed behind while we put the house on the market and took care of organizing on this end.

Long story short, the company kept stalling on finalizing the move of our family and after a year of being apart the ultimatum was given ….. move my family here or… “or” won. So he said goodbye to folks in Germany and drove from Germany to London where he caught a flight home.

After successfully starting businesses for someone else in a foreign country, Chris decided to start a company for himself, be his own boss and in charge of his own destiny. His selling point to me was, “Worst case scenario, if it doesn’t work we’ll spend all our savings, and I’ll go out and get another job.”

With that SubTerra was incorporated on August 7, 1991 in our Redmond home. We chose our logo from an old photograph Chris had of the lighthouse at Beachy Head in England near where he grew up. Initially work came at a coal mine near Steamboat Springs, CO; at Yucca Mountain, NV with the nuclear waste disposal program; and abandoned mine reclamation and tunnel design work in WA state. SubTerra Engineering was started in the UK in 1992.

Josh and I travelled with him as he worked around the country, to Colorado, Nevada, Texas, Utah and overseas to the UK and Germany.  

In 1995, we purchased a brick house in Kirkland across from Lake Washington where we went through the permitting process and renovations to convert it to an office. We hired an engineer, a geologist and a receptionist. Work for them was closer to home around Washington permitting local gravel pits and mining operations. Chris continued to work all around the country and abroad.

In 1999 we became a dealer for Instantel, a Canadian company that manufactured and sold seismographs for blast monitoring and construction vibrations. We hired another engineer and a technician who worked in the field monitoring at local mines and construction sites. 

After several years in Kirkland we moved our offices out of Kirkland to a less crowded location. While we looked for a new permanent home we leased office space in the Preston Office Park just off I90 east of the city. By now we had two engineers, two geologist, two drafters and a receptionist/secretary. Joining this group was our old friend Howard Handewith who had retired from the Robbins Company. He worked part-time on tunnel projects in Singapore and on the Boston Outfall Tunnel project.

In 2000, just 9 years after incorporating we purchased a building in down town North Bend which became our permanent home. The building was built in 1950 and we spent 6 months renovating it and moved in permanently in March of 2001.

Since then North Bend has been our home base. Through all the up and downs of the past thirty-three years, we have seen blessings and trials, when the economy was slow just the right amount of work would walk through the door.  In 2009 Chris began pursuing his passion of helping to advance a tunnel/water conduit to revive the Dead Sea project, this lead to opening SubT Engineers in Israel in 2014. 

SubT Engineers has completed tunnel projects in Tel Aviv (Subway Redline), in Jerusalem (rock tunnels and blasting), and at other locations in Israel.  SubT Engineers is the Licensed Engineer for the KoHav Ha Yarden Pumped Storage project adjacent to the Kinneret / Sea of Galilee and are currently working at Israel’s first Pumped storage Project located at Maale Gilboa (the Heights of Gilboa). 

SubTerra, Inc. has now completed over 1,000 projects involving blast consulting, mining rock mechanics, shaft, tunnel and microtunnel design, geotechnical instrumentation, vibration monitoring and expert services for hundreds of clients.  We work for owners, contractors, large engineering companies and Federal, State and local municipalities.

Chris continues to travel for work across the US, Europe, UK, The Republic of Georgia, Israel, and Canada.  Chris and I have otherwise worked together in this adventure sitting about 20-ft apart for these 33 years.

He is well past the “normal” retirement age but continues his work.  He is tireless, positive, sharp and always looking ahead. In addition to his hard work ethic, he serves on the board for a local organization that seeks to aid those in need of assistance and housing.

So after 33 years, we are working with a smaller crew but still working on large projects with other companies. We may have spent all our savings to get started, but this dream Chris had of working for himself, being his own boss, resulted in a successful small business that has done many  great things around the world.

American Revolutionary Ancestors

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My ancestors in this country go back approximately 400 years depending on which way I go. I will start with the two major ones; my mother’s maternal line Wright, and my father’s paternal line Andrews.

My mother had done a lot of initial research in the family history. My grandmother was Mary Elizabeth Wright and the Wrights can trace their history to very prominent families in Bedford County Virginia going back to the 1600’s. There have been several books written about the Wright’s of Bedford County.

The farthest back I have verified on record is Thomas Wright who was born in Virginia in 1695 and died in 1763. He is my 7th great-grandfather. His son, Joseph, born in 1742, furnished supplies to revolutionists in the American Revolutionary War.

Through this line, I and my children are all eligible to join the Sons or Daughters of the American Revolution.

The Andrews side also hails from Virginia, near Petersburg, just south of Richmond in Chesterfield County. My Aunt helped me fill in some missing links and through Ancestry I have traced them back also to the 1600s.

Benjamin Andrews, 5th great-grandfather, was born in 1699 in Henrico Virginia. He died in Chesterfield County in 1778.

Benjamin’s father Thomas was born in Wiltshire England, and he died in Henrico, Virginia in 1731. He had three other sons, and in his will which can been seen online, he left two of his sons one hundred acres of land each. The other son, John, received the plantation and all it’s livestock and goods, but poor Benjamin only got one cow and one calf. However, he fared better than his three sisters that only received one shilling each.

Benjamin’s son, Bullard (4th GGF), would have been of the right age in the American Revolutionary War, but I cannot find any record that he served. Although there is a record that he served in the war of 1812.

After poor Benjamin left with his cow and calf, he must have moved south to Chesterfield County, VA. There the line continues to my grandfather, Aubrey, ancestry records reveal they were all poor country farmers.

The Wright’s were well off middle-class families. During the Civil War, some of the Virginia Wrights, who were abolitionist moved to Ohio. Today, there are tens of thousands of descendants of Thomas Wright (6th GGF) living in the US.

The other two direct lines include my father’s maternal line and my mother’s paternal line.

My Grandmother Alease was a Cole. I trace them as far back as 1775 in Chesterfield County, Virginia. They also were a family of country farmers.

My mother’s paternal line is Van Houten, the farthest I can verify records is the 1850’s in New Jersey. There was a large Dutch settlement there and I can only verify the direct information that my mother had assembled. James Marcus Van Houten (2nd GGF) was born in 1828. He married Lydia Wolf(e), also born in 1828.

I cannot verify any details of Lydia’s family before her marriage to James Marcus. However, there is a short family history written in the late 50’s early 60’s by my grandfather’s sister that states her family tore their clothing and declared her dead when she married him. Many census records show her born in New Jersey or New York but in 1880 it states she was born in Portugal.

After the Civil War the Van Houten’s and their sons moved south to Georgia where my grandfather Wallace Van Houten was born. James and Lydia’s son, William, (b.1855) was once the Mayor of Sycamore, GA. In searching the GA Archives, I found a picture of a cotton gin he designed that won a first prize at the state fair in 1901.

I have found so many stories in researching family history. I have tried to piece together little bits of information I’ve found to see what can tell me about their lives.

Like the history of any place or family there are courageous stories, sad stories, stories that make you proud and stories that leave you feeling remorseful. All in all, it reveals an amazing journey that combines your life with the lives of thousands of others who share these histories as well.

John Peter and Mineta Wright parents of Mary Elizabeth Wright (maternal great-grandparents)

Wallace Van Houten and Mary Elizabeth Wright – my maternal grandparents

Molly Stratton Brown Wright 1858-1930. Mother of John Peter Wright (maternal 2nd GGM)

Robert Ruffin Andrews (1862-1926), father of Aubrey Andrews here with his youngest son, Linwood. (Paternal Great Grandfather)

Aubrey and Alease Andrews (paternal grandparents) with their children Eugene, Marie, and Thelma.

Albert Thomas Cole, and Etta Virginia Butler on their wedding day (abt 1907) – Alease’s parents. (Great Grandparents)

Eliza Jane Crews (1849-1923) – mother of Albert Thomas Cole, wife of William C Cole (Paternal 2nd GGM)

William C Cole (1849-1920) father of Albert Thomas Cole and husband of Eliza Jane Crews (Paternal 2nd GGF)

Ida Florence Fountain Van Houten (1878-1968) taken in Sycamore, GA around 1960, great-grandmother, mother of Wallace Van Houten

William Van Houten (1855-1917) great-grandfather husband to Ida Florence Fountain Van Houten and father of Wallace Van Houten. Former Mayor Sycamore, GA

Lydia Wolf(e) Van Houten (1828 – around 1900) 2nd Great-grandmother born in New York died in Georgia, mother of William Van Houten.

Photo credit: Georgia Virtual Vault

Memories of My Mother

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I have written about my mother many times here. Mostly about our lives in her later years as we both dealt with her declining health and dementia. I’ve been thinking a lot about her the past few weeks with Mother’s Day this Sunday and her 3rd heavenly anniversary on May 23rd.

My mother and I had a close relationship yet it was intermixed with differences that led to frustrations with one another. One of the last birthday cards I got from her had a colorful bug on the front. Inside it said something like.. “mothers and daughters sometimes they bug each other, that’s just what they do.” That was the best and truest card I ever got!

However, in remembering my mother these past few weeks my memories have gone further back than the last few years of her life to things I remember from my childhood. For most of that period in time my mother suffered from depression. As a young child, I remember many occasions where I would see her sobbing, crying tears of of great sorrow as she sat alone. Sometimes she would share her pain with a friend through her tears. At those times I probably overheard more than I should about her heartaches and the abuse that she suffered.  

Even while dealing with depression she managed to try and look on the better side of life. She was resourceful and talented in a variety of ways.  She was an extremely good cook, she made the best fried chicken, not battered – only floured but it was crispy and juicy beyond belief. Other savory favorites she made were fried potato wedges that she tossed in flour before frying which made them come out so crunchy; yellow squash casserole cheesy yummy, it was like a vegetable version of mac and cheese… she made scrumptious mac and cheese too.

In the sweet department she would make peanut brittle that was always perfect. One of her specialties was fried raisin pies.  I know it sounds weird but they were delicious.  I tried making them once and they were OK but it was a bit of a fiddle and I am more the make-it-quick kind of cook.  (I attached a picture of my attempt that was 2011 and I’ve not made them since).

My mother worked off and on as a waitress and she also took in ironing to earn extra cash. In addition, we lived in the country and she always had a big garden; she canned her vegetables and made special relishes (chow-chow as they call it in Texas).  I remember summers in Texas pulling weeds in those big gardens, it was hot and those rows seemed like they were a mile long.

Mother was also an excellent seamstress. She made most of my clothes and her own clothes. She always said she had wanted to be a designer and she would draw her own patterns for ideas she had. She would make the most elaborated western shirts for my step-father. Many people admired the swirled and elaborate yokes and matching pocket flaps she created. She bought fancy pearly snaps from the Tandy Company and attach them to the shirts with a special die and a hammer.

I never remember her taking even a sip of alcohol but she loved her Pepsi Cola in a big mayonnaise jar with a paper towel wrapped around it held in place with a rubber band. Speaking of mayonnaise, she loved mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches; just thinking about watching her eat them still makes me cringe. 

She was a woman that always had a heart for God. We attended the Baptist church and one of my earliest memories in church was sitting beside her holding her hand. She was a woman that sought God, she was faithful even though she had many struggles in life. She always did the best she could with what she had and she relied on God as her strength and her shield.

Mother’s Day 2021 was the last Mother’s Day I spent with my mother and just 5 days later, I was called back to Texas to say goodbye. She died on Sunday, May 23rd, Pentecostal Sunday, I played the hymn “Softly and Tenderly” and sang along with the music softly in her ear.

“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, Calling for you and for me.
See on the portals He’s waiting and watching, Watching for you and for me…Come home, come home, Ye who are weary come home…”

This Mother’s Day my mother is home. She has no more pain, no more sorrow, and she is singing praises to her Lord and Savior.

Mother and me 1986

My attempt at fried raisin pies.

Sixty Years Ago ~ November 22, 1963

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The assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

It was just a few months after my 8th birthday. I was in the second grade and we lived at 1111 So Fifth Street, Conroe, TX.

It was a Friday. I was on the school bus going home. My bus stop was at the corner of Silverdale and Fifth Street. As I was getting off the bus the driver told me.

It is one of those events that you never forget where you were when you heard. I remember stepping down the three short steps of the bus, the walk down the block to our house, my mother’s tears, the shock and the sadness.

President Kennedy was buried the following Monday. There was no school that day and I watched the funeral on a black and white TV with the rest of my family.

Hard to believe sixty years have passed. It was in the beginning of the sixties, it was the beginning of a decade of changes; civil rights movement, feminism, the sexual revolution, war protests, countercultural revolutions, and assassinations. .

Just five years later in the summer before my 13th birthday on April 4, 1968 and June 6, 1968, first Martin Luther King, Jr and then Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated. As I watched the news, I sadly realized that real evil exists in the world and hate destroys.

Now I have reached the age where I wonder if anything has really changed for the better in my lifetime.

As I remember those brave and inspiring men who stood for change I wonder if they died in vain because we as a nation are still divided, we still see our fellow citizens as enemies, we still hate and real evil still exists.

The Battle of Mogadishu

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Today marks the 30th anniversary of the Battle of Mogadishu, commonly referred to as the Black Hawk Down Incident that was part of Operation Gothic Serpent. My son Aaron was there that day with the 10th Mountain Division, a member of the 14th Infantry Regiment (“Golden Dragons”).

Just a little over a year earlier, he had a midnight curfew; now he was one of America’s finest defending the weak and fighting for the lives of the poor and starving in Somalia. They were there to prevent the starvation and assist in the distribution of food that was being hijacked by warlords in the area.

On 3 October 1993, a raid was planned to seize two of of the warlord’s top lieutenants. During the operation Somali forces shot down three American Black Hawk helicopters and the battle that followed to rescue the soldiers deep in city became an overnight standoff that extended into the next day, October 4. In the end, although a success, it left 18 dead American soldiers and 73 wounded. Mine was one of the wounded.

Receiving a call from the Department of Defense is something that is burned into your mind. Thankfully, I was forewarned by Aaron’s dad who was called first and told that he had been injured. In some ways it was a relief; as it had been nearly unbearable to have a loved one serving there and watching the horrors unfolding on the news.

My DOD call came after days of watching live action on the news, watching as young men were being dragged through the streets, watching as the chaos unfolded. I found myself trying to determine if it was my son in these scenes. The truth is, they were all my sons; they all wore US uniforms, they were all… oh so young.

He received a Purple Heart for the wounds he received that day. A medal to honor those who sacrificed for our freedoms; those wounded or killed in combat.

After I watched the 2019 documentary “Black Hawk Down: The Untold Story,” I understood better the terror of that night and the bravery and loyalty these young men exhibited surrounded by darkness and gunfire in the middle of Mogadishu.

Young men who stepped up to the job, fought to bring their fellow soldiers home. Some wounds heal quicker than others and although they relive the horrors and loss of this day every day, on the anniversary it is especially poignant.

My prayer is that on this day their hearts will also be filled with pride for their actions and those of their brothers in arms who accepted the task and fought through that long night. We love and respect you all and keep you in our prayers.

I often pray for the mothers whose sons and daughters are today serving our country today, as it is a hard job to be strong and supportive when your child is in harms way.

Remembering the lost:

  • CW3 Donovan Lee “Bull” Briley – 19 Dec 1959 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SSG Daniel Darrell Busch – 30 Jul 1968 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SPC James Manuel Cavaco – 12 Feb 1967 -3 Oct 1993
  • SSGT William David “Bill” Cleveland Jr. – 27 Jan 1959 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SSGT Thomas Joseph “Tommy” Field – 11 Apr 1968 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SFC Earl Robert Fillmore – 16 Jun 1965 – 3 Oct 1993
  • CW4 Raymond Alex Frank – 11 May 1948 – 3 Oct 1993
  • MSG Gary Ivan Gordon – 30 Aug 1960 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SGT Cornell Lemont Houston – 22 Jun 1962 – 6 Oct 1993
  • SGT James Casey Joyce – 15 Aug 1969 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SPC Richard Wayne “Alphabet” Kowalewski Jr. – 31 Mar 1973 – 3 Oct 1993
  • PFC James Henry Martin Jr. – 17 Mar 1970 – 4 Oct 1993
  • MSGT Timothy Lynn “Griz” Martin- 9 Jul 1955-3 Oct 1993
  • SGT Dominick Michael Pilla – 31 Mar 1972 – 3 Oct 1993
  • SFC Matthew Loren “Matt” Rierson – 29 Sep 1960 – 6 Oct 1993
  • SGT Lorenzo Manuel Ruiz – 21 Jun 1966-3 Oct 1993
  • SFC Randall David Shughart – 13 Aug 1958 – 3 Oct 1993
  • CPL James Edgar “Jamie” Smith Jr. – 16 Feb 1972 – 3 Oct 1993
  • CWO Clifton Phillip “Elvis” Wolcott – 20 Jan 1957 – 3 Oct 1993

Take Me to Paradise

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If I could turn back time, travel back to any country and any era and come back completely safe where might I go?

I have given this a lot of thought over the past week and I have to say honestly that every place, every time, that I can think of has its horrors and inconveniences. Even if I could come back safe and unharmed, I don’t know that I would want to carry the burden of the things I might witness. My current lifetime has enough sorrows of its own.

I don’t want to see the horrors of wars, bloody wars, world wars. I don’t want to see slavery, or indentured servitude. People dying from diseases we have, for a time at least, conquered.

No matter how romantic Jane Austen made the 1800’s seem I think it was not so great for the masses. I am accustomed to modern conveniences, I like my hot showers and working plumbing. I don’t know that I would like to see sewage running in the street or cold baths in dirty water.

I can keep going back in time and I am sorry to be a pessimist but I just don’t see anything I want to witness, it was a hard life and hard times for the majority of the people in any age; hardline religious views, cruel and overbearing rulers, unsanitary conditions, food shortages, inadequate protection from the elements, lack of healthcare.

Now, possibly, if given the choice, I would like to see the future. I guess I’ve reached a certain age where I see changes that I think are taking society down a wrong path. I might find it reassuring to know that the choices the generation behind me are taking are ones leading down a road to peace, happiness and a better life for all. I might want to see how my children and grandchildren’s lives turned out. I would love to see them happy and know they enjoy the beauty around them, the blue sky, the wildflowers, the warm sun and cool breezes.

However, that is not the choice. So, if I could go back, take me to the Garden of Eden. Especially if it is on a beach, with coconuts, fruits and flowers and lush gardens, and make it near a warm place with gentle breezes — no winter, no snow please. Let it rain warm showers, followed by sunshine, so that I can nap under the shade of a large oak tree with the soft sounds of a waterfall in the background. Everyday would have glorious golden sunrises and fiery red sunsets, it would be a paradise. Finally and ideally, there would be no wild beasts to attack, but sadly as we all know there would still be serpents… I am not fond of snakes and we all know the one in the Garden of Eden is one that caused all the other stuff I don’t want to see since the beginning of time.

Not Eden but maybe close. Butchart Gardens, Victoria, BC, 2016

Tea Bee ~ March 15, 2023

Alive and Growing

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I would like to start by saying I am not defending anyone who did not obey the airline rules about masking but what happens next and the things the airline rep says plus the actions of the German police is chilling.

On a recent flight from JFK to Frankfurt then to Budapest, it was announced that because Lufthansa is a German airline, passengers were required to wear a mask as it is German law. Some passengers including several of Jewish decent refused to wear a mask. When the flight arrived in Frankfurt “all” people whose appearance showed them to be Jewish or had Jewish sounding names were refused boarding on their connecting flight.

In the first video a passenger is trying to reason with the Lufthansa rep as he was not with the ones not masking and he did not know them. He wanted to know why he was refused boarding.

She says, “everybody has to pay for a couple.” —- “Jewish people were the mess, they made the problems.”

What? Does that sound that far from the Nazi rallying cry… Jews are the problem?

The passenger is astonished that in 2022, in a western country he would be refused boarding because of his race or religion. Surely, the airline staff had the ability to take the seat numbers and names of those who would not comply. Reportedly others who were not Jewish, who also refused to mask, were allowed to board.

The passengers who were denied boarding were section off behind a rope and the police were called. In the second video someone in the crowd calls the officer a Nazi. His reaction, his body language and demands to know who said it while holding the automatic rifle is horrifying.

There would be outrage if this happen to any other group of people. Would all whites be banned, all blacks, all Christians, or all Muslims? I would be on the news and cries for demanding justice from all walks of life. Thus far I have only seen this a a few Jewish news agencies and a week after the incident an article in the Jerusalem Post.

We say “Never Again” but anti-antisemitism is alive and growing. The growing hate between many groups is alarming and I pray we can turn our hearts away from hate and discrimination before it is too late.

Palindrome Day 1/20/21

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Today is a palindrome day, the first of a 10 day stretch of them. The date is read the say forward and backwards, a good analogy for the times…Everything will be the same forward and backwards.

God is on the throne, His will be done. People will love and people will hate, there will be births and there will be deaths, good and evil, loyalty and betrayal, leaders will rise up and leaders will fall. If you are looking for something new, something different, want change? Don’t look to any leader. Look to God.

My prayer: God, help me look into my own heart, examine my own thoughts and actions find the what it takes to overlook the flaws in others and make the change in my heart and mind.

Nothing new on this earth, set your heart on eternity.


Ecclesiastes 1:9-18 GNT
What has happened before will happen again. What has been done before will be done again. There is nothing new in the whole world.
“Look,” they say, “here is something new!” But no, it has all happened before, long before we were born.
No one remembers what has happened in the past, and no one in days to come will remember what happens between now and then.
I, the Philosopher, have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. I determined that I would examine and study all the things that are done in this world. God has laid a miserable fate upon us. I have seen everything done in this world, and I tell you, it is all useless. It is like chasing the wind.
You can’t straighten out what is crooked; you can’t count things that aren’t there.
I told myself, “I have become a great man, far wiser than anyone who ruled Jerusalem before me. I know what wisdom and knowledge really are.”
I was determined to learn the difference between knowledge and foolishness, wisdom and madness. But I found out that I might as well be chasing the wind.
The wiser you are, the more worries you have; the more you know, the more it hurts.

I Found a Nickel

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Recently the AC unit was replaced at our office; a very old unit it still chugged along but no longer efficient.  A80AD951-E1D4-407D-BBBA-06B6B34BAB26The new unit was relocated to the back of the building leaving a concrete pad on the side of the building. After the work was done and the unit hauled away, I walked by the pad and noticed a dark circle on the pad. I reached down to pick it up and found it was a nickel; an almost black discolored nickel.

I tried to rub away enough tarnish to see the date but it was not easy to read. Finally in the light I see it is stamped 1980.  I thought, not really so old for it looked like it had been there 100 years. Then I realized that although it did not seem that old it had been there forty years —- forty years just hiding under the AC unit as the world and time moved forward.

This nickel in it’s shiny new condition was cloaked from the light when Ronald Reagan was elected the 40th President of the United States, November 4,1980. There in 1981, when the AIDS virus was first identified. In 1982, when I met my husband of the past 37 years which was long before I ever set foot in this little town, it was there.

Unseen in 1985 when the nuclear reactor at Chernobyl exploded sending 8 tons of nuclear reactive material into the atmosphere.  It remained hidden in 1986 when the shuttle Challenger exploded shortly after launch.  There in 1988 when a PanAm 747 exploded from a terrorist bomb that sent it crashing  to the ground in Lockerbie, Scotland.

Concealed in 1989 when the Berlin Wall came down and in December when the Romanian uprising overthrew the Communist government just days before my youngest son was born at the University of WA Medical Center.

It had possibly lost some luster in 1991 but it made no movement as the Soviet Union broke up after President Gorbachev resigned.  In that same year my oldest son was nearly killed in a motorcycle accident.  In 1992 when Bill Clinton was elected president and when my middle son graduated high school just a few miles away it remained sheltered from sight. It was there one year later as the same son was wounded in Somalia during the Battle of Mogadishu, on October 3, 1993.

Fast forwarding through the rest of the 90’s – wars in Serbia, Croatia, and at home in Oklahoma City. OJ killed his wife and the president cheated on his.

When the world entered the new millennium this nickel was now 20 years old.  In 2000, I technically became the owner of this hidden coin as we purchased the building with it’s old AC and it’s hidden coin that remained safely beneath.

This nickel stayed in the dark through the darkest days of 9-11 in 2001. There as the younger Bush became president and we went to war in Iraq and Afghanistan.   It remained as as dictators were ousted from power or died… Saddam, Arafat, Milosevic and many other men who’s hearts were set on evil.

In 2009 Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th president of the United States.  In the middle of Obama’s years my world was rocked by my own personal tragedies as my youngest son was diagnosed with IBD, underwent 5 surgeries and spent weeks and months in the hospital and ICU after several life threatening events. Through all this, a nickel now tarnished and black lay hidden.

There have been many changes in the world in those 40 years.  I didn’t think this nickel was so very old but in the time it lay undiscovered under the AC unit it had aged and tarnished just as much as we had as we found our way through the last forty years.  As much as things changed they have stayed the same. There is still war and unrest in the world, people no matter how much they talk about peace can’t even make peace with their neighbors and fellow citizens. It seems there is a greater desire to be right than to find common ground.

I found a nickel and it spoke to me