fun in threes, sometimes fours
the girl
We've been trying for some time to make it to Jones Gap. The last time we tried, we were turned away because the park was already full. We made it today, though.
Just barely: 7 miles (the Fitbit died before we finished) and something like 1,300 feet of climbing. The kids loved it. Mostly.
K even took a few pics on her phone.
We hiked Graveyard Fields off the Blue Ridge Parkway twice within six months thirteen years ago:
Graveyard Fields
Repeating Ourselves
K and I are certain we went a third time -- though we think it was actually our first time. There's no mention of it on MTS; I can't find any pictures of that trip. Still, K and I are certain we went.
This morning, we went for the first time in about thirteen years. The last time we went, L looked like this
Today, when we made it to the same location, I had the Girl stand roughly in the same spot to take a picture:
Where did that little girl go? We'll be asking the for the rest of our lives, I realize, but every time I ask that question again, I'm surprised again.
K took the kids to meet with their Polish/American "cousins" to spend some time hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains, specifically hiking up Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi.
If it’s late June and we’re in Poland, we might be celebrating Babcia’s birthday in one form or another. Probably not a lot of celebrating happening the day of it (at least not until later in the day) as Babcia, lacking any social media whatsoever, spends the day talking to people who phone her with birthday wishes.
As it is, we simply got everyone up early and phoned ourselves. It was hard to get through, though. Everyone loves Babcia.
If it’s late June and we’re not in Poland, I’ll probably be on the back deck, applying water sealant.
And of course, there’s the evening game of hearts.
Two nights in a row — how do I do it?
In the morning, a bike ride. The kids don't really want to go, but it's supposed to rain on and off throughout the day, and they need exercise, so I all but force them. L fusses about one thing; E has a wreck (due to his own carelessness) and ends up fussy for some time; I fuss about their fussing. It's easy to get caught up in the negative and let it chart the day's course for you if you're not careful. Not deliberate.
So I try to make things a little more careful, a little more deliberate. We get back and spend a fair amount of time, just the three of us, working on our bikes' brakes. They're all squeaking and squawking like feral hogs tied to deranged cats. For each bike, we loosen everything -- cables, brake pads, centering screws -- and recalibrate everything. As we're working, I like to think that the kids are enjoying learning something, but I'm not sure. In fact, I rather doubt it. But there's still some value in this, even if it's just spending time together solving a problem.
After dinner, the Girl decides she wants to play Hearts with Papa, K, and me. E is across the street playing with neighbors, and he's not able to follow a game with tricks and trumps just yet, so we play just the four of us.
We play eight hands, and in a surprise -- I never win at games -- I destroy everyone. L is the nearest to me, and she has almost double the points I have.
After the Boy comes in, he suggests War -- he's just learned it, and he likes it. One of two card games (Uno being the other one) that he enjoys.
I take the opportunity to take a few pictures. In the end, I can't decide between three action shots, so I include them all. And the other two shots? They're winning hands the Boy is particularly proud of. In the first one, the Girl gives him rabbit ears; in the second, he's wised up.
Once I put the Boy to bed, I grab L and take her down to watch a movie. It's the second night we've done this. Last night, I showed her The Help. It's a good sign when she wants the movie paused when she leaves to get a snack; last night, she paused it herself. Tonight we watch a quirky British romantic comedy, About Time. It's about making the most of life by looking at each day as a treasure. We all need to be reminded of that from time to time, especially a thirteen-year-old and her cranky father.
A little bike ride to start summer adventures:
And some blueberries.
We've been waiting for our favorite park to open for weeks now. It seemed to us that going for a walk in the park should be something that lends itself rather naturally to social distancing. Certainly, you have to be aware of where everyone is and perhaps not go at the pace you would normally walk, but those are small concerns that mature people can keep in mind and in action relatively easily. But the city kept the parks closed.
Today, they were open, so we went for a walk in the morning when it was likely to be less crowded. We kept our distance from everyone and behaved as model citizens.
The kids were just glad to get out and do something. Perhaps they were also glad to see other faces -- I know I was.
But I've had concerns about this opening up of South Carolina. I don't get the impression that everyone else is being as careful as we are. And the numbers prove it. Earlier this week, we had a day with 300+ new cases -- the highest we'd ever had. Then we had a couple of more days in the 200s or high 100s range, then yesterday we saw that the number jumped up again. Today, there were 312, but there was also an addendum about yesterday's count:
154 cases that should have been reported in yesterday's positive case counts were not updated from suspected to confirmed cases in our database by the time yesterday's news release was issued. An additional quality check of yesterday's positive case numbers revealed the omission of these cases in the daily reporting total. The corrected total of positive cases for yesterday (May 30) has been updated to 420. (Source)
So we've gone from having no single day with more than about 280 to having a day with over 400. Just about two weeks after restrictions were eased. Which is to say that I'm afraid people's stupidity ("This has all blown over -- back to normal") will cause a spike that will undo all we sacrificed over the last months.
When Noah and the survivors emerged from the ark after God had wiped out all of humanity except them, there would have likely been some consternation: what if God decides to do this again and this time, we don't make the cut? It seems God wanted to assuage exactly those fears:
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him: “I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you—every living creature on earth. I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be destroyed by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth.”
And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.” (Genesis 9.8-16)
A skeptic like me has a lot of issues with this passage. Well, there are a lot of issues about the whole story of Noah and the ark, not the least of which is God deciding to wipe out all of humanity instead of, say, coming down and teaching them how they're making bad choices, like a parent would do. Perhaps a spanking of some sort if we want to get Victorian. Then there's the question of getting all the species in the boat, the inexperience of Noah as a shipwright -- just problems all over the place.
But just these few verses offer a couple of big issues: first, why does God need reminding? "I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant" not "you will see it and remember the everlasting covenant," though I guess that's implied. But I suppose we could work out some literary way to get around that.
What we can't get around is the simple fact that text here seems to suggest that there was never a rainbow before this event: "Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds" certainly hints at this. So you see the opening: "You mean to tell me that the lingering droplets of water in the sky that act as a prism and break the sunlight into its various colors -- an act of physics -- never happened before this?" Rainbows are not mysteries: we know exactly how they form, and I would imagine that meteorological sciences have gotten to the point that they can list several conditions that need to exist before a storm that will set in action a chain of events that will end in said rainbow.
Apologists who take the Bible literally have to deal with this. How to do so? I suppose they could suggest that, yes, God altered the laws of physics at that moment. But a more common explanation is a little more baffling: it had never rained before the deluge, apologist suggest. Mists and dew and the like were enough to water the flora of the Earth.
I mentioned this to K: she raised her eyebrows. "That's the first time I ever heard of that." I suspect it's an Evangelical (i.e., American Christianity) attempt at explaining an obvious problem with the Biblical text in such a way that allows believers to continue interpreting it literally, word-for-word.
I first heard that argument when I was a kid. I want to say, "It struck me as strange even then," but I don't really recall. I remember hearing it, so it made some kind of impression on me, and it stuck in the back of my head as another example of some of the odd contortions literalists bend themselves into in order to continue interpreting the Bible literally.
I heard it again tonight. Or rather, overheard it. I wasn't involved in the conversation, just listening from the fringes. "I mean, God created the world so perfectly that they didn't even need rain -- just a mist was enough," the apologist explained.
It was one of those times that I really wanted to jump into a conversation but knew that there would be no point. Neither of us would budge from our view.
