A man is like a cat; chase him and he will run – sit still and ignore him and he’ll come purring at your feet. – Helen Rowland
We are cat people. This was not always the case with me. Oh, I had pets growing up but they were always outside pets, mostly dogs. The attachment fell far short of what I know today. This had to do with the fact that:
We were a farming community and my mother was raised on a farm;
Animals served a practical role and were somewhat transitory so we were not encouraged to get too attached;
If I had any real attachment to animals growing up it was to horses on my grand parents farm and to the iconic TV animals like Flicka, Lassie and Trigger. I out-grew all that when boys became more than someone to just climb trees with, but that is another subject.
Married To A Cat Person
I became a cat person when I married. My husband is a true cat whisperer and could give Jackson Galaxy some serious competition. He has an amazing way of bringing out the unique personality of any cat, of restoring cats who are damaged and to actually get them to mind! Well, mind in that “I’m a cat” sort of way. We have a lot of fun with our kitty tribe. No, we are not crazy cat people, but I have learned to truly love, appreciate and even train these furry soul-mates.
We started the series when we acquired an airplane hangar with an apartment. The cat’s job, besides keeping us company and entertained, were to keep rodents under control in the hangar. Rodents can be very damaging to aircraft and this was our way of dealing with them. Our version of barn cats.
This weekend I will be joining my mother, her brother and members of three of the seven branches of my maternal grandfather’s siblings for a family picnic near Boise Idaho. Sometime in the 40s or 50s three of my grandfather’s six siblings moved from Kansas to this area so I only knew them by name. A large reunion of the Rightmeier clan in Kansas in 2005 and the advent of Facebook reinstated relationships geography had eroded.
When the elder Count died, the care of Simon VI, his son, was left to Phillip of Hessen. Although the Count gave strict orders that his son be educated in the Catholic faith, Phillip did not adhere to this request and Simon was educated as a Lutheran, and later studied “at a reformed school in Strasbourg” where he became a follower of John Calvin (1503 – 1564). It was in this way that Lippe became a mix of Lutheran and Calvinistic influence.
Regetmeir to Rightmeier
My maternal great great grand-father, Frederic Regetmeier, immigrated to the United States in 1864 at the age of 14. During this period, a long-term drought, along with political and religious unrest made living conditions in Lippe quite desperate. In other words the feudal system was breaking down.
The life they knew was disappearing. Word of the opportunities in America sparked by desperation, drove young Frederic and his brother August to make the voyage. In reality the brothers were stowaways on a ship to New York. It is said they jumped ship in New York harbor and swam ashore.
This will re-publish as I make a return trip to Mission Aviation Fellowship -MAF. This time I am staying for a few days to volunteer in the fabrication shop. I am excited. Following is the background for this trip from a previous post.
Many of the things that form our lives rest in the background. They crisscross our paths making significant deposits in quiet ways. On a trip to the northwest last year, we took time to visit the headquarters of Mission Aviation Fellowship in Nampa, ID. We have been supporters of MAF for over 20 years, but my connection to this organization goes back much further.
After our visit, I began to reflect exactly how far back this connection does go. It, in fact, it goes back to my father. As I wrote about my father’s interaction with short-term mission trips in Costa Rica, I recalled something. When daddy first became a pilot, he looked into becoming a missionary pilot. He loved flying and wanted to serve using this passion and his piloting skills.
He was also a skilled mechanic and had an instinct for getting things to work. It seemed a perfect fit. He made inquiries thinking there might be a way to do short-term flying missions. MAF mission did not have a provision for short term pilots. In addition, he was not a certified air-frame and power-plant aircraft mechanic, nor a certified flight instructor nor did he possess a license for instrument flying. These are all requirements to serve on the MAF piloting team. Daddy found another way to serve in short-term missions but, as a result of our conversations about this, the seed of aviation as a mission tool was planted inside me.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. Psalms 91:1
The concept of hospitality has a much higher meaning than is commonly thought of today, at least in my part of the world. Although the everyday application remains valid, it lacks the depth of its’ original intent.
True hospitality is personal. Its requires effort and energy, commitment, an awareness of other’s needs, preferences and desires – even unspoken ones. This goes well past the hospitality industry, e.g. hotels, restaurants and other home away from home establishments. Although once staying in a hotel adept at hospitality or eaten in a truly hospitable restaurant you do not forget the experience.
Hospitality Is An Action
I have had such opportunities and it is nourishment for the soul and body – and generally a bit of a shock to the wallet! Still, there is something special about feeling, well, special. Here is a description of what I am talking about from a review of Hotel Dina in Greece:
“In the evenings, if she saw us sitting outside, she’d pull out an unlabeled bottle of local white wine, pour us each a glass and leave the bottle or grill us up some octopus. A little pat on the shoulder for me in the afternoon, a fresh towel at night, a cup of Greek coffee in the morning. Everything Dina did seemed to be touched with a sense of grace and humor. She was as warm as the sun on our yet-to-be-burned shoulders. The words she spoke to me weren’t necessarily understood, but her meaning was always clear. “You are most welcome.”
The Greeks have a word for it, but don’t they seem to have a word for everything? In this case, the word is philoxenia. Philos= love, xeno= stranger. Essentially, the word means “hospitality” but that definition is too facile. One enters a Greek household and one is immediately offered a drink and something to eat. Taking care of a guest’s wants and needs is deeply ingrained into the culture. There is a sense of generosity that seems completely unstrained. As a guest of Dina’s, even though this was ultimately (and I do not mean this cynically) to be. a moneyed transaction, I found her kindness was not something that was paid for. My stay with her completely refreshing in every sense of the word. I felt restored. And I am most grateful.”
“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper…” ―Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited
When one is retired from working as an employee, you would think that the seasons, including summer, would all blend together. I have found that while my time is more flexible, it is not entirely disconnected from the rhythm of the of the seasons
We are not big vacation takers, but prefer to do mini-trips. Some of this has to do with the amount of travel I did with my work before retiring. It was great. But even then, we road warriors reluctantly tolerated the non-frequent flyers at the airports headed off for their summer adventure.
In addition, since I flew, literally, around the world for my vocation, a hop in the car for a couple of nights at a quiet Kansas B &B is so much less complicated. I have been blessed to see a lot of places, and although there are places I would still like to visit, a good book, my journal and quiet are my version of vacation for the moment.
I have one trip planned for August. To return to Mission Aviation Fellowship in Idaho. I get to volunteer at MAF headquarters for a few days. This is a desire I have had in my heart for many years. It happens to coincide with an extended family picnic on my mother’s side of the family. This trip touches several of the stones in my bridge.
Other than that, we are hitting the house renovation hard, another stone: foundations. Several projects are gaining traction with some summer help. Hallelujah!
What are your plans for the summer? Please share how you enjoy this season of the year in the comments below.
I enjoy being a pilot, aircraft and hanger owner, but these joys are accompanied by a fair amount of responsibility. Even as a private pilot, periodic flight reviews (BFR) and medicals come with the privilege. This was the month for both of those activities. Since I inherited my Dad’s 1961 Forney Aircoupe, I have flown my BFRs in that craft, but this year I decided to have it done in a Cessna 150, the airplane in which I learned to fly, solo and certify in as a pilot in 1992.
The Forney Aircoupe and Cessna 150 are very close in performance, but after flying, almost exclusively, my Coupe for 20+ years, I felt quite out of place. There are differences that change how one interacts with the plane:
The Coupe is a low wing, the Cessna a high wing, thus visibility is quite different.
Although my Coupe has rudder pedals (early models do not) they are less critical than in the Cessna, because….
The Coupe’s engine is mounted to compensate for the “P” factor, pulling the aircraft to the left, where as one must use rudder to compensate in the Cessna
The Coupe uses a hand brake, the Cessna, toe brakes integrated into the rudder pedals
The Coupe is about 300 pounds lighter than the Cessna and has a much lighter touch in the controls
The trim on the Coupe has less impact on how the aircraft flies than on the Cessna
The best comparison I can give is the difference you feel when getting into a rental car versus your own, it just feels foreign – times ten!
My BFR instructor gave me ample time with the Cessna to get reacquainted, going over checklists, locations of various instruments and gages, etc. on my own. I was as ready as I would be, but still felt a fish out of water for most of the flight. On top of that, it was less than smooth and I had to fight thermals the entire flight. It was less than a stellar performance, but my instructor was kind and decided I was not a hazard to myself or others, signing me off for two more years.
“Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it…” ― Wilferd Peterson
“I turned left onto a half-mile final for a south landing. There it was, five thousand feet of new concrete; an airport thirty years in the making, carved out of farmland in rural Kansas. My Kansas. My roots. My spirit welled up as I made my final traffic call, “Rooks County Regional Airport traffic, Aircoupe three zero five two golf, on short final for runway one-eight. “ The little red coupe seemed to perk up as I trimmed her to follow the visual glide path to a flawless, slightly cross-wind landing. I could almost hear Daddy smile from that great cloud of witnesses as we taxied off the runway onto the ramp toward the waiting crowd.
I have never been to the Joyland Amusement Park founded by the Ottoways in 1949. Although still active until 2004, I simply never had a reason to check it out. As a child, my amusement park exposure was limited to school playgrounds, county fairs and carnivals, but I loved the carousels.
I also love seeing lost things found and restored. So when the Joyland carousel was donated to Botanica, my ears perked up. As a member of Botanica, I have been following the plans to relocate and restore this wonderful icon. It seems her new life will be as close to heaven for a carousel as it can get: In the midst of well tended gardens in a secure protected structure. Bravo!
Even though any direct personal experience with this carousel and Joyland is non-existent to date, I feel a connection on several levels. Levels that, to the non-discerning eye, are not even there.
First, as as I said, I love seeing things of value restored. Value, not just in monetary terms, but value at a deeper more visceral level. Thus our passion for restoring our historic home, Maison Steinbuchel.
This connection too, is more visceral than direct, but it is special. You see, I knew Mary Chance Van Scyoc, but not in the way you might think. It was not through the amusement park connection but rather through air traffic control.
I met Mary in the 1990s through my local Kansas 99s chapter, a global women’s pilot organization founded by Amelia Erhart. Mary was an accomplished private pilot and quite a personality. It was later I discovered she had been the first woman air traffic controller at Denver Airways Control Center, the predecessor to the Denver Air Route Traffic Control Center where I began my air traffic career. She was also the first woman controller at the Wichita Airport Traffic Control Tower, where I later worked on staff and in supervision. Mary paved the way for me. She was an inspiration not only as an air traffic controller, but as an early woman pilot, even learning to fly helicopters in her late 60s! The last time I spoke with her, she was still active and overflowing with life.
We have the original abstract of our Kansas Historic Landmark home dating back to the land grant of 160 acres from the Osage Land Trust. In past BLOG posts, I have told how three individual lives, immigrants from France and Germany, converged in Wichita, Kansas. How through love, hope, taking risks and even tragedy ended up as three blood lines merged into a family for which the Steinbuchel house is named. It took eight-teen years from the time the land was acquired via land grant, divided, plated and developed until 1905 Park Place was built in 1888. It was another nine-teen years before the blended Hahn-Stackman-Steinbuchel family made it their home in 1907.
Praise the bridge that carried you over-George Colman
The simple hearth of the small farm is the true center of our universe-Masanobu Fukuoka
Peter Frederick Stackman was the first husband of Marie-Louise Hahn, the matriarch for which the Kansas Historic Landmark, Maison Steinbuchel is named. In a previous post I outlined his pioneering role in the early development of the core of Wichita. Stackman Drive, that runs from the Murdock entrance to Riverside Park along the river to where several apartment complexes built by his son still stand, remains. I was curious about the exact location of the original farm house. In the process of researching, a number of details about the farm location came to light.
“City commission yesterday voted to name the new Central avenue bridge for Frederick P. Stackman, father of Mrs. Rene Gouldner. He died 34 years ago at age 46 but had already amassed considerable holdings in Wichita real estate. Mrs. Gouldner was then but a child and remembers that the Little river was just a small creek, and the cattle feeding ground was on the site of the municipal pool. The Stackman farm of 130 acres in Riverside purchased by her father in 1882 was then “out in the country.” Mr. Stackman moved to Wichita in 1873 from Topeka.”
then south onto Seneca, the Central bridge just after Museum (formerly named Stackman) Drive.
The Woodman bridge has a plaque historically appropriate. For some reason, the Stackman bridge has a plaque dated 1986, naming it the Central bridge. My, but we do have short memories.
On the north side of the Stackman bridge is the dam. I am sure many changes have taken place from the late 1800s, even from the 1931 redo until today. None-the-less, the original farmstead had at least one bridge with a dam on order to cross the Arkansas River which flowed through the original land grant. The National Bridge Inventory does not acknowledge this as a significant location even though once named for a key Wichita Pioneer. We know better.