J.A.W.L.S.

There's an acronym that runs through my head, usually during a hurried commute along the lake's edge, when my eyes are fighting between staying on the road, and wandering off to the horizon. It's a mocking reminder for me to appreciate the things I have, and a lament that I can't stop and appreciate them more.

J.A.W.L.S.

It's usually said with a little sigh, and then perhaps a tired, wry smile. Who am I kidding? It's a fleeting moment, one that's almost hopeless to try to preserve. It's something you have to be there, and enjoy it while it lasts.

When I first got to Winona Lake, I landed my first job — yearbook photographer — while I was standing in line to register for classes. It was a job I took rather seriously (until the second year, when I got distracted by some girl I met on the internet, and eventually married.) I was rarely seen without a camera around my neck.

The first week of classes were done, and I took my Sunday sack supper for a ride through the quiet streets of Winona Lake, until I wound up at Winona Lake park, where several other Gracies had congregated with the same idea.

Tammy, Rachel, Joelle, and Joanna. (One of the great advantages of being yearbook photographer is that someone goes through and identifies all your photos for you.)

Joanna, Carrie (a.k.a. "Cake"), Jon, and Sunny, who is trying to catch ducks with popcorn.

As the sun crept down over the lake, conversation slowed, and someone — Joelle, I think — shushed everyone. "I want to watch this." I turned around at the picnic table to look out across the lake. "What am I watching here?" I asked, bemused. "The sunset," said someone as if it was obvious. It looked perfectly dull as far as sunsets go. "What, they don't have sunsets where you come from?" I joked, still puzzled. "No," said several voices in unison. Apparently, in the hills of eastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania, you don't get sunsets. The sun disappears behind the hills, and then it's dark. Sunsets were a rare treat for them.

Apparently, out-of-town college students aren't the only ones to be entranced by a Winona Lake sunset. A well known hymn, "Beyond the Sunset," was written not far from where I sat that evening, and a blind man saw it best:

The song "Beyond the Sunset" was born at the dinner table of the Brocks' home one night in 1936. Before dinner, text author Virgil Brock and his composer-wife Blanche watched a very unusual sunset at Winona Lake, Indiana, with a blind guest Horace Burr and his wife, Grace. Burr was Brock's cousin. A large area of the water appeared ablaze with the glory of God, yet there were storm clouds threatening gathered overhead.

Upon return to his home, at dinner, they still talked about the unusual spectacle they had earlier witnessed. What was amazing was what their blind guest excitedly commented, that he had never seen a more beautiful sunset.

The blind Horace's reply was simple and touching: "I see through other people's eyes, and I think I often see more; I see beyond the sunset."

The striking inflection in his blind cousin's voice forcibly deeply moved Brock. He began to write the first few measures of what is now "Beyond the Sunset" at the same time he started singing with his coined words. A spot-on inspiration.

His wife loved it, they went to the piano, and enhanced the first verse. The blind Horace Burr strongly urged that a verse about the storm clouds be added. A third verse was further added. Before dinner ended, all four stanzas had been completed and sang by them.

Words by Virgil P. Brock — Music by Blanche Kerr Brock
© Word Music, Inc

Beyond the sunset, O blissful morning,
When with our Savior heav'n is begun;
Earth's toiling ended, O glorious dawning,
Beyond the sunset when day is done.

Beyond the sunset, no clouds will gather,
No storms will threaten, no fears annoy;
O day of gladness, O day unending,
Beyond the sunset eternal joy!

Beyond the sunset, a hand will guide me
To God the Father whom I adore;
His glorious presence, His words of welcome,
Will be my portion on that fair shore.

Beyond the sunset, O glad reunion,
With our dear loved ones who've gone before;
In that fair homeland we'll know no parting,
Beyond the sunset forever more!

Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time I'd run across this hymn. I first came across it in Germany, while I was looking through an old hymnal for something else entirely. Oh, this is nice, I thought, you can sing this at my funeral. Not so much because it's a nice song (it is) or because it's common at funerals (as I learned later) but because of something I asked God for.

After I die, have my funeral in the late afternoon. Bring a lawn chair. Bring a whole picnic. Don't be formal on my account. Sit out on the grass, or in the sand at the edge of the water, wherever you like, and watch the sunset. I asked God if I could paint it that day. And He said yes. Forget that my body is over there. I'm up here, in the sky, burning down the heavens, whooping my way across the horizon in a roar of oranges and purples. And maybe, if I can manage it, a little bit of green.

It might be spectacular. It might be... just another Winona Lake sunset.

A Little Something I've Been Working On

I've been working on this for a while now, and now that everyone can see it, I'll mention it here. As of this morning, there's a brand-new design for the Town of Winona Lake website — finally! I've been working on this for months, and we're finally down to the place where it could go public.

I had previously declared myself done with freelancing, but when the opportunity came up to update the town website, I made an exception. I'd groused about the old design for so many years that I figured I should put my talent where my mouth was, and do something about it — for now, it's just a new design and improved navigation; in the coming weeks and months, I'm aiming to help improve the content, as well.

I love my little town, and I'm happy it now has a website I can direct people to with a grin!

Comments, critiques, and bug reports are all welcome.

Impromptu Supper

We were standing around on the sidewalk with the neighbors, watching the kids play together. (The Volkers' kid likes the toys on our porch; our kids like the toys on their porch.) The conversation wandered to dinner. Deborah liked the sound of the pork chops they were having, they wanted to try the gallo pinto (black beans and rice) that we were having. So the Volkers invited us (and our supper) over to the cottage for supper.

The Volkers are, in local parlance, Lakers. It has nothing to do with the L.A. basketball team, and everything to do with the lake itself.

Chris shows off his new toy, a Sumo Tube. This is apparently a device for people who like to be dragged behind boats, without the bother of having to keep track of skis and other such unnecessary accoutrements.

Fiona cuts a somewhat less impressive figure.

So what do lakers do after dinner? Well... they go out on the lake.

On the docks. The speedboat, pontoon, and canoe are all theirs.

One of Chris's hoobies is what he calls the "Funtoon." This is, at it's most extravagant, a floating party, a pontoon boat complete with second floor (!) working water slide, tiki torches, coolers, and festival lighting and surround sound.

Reagan doesn't seem to mind that his swing goes out over the water.

Today, though, it was fresh from having the upper deck rebuilt, and outfitted mainly for a pleasant summer cruise around the lake.

The crew of the U.S.S. Funtoon.

It's not a bad way to spend an evening, actually.

Me, a person of influence?

Almost exactly a year ago, I was grousing about the incomplete snow removal on the Lake City Greenway. Today, as I was riding to work, I noted that the whole thing had been cleared. It was much more pleasant than taking the snowy streets. So, since I originally griped publically, I shall un-gripe publicly: Good job, guys!

Of course, they might not read this at all, but you never know. Stranger things have happened due to this blog....

Just Another Winona Lake Sunset

As we were finishing dinner the other night, I noticed that the sky was pink outside. Deborah took a peek, too. A few minutes later, we all had our shoes on for a stroll down to the end of the block.

This one is made up of seven separate photos, which I blended together. You can click to see a larger version.

It reminded me of when I was at Grace, talking to some friends who were about to graduate. What would they miss? The sunsets, they said. This puzzled me, but they explained that when you live in the hills of eastern Ohio and Pennsylvania, the sun just drops out of sight. No wonder I could find them down by the lake every Sunday night!

I've also since found out that "Beyond the Sunset," which is in most hymnbooks, was written right here on this lake. Interesting, eh?

Signs of the times

Spring is in the air. Earthmovers move about, digging up random patches of land. Signs spring out of the ground. And the citizens of Winona Lake all wonder: What are they doing now?

Most of what I'm noticing these days has to do with the further construction of the bike path/greenway. And, I'm sorry to say, there are several parts of it that look either poorly thought-out, or downright unfriendly.

Winona Lake is acquiring a sad history of unfriendly signs; for many years, there were signs all over the place stating that "This Park is for the Use of the Village at Winona Patrons Only" ...which was offputting, to say the least, given that we'd been here longer than the Village, and it was previously just a public lawn. Those signs, fortunately are gone. More creative, I thought, were the ones stating "Parking in designated spaces only" ...with a notable absence of designated spaces nearby. But some, I can only look at in wonder, and ask, "What were they thinking?"

Take this one, for example:

This is, I must stress, on the lawn of the bike shop. Neither Nancy nor Rob were in at the moment, so I couldn't ask what was going on there, but I can't imagine they're pleased about it. No bikes! At a bike shop! If you want to say, "This is not the bike path you are seeking" then it would be better to put an arrow towards said bike path. Banning bicycles from that street isn't the answer. I might note that there's a similar sign right across the street. The deep irony there is that in about a week, they're going to be running a number of criterium-style bicycle races right down that very street!

Here's one that's just confusing, even a bit dangerous:

Use crosswalk? I don't see a crosswalk. There's a semicircular sidewalk, did they mean that? Are bikes supposed to go on the narrow sidewalk? If a cyclist makes that assumption, then there's trouble once s/he gets to the next sign:

Routing bicycle traffic down that little passageway looks like a recipe for disaster, especially given the two sets of double doors that open right into it. I can only hope that some future painted lines help clarify that cyclists should go on the asphalt; otherwise, there are going to be some painful accidents and probable lawsuits.

Here, though, is one that I agree with:

The bike route ends here. It was supposed to continue on for several miles, all the way to the other end of Warsaw. But Warsaw seems to have dropped that ball. So: Winona Lake: Kudos to you, in spite of the signs. Warsaw: get crackin', ya slackers!