"Renaissance Man"

I often marvel at the many talents possessed by my hubby of (almost) 41 years. The term "Renaissance Man" always come to mind. I think it's fair to say that I may be just a little prejudiced but, if a wife can't be, who can? I looked online for the definition of Renaissance man and found the following: "A man who has broad intellectual interests and is accomplished in areas of both the arts and the sciences." Well, let's take a look at that. He has his Ph.D. (Doctor of Philosophy) with an emphasis in aquatic entomology and retired 4 years ago from MO State University where he was a faculty member and, the last seven years, head of the Department of Biology. He's published more than one book, won awards for Outstanding Teacher, and has served on more major committees than one could shake a stick at, including Chair of the Faculty Senate at MO State University. And there's certainly lots more but I think that speaks to his "intellectual interests."

At the same time, he served in the U.S. Army Reserves (a Preventive Medicine unit), and was actually deployed to Iraq to serve in Desert Storm. When his unit returned, Steve was made Commander and retired as a Lt. Colonel.

Now, for the "arts" part: Steve and I spent last week in Loveland, CO, where we attended the Federation of Fly Fishers National Conclave. Steve has been involved in this organization for as many years as I can remember, serving at the local level (President, Conclave Chair, etc. of the Southern Council) as well as at the national level (Senior Advisor, etc.). He has been awarded both the coveted Man of the Year and Federator of the Year national awards. As a scientist, Steve has a great respect for nature and a desire to preserve our resources for the generations to follow. For those reasons, he donates countless hours to charity projects to help raise funds for education and conservation projects. This also has a lot to do with his "exercising" the native fish and returning them to their natural habitat, to be caught by future generations of fishers. The only time we keep and eat the fish are when they are "farm raised." Because Steve enjoys the sport of "exercising the fish," he can have a good time catching catfish and carp ("trash fish" as some would call them), as well as the beautiful native trout, baby tarpon, salmon, etc.

Because a primary purpose for my blogging is to record the stories of our lives for our children and grandchildren, I wanted to record here some of my thoughts about Steve's talents, and the ways in which he uses them to bless the lives of others (myself and our family included, certainly).

For this Conclave just concluded, Steve designed seven "fly plates." That term likely won't mean a lot to anyone who has not seen one, but perhaps you can get an idea from the photos that I'm including. The artwork and flies (imitations of the insects used to attract the fish when fly fishing) featured in the plates are donated from some of the best fly tiers from around the world. Steve designs the plates and then builds them, including the matting and framing. Three of the 7 plates for this Conclave were built for a special subgroup to which Steve belongs (The Fly Tiers Group); the remaining 4 plates were auctioned off at the live auction, bringing around $4,000 for the Federation, to be used for a variety of worthwhile projects.
A woman by the name of Jean, pictured in the bright green sweater, was in awe of the plates and of Steve's craftsmanship, and she ended up buying three of the four larger plates. Jean is a widow and enjoys fly fishing, so when a friend "conned" her into volunteering for the Conclave, she agreed. She ended up having so much fun. She was darling and we enjoyed getting to know her better before the Conclave was over. It turns out that she lives in Loveland, and also loves The Master's Art Gallery that I wrote about in an earlier blog.
Steve taught a one-day class on designing fly plates at the Conclave, and was also one of the featured fly-tiers who demonstrated for Conclave attendees some of the techniques of fly-tying. Because Steve's scientific specialty was aquatic entomology, he has always has a greater than casual interest in the insects that the dry flies are made to imitate.

Yet another thing Steve is known for in the Federation is his custom-designed, hand-held wooden bobbins, used to hold the thread while tying the artificial flies. He has never sold one of his bobbins (they are truly a "labor of love"), and many tiers have come up with some pretty ingenious ploys to con Steve out of one of them. The opportunity to spend time with my hubby is the highlight of the trip for me. In addition, we enjoy cultivating the many friendships from all over the world that we've made over a lifetime in this organization. The organization is full of fun and very TALENTED people. People like Gary Borger, who wrote not only this quote on fly tying, but who writes and presents beautiful prose on nature at its best. (It was Gary's son Jason who REALLY did the fly casting depicted in the movie A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT.) People like Oscar Felieu (from FL by way of Chile), who not only ties beautiful flies, but who entertains us each year at the BBQ with his fabulous (professional opera) voice. He's as charming as he is beautiful! Dave Ruimveld is another human being who is as nice as he is talented. (Check out his website at www.davidruimveldstudio.com.) We've known Dave since his two girls were very young, and we looked forward to hearing an update every year. With the older daughter now in college, they no longer join their dad at Conclave, and it ages us to think they could be that old!
We have spent an inordinate amount of time participating in Federation activities at the local, regional, and national levels, and that time has been richly rewarded with friendships and experiences too numerous to mention. Our grandchildren are just beginning to fish and we hope they will enjoy the sport and everything associated with it as much as we have/are.

Ingenuity Reaps Dividends

I was blessed to have the opportunity to design the retirement home we moved into a little over three years ago. I'm also blessed to have a husband who does professional matting and framing as a hobby (I say "hobby" but he also volunteers many of his efforts for the Federation of Fly Fishers, and he and our friend Darby have raised well in excess of $100,000 for youth education and conservation projects with the 3-D plates they have designed and donated). This is all to say that in our home we have, both upstairs and downstairs, 18-foot gallery walls in our wide hallways. Steve framed 18 beautiful butterfly prints for the upstairs gallery wall, and had them ready to hang when we moved in in 2006. (I was involved in helping to choose the type of mats and frames I wanted, and in hanging the pictures which took the two us the better part of a morning.) (I want to add a little disclaimer about the photos; my granddaughter said the walls look "pink" in the pictures, and so they do. But they are not. They are a European "stucco" color and, in fact, the walls have a very rough plaster finish which also fails to show up in the pictures. Sorry.)
I knew I wanted the gallery wall in the downstairs reserved for family photos, but I also knew I wanted "A PLAN." It has taken me three years to formulate "my plan," and now that I've decided what I want, I'm sooooooooooo excited! I will take "before and after" pictures and do a blog when I have the project finished to show the end result. I'm mentioning it now because in the process of sorting through old family photos and working on the wall, I've come across several things that "speak" to me, and I want to record them for posterity's sake (or perhaps just simply for my own sake).

The photograph of my husband and his sister Marilyn reminded me of the following story that I wrote just before Steve's parents passed away (Mom in January and Dad in March of 2005).

Ingenuity Reaps Dividends

My husband Steve and I recently took an unscheduled trip to Utah, following the hospitalization of his elderly father and the word that his father would not be able to return home upon being dismissed from the hospital. The purpose for our trip was to help Steve’s parents—John and Helen (“Mom” and “Dad”)—make the transition from their home of many years to an assisted-living facility, and to honor their request that we make a new home for Fresca, their two-year-old Chihuahua. (Taking Fresca seemed a small thing to do to give Steve’s parents some piece of mind. How much trouble could one, eleven- pound dog be, after all?) A move of this nature evokes a great deal of emotion and causes many a “trip down memory lane.”

I asked my mother-in-law (Helen) how old my husband was when they purchased their home. She responded that he was five, meaning my in-laws had lived in the same home for 58 years! Remembering some of the stories Helen had told me, I asked her to verify a few facts and figures so I could records some of this for posterity, hoping that our children and grandchildren will someday be as interested in tales of their ancestors as I am in hearing about my parents and grandparents when they were young.
One story in particular has become a favorite because it demonstrates Helen’s qualities of industry and ingenuity, admirable characteristics she passed on to my husband.

John was serving in World War II and Helen at that time had two young children, Steve and his sister Marilyn, two years his junior. John received only $100 per month military pay which he sent to Helen to cover housing, food, clothing, medical expenses, transportation, and anything else his family needed. Among the things Helen did to earn extra money (and also to save money) were picking raspberries, sewing, and raising a garden.

In June of 1942 (just a year after my husband was born), the Ward Production Board ordered that family sewing machine production be stopped inasmuch as materials such as iron, steel, aluminum and copper were needed for the War effort. In addition, sales of factory dewing machines to the public were frozen and the machines were used for stitching tents, tarpaulins, ignition pads, clothing, parachute harnesses, and other items in support of the War effort. This order was in effect until July 1945, and allowed only for limited production of repair parts and needles. (Information obtained from the Singer website.) This resulted in a shortage of sewing machines and sewing machine parts to families at a time when they desperately needed them. Helen recognized in this situation an opportunity to help not only her family but others, as well.

Helen had a good sewing machine and was an accomplished seamstress. Many were anxious to retain her services to sew articles of clothing for themselves or their family members; others just needed to have button holes added to items they had constructed. Helen said that at times there would be a line of people waiting on her front porch to have buttonholes added to garments they had sewn. Sometimes customers wanted to have returned to them any fabric left over from the articles Helen sewed for them; others told her that she could keep the remnants. Little did they know how adept Helen was at turning those remnants into attractive clothing for her growing children.

Helen, who later earned the certification “Master Gardener,” and who for most of her life has been actively involved in garden clubs and in judging floral competitions, even as a young mother possessed a “green thumb.” She raised several things in her garden that were appealing to her neighbors as well as to her family. In fact, Helen learned quickly that her neighbors found it hard to resist a 4-year-old “salesman,” pulling behind him a wagon that was full to the brim of ripe tomatoes, crisp green beans, corn on the cob, and other irresistibly fresh produce. More than once, Steve sold everything in the wagon, and returned home for restocking, so he could venture out again. At that young age, he was not allowed to cross the street, but he seemed to have plenty of customers with the “legal” boundaries of his entrepreneurial activities. The neighbors must particularly have enjoyed seeing Steve coming with his wagon when he was dressed in one of the costumes his mother had made for him, such as the Indian costume complete with moccasins and a feather headband, or (as in the above picture) in the pint-sized sailor suit sent by his father who was serving in the Navy.

By means of these creative efforts, not only was Helen able to supplement the $100 per month military pay with income sufficient to meet the needs of their family, but by the time John returned from WWII, Helen surprised him by having saved $2,000 for a down payment on a home. The same home they have lived in the past 58 years! Helen said they paid $22,000 for the home. She added that there had been another house they looked at and liked by the asking price was $25,000 and that was “way out of (their) price range.”

John and Helen have not yet sold this home of 58 years and, should a miracle happen, there’s a chance they might be able to return to it in the spring. Chances are, though, that this chapter is coming to a close, and it will soon be necessary to bid farewell to this place we’ve all known as “home.” Knowing this caused us to look a bit differently at the home when we pulled out of the driveway recently to head back east. (I might add that I had one very calm, seemingly content Chihuahua on my lap. I could not know until later than the tranquilizer the Vet had administered had reduced this admittedly handsome dog to a “civilized” state.) The trip down memory lane also caused me to suggest to Helen that “when the time comes,” we would like to make a new home for the little wagon filled with flowers in her back yard. The same little wagon that carried “FRESH PRODUCE FOR SALE” so many years ago. Likely, this aged and “well-cured” little wagon will be easier to contain than a two-year-old Chihuahua with Attention Deficit, Hyperactive Disorder. We do love Steve’s parents, and we’re determined to love Fresca, too. She’s really not defective; her “wagger,” her “licker,” and her “wetter” work exceptionally well. Just a little more time and we should have it down pat . . .
(written 9 November 2004)

Notes added 18 June 2009: Helen passed away on 18 January 2005, and John just two months later, so the trip we made to UT in October of 2004 was, in fact, the last time we would visit Steve’s parents in their home. They were married 67 years, most of which were spent in that home.

And speaking of Fresca, my friend Kathy’s mother had one small dog and was looking for a second as a companion to the first. Both Kathy and her mother are dog lovers and we knew Fresca would be loved, IF it were a good match (she loves to rule the roost). Indeed, it was a match made in heaven. Kathy’s mother is similar in age to Helen, so Fresca felt right at home, and she and Snoopy get along famously. Fresca gained a home similar to the one she had, along with a new playmate, and Steve and I gained PEACE (ah, sweet peace). Neither Steve nor I thought his Mother would mind. Don’t you just love it when everybody wins?!!!!

Ah! A Solution . . .

It didn't take me long after meeting my Mother-in-Law ("Mom") to figure out where my hubby got his creativity! There's little he tries that he can't do well and the same was true for his Mother (we lost both of Steve's parents in 2005). She was a "Master Gardener," a good cook, sewed beautifully, and loved all sorts of crafts. She owned her own kiln and like to create her own pottery designs.

When Mom died and we cleaned out their home, there were dozens and dozens of pots she had made. We brought several home with us including a couple of rather unusual collections. I chose several tiny pots in assorted colors for the grandchildren's room, as a reminder of their great grandmother. One of the tiny pots is home to Ky's lost teeth, once the Tooth Fairy has paid her dues.

The other unusual collection is pictured below. The pots are more contemporary in design than is our home; nevertheless, I liked them because Mom designed them. I was determined that I would figure out something to do with them besides just display them. They work well for dried flower arrangements but, due to the shallow bottoms and "holes," they don't work well for plants. Until now . . .

I hit upon the idea to plant tiny succulents in them which could peek out the various holes. And I decided that despite their being contemporary, they might look cute clustered on the front steps. I'm really enjoying the reminder of Mom when I come up the steps, and seeing the little plants grow. I think Mom would approve.