Escaping the Cold and a Trip West

It was cold last week. The much touted Polar Vortex that swirled over much of the country sent us into a deep freeze here. We never broke the single digits during the day and at night we were well below zero. Cold was the dominant feature of the week until Thursday when things warmed up a little—and by a little, I mean 20°. We had to be constantly attentive to the cold and the trouble that it can bring. If we are not careful, the water pipes in this old house will freeze. We know that from sad experience. So through most of the week, we had to keep cabinet doors open and faucets dripping day and night. I kept the wood stove fed and fiery. We burned through half the wood we had stacked on the back porch. I had to carry hot water down to the barn to thaw the lids on the waterers before I could open and fill them. I wore thermals and thick socks and fleece lined everything and added more layers when I had to go outside. And I only went outside when it was absolutely necessary. I don't know how people who live in cold places like Alaska or Canada or Russia can stand it.

This was Monday's weather map and it didn't get any better until Thursday.

The best seat in the house on a cold day.

To escape the cold, at least mentally, I continued my alphabetical music binge with the "M" composers. I started with Mozart on Monday. I needed Mozart. He was my first love in the world of classical music. He was one of the composers introduced to me by the Walt Disney Presents the Great Composers album my parents gave me as a Christmas gift in 1967. That's where I first heard the beginning notes of  Eine Kleine Nacht Musik and was immediately smitten. After that, while browsing through my parents' record collection, I came across a full recording of it and also a set of the Divertimenti that I listened to over and over again. Being so young, only nine, I didn't really know anything about the music except that I loved it. Later, in my teenage years, I learned more and loved more. In my 20s I went through a Mozart craze. I read two biographies, Alfred Einstein's Mozart: His Character, His Works and Marcia Davenport's Mozart. I began collecting records. Looking at my record collection now (I have a large collection of vinyl records and currently no way to listen to them) and my list of mp3 files, I have more Mozart than any other composer. Only Bach comes near to him in volume. I started Monday with Eine Kleine Nacht Musik for nostalgia's sake, and then went on through several of the divertimenti. Then I turned to the pieces that, out of all of Mozart, I love the most, the Piano Concertos. It was a fabulous and uplifting way to spend a very cold day. Thanks again Mozart!

Mozart, painted by his brother-in-law, Joseph Lange.

Tuesday morning, it was -21° when I woke up. Even with the wood stove going full blast, the furnace stayed on all night and through most of the day. When I went out to do the morning chores, the boards on the front porch popped as I walked across them. The back porch and woodshed windows were decorated with frost. The sky was crystal clear. Before dawn, the stars were brilliant. When the sun came up, although it was bright, it seemed to have no power to warm.

My thermometer on Tuesday morning.

Frosty sunrise.

My "M" music on Tuesday was Mendelssohn. My love of Mendelssohn began on Christmas Day 1971, when my parents gave me a recording of his Violin Concerto.  Later that day, I went to my bedroom, it was in the basement of our house in Ravenna, and put the record on my little record player, and sat at my desk to listen. I didn't really know what to expect. I was swept away, caught up in the beauty of what I still consider to be the greatest violin concerto ever written. I still have that record. It's pretty much worn out from being listened to hundreds of times. After that introduction to Mendelssohn, I went on to explore and to relish all of his music. Jakob Ludwig Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy (1809-1847) was of Jewish descent, but was baptized and raised a Christian. He, like Mozart, was a child prodigy, but his parents did not display (exploit?) his talents like Mozart's father did. Like Mozart, Mendelssohn died young, just 38 years old (Mozart died aged 35). In his short life, Mendelssohn wrote symphonies, concertos, piano music, oratorios, and chamber music, all of it beautiful. When I was sixteen, I went to hear a performance of his oratorio Elijah at the Rockefeller Chapel at the University of Chicago. It was amazing. I have many recordings of Mendelssohn's music. On Tuesday, again out of a sense of nostalgia, I began with that amazing Violin Concerto. He only wrote one, and it is perfect. Then I went on to his Symphony No. 3, the "Scottish" symphony, followed by other delightful pieces like the incidental music he wrote for Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was a warming way to spend a very cold day.

Felix Mendelssohn.

Not to be outdone, on Wednesday morning we hit -22°. It was another bright, sunny, bitterly cold morning. I wondered why we use the term bitter for extreme cold. I looked it up, of course. The word bitter comes from Old German and seems to apply to things unpleasant, sharp, or cruel. And all of those adjectives apply to -22°. I retreated from the cold into music by my "M" composer for that day, Mahler. I discovered Gustav Mahler late in my musical explorations. I was in my twenties and on a fin-de-siécle binge. If you don't know the term, fin-de-siécle refers (according to Britannica online) to "the late 19th-century literary and artistic climate of sophistication, escapism, extreme aestheticism, world-weariness, and fashionable despair." I was reading Carl E. Schorske's book Fin-de-siécle Vienna, and I found all of it fascinating. He told of a world about to be shattered by World War I, a time when old ideas and conventions were being challenged and rejected and replaced by new "modern" ideas. It was the era of art nouveau and Gustav Klimt, Sigmund Freud, Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg, and Gustav Mahler. Until then, I'd never heard any of Mahler's music. I made a trip to my favorite Tower Records and came home with his first four symphonies. I was enthralled. I went on to explore all his works. On Wednesday, I listened to Symphony No. 1, 2, and 9.  The final movement of Symphony No. 2 "Resurrection" always gives me goosebumps and brings tears to my eyes. It's powerful music. Mahler, like Mendelssohn, was of Jewish ancestry. He also died at a relatively young age, just 50. He is in my top ten favorite composers list.

Gustav Mahler.

After a week of hunkering down in the cold, things changed drastically on Thursday. The weather warmed a little, a nice change, but the big change was that Stacey and I left Gold and the cold and Pennsylvania all together. Geoffrey and Joni had some accumulated miles they needed to use, so they flew us out to visit and to attend our grandson Henry's baptism. That morning, while preparing to leave, I continued my "M" binge. I realized that I wouldn't have time to listen to much more, so I skipped Montiverdi, sorry Claudio, and went on to Mussorgsky. While packing my duffel bag, watering my houseplants, and doing all the little obsessive things I do as I fret about traveling, I listened to Pictures at an Exhibition. It sounded very Russian and appropriate for a cold day. Then I broke my binge pattern and went on to listen to Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheharazade, still Russian, but fabulous, warm, and exotic. Stacey arrived home at noon and we packed the car and headed to Buffalo and our flight to Utah. 

Our trip did not go as planned. We arrived in Buffalo in plenty of time to catch our 5:30 flight. But Buffalo being Buffalo, after boarding and waiting for a while, they canceled our flight because of snow. We got off the plane and stayed the night at a hotel near the airport. The next day, Friday, we got a flight out at noon. We had a short layover in Atlanta and then flew on to Salt Lake City. It was after 5:00 p.m. when we arrived. Geoffrey picked us up at the airport and on the way to his house, we stopped at In-N-Out Burger for dinner, which was a great treat.

Waiting in Buffalo for a flight that got canceled.

At the hotel we stayed at in Buffalo.

Flying west at last.

Dinner with Geoffrey.

By the time we got to Geoffrey's house, Josiah and Vanessa, who drove down from Idaho, had arrived. Joni and the children, who had been out shopping, arrived shortly after. We spent a fun evening together, chatting and playing games. 

Playing games on Friday night.

I had planned, before Buffalo, snow, and delayed flights intervened, to spend Friday with my friend Jay. Way back in 1978, an astounding 47 years ago, Jay and I met in the Missionary Training Center in Provo. It was called the LTM back then, the Language Training Mission. We were in a group of missionaries headed to serve a two year mission to Thailand. Two weeks into our language training, because of visa problems, part of that group, a group that included me and Jay, were switched to serve in Japan instead. Although Jay and I were never companions during those two years, we became fast friends and have remained so through all these years. We had planned, on our Friday, with Geoffrey to accompany us, to go to the Loveland Living Planet Aquarium in Draper, Utah, then to an Asian market, and then to lunch at In-N-Out. None of that happened. We never did meet up. We postponed our plans for another day.

Saturday was a great day. That morning our grandson Henry was baptized. All of his grandparents, plus aunts, uncles, and cousins, and Tante Kathy Birch were there to witness it. During the service, Stacey gave a talk on baptism and Henry's Grandma Richards gave a talk on the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Geoffrey performed the baptism and the confirmation. It was a great experience.

Geoffrey's family at Henry's baptism.

All the family at the baptism.

Henry with his grandparents.

After the baptism, we had another great experience. Joni's father is an ordained patriarch. After the baptism, Geoffrey, Joni, Stacey, and I, got to listen as Ellie, Geoffrey and Joni's oldest daughter and our oldest grandchild, received her patriarchal blessing from her Grandfather Richards. It was a very special experience and a wonderful blessing. After that, we had lunch and visited at Geoffrey's house. We were going to dinner at Joni's sister's house that evening, but we had a little time, so as a treat for me, some of us went to the Asian market nearby.

Me, Stacey, and Kathy.

Geoffrey and Josiah launching snowballs with Geoffrey's air gun.

Geoffrey, Gwen, and Josiah in a light saber battle.

It was fun walking around in the Asian market, looking at the food from all over Asia, not just Japan. While we were there, there was a dragon dance performance.

At the Asian market.

Ellie with the dragon dancers.

That evening, we went to dinner at Joni's sister's house and then spent the rest of the evening at Geoffrey's playing games.

Dinner on Saturday.

Games on Saturday night.

Sunday was church, meals, chatting, games. Josiah and Vanessa left after lunch to return to Idaho. It was so great to see them. Then Monday rolled around and we made our way back home again. We said good-bye to Joni, Ellie, Gwen, and Henry. Geoffrey drove us to the airport where we said good-bye to him. Then we flew, first to Detroit, then to Buffalo, and then drove home. We arrived here at 8:00 p.m. We were happy to be home again. Miriam and Hannah did a great job keeping the home fires burning, literally, while we were gone.

Saying good-bye to Geoffrey.

And now it's Tuesday morning. And it's snowing. School is on a two hour delay. Our trip west and back again already seems like a dream as I sit in my usual place here, surrounded by all the normal things, with a typical January snow falling. It was so nice to escape for a few days. But it's also nice to be home again.