Spent several hours at Pewaukee Lake yesterday. With the no wake law still in force it's unusually quiet, and if my canoe didn't still have gaping holes in it... So we fish from shore. Very peaceful watching the regatta of around 50 sailboats. Later in the day was Taste of Lake Country and fireworks, but that's another story.

Making every cent of my weekend dollars count I went to Milwaukee today to do several things. I parked under the Hoan Bridge by the river, saving $10.00. I attended a very nice Lutheran service in the Marcus Amphitheater and was allowed into German Fest free, saving $13.00.

German Fest is one of the few festivals I missed last year, (Pride Fest will still have to wait) and I wanted to get there for the food and music. I haven't been to this one before. I wasn't into the music and dancing all that much, but the scents, tastes and sights were overwhelming. Got my first look at the new Harley Stage also. Very cool.

Wandered over to Discovery World next door to use the pass I obtained with the purchase of my Les Paul concert ticket, saving $17.00. I spent the next couple hours in my first tour of the Technology and Aquarium Buildings and the Les Paul House of Sound exhibit!  The Les Paul exhibit, indeed all of Discovery World, was way more than I could've imagined. I enjoyed handling everything, trying it out, playing with things, discovering at my own pace.

Discovery World has to be seen to be believed. When I thought nothing could possibly top the Les Paul exhibit, I had doubts while touring the rest of the building. The bed of nails was one very interesting interactive feature of the Technology Building. Fun to try. The Great Lakes are to scale in the Aquarium complete with interactive locks, rain and storms, and bluegills (not to scale). Also had fun touching the rays and lake sturgeon.

The schooner in the Aquarium Building is a fun play thing. Lots of things to touch, turn and see with many things identified with labels. I played with as many things as I could today and the best thing is I only got yelled at once - at the German Fest Splash Pad for not taking my shoes off!  

A fellow blogger passed away a week ago today. He was born and died in June... with eighty years in between. He led a very interesting and full life, spoke many languages and had friends around the world. 

He began blogging three years ago this month and, while I've read them in the past, the posts have new meaning for me now. He was a somewhat eccentric character, and his writing certainly helps to demystify his complexity.

I travelled 600 miles to Omaha by Greyhound Sunday night for the Monday memorial service. I had wanted to visit while he was still alive but something always came up. The last time I saw him was by way of a Skype video connection. He knew he was dying.

The memorial service was a fitting send off for an extraordinary man. It was the perfect mass with stories and testimony from many of his friends and colleagues. It celebrated his long, fruitful life and quirky nature. There was read a long poem about him, songs and readings he would've enjoyed, tears of joy and sadness... and plenty of humor. If I live to be a hundred, I will not again witness such a wondrous mass for as unique an individual.

I was to return to Waukesha the following day, so while there I had to explore the Iowa dish antenna farm known as SCOLA started by him. It's an imposing sight in the middle of an unimposing cornfield. Huge dishes sprout from the fertile soil like trees in Arthur C. Clarke's imagination. The bowls in the corn stand ready to accept flakes of information. The studio digests programming from around the world and spoon feeds it to subscribers via a regular schedule. (SCOLA used to be seen on cable in the Waukesha area several years ago. It was the channel with the foreign news broadcasts.)

Before I left Tuesday, I wanted to sign the guestbook for the room on the Creighton campus I was staying. It was started in the late 1980's, and as I paged through it I wondered if I'd see him mentioned -- he had taught at Creighton for many years. Right there on the second page, a note from a Frenchman visiting SCOLA, thanking Father Lubbers, SJ, my uncle, for the hospitality.    

My Uncle Lee was uncommon and we had a lot in common. He loved to book shop, more than he'd ever have time to read, it seemed. He gave me a enormous "The Last Whole Earth Catalog" and "The Zen of Running" years ago. He left me his well-used "Roget's International Thesaurus" which I will use in blogging and used for this one.

He took the nieces and nephews skiing many times, and these are favorite memories. It took Lee's enthusiasm to get teenagers out of bed before dawn on a freezing winter vacation day, cook us a hot breakfast of grits, drive for miles to the ski hills on snow-covered roads, and ski all day even when it was coldest. Three times he took us skiing out West and you will see skiing and mountains prominent in his art from that period.

After Uncle Lee's brother died in the 1960s his sister, my mother, began an Easter egg hunt tradition. It was the first big holiday after the plane crash and she wanted to do something to help the five orphaned kids get through it. Again my uncle's enthusiasm took over and he really, really, enjoyed hunting for his own colored eggs well into his 60s.

It was always fun seeing my uncle for holidays. He'd share stories and ideas from his travels and get us to try foods and drink we were unfamiliar with. He liked strong, black coffee and liked sweets and French foods, especially cheeses.

I could go on and on about his art, his marrying us and baptizing our baby. About a trip to Missouri for an antenna. About sailing ... Maybe later. 

My uncle began the art department at Creighton University and is still instructing even in death. His body was donated to science. 

I share this machine with two teenagers and a cat, so that could explain why I haven't been doing a lot of writing lately. Fortunately, Pepi just stays put where it's warm atop the monitor, or I'd still be waiting. Now that I have the time though, thought I'd talk about what I did last weekend.

Much of what I do on weekends I hear about first on WaukeshaNOW, and last week was no exception. I find that the site's community events description is a little more in depth and easier to access than the alternative.

I went to the UWW play God Willing: A Twology not because I'd heard it was good or even because I'd heard of it before. I checked it out because it promised to be different. Two avante-garde plays in one with seating on the stage for the audience. I won't try to describe it because I can't. I can't relate it to anything I've seen before. It was entertaining, serious and thought-provoking. It was intimate and dark, quiet and loud. I guess you could say it was a good play for the university because they tried something outside "normal" and it was a good experiment. 

Saturday morning I joined my confirmation group for a service project at Jeremy House, a homeless shelter for individuals with mental issues on Moreland Blvd. We prepared breakfast for the guests and learned more about the facility. It was a worthwhile experience for all of us, and fun too.

After mass last Sunday I interviewed candidates for confirmation to see if they had any thoughts, good or bad, on the whole process and to make sure they grew spiritually in this last year of preparation. Tomorrow is confirmation rehearsal.

Later Sunday I attended Waukesha Choral Union's production of Handel's Messiah while not realizing what I came to see and hear. I penciled the Carroll College event on my calendar because WaukeshaNOW made it sound good and, the best part, it was free. I arrived after the last of the programs had been handed out and, because I've never been to "Messiah" before, didn't recognize it. Bumping into a friend at intermission, I mentioned how religious all the pieces were. "Well, it is Messiah. The whole concert is related to the bible, starting with the Old Testament and ending with the New." She showed me the program and every aria, recitation and chorus was straight from a bible verse or psalm. Up to this point the one thing I knew about "Messiah" was the Hallelujah Chorus. Two and a half hours after the start of this concert I was much better informed. It's a monumental production with orchestra, pipe organ, soloists with community members joining the chorus. The concert was fully funded by donations from individuals and businesses. It was director Gregory Carpenter's last production of Messiah. His last production with the Choral Union will be in celebration of Mozart's 250th birthday: Mozart's Requiem at St. Joe's Church in Waukesha, May 4th, with orchestra and soloist. I'm going to pencil this one in too, and hope I don't forget why.  

By now Mrs. Lee is wondering if I'm seeing someone because of being gone so much last weekend. (The family is always invited, but my tastes often differ from theirs.) I later attended Vespers, or evening prayer, at St. William. It's something I've not done before and my family wouldn't have enjoyed either. It was an interesting mix of hymns, readings, reflection and incense. All the prayer without the hassle.

After Vespers I joined 80 to 90 others from my parish to learn about Judaism and Jewish traditions in a Seder meal, something I've wanted to try but never had the chance. I felt this Lent was a good time to understand the roots of my own faith and this was a wonderful way to do it. The nicest Jewish couple, Sherry and David, led us on this trip to the past. Seder, the Passover meal, is full of lessons and history, details, ancestors, special diet and ways of preparation. I'd have to say everything had meaning and relevance and the meal was history come to life. Everything was performed in order, involved the oldest to the youngest, was entertaining and lasted about 2-1/2 hours. The education we received and meeting Sherry and David was wonderful. This meal was far more involved than any other meal I've shared, and I would happily do it again.  

The theme of the weekend seemed to lean toward religion. Not a bad thing with Holy Week beginning tomorrow.

First of all, I'd like to say thank you for reading my blog and for the feedback. I really appreciate having this excuse to get out and be more involved in the community I love. This is good writing practice, you give me that opportunity, and I thank you.

You've just been palanca'd!

I spent the weekend with dozens of seventeen year old confirmation candidates and other group leaders at a beautiful camp a couple miles from Monches. Camp Whitcomb/Mason is a huge Boys and Girls Club camp on Lake Keesus and is nearly 100 years old. Fortunately, I'm becoming more and more familiar with the camp -- I've been there several times with school -- fortunate because it has so much to offer and because of it's serene location. I love it.

One of the first things we did at camp was to create a palanca bag, or planka bag as they pronounced it. We had earlier picked adjectives for our names to use in an icebreaking memory game. The game grew increasingly more difficult as it progressed around the circle and I was glad I was just the third one. Toward the end of the circle the kids had to remember 30 or so difficult names and adjectives such as Loud Linda, Lethargic Leo, Touchable Tom, Witty Wes, etc. Because camp is located just a few paces from where I did so much hot air balloon crewing this summer, I chose b'loony Brien for my adjective.

Everyone decorated a paper bag with their adjectives, names, interests and whatever else identifies and defines them. Some of the bags were true works of art, many were cute or funny. Sports and religion were on quite a few. Many bags accurately reflected the adjective and many adjectives acurately reflected the people. Once the bags were made, hundreds of paper slips were provided for us to use in little messages. We were encouraged to say nice things in notes and place them in the bags.

Got Palanca?  The concept was new to me but I caught on soon enough. I learned that the more I showed appreciation for others the more I myself appreciated. Telling others how helpful or kind they are is addictive and it didn't take me long to start palanca'ing strangers. Because we spent the whole weekend together there weren't too many strangers left by Sunday.

Where the best part of the palanca bags may have been reading the notes we received, the best part of the weekend for the kids had to have been the love letters the parents and family secretly sent them. Whether one letter or many, the result was the same: kids, some in tears, learned how much they were really loved, appreciated and supported.

The best part of the weekend for me? Guess.

  

I saw a group of Buddhist monks enter Peking House Restaurant on Grandview Wednesday night. I knew they were in town from William Meyer's photo in the Journal Sentinel a day earlier. Tibetan Buddhist monks were creating a mandala sand painting at WCTC and the public was invited to see the painting or take part in the closing ceremony.

Loaded with blessings and prayer for personal health and healing, the mandala was auspiciously created on 9/11 by ten monks over a total of about 24 hours. WCTC was the right place for this event because it was educational and entertaining. Plus there's a pond on campus. Water is necessary for the last ritual, the dispersal of the sand.

There were many open minds in the Student Lounge during the final blessings and prayers and, though there were periods of singing, drumming and blowing of loud, ten foot horns, there were also solemn moments of chanting. I prayed my cell didn't ring. Actually, I didn't hear any cell ring, which was very good because the chanting obviously requires concentration.

About an hour after the closing ceremony began, one of the monks slowly began taking down the three foot wide round mandala sand painting. After all the colored sand was swept into the middle of the table the monks distributed half to the audience in plastic bags, a prayerful reminder of healing made more meaningful by this week's 9/11 anniversary. The rest of the sand was placed in a container to be poured into the pond.

Several of us processed behind the monks and the ten foot horns, past students eating lunch in the cafeteria, to outside. We stood across the pond from them while they concluded their prayers and watched while they dropped flowers in the water. The sand from the mandala is cast into flowing water to spread healing energy throughout the world, but it was so windy Thursday that I didn't see any of it hit the water. The sand was dispersed to the wind. So I ask; did you feel any different Thursday afternoon?

Carroll College has been on my radar a lot more since I had the pleasure of experiencing "Christmas at Carroll," (see 12/3 blog) but their latest event almost went unnoticed by me. I have the Carroll Arts Calendar and it wasn't in there. I didn't see it in the paper. As a matter of fact it wasn't even listed on the Carroll website. The only way I found out about a joint choirs concert Sunday was by clicking on the Weekender on WaukeshaNOW. But they didn't have to advertise, First Presbyterian Church, where it was held, was packed.

It was appropriate to hold the joint efforts of the Concert Choir, Women's Ensemble, Vocal Collective and Chorale in an historic building. Not only did the music span the centuries from the Renaissance to present but just a couple hours earlier, in a Sunday homily at my church, I heard the pastor speak about feeling God in arts, architecture and music.

We knew we were in for quite a special afternoon when we noticed the usher wearing a tux. It turns out this busy fellow, Timothy C., also played piano and sang tenor in the Chorale, directed and sang in the Collective and directed the Concert Choir. The biggest applause of the day was for a song Tim harmonized in with the other men of the Vocal Collective, the 1950s song, Silhouettes.

The song I enjoyed most? Requiem, a song written to remember the thousands of lost lives after the 2004 tsunami. All the members of the Women's Ensemble stood in a single line across the front of the sanctuary and half way down each side. It's the most beautiful, meaningful song performed with such feeling that it momentarily took my breath away. A free will collection was taken at intermission in support of the choirs and if I could hear just that one song performed again I'd gladly give more than just another three dollars.

So, there's always something good to do in the area if you know where to look. And when it comes to Carroll College something to do is always exciting, professional... and inexpensive.