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  • ivanildotrindade 10:42 pm on January 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , farm house, Farmhouse, , hanging things, History, hooks, horse barn, hustler, new things, Norman Rockwell, Ohio, old farm house, old houses, old things, World War III   

    Unmovable Hooks 

    I am living temporarily in an old farm house. The house is 150 years old and though everything works pretty well, it is still 150 years old — no amount of make up can hide. At night, because the house is heated by oil, you hear noises coming out of the metal plates on the floor – and there is no pattern, no logic, and no apparent rhythm to the cacophony of sounds.

    The house sits behind a cluster of newer homes, not on the street, but back about one-tenth of a mile, as you follow a gravel road. The GPS lady can never find us. It has an old basement that looks like a dungeon and a red barn that used to house animals. The barn may be as old as the house, I am not sure, but it has the character of a well-built structure that might survive World War III. With enough hard work and artistry, it could be converted into a quaint little house where the occupants might live happily hereafter.

    Down to the east there is a farm, which is part of the property. It is an 8-acre parcel of land, I am told. A beautiful descending field takes you to the other, where a dog is always barking and I am told that people go hunting for deer and walking on Sunday afternoons when the weather is nice. I can’t wait to go there some time in the future, but I will stay away from the dog’s path.

    Though the house is small and we are not even totally moved in yet — our stuff is not coming until 1/25; Though we have no garage and the sink in the bathroom has only one basin, we love the element of simplicity our lives gained since we moved there. We love the quietness and the fact that our neighbors are far enough they will not complain about our two dogs. We love the beautiful mornings when the sun comes up against the fields. And we love not having to pay mortgage, most of all (it will be better once our house in Ohio is sold!).

    But by far the most peculiar thing about this house is none of the things I mentioned. It is rather the unusual number of hooks and hanging gadgets of all sorts and ages I have found around the house. There are original metal hooks painted over multiple times in years past. There are some shiny new metal strips, old nails of all sizes and shapes, hung at different heights over walls, doors, on the sides of cabinets and the showers.

    This interesting phenomenon has made me ask the question: Why do we have so many of these objects in our homes? Obviously, to hang things. We hang pictures, calendars, dish towers, coats, hats, charts, boards, bags, belts, etc. But why do we hang thing? I guess we do it because we love to hang things because the stuff we hang gives us a sense of permanence in a place. They help us build a history, make memories, leave a trace. The proximity to things give us more of a sense of home, I guess.

    The things we hang say a lot about the kind of person we are. Whose picture goes on the wall of the living room? What type of calendar — Norman Rockwell paintings or Hustler magazine’s? Clean or dirty towels? Expensive or cheap china? Diplomas or Birth certificates?

    But we also hang things to try to make our lives easy. If I hang my coat by the door, I don’t have to look for it deep within the house if I have to go somewhere in a hurry. We are too busy to waste even a couple of minutes looking for something that is not obviously in front of us, so we transform what could be a beautiful, plain, empty wall into a utilitarian space always at my service.

    But life is so transitory and things pass away. No amount of hanging will prevent you from having to part with things. And your organizational scheme will some day fail you. We have all experienced the pain associated with a relocation and the feeling of empty walls that had for long been occupied with stuff. The pristine, bright paint in the space where the picture once was serves as a vivid reminder of how new things used to be.

    I can’t help but think that the only secure place to “hang” things is the wall around your heart. If you have hooks there, they will remain with you no matter how far you go. So I encourage you to cultivate your heart with wisdom and love. Wisdom is the application of solid principles to daily living. The Book of Proverbs says that a healthy reverence for God is the beginning of wisdom. I couldn’t agree more. And love is the irresistible force to accept even when logic pushes you the other way. “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

    Wisdom and love will never need to be unhooked from your soul. Happy travels.

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

    • lionjudah 12:49 pm on January 18, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Pastor, Ivanildo, what a illustrive musing about hooks in the “Farm Camp!!” You are in Pennsylvania now, one of the 13 original colonies! One connects to yesteryear in an old Pennsylvania farm homestead, which I have affectionatly dubbed, your “Farm Camp!”

      Sylvia and I have spent a number of years of our lives in fasinating old houses. With these, you have rodents, flying things and creeping things. Not always pleasant, but it goes with the teritory. As do dungeon like basements which harbor all of the above mentioned residents.

      At the funeral of Ammon Stoltzfus, one of Sylvia’s many cousins, it was mentioned that he wished to build a house of all doors, because then there would be enough room for everyone to drop their shoes and other items that folks wanted to leave by the doorways. I suppose that goes for hooks as well. When we move into a house I am always grateful for ever waiting hooks for my wraps–that is coats, handbags, etc. In new houses one always hesitates to make a new hole in the wall or your landlord wraps your knucles if you do!

      • ivanildotrindade 3:14 pm on February 2, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        we, thankfully, have great landlords. a house of all doors — i love that concept. and with as few pieces of furniture inside as possible. open spaces fascinate me, even if it is indoors. and considering how much time we spent indoors, we should find the most comfortable and amiable environment possible inside our homes. i have a friend who calls himself “an indoor enthusiast.” i would’t go that far…

  • ivanildotrindade 9:31 pm on February 27, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: affordable bed and breakfast, gourmet breakfast, Hampton Inn, house on harmar hill, marietta, Ohio   

    Good News/Bad News 

    I have good news and bad news: the good news is that through a series of what could only be called miraculous events, I now have a very reliable and new vehicle to drive, one which will last us a long while. I feel very undeserving and humbled… Well, now the bad news: we wanted so badly to drive our new car to Tennessee but ended up only getting as far as the Ohio border with West Virginia. 🙂

    No, nothing wrong with the vehicle. Two phone calls changed our itinerary. One from the lodge where we were going to stay saying that they were suddenly expecting up to six inches of snow and we may not be able to get up to the 3,000 feet altitude where the lodge was located. We decided  we would go anyway. We figured we could stay in Johnson City, TN, and drive up the next day after they cleared the roads. Then another phone call: the mother of the counselor/life coach we were going to meet with fell ill and he had to travel to another city to be involved with funeral and funeral plans.

    So we only made as far as West Virginia. How exciting! We decided to stay at a Hampton Inn on Sunday night. We didn’t like it, which is rare — there is a hardly a Hampton we haven’t liked. So on Monday morning we checked out, not knowing what we were going to do. We drove to the historic part of Marietta, OH, and from a distance I spotted a hill. I wanted to get there. I told my wife, “Maybe we will find a nice bed and breakfast up there.” We came back to the car, changed our shoes and trekked all the way to the top of that big hill. And the first house we saw was a beautiful Victorian home over a hundred years old. We decided to check it out and found ourselves inside this magnificent property which houses The House on Harmar Hill, a beautiful, affordable, stress-free bed and breakfast in a totally unexpected place. We walked back to our car, had a nice dinner, and returned to spend the night in this splendid place. We loved it.

    The next morning, we enjoyed a lovely breakfast, got in the car, and drove home. End of lesson. On Wednesday, I was back at work. But I did manage to keep my phone and computers off most of the time. And I enjoyed the times of solitude and the walks with my wife. Vacation will have to wait. Life cannot. We are now looking for another life coach/counselor. Preferably one a little closer to us in Wooster.

    Meanwhile, I will just have to come up with other ways to show off my new car.

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

  • ivanildotrindade 8:50 pm on November 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: California, living in ohio, Ohio, , you know you live in ohio if...   

    My ‘you know you are from Ohio if…'” moment 

    Today I experienced one of those “you know you are from Ohio if…” moments. I cleaned my garage (50% done) and was hauling the trash on the back of my truck. I decided to stop at Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. I went in, got my mocha and came out. Next to my truck was parked a nice Toyota driven by a young lady who was there on the driver’ s seat. When she saw me approaching, she lowered her window and said, “You dropped a bag back there on Milltown Road. I didn’t know if it was important.”

    I laughed and said, “Oh no, it was all trash.” Then I immediately felt bad because I saw that she pulled out of the parking lot quickly. It dawned on me that she had followed me only to tell me that I had dropped a bag. She wasn’t there to order a coffee at all!

    I thought, “How rude of me, I didn’t even say thanks.” I was feeling bad when I noticed that the same young lady was on the same intersection with me — she was turning right, I was turning left. My chance to say thanks. I tried to lower the window but by then the light was turning green and she was moving. I managed to use my horn and give her the thumbs up sign.

    Where else would people take a detour in their destination to tell a perfect stranger that he dropped a bag? It was raining hard, the bed of my truck was not covered, there were bags of mostly paper matter, cardboard boxes. One would be justified to think it was just junk. But no, this nice woman from Ohio had to make sure.

    And stories like that abound. One day I got a call on my cell phone from the front desk person at the church where I work. She asked me if I had been to the outlet mall lately. I said, “No.” She said they had found a wallet with some money in it and a copy of a passport that belonged to someone with my last name. It took me one second for me to figure out: my nephew!

    He was visiting us from Brazil and went to this outlet mall about 30 minutes from Wooster. I called him and he was on his way back home from the outlet. He had not yet noticed he was missing his wallet. He went back, got his wallet with all the contents intact. He couldn’t believe it. Neither could I. But that’s what you get when you live in Ohio.

    Just today I went to the Post Office with my niece and people opened the doors for us; two ladies I had never seen before smiled at us as if we were best friends and one lady asked me if I was waiting to use the self-serve check out lane at the supermarket because I was standing close to the area trying to get my wife on her cell phone — and why certain people have cell phones anyway? The lady said, “I just didn’t want to cut in front of you.”

    I have a theory that it is the severe variations in weather patterns that make people somewhat docile. They all pretty much share the same misery from December to March. They figure if they are mean to each other, they will make life even more miserable… That’s certainly not the only reason but it has to be a factor.

    I lived in California. They have the mountains, the beaches, the beautiful landscape and the famous people. But when it comes to kind people, Ohio is light years ahead of California. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to live here, except, of course, for the freezing weather in the winter.

    Ivanildo C. Trindade

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