Quaker pamphlets

I have spent considerable time stewing about what to do about our Quaker pamphlet. I am pretty sure, since Maurine's passing, that I should go forward with it one way or another. It was one thing she felt strongly about, and so putting it out there is one thing I could do just for her and her memory. The question is, how.

In its present form it is imperfect, to say the least. The best word for it is "rustic," but some people actually kind of like the rustic nature of it. That's why I'm a little undecided. As a printer I know I could probably make it look better, somehow, though obivously I haven't mastered the technique. Part of the problem is that I ended up using pdf's for each page, and the writing came out a little blurry and that made me a little mad. Another problem is that it doesn't always totally line up. I would like the text to have a margin of about an inch on all four sides including the middle, where I need a little leeway to get the staple in there and not have the staple prevent you from reading it. It doesn't need page numbers, but it needs those gutters to be true and more uniform.

In terms of the content, there was some mention that it was not exactly in the right order, or could have been presented differently. I thought I'd think about that for a while, or at least open up the floor and see if anyone has any preference about the way it's presented. I remember thinking Maurine liked it the way it was, but I'm not sure and probably the best way is to just make sure it's how those of us who care want it to be. There is one small typo in it - a the very least I could fix that. There is also the matter of arranging the formatting so it takes up as little space as possible, in a Quakerly stingy way.

I've become confused about the postage issue, and my friend Margaret is right that the postage has gone up considerably. The cost of sending one or two is 60 cents, not 58. But they're also making it harder for me to use media mail, if not impossible, and I have to ask about that. What happens when I'm sending ten? Or twenty? The best way is to make a test run.

I think that's my plan. I'll make a test run, send ten somewhere, see what it costs, and then advertise.

Sound like a plan? Let's try!

report

These days, I need my Quakerism a lot. Quakerism has taught me to enjoy the silence, find my peace, find my center, get direction, do the right thing. I have come to rely on that process and that inner peace, and I need it more than ever.

I counted up forty-four years of raising children, an unnaturally long time. We are at the end of raising our ten. The last ones are a little harder than the first ones. They tend to need you the most right before they become independent, too. I am not sure how all this will pan out.

I can say that our move to Galesburg has been, overall, successful. Our kids are back in school. We have a new community to support us and to support, a new place to call home. Our drive to school is a mile or less, all flat, very well taken care of by the town.

I have not met any Quakers in the area. Basically, I've been too busy. I fully intend to integrate my present Quaker activities (running Cloud Quakers, making Quaker pamphlets) with whatever is happening in the region. I know there's a meeting in Burlington, Iowa, about an hour away. Illinois Yearly Meeting is about an hour the other direction. There are probably meetings in Peoria (40 minutes) or Normal (~70 minutes). I think I'm in a place where I have no excuses for not getting connected.

My problem is that with Cloud Quakers, and all I've been doing (writing and marketing books), I haven't felt like I could take on more responsibility. It has just felt a little overwhelming.

Yet I really am grateful. We're here; we're back in the Midwest; we're holding onto our family and what we have. We're starting over.

praying

I joined a Quaker Prayer Group on Facebook a while back because I figured that praying for people was something I could do, and even wanted to do, and it would only be a matter of time before I'd want people out there praying for me. In fact it makes a huge difference to people if someone out there cares about them, cares enough to pray, and sometimes just knowing someone is out there for you is enough to make you turn the corner toward recovery.

I have never really asked God to change the way a situation would work out. I have always figured that God would do what God wanted to do and nothing I said or asked or even wanted would have that much effect on it. Now I could be wrong about that; if my caring or wanting things to work out makes a difference, then maybe I am underestimating the power of prayer or should simply ask directly for more, ask for money, ask for whatever. But generally when I pray I don't ask. Putting things in the hands of God, I trust God to do what God does and then send my best love to whomever I have chosen to pray for.

Now I've noticed something from the Quaker Prayer site, which is that praying has been enormously good for me. I have not yet been on the receiving end; that is, I have not asked for prayers yet, even once, though I have a lot of dicey situations around here. But just praying for others has made me feel very connected and has given a channel to some of my worry that goes out mostly to my poor children. It has eased the stress somewhat like opening a pressure cooker.

Today someone asked for prayers for a friend on Cape Coral, Florida, who had chosen to remain in their home and now could not be heard from. I did it without question. I kind of bit my tongue and just prayed for them. It is generally my policy not to ask questions, or find more details, or in this case judge them - why did they choose to remain in their home? It was a classic case where a question just stood there waiting to be asked. Someone else may do it, but not me, I'll just pray for them, because now what's done is done, they're there, nobody can hear from them, and who knows what God is doing or even what Hurricane Ian is doing.

This was true during covid as well, when people's knowingly risky behavior put them in harm's way and the rest of us sat here judging them. In the end, I think, judging doesn't help much. Praying does, but it helps mostly me. It's not going to put them out of harm's way or make the water go down in the canal behind their house.

Or maybe it will - who knows?

I read somewhere that there would be another memorial for Maurine Pyle in late September; I believe the 24th. However I went back to find it, amongst my friends' facebook posts, and it was gone.

The problem is, i didn't snag the information when I had it. This would have been a few weeks ago. The memorial will be held in Carbondale, and will be available on zoom; that's all I remember. And I believe I'm right about that date, because it's my son's birthday.

I am grateful the one I organized came out ok. Given some time to reflect, I'm not as self-conscious about it as i was when it came through. All memorials are good, and are an opportunity to remember. Now especially, when everyone's busy, everyone's political, the winds of change are blowing: Time to remember those who came before us.

I will try to recover that information and put it here.

I've been a little discouraged lately, still mourning Maurine (see below), and mired in stupid and petty tech problems with Cloud Quakers. I logged on the other day to CQ, and it wouldn't honor me as host without a "host code," but my zoom password wouldn't work for that, and I didn't have time to dig through my zoom account to find it. It was meeting time! Maybe I should make a habit of logging into the site two or three times a week just to be sure it keeps running.

Then comes the ability to show off my pop art, or anything, for that matter, while I'm up there. I should be able to. I should be able to make a live transcript available also. I have to continue working on that.

Quakers are gathering nationwide. FGC had its gathering in early July; Iowa Yearly is gathering now. I have no idea about Illinois; I think it's already passed. But I'm kind of in despair at missing a lot of these gatherings as well.

There are Quakers, I know, in the Galesburg area. There used to be a meeting here. Ideally I could revive that meeting, or have something, some kind of fellowship in the Galesburg area. I know it's a nice town; it's been good to me already; I'm feeling like I've been called here and am in the best place for myself. But my hands are more than full with CQ and I haven't had the impulse to reach out in any dramatic hurry. We have an exasperating personal situation that has to be worked out before other things will fall into place, I think.

More on that later. I feel the morning light shining through our Galesburg neighborhood, and am grateful to have come this far.

Cloud Quakers hosts a Memorial Service for Maurine Pyle on its zoom, Sun. June 19th, at 5:00 PM Mountain Time (6 in CHI, 7 in NY, 4 in CA) at the zoom location below. I realize that it's both Father's Day and Juneteenth, but hope those who knew and loved her will take some time to attend. It will be followed at 6:00 by the normal Cloud Quaker worship group service, and people are welcome to join either or both. On zoom dial 878 2216 4666, use passcode 382410. Please come! Scroll down for phone dial-in.…

 Thomas Leverett is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.

Topic: Cloud Quakers

Time: Jun 12, 2022 06:00 PM Mountain Time (US and Canada)

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A scene from my most recent book has stuck with me, gotten under my skin, made me reflect a lot. I have taken to researching my ancestors and trying to write biographies that make them seem like stars, and I've started with the ones who were stars. I wrote about Frank Leverett the geologist, and this last book was about Elizabeth Mansfield Irving, the elocutionist.

She was an elocutionist at a time when women generally didn't speak about worldly matters like politics or evolution; at least they didn't go on the lecture circuit and deliver orations of interest. So she found a niche reciting war poetry to Civil War veterans, who came to encampments and reunions mostly to reminisce about the most gruesome war ever. They had been lucky to survive it as so many hadn't; they tended to appreciate life, and a toast, and a good time in the company of friends who had shared their nightmare.

The scene was 1884, in Minneapolis. It was the annual reunion of the Grand Army of the Republic, a veteran's lobbying organization that had become very important in elections in that era. The G.A.R., that year, had taken the step of inviting the women's auxiliary, the Women's Relief Corps, to participate with them in their reunion. Elizabeth was well known in the Women's Relief Corps; it had been started by her friend the poet, Kate Brownlee Sherwood, and Elizabeth had read Kate's poems many times at W.R.C. events. She already had a name for herself as a performance poet before she ever got on the stage in Minneapolis.

In Minneapolis, people were stunned at the hugeness of the crowd; some said 50,000-75,000; some even said 100,000. It was called "largest crowd ever in the northwest" and such things and tested their ability to count people in crowds. It was a huge amphitheater, and she had to use a strong voice to reach everyone, but she did. She read one of Kate's poems and then, as an encore, read another. Often the generals who the poems were about were in the audience; that was the case for the first encore. But then she was asked to read a second; that general was also in attendance, and again, she did. She was clearly at the top of her game; people were impressed.

But the moment that stuck with me was this: when it came time for a prayer for the main program, they asked her to lead it. That's because she was well known as an elocutionist, and the G.A.R. was making a concerted effort to integrate women into their program.

But having women lead prayers in large amphitheaters was a new experience for most journalists and veterans. Women were never ministers; they rarely spoke in public events; it just didn't happen. She had a clear, beautiful, well-practiced voice. She was religious herself. Her prayer filled the amphitheater and people were moved.

Their reactions showed in the newspaper accounts. 138 years later, that's all that's left of the moment, but it's still very clear. The journalists were not the only ones moved by the moment. "Not soon to be forgotten" were the words most often repeated.

So I'll repeat them again. She's my great grandmother, and it moved me to look back at that moment in time.

Casa de los Amigos

I had a divine moment today in the back yard / parking lot of the Friends' Meeting, Casa de los Amigos, in Las Cruces. I would provide you a picture but for some reason my phone can't send it to my computer, and all it is really is a sign, outside the meeting house, that says Casa de los Amigos. I've always liked the bilingual nature of the place, even though the Las Cruces Friends Meeting is similar to many I've known, and not truly bicultural.

They've always been nice to me, though, so I was giving them eleven Songs of the Spirit Quaker songbooks. I had planned to give them these songbooks a while ago, as we gave seven boxes of books to the Sociology Department of New Mexico State, and did it on the same trip, taking my son back to college. The little excursion north through town takes you on the Camino Real, the old road from Mexico City to Albuquerque, which has been fixed up a little and looks very southwestern, adobe and bleached.

As I parked the car a couple of workers working on the place next door watched me, because this meetinghouse doesn't have a whole lot of visitors during the week and I was probably the first they'd seen. I went around back because the front door is too near to the street and I knew I'd be leaving these books there until about Sunday when someone would find them.

The back yard, with a few overgrown bushes and a parking lot, weeds here and there, had this incredible feeling of peace to it. It was in fact the first meeting house I'd been to in a long time, being somewhat homebound. i cqn't really describe it. I ended up writing on the note, "Thank you for being here." And I meant it. I hope they find a use for songbooks. At that moment, I felt like their back stoop was just the place for me to put them.

I will provide a picture if it ever makes it into my inbox.

One night outside Roswell

This is a story about the faith of a meeting. Our Cloud Quaker meeting is actually a worship group, but as a meeting it's a diverse but faithful bunch. We don't get a whole lot of new visitors these days; most every week it's the same half-dozen or so, and we've come to know each other a little. It's at least as much as can be possible, given that it's all on zoom.

But I went on a rare trip, about eight hours north to the Oklahoma panhandle, and found myself having to come back on Sunday just as I knew that meeting would start and zoom would only let it start if I were there to start it. So I gave my log on and password to a friend hoping she could click on "Are you the host? If so log in" but it literally did not give her the option. It made me wonder how it knew it wasn't me trying to log in - physically, we are not that far from each other.

When she found out it wasn't going to work, I was driving my family on the back roads near Roswell, and the sun had just gone down. In Roswell, outside of the mountains, you have a few more minutes of sunlight and in fact the sun had been so intense that I had shot past the Roswell exit and that's why I was on the back roads - I had slipped around it, got caught behind the airport, and was on some lonely two-lane that was probably the original southbound road before they built the new highway.

It was so deserted that I had no trouble just trying to use my phone to log on, but that wasn't flying either. I lost a meeting. We just couldn't have it.

I felt so good to get back to meeting this week. It was like I missed it all the more, a kind of crisis of loss of meeting. One person said we could always just join in silence virtually in that situation, knowing each of us, one at a time, would be somewhere in silent worship.

Yes, it's conceivable, possible, yet the whole experience led me to really value real connection with real people all the more. The back roads outside of Roswell were definitely quiet enough, and my family cooperated with the general idea that staying on a cold lonesome road at night is hard enough without distraction - they were as taken as I was at the utter desolation of Roswell's country roads - but, sorry, nothing replaces a good Quaker meeting.