Granny Hat

Don’t Wish Your Life Away

Granny Hat’s better half always used to tell the kids not to wish their life away. This was after statements like, “I just can’t wait until summer break when I can go to camp.” or “I can’t stand Mr. So and So’s class one more minute, next semester will be better.” or for Granny herself when she said things like “When this show is over, I’m gonna take a long, hot bath and refuse to answer the phone.”

Each year is full of good times and hard times. At the close of each lap around the sun, most people hope for a better year, a happier year, a year with less trials. Christmas newsletters are replete with the happy highlights, no mention made of the “tear your hair out days”, the moments of despair and disappointment. Few of us want to list the losses, the tragedies, the unfair circumstances. But we all want a clean start to a New Year, one with more joy and less sorrow.

Granny rarely makes New Year’s resolutions. She knows she won’t get past Super Bowl Sunday with resolve. So why try? Instead, every January 1, she sneaks tippy toe into the New Year, trying not to roil the waters. Maybe this year will come with fewer mistakes, more maturity, peaceful feelings like the falling snow. She loves the clean, white re-set of Winter.

There was no time for peaceful reflection in 2025. The year was unsettling to Granny Hat on several fronts the minute the ball dropped in NYC. She wondered if it was just her or did everything seem to be falling apart and turning upside down. People she admired died tragically, unrest and division developed all over the country she loves. Her church went through a transition after a pastor resigned. Friends and family were experiencing real heartache and fear. Granny realized she can’t always believe what she hears, conspiracies abound, and truth is a rare commodity.

Granny Hat began to wish that 2025 would just go away and usher in 2026, a fresh start. “Don’t wish your life away” kept ringing in her ears, though. We aren’t promised tomorrow and today needs to count for something. So, she began to ask God to help her walk each day ready to learn what He wanted her to know. She found herself on her knees more, reading truth from the only place AI can’t intervene, the Word of God. The “peace that passes all understanding” began to fall like fresh snow on Granny’s heart. The year, yes even 2025, belonged to God. “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but the counsel of the Lord will stand.” Proverbs 19 : 21

If you, readers, are anything like Granny, you probably realize how futile New Year’s resolutions can be. After all, we can’t see what is coming around every corner throughout the 365 or predict how we will react. Instead, we can wake up resolved every day to listen, learn and grow. We can ask God to make every single day count in some way to His glory, for His kingdom. We can be ready “in season and out of season to preach the Word”. 2 Timothy 4 : 2 Daily Resolutions!

Even when the “sky won’t snow and the sun won’t shine” (Eagles), the days of our next year are numbered, ordered and blessed by a loving God.

Life Means So Much

Song by Chris Rice

Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there’s plenty of room for writing in
All we do is believe and think
So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessing
Fill the page with rhyming verse
Or some random sketching

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much

Every day is a bank account
And time is our currency
So nobody’s rich, nobody’s poor
We get twenty-four hours each
So how are you gonna spend
Will you invest, or squander
Try to get ahead
Or help someone who’s under

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much

Every day is a gift you’ve been given
Make the most of the time, every minute you’re living

Happy New Year from Granny Hat. Thank you for reading, commenting and taking another journey around the sun with me.

Happily Held Beliefs

Granny Hat was four years old when she learned the truth. It was shocking, it really was. And disappointing. She had dreamed of driving over the Golden Gate Bridge ever since she was little, like three years old. There it was, the San Francisco Bay glittering in the sun, cobalt blue like she pictured. The city scape was outlined by towering skyscrapers just like she knew it would be. The sea gulls dipped and dived over Alcatraz Island just as they should. But the famous bridge that inspired art, poetry and dreams was NOT gold at all, it was orange, a very ugly orange.

Granny’s dad explained it all very well, the gold rush; the ships sailing into the deep bay transporting miners to their claims. The channel from the Pacific to the harbor was the Gate to the Gold; the bridge was just the span across it for north and south bound travelers. That bridge could have been purple, lime green or bright white and still be called The Golden Gate. Granny Hat couldn’t face the truth so soon. Father drove north over the bridge and into the Happy Time Rainbow Tunnel while she worked it out with herself to keep believing in the sparkling, golden bridge she had imagined. It would be her happily held belief.

From the revelation that Paul Revere didn’t really complete his ride as chronicled by Longfellow to the news that swimming after lunch really won’t give you cramps, maturity comes with enlightenment and often disappointment. The legends of our youth become precious memories; the more they are repeated their validity grows. It is hard to let go.

This morning Granny’s church sang To God Be the Glory written by Fanny Crosby and William H. Doane. It reminded Granny Hat of another one of her happily held beliefs. Her grandma Kathryn Doane Lloyd told her years ago that William Doane, the famous hymn music composer was her relative, something like a great great great uncle or perhaps a great great great second cousin once removed. Granny has loved pondering that she was related to this musician who graced the church with so many beautiful, moving tunes.

Several weeks ago, Granny’s nephew Xavier who hails from Down Under, came to Montana for a visit. Together, they poured over family archives and scrapbooks to help Xavier find information for a family tree project. The deeper they dug, the stranger the stories. Xavier’s insatiable curiosity and meticulous handling of the archives was remarkable for a 14 year old. He noticed details Granny had overlooked many times.

As they did a deep dive into the Doane and Lloyd ancestors however, doubts began to arise about this supposed great great great William H. It seemed like maybe they were actually related to other more common place William Doanes with differing middle initials. What complicated it all is that often people several generations back traded between their first and middle names willy nilly.

For instance, Grandma Lloyd’s name was Ellen Kathryn but she usually went by Kathryn. Grandma Lewis on the other side went by Pauline when her first name was really Sarah. Granny’s paternal Grandfather was E. E. Lewis but was it Everett Earl or Earl Everett? There seemed to be two schools of thought.
The short of it all is that the amateur anthropologists were no longer sure that their happily held belief about William H. Doane could be substantiated. What we know for sure is that we are brothers and sisters in Christ with the hymn writers William and Fanny. So, we are related after all. “Great things He has taught us, great things He has done and great our rejoicing thru’ Jesus the Son. But purer and highter and greater will be our wonder, our transport when Jesus we see.”

Maybe Granny will get a chance to ask William H. Doane if he is her great great great second cousin once removed when she sees him in heaven. Then they can have a heart to heart about the changes in church worship music over the years and bemoan the giant screens that have replaced the hymn books Doane so diligently compiled and edited. Nevermind, they will be too busy praising the Lamb.

Granny Hat still loves legends and fables. They hail from the time-honored tradition of story telling, often revealing many things that are true in real life. She recommends enjoying the legends but trusting in “testimony that is sure and in judgements that are true”. (Psalm 19)

This Thanksgiving, Granny Hat is thankful for her memories, the childhood dreams that shaped her early years. She is thankful for belief in things that have always been true and always will be; God’s mercy, lovingkindness, salvation and eternal life. Granny is thankful that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Happily held beliefs can be replaced with “certainty of things hoped for and proof of things not seen”. (Hebrews 11:1)

There is a swirly, sparkling snow falling while Granny Hat writes today. She has been dreaming of a White Thanksgiving. Some dreams come true.

Playing it Safe

PLAYING IT SAFE

Granny Hat’s favorite childhood story is The Emporer’s New Clothes. She thinks Hans Christian Anderson thoroughly exposed the stark, naked truth about peer pressure and pandering. Granny has worried for years about the brave little boy at the royal parade who spoke the bare facts loud and proud.

What ever happened to that forthright, winsome lad? Did he grow up to be an elephant hunter in the rooms of the palace? Or perhaps a kingdom whistleblower? Was he rewarded for telling the truth or was he conveniently silenced? Granny can picture the royal media streaking in to suppress his freedom of speech. It is often best to preserve crowd control at the expense of transparency. After all, truth can be dangerous, a bright light in a dim room; truth can shatter the pageantry, stripping everyone down to their own foolishness. Best for the peasants to play it safe and resign themselves to be dumb and happy.

Granny Hat is often tempted to play it safe. She has noticed that sometimes the only way to KEEP friends is to STOP influencing people. Many people have decided to believe whatever lines their pockets and brings them joy. If they are happily living their truth why should anyone enlighten them? If they want to express themselves by stripping down and parading naked down the street with their emporer, why would anyone stop them? Will it be any use to even try?
To quote a resigned Willy Wonka, ” Stop. Don’t. Come back.”

Don’t worry readers, Granny Hat is only playing devil’s advocate and the Old Scratch scarcely needs her help.
Of course, she has to stand against the lie, because of God’s mercy. For the sake of the truth, she doesn’t get to play it safe and just wave merrily at the procession of the unclothed. Before the parade passes by, she had better speak up. Sigh.

Granny takes some comfort in the cloud of witnesses surrounding us. She remembers that we are preceded in life’s parade by plenty of saints who refused to play it safe. Often they risked it all and gave their lives. One would think that witnesses in the wings would run for the hills, shrink into the darkness. But no, such risky behavior often accentuates the truth, resulting in an uptick in courage and conviction.

When Shadrack, Meshach and Abednego stood up to King Nebuchadnezzar, refusing to worship the royal idol, God rescued them from the flames of the fiery furnace in epic fashion. Then the King was hit with some holy fear and declared Daniel’s God to be the only God. He even commanded the entire nation to worship Jehovah or else.

In the book of Acts, Peter stood up to the Jewish leaders and defended the believers who had received the Holy Spirit, speaking with conviction about the gospel. Three thousand new believers were added that day. This was Peter, the fisherman, who once tried to play it safe but had learned how to walk through danger armed with truth.

Saint Stephen gave a stirring and convicting history lesson to the Jewish leaders who responded by stoning him to death.(Acts 7) He is listed as the first Christian martyr. The Jews figured they would silence the movement with one disciplinary death sentence. What followed was persecution of the new christians and they scattered, spreading the gospel across the land and the church grew.

Granny Hat got a little carried away there with her Bible lesson. She is preaching mostly at herself, remembering “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return unto me void but it shall ccomplish that which I please and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11
It is a comfort that no one can thwart the Word of God, you can’t stop it.

Granny wants to thank a few people who faithfully spoke the Word of God into her life, who served a loving God of justice, a God who is truth and light.

Granny’s father and mother were first, helping her memorize Bible verses, old hymns of the faith and how to be clothed with God’s righteousness. They taught her about heroes of the faith like David with the sling, Daniel and his friends, and Queen Esther. These mere humans all walked headlong into danger wearing the armor of God: the Belt of Truth, the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shoes of the Gospel of Peace, the Helmet of Salvation and the Sword of the Spirit (the Word of God).

Granny Hat was also influenced by her Sunday School teachers, her pastor, camp leaders, all unsung heroes. She is especially fond of Corrie ten Boom, who famously said “Being in the center of His will is our only safety.” This certainty of safety overcame bitterness and fear, inspiring Miss ten Boom to take her story of God’s deliverance from the Nazi concentration camp all around the world. It even enabled her to forgive her persecutors.

This same conviction gave Elizabeth Elliot courage to take the gospel to the indigenous Auca tribe in the deep jungle of Ecuador, the people who had massacred her husband.

The knowledge of safety in God’s will empowers church leaders to “preach the Word; be ready in season and out of season; correct, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction.” (2 Timothy 4:2) This will help them courageously and faithfully stand up for life in the pulpit, to speak truth even when it isn’t popular.. This is the safety that can inspire parents, children, teachers, every believer to speak truth and light into the darkness. No more “playing it safe” by being timid. No more going naked. Granny wants to be clothed for battle. It will be dangerous, yes. But this is the only way to truly play it safe.

” He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” Jim Elliot

Leopard’s Spots

Granny Hat and her friends have organized a monthly hymn sing in the Flathead Valley. It is surprising how fun it is, remembering old favorites, trying out new harmonies, stirring up cherished memories.

Granny treasures the heritage of hymn singing that her parents passed on to her. They knew so many hymns. It seemed there was an especially appropriate song for every childhood situation:

Scared of a dark night or an enormous tropical savannah tarantula? Dad would croon Granny to sleep with #12 God Will Take Care of You.

Got grumpy about cleaning her room? Mom would roll out a rollicking version of #297 Trust and Obey.

Feeling guilty about her sins? #249 Redeemed and #254 My Faith Has Found a Resting Place to the rescue!

Granny grew up in a hymn-singing church. She loved singing the big people songs but some of the lyrics were very confusing. She once asked her mom what in the world a “pyonder” was. Mother didn’t know! She had never heard of a “pyonder”.

“You know, Mom, the hymn says ‘when the roll is called a pyonder, when the roll is called a pyonder, when the roll is called a pyonder, when the roll is called a pyonder, I’ll be there'”!

Granny Hat and many of her friends grew up thinking that when Jesus Paid it All, His power could change the leopard’s spots! It was many years before Granny realized Elvina L. Hall penned “leper’s spots”. But either way, it’s a miracle, right? Melt a heart of stone! Granny thinks that takes even more of God’s power. She and her siblings loved this hymn, always sung while sipping their Concord juice during Communion to the tune composed by John T. Grape! You can’t make this stuff up!

Granny’s children had their own views of hymn origins. Christopher was positive In My Heart There Rings a Melody was written about his new baby sister. Granny just couldn’t set him straight; it was so sweet. Little sister, Melody, in her turn several years later was convinced that Surely Goodness and Mercy was about Shirley Gibbs, the kind, sweet widow at church who always said hello to the little kids and listened to their stories. Granny’s youngest confesses that he still thinks it’s supposed to be “leopard’s spots”, he’s sticking to it.

One of Granny’s granddaughters loves Amazing Grace and would sing loudly, “through many dangers, toilets and snares…” Those toilets can be pitfalls, for sure. Gotta watch out for them.

At one of our recent hymn sings, the beloved Come Thou Fount came under discussion. One of the verses reads, “Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I’m come; and I hope by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.” What exactly IS an Ebenezer? Modern hymnbooks have lost faith in the average congregant’s biblical knowledge and substituted the lyrics with another verse, “hither to Thy love has blest me; Thou hast brought me to this place…”. Granny thinks if you are going to keep an archaic term like “hither”, why not keep “Ebenezer” and look it up!?

Not all the hymns of youth are remembered fondly. Granny moved around a lot when she was young, from Santa Barbara CA to the northern CA coast, to Oregon, to Brazil and then back to California. She wanted to stay put in one place for a change so whenever the old hymn I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord was requested, she refused to sing it. Very naughty, indeed.

Speaking of naughty, kids who grew up in church back in the olden days before children’s church and youth programs have quite a long list of Pew Survival techniques. Granny Hat’s mother was the original elasti-girl and could poke the fifth child at the end of the row deftly if they were squirming, staring at the lady with the purple hair sitting behind or whispering during the sermon. Note passing was not tolerated nor were frequent trips to the restroom to break the monotony, so the kids got creative. They learned to communicate without words, making all sorts of grotesque faces and using sign language on occasion.

Seasonal boredom buster favorites were spying the bottle shaped ornaments on the gigantic Christmas trees flanking the stage, counting the poinsettias or Easter lilies surrounding the pulpit, or changing the lyrics to Christmas songs sotto voce and then giggling over them. “We three kings of orient are, tried to smoke a rubber cigar, one was loaded, it exploded, now they’re on yonder star…..”

It was fun to count the number of times Mr. Lyons, the missionary speaker from Japan, would raise his bushy eyebrows for emphasis. Mr. Barnett from the board would solemnly read the treasurer’s report in a monotone, somnambulant drone. To stay awake, pencils were at the ready to circle any missed or incorrect words on the paper copy that had been passed out. Un-flattering sketches of special music soloists may or may not have been scribbled on the backs of bulletins.

Thankfully, a desperate, trapped church child in those days could always grab a hymnal from the back of the pew and read rich, timeless lyrics. Some of the words would transport the reader right out of the pew: “there is a green hill far away, outside the city wall…” or “on a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross…” or “one day when heaven was filled with His praises, one day when sin was as black as could be...” Many of these beloved hymns tell a story, defend the faith, give assurance of God’s love and His plan. This is why Granny Hat loves them so much. “I love to tell the story, t’will be my theme in glory, to tell the old, old story of Jesus and His love.” (by Kate Hankey, another source of pew giggling – anything can be funny)

Readers, please respond with either your favorite, long-lost hymn or a funny hymn story you remember from your childhood.

When the Roll is Called up Yonder by James M. Black

When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright, and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder,
I’ll be there.

Jesus Paid it All by Edwina Hall and John T. Grape

I hear the Savior say,
“Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.”
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Lord, now indeed I find
Thy power and Thine alone,
Can change the leper’s spots
And melt the heart of stone.

For nothing good have I
Whereby Thy grace to claim,
I’ll wash my garments white
In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.

And when before the throne
I stand in Him complete,
“Jesus died my soul to save,”
My lips shall still repeat.

Surely Goodness and Mercy John W. Peterson and Alfred B. Smith

A pilgrim was I and a-wand’ring,
In the cold night of sin I did roam.
When Jesus, the kind Shepherd, found me,
And now I am on my way home.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days, all the days of my life.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days, all the days of my life.

He restoreth my soul when I’m weary;
He giveth me strength day by day.
He leads me beside the still waters;
He guards me each step of the way.

When I walk through the dark, lonesome valley,
My Savior will walk with me there;
And safely His great hand will lead me
To the mansions He’s gone to prepare.

And I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever;
And I’ll feast at the table spread for me.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days, all the days of my life.
All the days, all the days of my life.

In My Heart There Rings a Melody by Elton Menno Roth

I have a song that Jesus gave me, It was sent from heav’n above; There never was a sweeter melody, ’Tis a melody of love.

I love the Christ who died on Calv’ry, For He washed my sins away; He put within my heart a melody, And I know it’s there to stay.

’Twill be my endless theme in glory, With the angels I will sing; ’Twill be a song with glorious harmony, When the courts of heaven ring.

In my heart there rings a melody, There rings a melody with heaven’s harmony; In my heart there rings a melody; There rings a melody of love.

Much Adoo- doo About Toilet Paper

Once upon a time and not too long ago, Granny Hat and Dad found themselves stranded in Death Valley at the Natural Bridge Canyon trailhead, 20 miles or so south of Furnace Creek on Badwater Rd. They had enjoyed several days of off-road adventure, hunting down Nevadan ghost towns and old mines in a stick-shift, four-wheel drive XTerra. Maybe the poor car was tired or maybe there is substance to the tales about strange happenings in the desert. In any event, upon returning from the hike, Dad could not get that car to turn over.

Many of Granny’s fellow outdoor tourists were Good Samaritans. One home- school- road- tripping family from Maine was very excited to try out their brand-new jumper cable kit and sighed in unison when it didn’t work. They promised to report the stranded vehicle to the Visitor Center on their way out of the valley. Next was an Army veteran with a beefy pickup truck who towed Dad down the hill while he attempted to start it in gear, engaging the clutch. Nada. At least the tow resulted in a better parking position right at the highway where a ranger would see the car with its open hood.

Then it dawned on Granny! National Park employees had just been scattered to the winds in the new DOGE house cleaning frenzy. What if a ranger never drove by? She also learned quickly that there is very little cell service in Death Valley and no 911 availability except for at the Ranger Station and Visitor Center.

Death Valley has a published survival list which includes plenty of water, CHECK! Also, extra food and snacks, CHECK! Hats and sunscreen, CHECK! Perhaps they should add Satphones, a drone, flares and supplies for smoke signals to the list.

Fifteen minutes into the wait, a friendly NPS ranger named Lindsey drove up. Granny expressed thankfulness for the nice family that had alerted the rangers. She quickly assured her that she hadn’t been at the ranger station; she was on her way back from a day of work when she just happened to spot the stranded car. She offered to give Granny Hat a ride to Furnace Creek to contact AAA, leaving Dad with the car. (He later reported a long list of offered help from hikers, even ones with California plates! Very few things can live in the salt flats and rock outcroppings of the lowest, hottest point in the United States; a few pup fish, tiny spiders, the occasional lizard. But apparently the milk of human kindness is still alive and well, even in Death Valley. It gives Granny hope in her fellow man, or woman, of course.)

Lindsey quickly moved several packages of toilet paper from the front seat of her ranger vehicle, shoving it into the back seat on top of piles of more TP to make room for Granny Hat to ride. She explained that she is a maintenance ranger whose job it is to stock the porta potties at the trailheads all around the valley. She said it takes 2 – 3 hours to drive the route, hitting all the heads.

Granny Hat loves to meet new people and make conversation, so she asked the young ranger if the park had felt any impact from the DOGE cuts. Lindsey was eager to share on this topic and reported she was let go initially but hired back three weeks later. She added that Death Valley already operates with a skeleton crew, no one wants to work there. And she is considered an essential ranger because of her heroic work delivering the important papers.

Then Ranger Lindsey uttered the show stopping words: “Trump’s budget cuts are also going to impact our stock of Toilet Paper; we only have enough right now for one more month”. When asked what would happen to the porta potties, she solemnly said they would have to close them down, especially in the outskirts of the valley where all the really cool hidden treasures and obscure hikes are. There was almost a tear running down the ranger’s cheek.

This really hit Granny Hat right in the gut! What? No TP? No desert biffies? Alert the National Park Service immediately! They need to warn the public by adding the following to their survival list:

BYOTP

Manage your own crap

Leave no trace

Granny Hat really thought America had put Toilet Paper shortages and rationing behind. The pandemic taught her much, but she was naive to think it was the supply and demand war to end all supply and demand wars. Toilet Paper may very well be the canary in the coal mine for any economic, medical or political disaster.

For example, Granny Hat was at Costco the other day and noticed carts piled extra high with Kirkland brand important papers. What now? Then on her way home from town, Granny heard the talking heads on the radio discussing tariffs, supply chains and recriminatory actions by her neighbor to the north where the paper mill trees grow. It added up. When tariff threats roll out, TP purchases begin rolling into pantries across the fruited plain. After all, a Toilet Paper shortage is a national emergency of epic proportions! Furthermore, it totally stinks! No one wants to get caught with their pants down on this one.

Granny is a boomer who grew up in the golden age where TP grew on trees and was next to free. Way before tagging became ubiquitous, the prank of the day was toilet papering houses. Everyone’s larder had plenty of the stuff, parents didn’t even notice if their teen vagrants pinched some for a midnight lark in the neighborhood. These days, Toilet Paper is gold, a prized possession to be guarded and meted out conservatively. Reader, you will notice that at $7 a dozen, no one is egging houses anymore either!

Granny Hat digresses, back to the adventure of the Valley of Death. Granny was able to contact AAA at the ranger station and then settled in to wait 5 hours for the tow truck to drive out from Pahrump, Nevada. Yeah, she had never heard of that town either. She worried down some free coffee at the ranger station and then decided to make good use of the lovely flush toilets at the visitor center while there was still an abundance of TP.

Sunset was closing in, so she was very happy to see that bright yellow Two Star Towing rig pull in. The driver was quite a character. Granny is not in the habit of hitching rides with desert rat type strangers from places like Pahrump, but she jumped up into that truck with complete confidence. It’s revealing what being stranded will do to normal routines and habits of one’s life. Desperate times call for desperate measures – any port in a storm and all that. Jerry was suddenly Granny’s best friend, second only to Lindsey the TP Superhero.

After picking up Dad, who had stayed busy eating most of the snacks and drinking all the water in the XTerra, Jerry drove Granny, her better half and the tired four-wheeler into town, swapping tall tales and Death Valley stories all the way. Jerry’s bread and butter is towing abandoned cars out of the fiery furnace but that’s an involved discussion for another day. The adventure turned out to be not so bad, car was easily fixed and road trip resumed.

Granny Hat and Dad always learn valuable life lessons on their road trips. They meet interesting people, marvel at God’s creation and make unexpected discoveries along the way.

looking west over lowest point in the USA

They also learn to be thankful for life’s simple pleasures and conveniences. Next time you cross paths with a National Park Ranger (if you can even find one) be sure to thank him or her for their service, especially the maintenance crew. They are the unsung heroes of our National Park System. They keep everything running smoothly.

And just to put things in perspective…….

Google reveals that some form of early “Toilet Paper” (more like silk squares or soft bark) dates to early AD Chinese dynasties. The modern TP that exists today originated in 1857 in America when Joseph Gayetty created a product called “Medicated Paper, for the Water Closet”. Whether one believes in a young earth or not, these papers we can’t live without are relatively new on the block. No need to panic, life will go on with or without the soft, cushiony rolls.

PS. A word to the wise, stock up on TP just in case, but don’t be a hoarder. And take a tip from Granny’s dad, the late great septic system pundit, use important papers sparingly. You may be flush with plenty now, but you never know when you will run out or why. Besides, too much paperwork can clog the system real fast; just ask any fed. And, whatever you do, don’t waste Toilet Paper like Granny Hat and her friend Kim did years ago when they decided to toilet paper Granny’s own house, but that’s also a story for another day. Oh, one more tip, a dead-ringer stock tip: since TP will always be a much-desired commodity, buy Kirkland shares immediately.

Desert Burros, Hobo Hot Springs (stumbled on this one out in the middle of nowhere – lovely 100 degree spring soak on a windy 45 degree day, Weird Desert Art at Rhyolite Ghost Town, Granny’s Better Half pointing out geologic interests.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me” Psalm 23

Happy Resurrection Day, readers! Because He lives, we can face tomorrow.

Imagine…

Granny Hat watched portions of former President Jimmy Carter’s memorial at the National Cathedral in Washington D.C. and immediately took a walk down memory lane to the 1980’s. A firm believer in rote repetition, she acquired a fabulous set of presidential flashcards for her homeschool history class. Don’t worry, Granny has always believed in educational inclusion – teaching both facts and ramifications. The American spirit, the dream of freedom, great stories of our heritage & heroes were included in the memorization exercises.

Her kids dutifully played along, coming up with funny ways to remember who was who. William Henry Harrison had extremely messy HAIR growing in all the wrong directions. Millard Fillmore looked rather like his favorite requests at state dinners were “FILL” and “MORE”. James Buchanon had a tousle of hair sticking straight up in the air as if shot out of a CANON. Hey, creative mnemonics can help!

William Henry Harrison Millard Fillmore James Buchanon

Granny’s students lived for a specific moment in the exercise. They repeated POTUSes #1 – #33, giggling over the above-mentioned leaders. Then the excitement began building at Dwight D. Eisenhower because that’s who was president when mom was born, quieted a bit over J.F. K. because his story was sad, grew exponentially over LBJ, Mr. Watergate and Gerald Ford, suddenly exploding in wild, abandoned dancing on the couch cushions while yelling in rhythm “Jimmy Carter, Peanut Farmer, Jimmy Carter, Peanut Farmer!” The Gipper and the Never – Inhale guy were mere after -thoughts tagged on at the end. It was pure fun learning about the presidents.

Granny Hat has long thought that the beloved Peanut Farmer was a conflicted man. He identified as deeply religious, practiced humanitarianism and yet sold his country down the river. He was a devoted family man but his socialist views undermined the values that protect country and family. This was illustrated poignantly at his memorial service.

The former presidents & first ladies and dignitaries filed in to the somber tunes of Jean Sibelius’ Finlandia, known as the hymn Be Still My Soul:

“Leave to Thy God to order and provide, In every change He faithful will remain. Be still my soul, when change and tears are past, All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.” Katharina von Schlegel from Psalm 46

So far, so good. But…….later, after the eulogies, Garth Brooks and Tricia Yearwood stood up to sing Jimmy Carter’s favorite song, Imagine by John Lennon. As they sang, many of the recent POTUSes and their wives showed evident emotion and rapt admiration for the lyrics:

“Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try, No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people living for today. (Woohoo) You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one, I hope someday you’ll join us and the world will live as one.”

Imagine is the true anthem of the left. Denizens of the swamp have marched in anarchy for decades to the atheistic imaginations of a dead, communist musician. Somehow, our entire nation has been beguiled into trusting such imaginations and look where we are. Granny mourns for her country, for her people, for the confused and the lost. Have we perhaps let our imaginations get the better of us?

“But it was just my imagination, running away with me, just my imagination running away with me….” The Temptations

Don’t worry, Granny doesn’t think all imaginations and dreams are bad, but she certainly knows better than to trust Her’s all the time. Imagination is a gift from God. It is a tool for art, poetry, creative problem solving etc. We must be careful not to make idols of our thoughts and imaginations. Dreams need to be examined to see if they line up with truth.

Oh dear, Granny may have progressed from singing the blues (see last post – Baby Boomer Blues) to preaching to the choir. Maybe she should apologize but sorry, she’s not sorry. She is forced to ask, “can imagination and truth live together in perfect harmony?” She won’t be adding any possessive pronouns to “truth” either. She isn’t talking about your truth or my truth or their truth. She is referring to THE truth.

Maybe the answer lies in the order of things. Should we imagine first and then try to forcibly fashion our dreams into truths? Or do we take up truth as a banner and use our imagination to display, articulate and celebrate it?

Consider these quotes. Truth or just imagination?

“The power of imagination makes us infinite”. John Muir

“The future is not there waiting for us. We create it by the power of imagination.” ~ Vilayat Inayat Khan

“Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look and you’ll see into your imagination.” Willy Wonka

John Ondraznik of Five for Fighting released a captivating song in 2006, titled World. Granny Hat really likes the tune and feel of the song but when she focuses on the lyrics, she has to ask. Does history start now?

World

Got a package full of wishes, A time machine, a magic wand, A globe made out of gold. No instructions or commandments,
Laws of gravity or indecisions to uphold.

Printed on the box I see Acme’s built a world to be
Take a chance, grab a piece
Help me to believe it.

What kind of world do you want?
Think anything
Let’s start at the start
Build a masterpiece
Be careful what you wish for
History starts now…

Should there be people or peoples?
Money, funny pedestals for fools who never pay
Raise your army, choose your steeple
Don’t be shy, the satellites can look the other way

Lose the earthquakes, keep the faults
Fill the oceans without the salt
Let every man own his own hand
Can you dig it, baby?

What kind of world do you want?
Be careful what you wish for
Start now

Granny Hat asks her readers to consider these thoughts:

“He who has imagination without learning has wings but no feet.” ~ Joseph Joubert

“A rich man’s wealth is his strong city, and like a high wall in his own imagination. Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, but humility goes before honor.” Proverbs 18:11-12

“We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5

Baby Boomer Blues

Granny Hat was minding her own business, doing some mending and watching one of her British murder mysteries when the Free Vee ads interrupted with “Baby Boomers! 99% of you have the shingles virus sleeping within, soon it will strike, you never know when.” This was followed by a pitch for the latest, greatest vaccine and a long, harrowing list of side effects, many of which are actually more dangerous than the shingles. Baby Boomers have a lot to worry about.

Not only is their chicken pox, calamine lotion, scars and itching threatening to come back with a whole new level of vengeance but Boomers are being blamed for all manner of societal calamity these days. Granny is horrified to learn that she and her generation stand accused! They are depleting the social security coffers, are often too patriotic, think it’s their way or the highway. And they can’t shut up about the good ole’ days.

Even worse, apparently Boomers can’t be trusted; they embraced Reaganomics and told their kids that a college education was all they needed to live a charmed life. Gen X was told they could be anything they wanted to be; the Boomers traded in lessons about work ethic & saving a buck for privilege & entitlement. They told their kids they “believed in them”. And now, nobody believes in the Baby Boomers!

Granny Hat is standing up for her generation. How about some r-e-s-p-e-c-t and compassion for Granny Hat and her peers? Consider the passage of time, the changes in society that they have suffered. Life used to be simpler and easily defined. Everything these days is sooo confusing.

For example, Boomers used to be able to explain the birds and the bees to their offspring (those millennials). But now, they have to explain the birds and the birds, the bees and the bees, the birds that used to be bees, the bees that used to be birds, the birds that look like bees, plus bees that look like birds but still have a stinger.

Granny remembers going to school to learn things, useful things, things that were true. Now she has to face the idea that tattoos and piercings might not keep you from getting a job anymore, that meritocracy doesn’t matter, that recycling doesn’t either, grades don’t matter (especially in the birds & the bees class – all the answers are right), participation is more important than performance, that government isn’t of the people by the people OR for the people, need she go on? (and which people are we even talking about?)

Maybe Boomer education was flawed. Maybe they should blame the Greatest Generation for imposing outdated ideas on the American school system. Granny Hat recently stumbled upon an article entitled 12 Things That Boomers Learned in School That Are Obsolete. She is going to list them for you with just a few comments. She wants to hear from her readers, are these items indeed obsolete? Were we wasting our time becoming adept at skills that no longer matter?

Cursive Writing and Penmanship: Granny’s better half says when he went back to college at the age of 45 he could take notes faster than the millennials with his cursive, and what about artistic dexterity?

Slide Rules for complex mathematical calculations: readers, what do you think?

Typing Class: again, dexterity?

Diagramming Sentences or “Grammar Bootcamp”: Granny has to ask, is our culture MORE or LESS articulate with the English language than it used to be? Are we able to say what we need to say? Are we able to say it beautifully? Do we understand the power of punctuation or prepositions?

Let’s eat Grandma! or Let’s eat, Grandma!

Home Economics: teaching “obsolete” skills like budgeting, cooking, sewing. Granny thinks we could use a little of these obsolete skills.

Memorizing State Capitols: now this one made Granny Hat mad, she was really good in geography class.

Balancing a Checkbook: rated obsolete because we have online banking now, but how many people would be helped by having to painfully write down what they just spent, subtract it without a calculator and see what they have left before buying more?

Spelling Bees: “you don’t have to be good at spelling anymore”, they say, “just use spell check.” Granny says every time you use spell check you save a few seconds but lose some much-needed brain cells.

Dewey Decimal System: ok, maybe this one is irrelevant but Granny Hat knows quite a few kids that can’t put things in alphabetical order.

Reciting Poetry: ??? Granny can’t even believe this is on the list. They tell us Boomers that one of the best ways to stay sharp is to memorize things.

Nuclear Classroom Drills: like hiding under a desk could help! LOL

Granny Hat’s last word, because she always has one: If you give up on any of the above irrelevants, please keep memorizing. If you are a follower of the Word of God, by all means, memorize as much as you can. Many a prisoner of war throughout history will tell of the comfort, fortitude and blessing they received because God’s Word was written on their hearts. Let us keep learning that which is eternal and will never be obsolete.

“May my teaching drop like the rain,
my speech condense like the dew;
like gentle rain on grass,
like showers on new growth”. Deuteronomy 32:2

Granny Hat and her Baby Boomer siblings. We are Boomers, we read, we write, we spell, we type and we know stuff.

White Friday

Granny Hat woke to soft silence the day after Thanksgiving. A light neep of qanik was drifting down. It was very cozy under the down comforter, a sigh of relief, no need to cook for several days, perfect day for a cup of Grizzly blend coffee and some musing. Then the beeping started, and all three of the neighbor’s state- of- the- art automatic garage doors flew open to free a fleet of SUV’s all warmed up and ready for the aput. Suddenly Granny remembered – the neighbors are avid, traditional Black Friday shoppers, got to get out early to grab the deals at…… wait, there isn’t even a mall in the Flathead Valley! There is still a J.C. Penney and then a mile away, Hobby Lobby and REI, then another trek to Cabelas and Ross. Granny Hat snuggled back into the covers, she tried Black Friday out years ago, never again. Others can go slip-sliding away on the br’r’r’put. There is always Amazon. UPS drivers know how to navigate the ba’qamutik. Granny is going to enjoy her White Friday.

Granny admits she has been musing to herself for some time now and not sharing. One of her favorite readers confronted her recently and asked what had happened to Granny Hat. It was an honest question so she had to ask herself what HAD happened to herself?

The best excuse she can come up with is that she suddenly had too much on her plate. There is a lovely anonymity to being the new kid on the block in unfamiliar territory. One can drift about like the ghup’kik pretending not to know anything or having any influence to offer. This frees up an amazing amount of leisurely time.

Once settled in, the joining commences and when that is mature, the days fill up like so much well’aput. Granny has less time to blog but is happy to say that she feels completely at home in the great north; she has been examined, tested and accepted. Most new friends have forgotten where she moved from or, at least, have forgiven her for having been born against her choice in such a God-forsaken wilderness of wild wokeness. Many of them have been introduced to walnuts and citrus fruits, pomegranates and persimmons; they are beginning to soften toward the golden state.

Granny Hat is becoming familiar with all the different styles of snow. It is no wonder the Eskimo tradition has up to 50 words for the white stuff. Granny’s favorite is the large fluffy variety that shows its true snowflake crystals when it lands on your sleeve. Two nights ago, tiny Styrofoam pellets fell from the sky, not hail, not sleet, not like any snow she had ever seen, matsaaruti! It would be perfect for snowcones. Move over Dippin Dots!

Granny loves snow because it is quiet, clean, soft, it covers bare plants with a new bloom. Snow lends lovely shape to otherwise mundane things: wood chip piles, bare tamarack trees, the old gas grill on the patio. They are works of art on this White Friday.

Granny Hat is back with the nap’pap. Here’s hoping no boo’boo’naqinaq falls on you and may all your Black Fridays be White.

Eskimo Snow Glossary:

anik	snow in the air
aput	snow on the ground

tla’papap

surprisingly large snowflakes that make a sound upon landing

wiliwip	snow used for making recreational snowballs
kiliwip	snow used for making lethal snowballs

br’r’r’put

unnaturally cold snow

ghup’kik	snow that reminds the observer of snow seen in a dream
nap’pap	snow seen in a dream

ba’qamutik

the best type of snow for dogsled races, joyriding and quick getaways

boo’boo’naqinaq

a special type of snow that only falls upon sad Eskimo women

blip’aput	snow that is less than one foot deep
well’aput	snow that is more than one foot deep but not deep enough to reach the chin

luna’aput

snow that falls directly from the surface of the moon

!!!!!!

Plant a Radish…

Granny Hat has been spending many happy hours in her garden tending her veggies and herbs. This last week delivered an abundant pea harvest, garlic galore, plump red & white onions, along with some beets, first year raspberries and radishes! As she pulled up bright red ones and then some long green wasabi varieties, she was humming to herself: “Plant a radish, get a radish, never any doubt; that’s why I love vegetables, you know what you’re about! Plant a turnip, get a turnip, maybe you’ll get two; that’s why I love vegetables, you know that they’ll come through!”

Her favorite off-Broadway musical, the Fantasticks, offers up a powerful parenting metaphor here, but Granny thinks the principle applies to so many other timely topics. She recommends sticking to tried and true facts of creation. To avoid confusion in the garden AND in life, she intends to rely on promised results she can count on. “What you sow, that you will reap.” (Galatians 6:7)

Back to those vegetables: “They’re dependable, they’re befriendable, they’re the best pal a parent’s ever known. While with child-er-en, it’s bewilderin’; you don’t know until the seed is nearly grown, just what you’ve sown.”

Granny Hat is surprised by her kids all the time. They have excellent senses of humor, seeds planted by their dad. They love adventure, again….Dad. Granny taught them how to cook and spell and hopefully a few other things.

Every fall, when Granny sits down with her seed catalogs to plan and dream she notices that all the gardening gurus have their “premier super select” categories, company favorites so to speak, the ones that never fail to thrive. When it comes to growing families, the premium select seeds to plant are the words of God. Nothing makes Granny happier than a harvest of testimony spoken by her family about God’s will and His leading. She wishes she had planted even more of those seeds, one can never plant enough.

A warning: these seeds from God’s Word are invasive. Some fall on rocky soil, some in the weeds, but when they fall on a fertile soil in a tender heart, they will take over the garden and change the landscape of mind and heart.

So, when Granny’s 2023 thru hiker, Christopher, texted that he was coming home from the PCT after 1000 miles because God made it clear to him that he should do so, Granny paid attention. He said his goal for this summer had been to finish the Pacific Crest Trail. His body was saying “yes”, and he was in great hiking health. His mind was loving the beautiful wilderness journey. His heart, however, was tugging at him; he was lonely, missing family. After years of deployment orders for the USAF, here he was self-deploying for a solitary, singular goal. God gave him a refreshed view of his goals and changed them up a bit. He still intends to hike the rest of the trail in sections but with people he loves and influences. Granny likes the sound of that; adding some WHOS to the WHAT and WHERE might help define the WHY of such an adventure.

She has included the last few PCT photos Christopher sent to close down this phase of thru-hike reporting.

Hat Rim Wilderness, northern California.

Reader, if you planted a garden this year, Granny hopes you are enjoying the fruits of your labor, God’s blessings indeed! Granny planted mildweed last year in the hopes of attracting Monarch butterflies to her garden. Her wildest dreams came true and she spied 9 caterpillars stripping her mildweed plants. She was torn between love for the plant and love for the caterpillars but Google assured her that if she trimmed the naked stems down to 6 inches after the feast was done, the plants would sprout new leaves. Google was right! The fat caterpillars disappeared overnight, the plants revived and then Granny Hat spied her miracle! A perfect be-dazzled cocoon hanging from her porch handrail. Its spots were glittering golden lights. She was fascinated and started reading all about monarch metamorphosis. In a few days, the cocoon turned dark hunter green and she could spy the outline of a wing through its translucent skin. Suddenly at about day 10 it went black and Granny kept her eye on it but while she was sleeping, that butterfly escaped, free at last! She is sure she saw that very Monarch the next morning on her bee balm plant.

So here is a gardening anomaly that defies the “plant a radish, get a radish” rule. Granny learned that if you plant a mildweed, you will get a Monarch!

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.” Genesis 8:22

Independence!

Granny Hat wishes everyone a wonderful Independence Day. She is flying the flag, baking for a 4th of July potluck with friends and praying for the country she loves. She also misses President Ronald Reagan:

Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.

Ronald Reagan

“Man can climb to the highest summits, but he cannot dwell there long.” – George Bernard Shaw

Granny Hat has been enjoying the most beautiful summer. Spring came early this year with a warm, gentle melt in May and a perfectly balmy June. Chubby robins, chattering chickadees and several varieties of hummingbirds arrived ahead of schedule to dance in the blooming herbs and flowers. There are bees in the clover and swallowtail butterflies diving over the pond. Granny and her family have already enjoyed two outdoor garden parties in the long evenings.

In an unusual twist of fate, Montana is having a California Summer and California, at least in the Sierra Nevada, is still in the grip of winter. It’s just a cruel, cruel summer up on the John Muir Trail this year.

Granny’s 2023 PCT hiker crossed the highest point on the Pacific Crest Trail, Forester Pass (13,153 ft.) and completed close to 800 miles. He and his hiking team spent long days post holing across the snow on an invisible trail, started many days in the wee hours of the morning to navigate the ice and snow more efficiently, and camped on small tracts of visible dirt between snow drifts. There were treacherous stream crossings, evidence of recent avalanches and reports of worse conditions farther north so they made the decision to exit the High Sierra to Independence, (the highway 395 town, that is). Christopher said that when he experienced the difficulty of Forester Pass he knew he wouldn’t be continuing to the more challenging Glen and Mather Passes until later in the season.

Granny is reminded of Frodo and his Fellowship of the Ring companions being defeated by Cruel Caradhras, the snowy mountain peak in Middle Earth. Christopher may not have been defeated but he certainly knew who was boss, time to give the Sierra some weeks to thaw. He ate his way through the town of Bishop, then hopped a bus to Reno jetting home to Nebraska for a two-week break. His plan is to see family, celebrate Independence Day, swap his Sierra gear like bear can, ice axe and crampons for lighter warm weather supplies, gain back some of the 30 pounds he lost and then return to Donner Pass for the trek north on the PCT through Oregon and Washington. If possible, he will flip back to finish the John Muir Trail in late September.

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.” – T.S. Eliot

As Granny Hat is posting this, Christopher is home celebrating Independence Day with his family, blowing up piles of fireworks at their block party and eating his fill of All-American food. His latest video from his front porch is a good one.

Meanwhile, Granny Hat is baking up a storm because Chris’ boys are flying into Montana for a long July visit complete with rafting, hiking and barn raising at Uncle Josh and Aunt Candace’s farm. Granny and Dad love the perks of grandparenting.

Stay tuned for the next phase of the journey. And do look up Christopher’s spectacular photos and videos on the website: veteranhiking.com.

“The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.’ J.R.R. Tolkien