The Crim Festival of Races

Impressive

Inspiring

Some day I might volunteer

I keep saying that

Not this year

But I will walk down there and see all the bustle.

Downtown

Start line

Those hand cyclers are FAST!

Then the 30 and 40-year runners!

40+ years of running this race!!!

Now THAT’s impressive

Is that Bobby Crim?

Sure enough

THE Bobby Crim, the founder of this great race

And another guy walking with a cane

Then the regular runners

Wave after wave of runners

I take a short-cut to the 2-mile point in my neighborhood

Loud music welcomes the runners to Carriage Town. 

A big guy in a fluorescent green Marine shirt doesn’t need a mic as he cheers and slaps runners’ hands.

Somebody shoots photos of specific groups of runners in matching shirts.

Police officers manage the intersection and runners thank them for being there.

I cheer for the runners, too.

“Good job!

“Doing great!

“Looking good!

“You got this!”

Runners start thanking ME for being there!

Whoa.

What’s this?

Why am I getting choked up?

Is it the parade syndrome?

(Yah, I was that little kid who cried at parades.)

Come on now.

Pull myself together.

Cheer and clap.

This matters, doesn't it?

This is important

Sorta’ like in real life

I want to be an encourager

A motivator

To cheer people on to do their best

And now some of the first walkers...

By now the photographers and hand slappers are gone.

The loud Marine has headed off in another direction.

Now it’s just me and my single voice

Now it’s quiet when I’m not cheering

Hey; people’s names are on their race bibs.

I can cheer for them by name!

Well, that’s fun.

So much appreciation

“Thank you for being here.”

So many expressions of gratitude

I realized one lady was signing “thank you” to me and then veered off course and came straight toward me to give me a hug!  Dang; I wish I knew more sign language! But at least I understood her “thank you.” And she understood my encouragement.

Such emotion

Such solidarity

Such humanity and good will

I feel a little silly…

But…  This is what I want to do

To cheer people on

To call them by name

To notice their efforts

To encourage them to be their best

Curwood Castle

Built in 1922 in Owosso, Michigan, by author James Oliver Curwood as his writing studio, the castle is now open as a museum of his life and writing and his conservation efforts. I had first discovered the castle over a year ago (on a Monday when it’s not open!) and have been wanting to get back to see the inside.  

Such a cool place!
My young sidekick helped me push open the heavy wooden door as it creaked and groaned in protest… and we stepped into our adventure.

We perused the bookshelves filled with Curwood books.

We marveled over photos and stories.


So many stories…
33 adventure novels 

and countless articles

As we wandered around the large room on the main floor, we were careful not to bother the brown bear on the floor.

We sat at the big desk and thought about how many words had been written there and we wrote a few words of our own.

We climbed the narrow winding steps into the tower and found another writing desk between little port holes overlooking the river below.  

And then even more steps to the top floor of the tower with lovely tall windows all around the room.  I think this would have been my favorite writing spot.

We decided to check out the basement where we were discovered that many of Curwood’s stories had been made into movies.  In fact, we got there in time to watch a really exciting part of “The Bear.” 

It seems that James Curwood had been an avid trophy hunter in his early years until he had his own personal encounter with a wounded bear who let him live - after which he became a passionate conservationist and began writing from that new perspective.

“The greatest thrill is not to kill but to let live.”

 - James Oliver Curwood

Our adventure made us hungry so we went outside and found a lovely peaceful spot by the river for a little picnic.

What a great adventure!

...

Photo cred to Bob Sims at SimsShots Photography for the cover shot at the top of this article.

I can choose my focus

Sad, discouraged, maybe even scared

What is happening?

Harsh words… 

Mean words 

Disrespect 

Friends sounding like enemies

Brings me down

Gotta’ find a different focus

...

Enter Maya Angelou.

I’ve had so many rainbows in my clouds.

I had a lot of clouds… 

but I have had so many rainbows.

When I step up on stage…

… or teach a class

… or produce a movie...

I bring everyone who has ever been kind to me with me…

I say “Come with me…  I need ya’ ”

So I don’t ever feel that I have no help.

…

And the thing to do…  

... is to prepare yourself so that you can be a rainbow…

Be a blessing to somebody.

That’s what I think.

…

Thank you, dear lady, for a fresh focus.

The man

Lee Wellington D'Arcy,
born June 30, 1919

Farmer

Single dad

Loyal friend

Preacher boy

Faithful husband

Patient father
Good steward
School board chairman
Stockyard worker
Builder of Marlette Homes
Loving grandpa
Real estate agent

Wordsmith and prolific writer of letters

Sunday School Superintendent for decades - who did everything in his power to make people feel loved and welcome

Gentle

Humble

Cautious

Deliberate

Intentional

Resourceful

He had big feet - size 13.

He could sleep almost anywhere.

Sang bass in more than one quartet

Played the guitar

Loved the music of George Beverly Shea, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Johnny Cash, Laurence Welk, Buck Owens and Roy Clark…

The centennial

Celebrating the centennial of my dad’s birth

He’s been gone 23 years but I really wanted to do something special this year to celebrate.

A hundred years is a big deal

Significant

Worth celebrating

Lots of fanfare

How do you celebrate a centennial?

A parade comes to mind

A huge event - with hundreds of people in attendance
Lots of hoopla

I didn’t know how to make any of that happen 
... so I would write a book about him.

A biography

A best-seller

Well, maybe not…

But loads of people loved my dad and some of them MIGHT want to read it.
... and maybe even buy their own copy.  
Or not.

I worked on it for a long time.

But it didn't turn out quite the way I hoped.

Yep, I tend to get big ideas.

My imagination can go a little crazy with wild ideas.
I’m not always so good at bringing them to life.

So I kept reminding myself to be practical.

And I WAS diligent about working on the various steps.

I kept plodding

Doing what I could

Gathering notes and ideas

Sorting through hundreds of photos

And I DID produce a book.

Just not the book that I hoped for.

I was planning a book with hundreds of pages and a few photos here and there.

I ended up with a photo book with a few lines of text here and there.

I did proclaim a centennial month.

And I did produce my own little parade - of photos - on my Facebook page.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

It was underwhelming.

No fanfare, no hoopla.

No parade

No huge event

A chintzy celebration for a great life.

I was tempted to be a teeny bit sad.

So then I asked myself what a centennial is for anyway.

Who is it for?

I’m not sure.

I just know that I wanted to honor this man.

So I tried…

I tried to do more than I could.

And then I did what I knew to do.

What I had the energy and resources to accomplish.

He would not ask more of me.

He might have commented on my tendency to attempt too much.

Again.

He might have asked me what I am learning from this.

Again.

…

He also attempted great things.

But he knew enough to take small steps.

That’s how he accomplished the great things he did.

Little by little.

One thing at a time.

And that’s what I ended up doing.

I was willing to tweak my goals to make them more practical.

I need not be disappointed in myself.

I succeeded in doing what I could to honor my dad.

He would be proud of me and I can be proud of myself.

Besides he wouldn't have wanted a lot of hoopla.