Heading to upstate New York, halos and guns on my mind

Becky and I are heading off to upstate New York this week. Trailering Nellie Peach to Albany, launching at Waterford and then heading west on the Erie Canal for a few weeks. If plans hold, we will lock through several levels, check out Seneca Lake, head north on the Oswego Canal to Lake Ontario, and then turn right and head east into the Thousand Island region in the headwaters of the St. Lawrence River.

We’d like to continue east and loop our way back to Lake Champlain and south to Albany but as things stand now, the Canadians don’t want us in their waters. We will double back from the Thousand Islands and return to Waterford via the Erie Canal.

Just to be on the safe side, Becky and I went to Del Tech last week for a state-sponsored COVID-19 testing event. We made appointments for the 12:30 to 1 p.m. slot and sailed through with no waiting.

Three days later our test results came via email. Negative. Happy for that. We’ve had no symptoms, but if the folks in New York state question us, at least we’ll have something to show them.

Groome Church’s vote

I sat in the congregation of Groome Memorial Church last Sunday and voted with 54 other members – unanimous among all those present – to disaffiliate from the United Methodist Church because of a stance by the mother church on LGBTQ issues. The vote came down to love and inclusivity. If there’s anything this shuddering world needs right now, it’s love and inclusivity.

Halos and guns

Over the next several weeks I’ll be writing about halos, guns, wildlife and whatever else seems relevant and interesting. The actual physical nature of halos – also known as nimbuses – fascinates me. I’ll be looking for churches in our travels where there may be stained-glass windows depicting saintly figures with halos. I have a theory about halos, artists and entropy which I’ll lay out at another time when I find my first stained-glass halo in upstate New York.

Demolition as metaphor

As I write this, a heavy demolition machine – looking like 100 tons of metallic Tyrannosaurus rex – is taking crunching bites out of the northeastern wing of the Lewes School. Both wings of the original 1921 school are being dismantled, crushed and some bits recycled for other construction projects.

I can’t help but think that the demolition is like the coronavirus that is turning our world upside down.

The work is making way for a new, multimillion-dollar school where future generations will be educated and prepared to – hopefully – strive to make this a better world. But for now, we have no idea when the teachers and children will be able to get back together to work in these new schools.

New models are being tested and tried, but we all know that the personal touch between teacher and student is essential for effective learning.