"THE HIDING PLACE"

There is no pit so deep...

I rented the movie "The Hiding Place" from Netflix recently and just finished watching it the last few mornings while I walked down the basement because of inclement weather--meaning rain and NO sunshine--for the past several days.  Very unusual for Colorado.

But it wasn't the first time I had watched the movie.  And, I actually read the book before I watched it that first time. About that period in my life I was thirsting for books to read, when there wasn't any extra money in our young family budget to buy books, especially hard back books.  Every week the Sunday supplement of the newspaper had an enticing advertisement popular at the time with Doubleday and other publishing houses.  It was something like get six books for a penny each or 99cents for six books or some other hook.  The catch was that after you got the initial outlay of books, you had to additionally purchase a certain number of books at the inflated price over the next two year period.  I have the same need to read as other people might have to garden or sew or cook or some other activity.  So, in a weak moment, I succumbed to that ad-copy, trying not to think of where I would come up with the money when it was time to pay the piper.  "The Hiding Place" was one of the books I chose.  As a story it was very absorbing.  As a real-life story it carried with it the added weight of good and evil doing battle in a most graphic depiction.

Watching the film again was still a moving experience, though, and plenty of tears splashed onto the belt of my treadmill as I once again became involved in the true story of a Protestant family in Holland who opened their home to the Jewish underground during the Nazi occupation of World War II.  Eventually, the family was betrayed, and they were taken to several camps as political prisoners of the Nazis.  Much of the movie centers around what happened to the two middle-aged spinster sisters in one of the camps.

As I watched while walking this week, I remember being touched during that first experience and commenting on it in my journal after I had seen it initially.  I was curious to see if what I had written matched my memory, so I went to the row of journals on the shelf in the computer room and easily found the entry I had written following our movie-going experience.

NOW COMES THE "60 PAGE SIDEBAR", AS MY ROOMMATE SUE GREAVES USED TO SAY ABOUT MY STORY-TELLING:  What I didn't realize is that it was the VERY FIRST entry I ever made when I decided to keep a daily journal.  A new year.  Possibly a New Year's resolution to begin writing a journal--though the comments in those many notebooks often fell into more of the "diary" aspect rather than a true journal.  A journal in the way the Puritans envisioned it:  writing of experiences so as to see personal growth.  Yet...it was those journals that were the fodder for the Nichols Family News for the 10 years I published the family newsletter.  Journal entry or diary notation, they contain a lot of information--NOT ALL of equal value to the family.

It was January 16, 1976.  "Tomorrow is our 7th anniversary.  To celebrate, we went to see a show and have dinner afterward.

The show we chose to see was "The Hiding Place", a story about a Christian family in Nazi occupied Holland who risked their lives for the Jewish underground.  Eventually they were caught by the Gestapo and taken to a concentration camp.

I was deeply touched at this true story of people who felt that men and women everywhere were brothers and sisters in Christ's family, and that the ultimate purpose in life was obedience to God's irrefutable laws, and That Christ's love for us could sustain us through any trials.

If I had seen the movie even a year ago, I confess that all the mention made of Christ's love for mankind might have seemed a little corny to me--even so  that I might have felt uncomfortable and squirmed a little in my seat.

Instead, because I am beginning to understand just a minute part of this important concept [of love], I felt akin to what [these Protestants] were demonstrating in their interaction with other people regardless of attitude or belief.

In fact, it left me with a desire to be a more Christian and more tolerant person than I am.

It was a moving experience."

Forty one years later I am far, far beyond that young woman who was just beginning to realize who the Savior is and what His Atonement means for us all, and most importantly to me personally.  At that time I had no clue as to the trials that were ahead in my own life, and how very many times I would have to cling to the Atonement of Jesus Christ to see me through some hard devastations.

As I watched the movie this time, I saw exemplified what I personally know now.  How the truth in the scriptures sustained these women and how, in spite of the hell around them, they could still feel the very presence of heaven among them. 

They cherished the Bible. It made me wonder if I would sacrifice so much just to have my scriptures with me.  I can also see why at one point in my life, the way the family talked about Christ and their relationship to Him, might have made me uncomfortable.  It was because at that time anything different from our Mormon "vernacular" seemed hokey or over the top to my narrow vision of God and Jesus Christ AND the Holy Ghost.  Since then I have had the privilege to have had conversations with many, many people who are not members of the Church but have, not only a belief in God and Christ, but also have had deeply personal experiences with the Holy Spirit, as they refer to the Holy Ghost.

I recalled when President Hinckley  in General Conference once used for illustration an experience Corrie Ten Boom related about herself years later meeting one of the most evil and meanly depraved guards from one of the camps in which they were imprisoned.  The guard said something to the effect that he had changed or repented or some such thing and thrust out his hand to shake hers.  President Hinckley said Corrie Ten Boom confessed that her arm seemed paralyzed and she felt it almost impossible to take the man's hand.  Then it flashed through her mind all the things she had preached around the world in 60 countries about God' love and forgiveness...she HAD to take that hand.  And when she did, it was like an electric current going through her about the power of love and forgiveness--even when someone had so horribly wronged her and her sister.

Well, this is a long convoluted little blog entry which in the end, I guess, turned out to be nothing more than a  book/movie review.  But I give them both two thumbs up. "The Hiding Place" is a story about God's triumph over evil, even in the very place where evil reigns. As the two Ten Boom sisters stayed in the center of "God's will", they made it possible for God to work through them.  And they changed lives!

If you want another affirmation that the Atonement of Jesus Christ was accomplished through His love for us and because He suffered he can succor us with that love, then read the book....and watch the movie.  It will be worth your time and will increase your testimony of the Savior's matchless capacity for charity.  Plus it will give pause about your place on the grand scale of being a person through whom the work of the Kingdom is carried forward.

                                                   ...that God's love is not deeper still.

PS  I went down the basement to find my copy of the book.  I knew exactly what it looked like and was sure I could put my finger right on it.  But...apparently, that is ONE thing I gave away when we moved from Arvada.  So, I went on online to see about purchasing another copy.  (I have seen copies at thrift stores, but passed them by knowing I had my own copy.  Nada!)   I also found a source for a free download of an audio book of "The Hiding Place" at christianradio.  If you're into audio books, that might be something you would like.

SHORE EXCURSIONS DOWN THE DANUBE...

NOTE: The Danube is the longest river in the European Union, and is the second-longest river in Europe after Russia's Volga. It begins in the Black Forest region of Germany and runs through 10 countries (Germany, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Moldova and Ukraine) on its way to the Black Sea.  Richard Strauss knew what he was doing when he named that lovely waltz.  The Beautiful, Blue Danube aptly describes the romantic river which winds its way from Germany to the sea.

     DAYS 4-10

It took about three hours to go by bus from Prague to Passau, Germany, where we boarded the boat Hermod in the Viking fleet.  Before the boat ever sailed, this is where we made our first shore excursion.

Passau is also the part of Bavarian Germany which has a lot of wood carving.  I saw German smokers in the stores (like the ones I bought for each of you while we were in Berlin) and lots of carved wooden Christmas stuff--only these weren't the wooden displays that were also painted with shiny paint.  These were more like plain white wood carvings and displays with burnished edges (like wood burning) .

In this city we also went to an organ concert at St. Stephen's which was built after a cathedral in Vienna of the same name.

St. Stephen's Cathedral on the bottom right

The concert was half an hour long and featured the biggest pipe organ in the world with 17,000 plus pipes and over 230 registers.  The organ loft was in the back of the church, and that brought back memories when I played the organ at the Catholic church in Rawlins for Ida West's wedding.  (What had I been thinking!?!?!  I had never played the organ before--always declined when my mother wanted to show me the rudiments--but when Ida West asked me to play, I accepted the invitation to do so without any hesitation.  It was a long summer of practicing in the dark and scary Catholic church, and I didn't even do a good job. But I finished what I promised I would do.)

Anyway, the benches were low, narrow seats with no backs on them and the kneeling board so close there was no place to put our legs.  Good thing the concert was good.  It was a crippling position to be in, and they had suggested we go 30-45 minutes early to make sure we sat in the middle where the acoustics were the best.

In all there were five pieces the organist performed.  Three were church music and the other two--the third and fourth selections--were just regular pieces, both of which I recognized. 

My mother didn't like Bach, but I have come to appreciate his music--especially that day in a Baroque-style church built during the time he composed music for the organ.  I did like the other pieces, too, and it was clear why the patrons of the arts had these pieces of music commissioned.  They were pleasant to listen to.

From Passau we sailed to Linz, Austria.

It was HOT in Linz!  My long sleeved shirts and knit hoodies were just too much!  And because I based my packing requirements on memory of when we lived in Europe and went on spring vacations, I brought only a couple of short sleeved shirts.  So, after our waking tour of the city center's squares and some history about it being a big Nazi stronghold, Louis and I went shopping.

C & A.  A store I recognized from living in Berlin that is mid-priced and affordable for me.  But we had to walk several blocks away from the glitz to get to that shopping area.  In every city we have been in, the shopping has been very, very upscale with all the "Toni" shops you see in all the exclusive shopping areas in the US, too.  So, I dragged Louis into C&A so I could purchase three short sleeved tees and not feel like I was suffocating.  Felt good to put on some capris and a t-shirt so I could sit comfortably up on the upper deck and see the sights while the boat was docked.  Such a pleasant afternoon.

The weather had been terrific until we got to Melk where it was overcast, cool, rainy, and very, very windy.  I was soooo glad I had the little quilted jacket my Primary secretary bought for me from Costco and gave me for Christmas.

This location also featured a walking tour of the village and a visit to the Benedictine Monastery there.  In all the Catholic churches and cathedrals we have seen, I am so impressed that the murals and gospel stories they depict tell gospel truths.   Now this is from centuries ago, principles and morals about living that most people now days don't have a clue about.  And this was BEFORE the gospel was restored!

I've often said the same thing about Christmas carols and hymns written in the 1600s and 1700s--some even earlier--that tell about the divinity of Christ, his resurrection and the Atonement.  True, some of the doctrine got left out or mistranslated or man-made ideas crept in--but people seemed to know the basics about Christ that are totally ignored today.

The rest of that day we sailed through a serene landscape of terraced vineyards, lots of hilly slopes, charming towns, and of course castle ruins.   This was in Austria's Wachau Valley.  I think this was the most scenic stretch of the cruise.

It was cloudy in Vienna, too.  AND a Sunday.  So, not only were the stores closed because of the Sabbath, we wouldn't have gone shopping anyway.  But we did go on the bus tour included with the trip because Louis had never been to Vienna before.  And I learned a lot, too.

It was a pleasant afternoon after we got back to the boat.  Quiet because there were also three other shore excursions people were going on, and most other passengers were gone.  By then the sun was out so while Louis took a nap, I walked--along with many locals--on the nearby pathway which bordered the Danube near where our boat was docked.

At midnight we cast off for Bratislava and awoke in time to see the boat dock about 6:30 a.m. before we had a tasty breakfast.

Once again I was in a "new" country to put on my list, but it was also a country I had been in before.  This is the Slovakia part of what we visited as Czechoslovakia, a union of the two from 1919.  But apparently, it depended too heavily on Germany to be really independent.  Then the Soviets tried to make it a communist country, which it was until the fall of communism in 1989.  The country struggled along for another four years together, then had what is known as the Velvet Divorce to make the two countries separate again.




I liked Bratislava a lot, even though we were there only long enough to take a tour by bus and a guided walk at Bratislava  Castle.  As we were getting back on the bus, a woman was hawking beautiful white cardigan sweaters--name your price.  Louis haggled her down to five Euros (a little more than $5) and I have a lovely sweater which I put into my temple bag to wear when it is cold when I play the organ there.

We were having lunch on the terrace when we departed for Budapest.  I missed the Hungarian teatime which was supposed to have delicious Hungarian pastries, (don't know how I forgot about that, eater of pastries that I am) but I did go to a very informative talk about Viking long ships.  I had always been kind of interested in them since we visited Norway.  If you remember, I even had that that metal replica of a Viking ship on display in our Secrest Court house for years.

It was another enjoyable afternoon sailing on the river looking at the shore and all the castles still there and the people about their business.  We joined many other passengers on the open deck about 10 p.m. for our sail into Budapest.  It was a spectacular array of lights.  I'm glad I didn't miss it.

Our last full day for our vacation in Eastern Europe was finally in the place I had been trying to get to since 1985.  After we drove through Prague that May day in 1985, we headed toward Budapest.  We had only a one-day visa to be in Hungary, but on the map it looked doable to drive from Prague to Budapest. After all, the speed limit was 100 km an hour--plenty enough time to get there, take a quick look, and get the heck over to Vienna by midnight.

Uh uh.  The road was a rutted, two lane affair--dirt in most stretches--where people herded their goats and sheep along with the Soviet soldiers on bicycles who had machine guns slung over their shoulders.  We finally got as far as Linz. 

At that point Ross broke the news to me that we had to turn around and head for Vienna "right now".  Budapest would have to be part of another trip.  I was sorely disappointed, to say the least.  But, back then, one didn't argue with the Soviet government.  So, we turned around and began the drive out of Hungary.

On this cruise, I found out that the drive between Prague and Budapest in just a mere four hours on their much newer highways.  Oh, I had been oh so, so close....and yet so far away!

Budapest is actually two cities across the river from each other:  Buda and Pest.  Here we visited highlights of both cities, including the National Opera House and Heroes' Square.  That afternoon we had the option of going on other excursions--or we could climb up the dock to the quay and explore the city by ourselves.  I actually did it by myself.  Louis opted to stay on the boat, so I walked and explored as much as I could in a two hour period before the rain began in earnest.  I had just stepped onto the boat when the heavens opened and the water came pouring down.

That night we had a special dinner, and if we chose, we could line up and tour the kitchen to see where all that delicious food had been prepared.  Since our departure time was 2:45 a.m. the following morning, we called it a night early on to pack and make sure all was ready for our bus ride to the airport outside Budapest.

EPILOGUE

I would go on another river cruise in a heartbeat if I had the chance--like this one where all the aspects including the financing were within reach.  And beautiful scenic places, not just ocean. More river cruising in Europe, maybe starting in Berlin.  And I'd love to go down the Mississippi.  Viking will be starting those cruises soon.  

I enjoyed so much being able to shop and poke around in the cities and in the smaller towns for the unusual, the native crafts, the special.  I just about shopped myself out.  And Louis is such a good sport when I want to shop.  He'll find a place to sit so he can "people watch" and just wait and wait and wait for me to get my fill.  Didn't buy so many things this time.  I still have a basement full of beautiful stuff from when we LIVED in Europe.  And what would I do with even more....?

All the food was special.  And I liked that the breakfasts and lunches could be a buffet, or one could order from the menu.  I did both.  Pretty much stayed away from the fish dishes, but the rest certainly made up for it in variety. And every dish was plated so attractively, too!  I couldn't believe the speed with which our meals arrived, all accompanied by smiling wait persons from all over the world. My favorites were a young man from the Philippines and another young man from Spain.  They told stories, joked with us, remembered what we liked to drink and generally made our eating experience very pleasant.

 But, Louis said he would prefer a "big boat" cruise like we went on before.  He liked that the food selections were unlimited on Royal Caribbean like Johnny Rockets for hamburgers any time of the day or night, the ice cream stores for shakes and cones, exercise facilities, and more people.

I liked this one because there were less people, less opportunity for eating ALL the time, and since neither Louis nor I took advantage of the exercise facilities on the big cruise ship, who needed it?  There was plenty of walking/exercise with all the shore excursions we went on during this cruise.

I also liked that there was no formal dressing for dinner.  They asked only that we dress up "a bit" and not wear shorts for dinner.  We could sit at whatever table we wanted.  There was NO Captain's Dinner, which I utterly loathed on the other cruise because of having to dress  in evening clothes.   I felt so out of place.  That is just not ME at all!  On this cruise I felt very comfortable with nice slacks and a dress or two for dinner.

We were not  assigned to eat with the same people.  Consequently, we had an opportunity to sit with many different passengers.  But after a couple of days, we gravitated to a couple from Dallas, another couple from Long Island, and a couple of older women who were widows.  And, I was pleased they also gravitated to us most of the time.  The others were nice companions for a meal here and there.  The ones I mentioned we ate with more often might turn into Christmas card correspondents, as we did exchange addresses--at their requests.  I was surprised they asked.

So, that was my vacation of the decade, plus some.  It was worth it.  I could have used the money to pay down the loan on my new car, but now I have some great memories, like roses in December, to cheer me as the years go by.

Oh, and the Danube isn't blue, it's really green!


  
PS   I'm having a love/hate relationship with my new phone.  I am struggling to find the best way to transfer pictures from my phone right to the blog.  Not happening!  So, the pictures I took of these postcards were NOT in a format to edit off the unsightly edges that weren't supposed to show. In my mind's eye I could see a nice attractive blog piece with pictures arranged a little bit more imaginatively.  It didn't turn out that way.  Sorry! 

PRAGUE a.k.a PRAHA

NOTE:  I wrote this on my tablet while we were on our "Waltz Down the Danube" adventure and sent it by email to myself since I cannot access the "compose" part of my "A Nichols Worth..." blog anywhere except the desktop computer at home.  But I wanted to edit it and add the beautiful picture on the postcard I bought for our memory book.  

Little did I know it would take more than two months before I could carve out some time at the computer to do those simple things.  Soooo, there may have to be a re-read of the first vacation post to get in the "cruise groove" with me, once again.

                        DAYS 1-3

The tour guide on our tour of Prague said that thirty years ago the city was dark and dismal.  Yep!  It was thirty two years ago this month that I was last in Prague--May 1985 just before we returned to the United States after living in West Berlin, Germany.  The Soviets were still in control and everything looked bleak. Though the countryside was in the full bloom of its spring  season, the city itself was drab with little color.

I don't remember much more than that as we drove through that May day because the main objective of our trip was a visit to Budapest.   Though I DO remember we had a good time for the two days we had spent here a few months before when we actually stayed overnight before going on to Vienna and down into Italy during the winter break from school.

It was two days after Christmas that we had driven across a snow swept landscape from East Germany down into Czechoslovakia, approaching Prague about 10 o'clock at night.  We looked in vain for the city's lights which would signal the approaching end of a long day's trip.  After all, this was a city of about 1 million people.  

What we didn't realize is that we were already in the city.  But, because of  Soviet restrictions, there were no street lights other than a bare minimum.  It had seemed strange and felt like it did at home when the power goes out and the normally well-lighted neighborhoods are dark.

I don't remember what hotel we stayed at.  There were only a few available and our choice had to be selected and paid for in advance when we applied for the outrageously expensive  24 hour visa.  Ross had taken care of that weeks before.

We were all a little apprehensive about lodging with the Soviets.  But when the kids made comments like our room was probably going to be bugged and other stuff they'd seen in the movies about the repressive government in the Soviet Bloc countries, Ross and I pooh-poohed it and said all was well.  Secretly, I had the same images running through my mind.

On our way into the city that winter the kids had made bets with each other as to who was going to spot McDonald's first.  HAHA!  There was NO McDonald's!  So, I was a little worried if the kids would turn their noses up to the food since it was bound to be very different than what they were used to eating.  Surprise, surprise....they liked the Spies Karte which was kind of a goulash.

We went walking in the city to have a look around.  I believe it was the Palladium Shopping Centrum where we went--down a long, long escalator into the bowels of the earth where there were a few stores which had a limited amount of merchandise in them.  In spite of that, we had a good time window shopping--until we realized Burgandy was no longer with us.  Somewhere, somehow we had gotten separated from her.

Ross and I were frantic, darting into and out of shop after shop without catching sight of her, calling her name as we went.  Finally Ross reminded us that we had always said if we got separated, we were to stay in the last place we had been together.  And that's how we found Burgandy--blithely looking in a store window very near where the rest of us had moved onto the next store and we got separated with the crowds of people thronging around us.

Prague was also the first place I had ever seen how the "Black Market" worked.  I had heard of it for years yet had no idea how it became tangible.  But that day in Prague as we walked down the street--two very obvious American adults with a half-dozen kids--I saw a guy raise his arm above his head and rub his fingers together as he slipped into an alley.  Ross followed him and exchanged our very in-demand American money with him for some Czech bills.  I thought for sure we were all going to go to jail!  But it didn't seem that anyone even paid attention.

It was also in Prague I noticed that old beat-up American cars were a status symbol.  Some dating back twenty years or more with fins on the rear chassis--but also missing fenders and bumpers and other such details that Western drivers would never drive around without.

It was during the time we were wandering around the only area of Prague the Soviets would allow visitors that we had a significantly emotional experience.  As I mentioned, it wouldn't have been too difficult for people to see us and rightly assess that we were American. 

However, to one elderly woman we were the representation of all that was good about the Americans after World War II.   She laid her hand on Ross' arm and said that if she could--without repercussion from the Soviets--she would take us home with her where she would feed us as thanks for  America and for American integrity after the war ended.  Meaning no rape and pillage of the conquered countries like the Soviets did to such devastating effect.

So, that was the Prague I remembered.  A good memory.

As we drove into the city from the airport yesterday, these were the thoughts I had.  But instead of seeing the drab, dismal city I had seen before, here was a vibrant city that has done a lot of work in the last 30 plus years to reclaim its place as one of the jewels of Central Europe.  The people in the Czech Republic, and indeed most of Eastern Europe, refer to Prague in its native spelling:  Praha.  And that brings me to another point.  I have now added another country to my list of "have visited", only this time I had already been to this country. It's only the name that has changed.

The buildings are no longer black and sooty but the rich cream and light colors they were originally--as far back as the 900's.  This is a city steeped in the history of empires and family dynasties with beautiful parks and waterways that add to its charm.  The streets are still medieval, twisting and turning cobblestone paths into hidden courtyards and and open plazas.  Churches, palaces, and statues are plentiful, all with a story....like the palace of Good King Wenceslas, who distributed goods to the poor and for whom the English wrote a Christmas carol with which we are all familiar.

So, here are my observations about Prague today:  It reminds me a lot of Berlin.  Lots of color.  Lots of cars.  Lots of shops with beautiful cut glass, art work, wooden toys like marionettes, stacking dolls now prevalent from their Russian neighbors, plus crystal and ceramics.

I found a beautiful, but simple, color-washed Nativity--just Mary, Joseph, the Baby Jesus, and a lamb on a wooden base. Hand made in the Czech Republic (there were two others but with minor differences) for just 7,000 Korun.  I just about had the shopkeeper wrap it up (I was prepared to pay as much as $100 for a beautiful souvenir like that) when Louis had the clerk convert that to American dollars.  It was $330.  YIKES!!!!!!!  You have to know that was too much even for me--who has been known to drop a $100 here and there for something really unusual for my collection of Nativity sets.

This is a country that is known for its blown glass ornaments, too.  But I still have to see some in the stores.  So far, nothing like that.

However, I did tell Louis I wanted to eat at McDonald's so I could say I had eaten at McDonald's in every capitol of Europe,  and be able to leave off the disclaimer--except Prague.  Eating at McDonald's was like I remember, too, not the same as at home.  The sandwiches are different and the beef doesn't taste like American corn-fed beef.

I don't remember the name of the hotel we stayed at in Prague in 1985.  This time we are staying at the Art Nouveau Palace Hotel--Viking Cruises choice--and it is nice!  Old, but not tacky.  And the included breakfast is splendiferous!

I thought the one we had at the Stephanie Hotel was super during that same vacation when we couldn't find a pension to stay in while we were in Vienna (the hotel bill was $118 and it made me so physically ill that we had had to spend so much money on one night's stay, I couldn't even enjoy it!  This was the occasion of Dad's lesson to me:  "What difference is it going to make a year from now, 10 years, 100 years?  Just enjoy it!"  But I couldn't.  I know better NOW!)

Beautiful weather.  Blue skies and abundant green everywhere.  The same kind of weather that in 1985 made me realize--out in the countryside of the Soviet Bloc nations--that beauty knows no political boundaries.

Today we did a walking tour of the "old" and "new" cities.  Actually the old and the new happened about a 100 years apart from each other more than seven or eight centuries ago.  Praha is the old.  Prague is the new.  It all looked pretty much the same to me, only one is across the bridge from the other. 

And I didn't know Prague was such hilly country.  I think the guide said nine hills.  Most of it was walking (nearly 10,000 steps for that part alone when I got back to the hotel) and then on the bus to a castle and churches on another hill.  As the bus was driving through what the guide called the Castle District, the road was winding and every curve brought a beautiful panoramic view of Prague.

I am still feeling kind of weak, but I figured if my pioneer ancestors could put one foot before the other to escape mob-ism and prejudice to cross the Great American Desert, I could suck it up and go on a jet plane in a few hours to do some really terrific sightseeing.  But I was ready for a rest when we finally got back to the hotel.   Only a couple of coughing spasms attacked me--I think they were triggered by the strong tobacco smoke (no "NO Smoking" laws here--yet, until two weeks from now) and the pungent odors from all the restaurants and eateries.  Like fingers reaching down my throat to tickle that one raw spot.

When we started out early this morning there were few people on the streets.  By noon, the streets were full of people from practically every continent and a good measure of people who were probably local.  And by that I mean from somewhere close around Prague.  There was a mix of languages and people that made the whole city seem positively cosmopolitan.  Fortunately, enough people spoke English so I could pretty much understand and be understood when I wanted to look at or buy something.  The shopping streets around the hotel were full of upscale and high end merchandise I would never think of purchasing. So, I concentrated my time on the souvenir shops and the odd, unusual little item hiding among a plethora of goods for sale.

We stay here until we leave for Passau, Germany, by "motor coach, as Europeans call the bus.  This is a wonderful three-day introduction to a long-awaited real vacation.  I am enjoying every minute of it!

71717

71717 :   a NUMBER PALINDROME to celebrate...

April 1987 for Jeremy's 10th birthday

For King George the First three hundred years ago in 1717, the celebration was a water trip down the Thames River accompanied by George Freidrich Handel's brand new composition "Water Music" and highlighted with spectacular fireworks.

For me it was the quiet contemplation of the day our lives in the Nichols Family were forever changed 30 years ago in 1987 when Jeremy fell out of that old cottonwood tree and died of a severe closed head injury the following day in St. Anthony Central Hospital.  He had begun his life there 10 years, 3 months, and 16 days earlier.  It was only fitting his life was ended there, as well, but on a different floor from the joyous welcoming of new babies.

Thirty years!  How can that be?  It sometimes still feels like it wasn't that long ago.  And other times it feels like it has been forever as I look back to the progress of our collective life--sad, happy, devastating, buoyant....and everything in between.

No fireworks for me last Monday, but it was still a celebration of sorts.

So, here are my reasons to commemorate 71717 in 2017:

• I have a sure testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the promises of eternal families.
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• There is personal conviction that Jeremy has been doing missionary work for the Nichols Family on the other side of the veil, for who else should do it but someone in the family.  Blessings for the family both here and there.
• 
  
• There have been thirty years to calm the giant waves from that cataclysmic event.  Now the aftermath is nothing but ripples.  Thirty years to move us away from the pain and grief and bone-deep ache of missing him--at the table, tucking him into bed, in his favorite spot on the couch for Family Home Evening, his place on the bench in Sacrament Meeting, his spot in the car....
• 
  
• Ten years on earth isn't a long time, but there are still sweet, sweet memories of a cute, freckle-faced blond haired boy who at age ten was the spitting image of his dad at age ten.
• 
  
• There is a box down the basement with a few items that marked some of the milestones of his short life.  I like to look through it now and then and remember again the events that brought about those treasures.
• 
  
• The elephants throughout my house weren't his, but they are my ongoing acknowledgement of something Jeremy liked.  And I remember again the "Elephant Safari" birthday party we had for him when he turned eight while we were living in Berlin.  Something special because he wasn't going to be baptized in the Arvada Stake Center like the rest of the kids were.
• 
  
• When the weather is too hot or too cold, I like to think of Jeremy's wish for just "medium weather".  That is definitely MY wish, too!
• 
  
• Sometimes when I hear the heater go on in the night I remember how he used to call out in the middle of the night when HE heard the heater kick in, "Heat, Momma...Hot, Momma!" when he was first learning to talk.
• 
  
• When I walk up or down the carpeted steps and notice the pile is all flat, I think about what a great job Jeremy always did when it was his turn to vacuum the steps.  And, after I told him once that I always liked it when he was the person in charge of that job, he redoubled his efforts to make sure the carpet nap was standing at attention.  I even enjoy thinking of the time the canister vacuum got away from him and bumped down the steps at the Secrest Court house and made a hole in the wall at the bottom of the stairs.  Not so great then, but funny now when I remember the startled look on Jeremy's face.
• 
  
• Before seat belts, Jeremy used to like to lay his head on my lap in the car while I stroked his forehead and smoothed his hair.  
• 
  
• How glad I am that we ate pancakes out on the back patio for breakfast that morning because he had asked if we could.
• 
  
• And those beautiful, blue eyes!  Won't have to wait another thirty years before I see them again. Sometimes I can't wait!

              

Six months

Second Grade school picture in Berlin.  I HATED it when he          brought it home.  Now I think it is so cute.

     

Nichols Family  about 6 months before Jeremy died

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

                                      "always on my mind...."

Somewhere along the way in my life, a river cruise has been on my "bucket list".  At first it was nothing really specific, but I knew I didn't like ocean cruises all that much because they always involved water, sand, sun, humidity, bathing suits, and tons of people who always seemed to know how to navigate in those kinds of settings.  A combination to make a true crush which could easily color a "Cruise" to be not so attractive to me.   And I knew that... because I had been on one.  Enough for me.  

I began thinking "local",   like a cruise down the Mississippi River.  But none of that daydreaming got any purchase. 

I'm on every demographic list in the country--for stuff I MIGHT be interested in.  But mostly stuff I am NOT interested in.  However, every time I got a colorful brochure from Viking Cruises I usually leafed through it wishing that I might be part of that kind of life because it looked so exciting...then I tossed the brochure.

I did that around the first of this year and happened to tell Brittany about it during a conversation just after I had taken the garbage out.  She said she'd always wanted to go on a river cruise, too, and asked me which one I had been looking at.  "The one that would complete the circle of cities I started to visit over thirty years ago.  Always wanted to say I had been to Vienna, Prague, and Budapest which would have been quite a coup back then when two of them were behind the Iron Curtain."  Then Britty said, "Go get the brochure out of the garbage and make the arrangements so you can go!"

Right.  It's thousands of dollars, which I had--but it's not practical.  But it wasn't long after I got off the phone that day when I decided to dig through the garbage and retrieve that enticing invitation before it went out to the curb for trash pickup.

First step was to ask Louis if he would consider a river cruise instead of an ocean cruise because he has pressed me for years to go back to the Caribbean with him.  I was surprised he said he'd love to do something like that.  He had never been to Vienna, though he had been in the Slovakian/Serbian countryside for Army maneuvers after the Wall came down.

It was one quick step from that to the phone where we made the reservations.  Three days later the money was transferred out of my bank account and we were officially going to be cruising the Danube River, with an extra three day pre-excursion in Prague.  I started sharing the good news.

Then, Louis' work started NOT cooperating...with unsettling decisions about his position, though they told him to keep his plans for the cruise.  I quit telling people we were actually going to go on a real vacation.   Some of the excitement I'd had kind of paled.

Months passed.  Lots more hurdles to cross.  My vacation was scheduled for Wednesday, May 15th through the end of the month.  BUT.... our three days in Prague began on Mother's Day which necessitated our departure day to be on the 13th.  Simple.  Just bid a line for May that had days off BEFORE my vacation started.  So, I bid for EVERY line of flying that butted up against my first vacation day because the rule is that if a trip touches any part of the vacation--it disappears from your line. 

April 18th when the bids were awarded, I realized again how very insignificant my seniority is.  Not only was I NOT awarded a schedule from the choices I made, but United awarded me with a schedule which had NO days off before my vacation.  Plus, there was a three-day trip the week before which had me coming back to Denver at 6 P.M. on the day we were supposed to fly to JFK at 11:30 A.M.  YIKES!

Decided I would call in sick for the three-day trip that  overlapped our departure date.  That was doable.  But the three day trip for the 14th, 15th and 16th was going to be more difficult to get rid of.  Can't call in sick before vacation days without severe penalty and a letter of charge since they assume you are extending your own vacation.  (What!  Would I do that!?!?!?! ) Put my trip on the RDO board--please, somebody take this trip!  Put in requests for day-at-a -time vacation;  WOP--without pay;  GWOP--gone without pay, and every other avenue possible for a "legal" trade.  I wasn't very optimistic that anything would net me those three days I needed to be off work.  But...a few days later, the trip was missing out of my line.  Someone DID pick it up!  Hallelujah!  Life is good after all!

Started making plans to be gone from Primary, Ward Council, etc. etc. etc.  Decided just how I was going to organize my work around the house so that I left, not only a clean house, but a HOUSE-CLEANED house.  Figured out what to do with my plants.  (Still wasn't sure if I was going to come home to dead house plants.  Had the presence of mind NOT to plant the flower boxes as someone would have to look  after them while I was gone, too.)  Who should I ask to put the garbage can away in the garage after the Monday pick-up we would miss?  Needed to request a vacation stop for the mail from the Post Office.  Oh.... I thought of it all.  AND I decided to buy a couple of pairs of slacks for the trip on top of it all.

Did it happen that way?  Not at all!

Flew that last six days of April.  Had a couple of days off, one of which I worked at the temple.  Left the morning of the 5th for a two-day trip and got home late Saturday night.  Early Ward Council on Sunday,  three hours of Church, Louis' son Jordan came for dinner on his way to Fort Carson, and I was off again for DIA after a little nap because I didn't feel very well and my throat was scratchy.  By then the wind was ferocious and the rain had started, so I begged Louis to take me to DIA  (never have to beg too hard, he loves doing that).

By the time Louis picked me up on Tuesday night, almost three hours later than when our plane was supposed to arrive, I was so sick I just fell into bed when we got home.  And basically stayed there until it was time to go to DIA for our trip on Saturday.   No house-cleaning, let alone a HOUSE-CLEANED house.  Barely got my laundry done so I could pack some clean clothes.

Did I wish I could stay home and not have to go anywhere, let alone on a cross-country plane ride to JFK , a four hour sit there, and then a nine hour flight in Economy to Prague?  You'd better believe it.   That is what I wished.  I was dreading the trip. 

On one of the few forays out of bed prior to our trip, however, I went to the doctor--just in case I had an ear infection, a sinus infection, anything that I could take some medicine for.  Nope.  Nothing. They even took a strep culture.  I had nothing but a VIRAL infection.  Though the doctor did give me a prescription for some Amoxicillin just in case I did get a bacterial infection while I was gone.  Never have I wished there WAS something wrong with me!

I was so hopped up on over-the-counter medicine, the whole trip was pretty much a blur.  Although we flew on Delta, I do remember thinking that I was so glad I no longer fly internationally.  Those trips I remember as long, long, long.  But at least on those working trips I was up and not crammed into a tiny space for hours.

Louis thought he had picked seats in their "economy plus" section, using the same seating criteria as United has.  Sorry.... we were one row behind the economy section on both flights.  And the one flight to JFK the seats didn't recline because it was the row before the EXIT row. AARGH!

Arrival at Prague:  I guess I had no idea what the European Union meant in regards to visitors.  It literally was easier to go through customs in Prague than it is to get into Canada from the United States!  Looked at our passports and waved us through--no forms, didn't have to pick up our baggage first and take it with us or anything.  (The EU also means not having to show your passport passing from country to country.  No borders.  No border agents. No border control. Wow!  This is WAAAAAY different than this part of the world in the 80's.)

A Viking rep was waiting for us and about ten other people who were also on our flight doing the extra three-day tour there.  A sleek European bus skimmed us to the hotel in Old Prague in about 25 minutes. The countryside was beautiful and green with fields of what I thought were daffodils, but later found out was rape seed or cannola which the EU subsidizes farmers to grow for their energy source.

As we entered Prague, I strained to see anything that called to mind the city we saw 32 years ago when it was under Soviet control.  Nothing really.  The buildings are no longer dark and dirty.  They've been cleaned and are the soft creams and bright colors so often associated with Slovakia. And the people are energetic, bustling, and purposeful.  Another stark change from the drab clothes and dreary faces I remember seeing before.

We checked into the hotel, top-rating for sure, went to our room....and I went straight to bed.  It was 1 P.M.  The great adventure had to wait until morning to begin because I was still so sick.

Then, when I awoke the next morning for our first city tour....everything went UP from there!

MEMORIAL DAY....AND MEMORIES

Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock.

Memorial Day is just about my favorite holiday.  It brings back so many memories of different times in my life that made it such a great occasion.  Not to mention it comes at the end of May AFTER school is out and summer is officially--or unofficially--ready to begin.

As a little girl it was the opportunity to be with my dad when he went down to the florist to pick up the fresh flowers he had ordered to decorate my brother Harold's grave.  It was always an early prospect with a definite chill in the air when we started out. After all this was Wyoming in May.  Then it was home to arrange the flowers in the huge crocks which were stored for just this ritual every year.  All was ready before breakfast so we could get out to the Rawlins cemetery as early as possible.  

Marcia and I liked to visit the graves which had the most interesting headstones.  My favorite was George Eliopoulos, the local Greek boy who had been appointed a commission at West Point.  He was killed when another cadet accidentally stabbed him with his bayonet during a marching drill.  His marker was tall with a picture of him in his white dress uniform.  The metal frame was oval and had a cover which could be moved back to reveal the photograph.  He was a handsome young man. 

By the time Marce and I got back to Harold's grave,  all the flowers had been arranged, and we would go home to prepare the rest of our picnic lunch, which we usually had in the back yard.  The mountains were still too snowy to go there.  It was always fun, nevertheless.

As I got older, the family still went to the cemetery to put flowers on Harold's grave but I would also sometimes spend time with my friends.  No stores were open, so no shopping and mega sales like nowadays.  But we had a good time getting together for board games or an impromptu mini picnic at one or another's homes. 

Memorial Day was still observed on May 30th in 1968 when I graduated from BYU.  I went home for a quick trip after finals to zip down to Denver to find a job and a place to live (neither materialized) but I had a good time with my friend who drove and showed me around Denver.  When we got back to Rawlins, I then celebrated with my family.   Graduation day was May 31st, the day after Memorial Day, so I must have traveled on that day to get to Provo in time for my convocation.

It wasn't until 1971 that Memorial Day holiday has been officially observed on the last Monday in May.  During the next few years after I got married,  Ross and I would go back to Rawlins for Memorial Day to celebrate with the Huggins family.  Then we began staying at home, probably when Ross was going to college, and celebrated by ourselves.

As the years rolled by Memorial Day became a day to clean the garage, sometimes wash the windows inside and out, and then celebrate our hard work and our clean house by having a picnic in our clean and cooler-than-the-house garage followed by games in our own backyard.  I remember those holidays with great fondness.

Three times we STILL celebrated Memorial Day even though we were in Virginia, Sweden, and West Berlin.  Those were family affairs for sure!

Then Jeremy died and we began making our own trek to  a cemetery to put flowers on his grave--this time in Golden.

Next came the Bolder Boulder era, starting first with myself running the 10K race with Mel Casper and then in the years to follow with the kids.  At first Harold and Brice were on their missions.  When they came home they ran, too.  Harold finished that first time in about 40 minutes, if I remember correctly.  Brice was always out to have a good time and usually stopped for donuts along the way as he ran.  Burgandy would run in her hiking boots!  And her feet were in sad shape when we finished.  We nearly had to carry her to the car when the race was over.

I am a walker, but on that one day of the year for the Bolder Boulder 10K race, I jogged.  Even though there is a wave for walkers, I just couldn't walk like some wimp.  I HATE running, though, so I wasn't very good at it.  My finish time was always around an hour-twenty.  One year I decided  I would "train" so I could break an hour.  That was my personal goal.  To get in shape for the last month before the race, I would walk my 3.5 miles every morning, but run from Quaker Street home.  Then I would jump on my bike and ride the exact same route. 

When race day came, I reminded the family--actually Britty, because everyone else was faster than I was--that I wasn't going to go slow just to be with her.  I told her that I would stick with her for the first mile, then I would go on ahead. 

Now as I look back, I can't believe I did that.  I ran with her for the first mile like I said, then forged on ahead calling over my shoulder, "Bye, Britty.  See you at the finish line!"  There were thousands of people in the race and thousands more watching.  It wasn't until later when I DID cross the finish line that I began to regret that I had left her behind.  My mind began imagining all kinds of scenarios.  But, she stuck with it and crossed the finish line sometime later.  I was a wreck until I saw her trudging along all by herself.

And MY finish time that year?  Just OVER one hour because I had such a stitch in my side from jogging that I decided to walk from mile five to mile six then run the last stretch into the stadium ( you don't want to be the one walking  into the stadium).  All that effort and I still didn't break an hour!  If I had just started to run about 500 feet earlier, I would have clocked 59 minutes instead of one hour and two or three minutes.  Oh, well. But I wasn't interested in beating my own record anymore (too much work).  However, Britty got better and better every year.  (Now look at her....she runs marathons!)

I have had to fly most of the Memorial Day holidays in the 17 years since I began with United.  And I have never run the Bolder Boulder since 2000.  But the few years I have had it off, the Colorado Nichols would get together for a picnic and sometimes be joined by the Utah Nichols.  I really enjoyed those years feasting, funning, and being with family.  We even had one of Momma G's  summer super-fests during a Memorial Day holiday weekend.  That year it was "The Grands Go Hawaiian". 

So, today I reminisced.  I would have liked to go back in a time machine to one of those earlier years and feel that same exhilaration about Memorial Day that I used to....because today was an absolute NOTHING....didn't even take flowers to Jeremy's grave.  The day was lackluster and non-descript.

Yes, sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock.  But just maybe...next year's Memorial Day will be another memory-making event.  Hope so!