That’s me sitting down, surrounded by Dad and Jonathan. My theory was that if you’re sitting down, you won’t lose your balance and fall off the roof.

On Saturday, we reshingled Mom and Dad’s roof. Pam and I went, ostensibly to help. Pam actually did help. I mostly stayed on solid ground. Heights don’t work well for me. Standing on a chair doesn’t work well for me.

My brother Stu brought quite a crew. There were his sons Benjamin and Jonathan, his daughter Paula and her husband Tom, and then Brian, a friend of Tom and Benjamin. Benjamin was clearly the boss, because he knew what he was doing. When anyone encountered a problem, they called for Benjamin. A few weeks earlier, this whole crew reshingled Benjamin’s fixer-upper house in Willshire, Ohio, which made Dad’s house seem like a cake-walk. In Willshire, Paula was suspended along the side of the house by a rope, which went over the top of the two-story house and was tied, on the other side, to Benjamin’s Jeep. She was scared to death, yet game.

The hope was to keep Dad off the roof. We’d just as soon that he not spend his senior years in a full-body cast. But we knew, deep down, that he’d inevitably climb topside. That came very early, when the truck was lifting shingles onto the roof, which was still frost-covered at that point. Dad climbed the ladder, crept up to the crest, stood, and walked–a bit shakily–over to Jonathan and Stu. Oh well. That’s Dad.

I was also able to hide behind my Miniere’s Disease, which had been acting up all week. It affects your balance, which affords an airtight argument against traversing rooftops. But when a call went out in the afternoon for someone to distribute shingles, I headed up, feeling like I should justify my existance. The first obstacle, of course, was moving from the ladder to the roof. I conquered that one with bravado. I then found myself on a small portion of the roof, above an add-on room, which is not slanted much. Alas, they needed me elsewhere, where the slope was much greater. I moved over there, feeling like I was wearing aluminum shoes on loose gravel. I stood there a bit, considering my balance anxieties. Paula noticed.

“How about if you take my place helping Brian, and I work over here?”

In other words, Paula was flat-out calling me a scaredy cat. But at age 49.94, I’m beyond the need to reaffirm pride. So I eagerly acknowledged Paula’s youthful wisdom and consented to her suggestion. Working with Brian meant I could stay on the less-inclined part of the roof, where I did not feel, constantly, like I would keel over and tumble overboard.

One time I watched Benjamin, with a stack of shingles slung over his shoulder, jaunt along the edge of the roof and merge seemlessly onto the ladder. No more difficult than opening a car door and climbing in. He’s my hero.

It was a fun day. And Mom fed us home-made noodles. Always a selling point for me.

The link below leads only to a bunch of pictures from the day’s festivities.

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Last night we took our annual pilgrimage to the Van Wert County Fair. Pam and I have been going for, we figure, 18 years now. At least. Started before we got married. Last night we went with my brother Rick and his family.

Food is the main attraction. Always the same stuff from the same places, in the same order. I got two sandwiches from Ragers–sausage, and bologna. Fiske fries came next. Then a funnel cake. Then a bag of roasted almonds at an outrageous price. And finally, the famous cherry ice cream. Everything is always in the same place as the year before. Mom says the cherry ice cream stand is located in the same place it was located when she was a kid, which goes back at least, uh, 20 years.

I climbed over a bunch of tractors with Cameron, Rick’s son, who must be four or five at this point. I can never remember. One old, restored tractor still had a key in the ignition, a mistake by the owner, I’m sure. Cameron, who routinely pulled every lever and flipped every switch on every tractor, was quite surprised when he turned the key and the engine turned over.

I have gobs of relatives in the area, but didn’t see a one of them. Did see Ed Gebert there, the guru of Attention Span.

People complain about how slow churches are to change. Well, I’ve got news for you. Nothing changes more slowly than the Van Wert County Fair. And despite all my progressive harpings, I like the fair that way. Should I appreciate slowness-to-change more in church? I’ll have to think about that.

Last night was great fun, one of those therapeutic times when you laugh and laugh and laugh.

My Uncle Mark and Aunt Susie were out from Boulder, Colorado, where they’ve lived since 1969. He retired this spring after a whole career, 40-some years, with IBM. Mark is my mom’s younger brother. As I write, Mark and Mom are attending their high school’s reunion. This was not a big school–Uncle Mark’s class had 17 students–and the school doesn’t exist anymore, so basically the reunions include anyone who ever attended that school regardless of year.

Last night, we all met for supper at Balyeats, a wonderful home-cooking restaurant in downtown Van Wert, Ohio. I’d heard how great it was, but hadn’t eaten there. A serious omission in my life. The swiss steak was incredible. Mark and Susie also brought their daughter (my youngest cousin) Wendy, who is eight years younger than me. Plus Wendy’s two young children (husband Curt, a veterinarian, remained back in rural Wyoming keeping the wildlife healthy).

During the meal, and later at the Holiday Inn Express where they were staying, we gabbed and reminisced and laughed wonderfully. My parents have always been close to Mark and Susie, and they carry on when they’re together. Pam and I got a glimpse of that some years ago when we joined all of them at Mark and Susie’s house in Boulder for several days. We had a great time.

Wendy, my cousin, is a real hoot. Very expressive, with a quick wit. Both of her parents are quick-witted, but Wendy tops them. She’s just a delightful girl. I really didn’t know her as a kid growing up; we older cousins preferred to avoid Wendy and my brother Rick, the two youngest. Our loss. Wendy is just doggone fun.

I’m not saying anything specific here. No stories for you to envision. I do have stories. Things that made us laugh. But you had to be there. And you weren’t, so what do you care? I’m just thrilled to have relatives like this. And I’m dismayed that, because of the distance, I see them so seldom.

Don Dennie, my dad, talking to parishioners at Olive Branch UB church in Lakeville, Ind.

Photos – Page 1 | Photos – Page 2

Yesterday, July 2, my parents retired…again. It was their last day pastoring the Olive Branch United Brethren church in Lakeville, Ind., just south of South Bend. Pam and I drove up for the service. We had attended their final service at Third Street UB church back in 1998, the last time they retired. This was a tremendous day, and I felt so grateful for the way this congregation showered love and appreciation on my parents.

Mom at the piano (for the last time?). A photo of her Sunday school class sits on the piano.

My parents originally came to Lakeville in 1989, just a few months after the previous pastor and his wife, along with two young daughters, were shotgunned in the church parsonage. Mom and Dad moved back from Arizona to serve this shattered congregation, and over the next five years helped bring a great deal of healing. They then moved on to serve three years at the Third Street UB church in Fort Wayne, Ind.–the predecessor of my current church, Anchor. Next came a brief interim stint in Convoy, Ohio, and then they, uh, retired.

And got bored. Four years ago they returned to Olive Branch in an interim capacity, were asked to throw their hat in the ring during the pastoral search (which they did somewhat reluctantly), and got voted in. But this year, my parents felt it was time to move on. Or, to move back to their home in Fort Wayne, and then figure out what the next chapter of their life will hold.

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Paula got married today. That’s my brother Stu’s daughter, the second of four kids (the others all guys). Of my six nephews and nieces on my side of the family, Paula Jo is the first to get married. Now she’s Paula Merkle, wife of Tom. And this new guy, Tom, has now invaded our family. Fortunately, Tom is a great guy; I liked him from Day One. He and Paula have dated for a couple years now. Tom’s a solid guy–talented, hardworking, a great sense of humor, smiles easily. He’s far more than a welcome addition to the family. And he’ll take real good care of Paula.

My Dad and my brother, Stu, both conducted the ceremony. Mostly Stu. That’s him on the left, with his wife, Joyce. Stu walked Paula down the aisle, and when Dad asked who’s giving away Paula, Stu did the usual “Her mother and I.” Then Stu walked around the groomsmen (five of them) and took the center place while Dad moved aside. Tom then brought Paula onto the stage, and the ceremony continued.

Stu did a great job. Others said they thought he struggled in a couple places, but I didn’t detect it. He joked later that the trick was to not look at Paula. He would look down, up, between them, around them, but knew that if he looked at Paula and their eyes met, that it would be all over.

So this was a big day in the Dennie family.