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Another year. Another opportunity. More reasons to concentrate on why we should be grateful for what we take for granted and shamed for what billions of people are denied.

Bottom line, with credit to Stephen Sondheim, “We’re Still Here” — as are our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren scattered from New York and Maryland to New Mexico and Oregon.

While the University of Iowa cuts down hundreds of trees to expand parking lots and roads, Mary doesn’t cut down a little pine tree and bring it in the house. She uses her artistic touch to make a “tree” — and decided this year we need two.

“A long time ago, far, far away,” now crediting George Lucas, we did things like this:

Having turned 90 we seem content with TV’s videos of lands far away and exercise closer to home. Nick with his daily 5,000 steps, giving everyone a greeting, smile, and tip of the hat. Mary peddling miles on a stationary bicycle in the basement. Transportation is now provided by Uber drivers, family and friends.

We’re in the house where Nick celebrated his seventh to seventeenth birthdays, then a family neighborhood for a couple hundred. Now there are more houses, mostly sheltering students.

Our house is three blocks from Kinnick Stadium. With college football games and gambling now an industry, the neighborhood becomes a giant parking lot on Saturdays, while thousands of fans walk our streets. Here’s what a former riding stable and pasture (a half-block from us) looks like football Saturdays.

The “Wendell Johnson Speech and Hearing Center,” built in 1968, three years after his death, is scheduled for demolition in 2025.

How have we adapted? By turning our homestead into a nature preserve.

In our front yard, if you look carefully, you’ll spot the eagle’s nest in the pine. The maple, once but a tiny sapling, is now approaching the size of the house. Squirrels watch us through the bay window, or nap while balanced on a limb.

The Northland behind our house we leave to the plants and animals that like it. Fallen limbs, like golf balls, are “left where they lie” – or used for trail borders.

Inside, the plants and animals are tame. Natalie and Edna would as soon lick our faces as theirs.

And the wildest of all?

Wishing for all of us a Happier New Year!


Credits:

Design and presentation: Gregory Johnson

Content, text and photos: Mary Vasey, Nicholas Johnson