Intersections

The best memories of my childhood are the summers spent on my grandma's farm in southeastern Iowa.

Most of those, unfortunately, don't include my grandma, who much preferred the company of my older sister to mine.

No, my memories center on the time I spent with my Uncle Clarence and my cousin Bill, who is only 18 months older than I.

I spent nearly every waking moment of every day following Uncle Clarence around the farm, riding on the tractor with him while he mowed weeds, riding on the hay wagon during baling, and picking raspberries (you begin to see my experience was more that of a "tourist" than any actual help to my uncle).

My cousin Bill, me, Uncle Clarence

We went fishing and swimming in my uncle's ponds and rock hunting for geodes and fossils. My cousin and I spent hours doing "surgery" on horse weeds with our pocket knives, building "toad halls" in the gravel pile, dueling with sticks and having pillow wars in my grandma's living room (the latter two activities were always stopped way before we were done having fun.)
I learned a lot from my uncle, who really was more like a grandfather to me. He was an authentic curmudgeon, sharing his views on politics, religion and, unfortunately, my aunt, more freely with me than any adult ever had before.

It was during these summers that I first heard about the "wackos" in Fairfield, Iowa. Apparently, one of my cousin's had attended Parson's College in Fairfield, but now, some crazy people had taken over the college. I never really understood who these people were, but I certainly knew they were weird and not to be trusted.

Fast forward 10 years and I'm at Iowa State University, falling in love with my future husband. He's from a poultry/dairy farm in north central Minnesota, working on his master's degree in agronomy. (What the heck was that? I had to look it up...)

Michael and me, circa 1983
Could my glasses have been any larger?

Michael is 9 years older than I am, so definitely had more life experiences under his belt when we met in 1983. He told me of his "crappy" jobs - hauling carcasses in a meat locker, working on a roofing crew, and more, all of which led him back to college and then on to his master's. Sometime after high school, he'd studied transcendental meditation, even learning to teach, and still meditated twice daily. Meditation was an important component of his daily life. I benefited from the massage classes he had taken at the same time, so I didn't think much about it.

I'm not sure when it began to dawn on me.

It might have been while working at the campus daily newspaper as managing editor. I received and sorted all kinds of press releases in that job, deciding which merited follow-up as possible stories and which ones were just wacky.

Almost weekly I received press releases from Maharishi International University, about meditating for world peace and showcasing their meditators who could "fly." Definitely weird stuff destined for the trash can.

But then one day I made the connection.

Maharishi International University.

In Fairfield, Iowa.

These were the flakes my uncle had talked about when I was a kid!
And where was it my betrothed had learned TM?

Umm, at Maharishi International University.

In Fairfield, Iowa.

Wow.

While I had been out haying and playing with the farm cats, my future husband had been just 30-some miles away studying with the crazies!

It all worked out in the end. I found the whole thing hilarious in a kind of weird way and my uncle liked Michael from the moment he met him.

I guess it just goes to show how small the world really is.

Frankly, I still think my uncle was right about most of what goes on at Maharishi International.

A little barmy with a side of wacko.

But they sure grow great organic veggies...