In 1999, my husband and I hosted a Presbyterian pastor and his wife Stephan and Elizabet from Switzerland in our home in Independence, Kansas for about 6 weeks.
Turns out the wild, wild West is very much alive in Stephan's imagination. He is a reader of the Western genre, translated into German, one of several languages he knows, including his native Romanian. I will have to ask him again who his favorite author is.
He had a blast touring our state with his wife; I got to go on a couple of day trips with them. He was always so appreciative. And when the travel was over, and he was studying or visiting around town, he made it a habit to sit out on our front porch at 5 pm every evening for conversation and beer. Sometimes it was way too hot! But there was always a breeze. Sometimes the thunderstorms would shortcircuit our plan. But we would join him as often as possible and enjoy that perfect part of a life: good friends and a few moments to take a breather.
Then he would always lean back in his porch chair tipped to the stone railing and proclaim, "Another perfect day in Kansas."
Most days I can, I think of that and sing it out to someone here on campus or in the library. And we often think it's ironic and sometimes think it's right on. But I know, in a mythological sense, that it's always true. And that helps.
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