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Saturday June 10

Saturday June 10

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Saturday June 10 was my good friend Matt’s birthday.  We exchanged some text messages.  I wished him a happy birthday, he lamented about how old he was “68…years old, what the hell?”  I concurred, turning 67 years old in a couple of weeks. “We just have to go with,” I replied.

Heck when we first became friends, we had grandparents younger than we are now.  Where did the time go?  Seems like only yesterday we were watching the ’69 Mets win the World Series.  Now I am sitting here fifty some years later, trying to write about memories as hazy as the skies this past week, the pain in my fingers and knuckles particularly bad this morning as I push on the keys and  learn to “just go with it.”

Saturday June 10, I received some news about another old friend.  This being the season of thoroughbred horse racing’s Triple Crown, I reached out to Marilyne Kilchriss to find out about how Sid (Sir Sidney) was doing.  I got an email back on Saturday:

“Hey there!!  He’s doing amazing!  I adore that horse and hope to have him for the rest of his life.  The racetrack did a cool video on his career and trainer this spring and I’ll send you the link to it!  In the meantime, enjoy some pics of the dramatic, handsome boy.  My goal is to show at the WEC sometime this fall!  We will see how we progress in our dressage training.  Marilyne.”

The sport of horseracing has suffered in recent years. In 2020 the Horseracing Integrity and Safety Act was passed to help protect thoroughbred racehorses.  After twelve horses died over a relatively short period of time at Churchill Downs, the home of the Kentucky Derby, Churchill made the decision last week to shut down racing and move the rest of the meet to Ellis Park to give them the opportunity to review operations.

A great decision by Churchill Downs to protect horses and the sport of thoroughbred horse racing.

Saturday June 10 was also The Belmont, the last leg of the Triple Crown.  Though we didn’t have any contenders this year for a single horse to win all three races, the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont; it was still a big day.  It was the fiftieth anniversary of Secretariat becoming the 1973 Triple Crown champion,  winning the Belmont by 31 lengths, a feat I have referred to in my writing a few time before.

Saturday’s  Belmont was also historical because this year’s winner Arcangelo was able to hold on to beat the favorite Forte, making Arcangelo’s trainer Jena Antonucci the first female trainer to win a Triple Crown race.

Very exciting.

Goosebumps.

 

And speaking of goosebumps, I would encourage you to watch the video about Sid.  There are some good horse racing stories too.

And it just goes to show you that old guys like Matt, and me, and Sid can still enjoy life after working hard for many years.  In spite of some aches and pains, we have great memories, and we are lucky enough to each have those who want to have us for the rest of our lives.

Sometimes in life, there are those things that make all the difference.

Just go with it.

 

Postscript:

The photo above is brat pack circa 1974.  My friend Butch on the left, Matt to his right, me next, and my friend Joe on the right.

 

Marilyne and Sid
Sir Sidney (aka Jonas as Marilyne calls him) enjoying retirement
A Conversation in Never Land

A Conversation in Never Land

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Never mind.

Never mind?

Yeah, never mind.

Never mind what?

Never mind what it is that you think I never said.

I never said there was something that I thought you never said.

You know I would never not tell you that.

I don’t know that you would never not tell me that, because I don’t know what it is that you never said.

You know, you never say that to me either.

Okay, well I am truly sorry that I never say that to you, but I promise I will never do it again.

Aha.  What did you do now? It’s probably something I could never imagine.

I don’t know what it is  you could never imagine, and I don’t know what it is you never said, because you never told me.

Well I just can’t believe that we are even having this conversation and I never want to speak about it again.

Well, that goes double for me too because I never want to speak about again either, never, ever, ever.

Well, I never!

Well, I never what?  Never what?

Oh, never mind.

Never mind?

Yeah, never mind.

Okay then, never mind.

 

I love you.

I love you too.

Removed…For Now

Removed…For Now

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Who knows what the next six months will bring?

Until then I will keep warm and wait for the day when the first martin returns.

And I will pray that in those six months, time doesn’t change me too much.

And I will be allowed to write about another beautiful day, in another season, in another year, in time.

 

I wrote that while experiencing a beautiful day last October, yet realizing all the signs indicated that the season would soon be gone.  The purple martins, now removed from their houses, were on their long journey back to South America.  On that weekend I had lowered the martin houses for the winter.  In the coming months just as the martins do, I also would be retreating to places that would keep me warm as I waited for a new season to return.

 

Removed

Vanished

Gone

They’re just gone.

He’s just gone.

One day there, the next day gone.

 

Have you ever experienced that?

Someone or something you had one day but were removed from your life the next.

Sometimes, like the purple martins or the seasons, it’s temporary and they return.

Sometimes however, as with death, it is not temporary.

But is it not?

Jesus suffered death on the cross.

He was laid in the tomb only to be found removed a few days later.

But he wasn’t removed as Mary had thought.

“Woman, why are you crying?”  asked the angels.

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

 

No one took Jesus away.

As was promised, as was the purpose of his crucifixion, he was risen.

Now as Easter approaches, it is April and another beautiful day, in a different season, and in a different year. It has been almost six months, and as I prayed for, time hasn’t changed me too much.  On a recent weekend I cleaned out the tiny rooms where the birds would live and raised the three purple martin houses back to their high perch on top of the poles.  It was warming up, and like the new season, the martins should be back soon too.  In fact, three or four days later, I spoke with my mother, the martins had returned.  The older ones go ahead first, returning to the places they are familiar with, places where they had nested before.  They would soon be followed by the younger birds breeding for the first time.

 

In the coming days we will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and we will return once again to a place we are familiar with.

The story of the tomb.

Jesus was gone, but he was not removed.

In this single event we are given hope.  Hope of life eternal as was promised, hope of being reunited with those who went ahead first. Hope that maybe he’s not just gone forever.

And as we are reminded in Philippians Jesus is not a dead martyr to be pitied, but a living, reigning, returning Lord to be loved and emulated, both in present suffering and in future reward.

 

So as this beautiful day comes to an end, in this Holy season, this Easter season, I pray once again that time doesn’t change me too much, and for the hope and faith everlasting that this new season brings.

 

Postscript:

On the six Tuesdays during the period of Lent I was participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is Removed . This post concludes my participation. Thank you for reading.  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link here in this postscript.

 

Pork Roll

Pork Roll

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I kissed him on his forehead to say goodbye as I typically do, but this time, in his wheelchair, he raised his left arm and tried to reach around my back like he was attempting to hug me. I was surprised. I got closer to allow his arm to rest on my back and I put my face against his as he pulled me in. We stayed in that position for a while. It was comforting, it had been a long time.

Thanks, Dad, I really needed that.

 

Needs.

We all have them.

We all need them fulfilled.

Jesus once said, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone…”

My mother would probably finish that statement by saying, “yeah how about I make a pork roll, egg, and cheese to put on that bread.”

That’s one way I suppose.

 

We might think our needs are all different, but they are probably surprisingly similar, never the less, they are ours.

And they change from year to year, month to month, and even day to day.

 

The truth is we are born into this world needy.

As infants and children, unable to take care of ourselves, we rely on others for even our most basic needs.

Feeding, housing, safety, learning, emotional support, and development, are provided to us by our mother, our father, or sometimes another family member or other loving person. They are our lifelines.

Let’s face it, even Jesus needed his Eema and his earthly Abba.

 

Then the day comes when we have children of our own and we become their lifeline.

And we begin to better understand what our parents did for us.

How much effort it took, how much time, and how much money.

How much joy it provided.

And as our kids grew and got more independent, we saw their needs change, but our needs changed too.

We still had those basic requirements needed in order to live, but as we aged life got more complicated.

And sometimes, as it might be with an aging parent, unable to care for him or herself, the parent becomes like the child again.

As a result of my father’s inability to care for himself, as his age advanced and his disease progressed, the decision had to be made to place him in a facility where he could be taken care of safely. My mom, not able to physically manage him at home, now spends each day with him at the nursing home providing those things the staff may not be able to. Things like conversation, memories, games for stimulation and thought, and of course, love. The rest of us, challenged by geography and the continued need to provide for ourselves, do the best we can.

The last few visits I had had with my father, I left feeling greatly depressed. My visits were met with silence, eyes that wouldn’t open, the inability to make any connection. On one visit in fact he was even trying to hit me with his fists, which I attributed to him acting out a dream, something not uncommon with my dad’s condition. Though I didn’t take it personally, it was another missed opportunity, and yeah, I guess I did take it a little personally.

Last weekend, however, he was different. His eyes were wide open though his sight is still limited. He was participating in conversation, smiling and laughing at things I said, and laughing at himself at times for things he said.

And he initiated that hug.

It was awesome.

I needed a weekend like that with him and, I am guessing, he felt like he had a similar need.

However fleeting the event or the moment may have been, or prove to be in the future, I was grateful.

We all have the need to feel loved, no matter how old we get.

 

Jesus said, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone…”

But there is more, the scripture goes on to say “… but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

 

You see Ma? Not everything can be fixed by pork roll, even when you are from New Jersey.

It’s the word of God that fulfills our needs.

That’s what keeps us living and loving.

 

But sometimes a little hug doesn’t hurt either.

 

On Saturday I was trying to get him to look at old photos on my laptop. The next thing I knew he had his face planted in the side of my face. I asked him what he was doing and he said, ” I looking at your face.” Fair enough.

 

Postscript:

On the six Tuesdays during the period of Lent, I am participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes are based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is Needs .  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link in the postscript.

Love Lost and Love Found

Love Lost and Love Found

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I remember the first time I met Pastor Jim Snow.  Kim and I were just starting to go out together and she brought me to a Sterling United Methodist Church picnic at Claude Moore Park in Sterling. As a kid, in my experience attending Sunday School at the Lutheran Church of the Reformation in West Long Branch New Jersey, pastors always wore long black robes, collars, and were a bit intimidating.  Jim on the other hand had a mustache, was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and a driver’s hat and he was cracking jokes.  And best of all, I was able to call him “Jim”!

Kim had two requirements of me if I wanted to get to know her better, she wanted to be courted and I had to go to church.

I was prepared to do whatever it took.

The first time I attended church at Sterling UMC, I remember we sat about four rows back from the front on the center aisle on the left side. I think I wanted to sit on the end in case I had a panic attack. I don’t think that at the time I had attended church as a worshipper in thirty years. Hayley and Alexa were raised in the synagogue so I had spent some time in temple.  But church, only for weddings and funerals.

I remember looking up at the ceiling and hoping the roof didn’t cave in.  But when it was over, also I remember feeling good, like I had been lost, but now I was found.

I was supposed to be in this place.

We would continue to go to church as our relationship developed and I would continue to push my comfort levels as I got reintroduced.

I had never in my life taken communion and my hand would shake as I took the cup and raised it to my lips.

In April of 2000 Kim and I stood at the rail with our hands on Donny and Savannah as they were confirmed.

And thankfully, I met the requirements imposed on me as a suitor and our courtship worked out, because we had it all arranged for Jim Snow to marry Kim and I on the first day of July that year.  But Jim’s cancer had other plans and he passed away that spring.  Instead, we were married by Lee Crosby on his first official day as a pastor.  And with Alexa, Hayley, Donny, and Savannah beside us, we stood in front of the cross and were married.

We  continued to go to church and I continued to get reacquainted with being a Christian.

For a brief period, because we wanted Donny and Savannah to be active in Youth Group, we started attending Herndon UMC because the kids had school friends in that group.  But whenever I could, if for some reason I found myself alone on a Sunday morning, I would dip back into Sterling UMC and sit in the back row. It felt more like home.

I had never been baptized so in January of 2002 I requested of our pastor at the time, Alan Reifsnyder to join the church and be baptized on the next available date.  On January 27, 2002 in front of my family, except for Donny who was away that weekend, but including my parents and my new church family, I was baptized at the age of forty five.

In June of that year we met the new pastor Ralph Goodman and his family, who would be starting on the first day of July.  Donny was really excited because Ralph had two very pretty daughters.

Not too long after that, on July 23, 2002 Kim and I would stand at the rail again and place our hands on Donny, this time for the last time. A tragic accident had taken Donny’s life on Friday, July 19th.  On that Tuesday we celebrated Donny’s life and gave his spirit up to God.  The church overflowed with people that day.  Even the Sterling Volunteer Fire Department came because mysteriously the fire alarm went off in the middle of the service.

Ralph Goodman, in his first month on the job, walked that walk with Kim and I, and with the Herndon community that surrounded Donny.  He joined the impromptu gatherings of grieving kids, walked the neighborhood, spent time at “the rock” at Herndon High School.  For that we will be forever grateful. I cried on his last day preaching at Sterling UMC.

A life event like that couldn’t be survived without friends, family, church family, and most important, God and faith.  To this day however I struggle to attend funerals at the church and generally find myself staying as busy in the background as I can, and fighting back tears whenever I hear “Amazing Grace.”

But with Jesus and Kim’s faith as our rock we kept moving, becoming more active in church.

My level of comfort was greatly tested when Kim and Savannah signed up to participate in a week long mission trip to Jamaica and Savannah dropped out at the last minute.

“Curt will go” Kim said.

“But Kim, I don’t want to go on a mission trip” I pleaded.

But all she would say is “Then you need to pray about.”

So, I did.

But my prayers weren’t answered.  I found myself in Jamaica that summer.

And in the end, it was a life changing experience.

And we even went back the following year.

 

Our church life continued.  We would share our Jamaica experiences with Pastor Randy Duncan and his wife Robin and get to know them better.  Randy came to Sterling after Ralph left and remained for eleven years, the years Kim and I were most active in the church.

I would have another “first” at the rail when we took Cameron up for Communion for the first time.  He took the bread, but when offered the cup he said politely “no thank you, I don’t like grape juice.” The server told him “that’s okay, you don’t have to drink it.”  But after some hesitation he did anyway, and when we returned to our pew in the back, he asked Kim and I if he could say another prayer. Then he had us bow our heads and fold our hands and Cameron prayed “Dear God, thank you for bringing me back to church, Amen.”

I cried that day too.

On Easter Sunday April 16, 2017, I was a proud dad whose family practically filled the whole pew.  Savannah and Cameron were there.  Hayley and her new family with her husband and two stepchildren were with us too.  Pastor Steve Vineyard delivered the sermon called “Who Will Roll Away the Stone,” the stone representing the heavy weight keeping us from facing all those tough things we had going on in our lives. A month or so later I would get a phone call from Hayley asking for my assistance to help her get out of the physically and emotionally abusive marriage she was in.  Hayley attributed the courage she needed to make that decision to Pastor Steve’s sermon that Easter Sunday.  “Who Will Roll Away the Stone” may have saved Hayley’s life.

In October of 2021 our entire family would return to the rail once again and witness the wedding of Savannah and Leon performed by Pastor Linda Monroe.

Kim and I have been less active the last few years.  The Pandemic, trying to care for aging parents in different states, the challenges sometimes of working and worshipping in the same place.

 

But I was blessed to have been given a second chance in life to find love in this church.

The love of a new marriage.

The love of a new blended family.

The love realized in the experiences of my kids, the joyful ones and the sad ones, and learning love overcomes the sad ones.

The love of a church family I had never experienced.

And most importantly, the Love of God.

 

For me, Love was lost, but then I found it again.

I was lost, and somehow, I was found.

Because God’s Love and God’s Grace,

Are Amazing.

 

 

 

 

Postscript:

On the six Tuesdays during the period of Lent, I am participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes are based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is Love.  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link in the postscript.

 

Bullet Works

Bullet Works

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As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.  As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.  While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” (John 9:1-5)

 

If you know me, you know I am big fan of horse racing. In the world of horse racing when you talk about works, it is referring to the training runs, the workouts the horse performs typically in the mornings.  For instance, the trainer may have the horse “work” four furlongs (a half mile) to keep the horse in good condition in between races.  These works are typically timed and published for handicappers.  A bullet work occurs when a horse runs the fastest work of all the horses training that particular morning.

Bullet works are good works.

 

Afleet Alex like all other thoroughbreds born in 2002, as far as the racing world is concerned, turned three years old on January 1, 2005.  After winning a couple of Grade One stakes races as a two year old,  he went on to win the Arkansas Derby and qualify to be eligible for the Kentucky Derby.

In the traffic of the Kentucky Derby Afleet Alex finished third.  Two weeks later in the Preakness Stakes, Afleet Alex, stumbled at the top of the stretch and nearly dropped to his knees with his nose almost going into the dirt, but miraculously he recovered.  Jeremy Rose, the jockey, had no idea how he was able to remain on the horse.  He did, and not only did they manage to recover, but they also went on to win the Preakness Stakes by almost 5 lengths.

Three weeks later Afleet Alex would win the Belmont Stakes, the third leg of the Triple Crown by exploding in the final turn and winning by seven lengths.

Three of the children of the ownership syndicate of Afleet Alex were named Alex or Alexandria which is   how the son of Northern Afleet and grandson of Afleet earned the Alex portion of his name.

 

Alexandra “Alex” Scott was born in January of 1996.  Shortly before her first birthday Alex was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a type of childhood cancer.   In the year 2000 after her fourth birthday, she received a stem cell transplant and told her mother if she if she got out of the hospital, she wanted to have a lemonade stand.  She wanted to give the money she earned to the doctors to “help other kids, like they helped me.”

Later that year she held her first lemonade stand and raised $2000.

Despite her battle with cancer Alex and her family would continue to hold lemonade stands to raise money to fight childhood cancer.  As news spread about the little girl with neuroblastoma who was dedicating her frail life to raising money to help other sick children like her, more lemonade stands popped up with the proceeds going to Alex’s cause.

The owners of Afleet Alex had become aware of the efforts of young Alex and her lemonade stand by reading an article in a local newspaper one day.  They felt some connection between their Alex and the little girl working to help fight cancer and they began to donate a portion of Afleet Alex’s winnings to Alex’s Lemonade Stand.  At first the donations were anonymous but as Afleet Alex became more successful a partnership was established and little Alex’s cause was shared with the world.

In August of 2004 Alex passed away at the age of eight years old. Up to the time of her death, her charity had raised more than one million dollars.

But even after her death, Alex’s parents continued the Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation  Through their association with the owner’s of Afleet Alex they were invited to set up Alex’s Lemonade Stand at the 2005 Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont thus exposing the foundation to world.

 

After winning the Belmont it was determined that Afleet Alex had a leg injury that would end his racing career and he was retired to Gainseway Farm in Lexington, Kentucky.

When Afleet Alex stumbled and jockey Jeremy Rose surely should have been thrown from that horse, he would say “An angel kept me safe.”  That angel in his mind was little Alex.

Alexandra Scott was very special, and to many so was Afleet Alex.

One of the owners tells a story of a visit to Gainseway Farm where she found two women openly weeping while standing in front of Afleet Alex.  They were sisters and one of the sisters had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  They had driven all the way from Maine to see this horse.  The owner explained that the sister with cancer truly believed that if she could just touch the horse, she would be cured.

 

We don’t know why Alex Scott developed the cancer that took her life after just eight short years.  But as the scripture above explains it wasn’t because she sinned, or her parents sinned.  With her cancer Alex recognized the need to help other sick kids and the doctors working to find a cure.  She answered her call to perform good works.  As a team, the two Alex’s raised a lot of money to help to find cures for pediatric cancers. You might say the works of God were displayed in the efforts and generosity of the pairing of Alexandra Scott and her family with the owners of this horse and Afleet Alex himself though surely, he didn’t understand how much his work mattered in the cause.  But others, like the sister who thought touching him might cure her cancer, understood how special he was.

I have read that Methodists believe “Faith is necessary to salvation unconditionally. Good works are necessary only conditionally, that is if there is time and opportunity.”  We might find some comfort in that since we don’t always have the time or the opportunity to serve at certain stages of our lives, yet our faith remains strong.

For Alexandra night came sooner than expected, but she made the best of her opportunity.

“As long as it is day, we must do the works of Him…”

And they did.

You might even call them bullet works.

 

 

To find out more about Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation or to donate here is a link.

 

Afleet Alex
Photo of me and my son in law Namaan in the Paddock at Gulfstream Park with other owners of Iron Works this past Sunday.

Postscript:

On the six Tuesdays during the period of Lent, I am participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes are based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is Works.  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link in the postscript.

Spring

Spring

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Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”    (John 4:13-14)

 

Spring.

A word that can have many interpretations and meanings.

A mechanical spring tightly coiled ready to burst out with energy at any moment or one that is stretched and returns back to the shape it started from.

Maybe it is the time to “spring” forward providing more hours of daylight and more time for outdoor activities such as exercise.

Or maybe for you it brings to life images of daffodils, digging in the dirt, planting your gardens, and cutting the grass.

Or for you it might be pollen and allergies.

Since I have grown to dislike winter so much, I have used the analogy of winter for me to be like Jesus’ time in the wilderness and spring marking the end of my wandering.

Or maybe it makes you think of the reason I am writing this…Lent, the Holy Week, and Easter.

 

The Merriam Webster dictionary defines spring in many ways as well.  As a transitive verb and an intransitive verb, or as a noun.

I don’t know all about that transitive and intransitive stuff so my simple mind will stick to the noun.

The act of moving forward.

A time or season of growth or development.

A device that recovers its original shape when released after being distorted.

A source of supply as it applies to water from the ground or action or motion.

 

The days and the events leading up to what we now call Good Friday and Easter in Jerusalem may have felt like a coiled spring ready to burst out at any moment.

And for the world there was little chance it would ever return to the shape it was before.

It was the fulfillment of prophecy.

Jesus’ mission on earth was winding down.

He had shown them many signs, yet still for some, their eyes were blinded and their hearts hardened.

But we know the story.

We know how it ends.

We also know that was just the beginning.

The spring of water Jesus describes is not one found in Merriam Webster.  Being born again in the spirit, drinking the water that has us never thirsting again.

“A spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

Spring.

 

 

Postscript:

On Tuesdays during the period of Lent, I am participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes are based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is spring.  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link in the postscript.

Funambulism

Funambulism

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I have written before about my “word of the day” that comes in my email every day.  One day last week the word was Funambulism.

Okay so I admit I had no idea what this word meant, but it looked like a really fun word.

Right?

Fun…ambulism.

So, I knew what “fun” was…I mean I do, I can be fun sometimes.

And then I looked up “ambulism,” and learned that meant “a disorder involving walking.”

Ah okay, I thought, having trouble walking after having too much fun, that makes sense to me.

Fun-ambulism.

Even I may have funambulated once or twice before in my life.

 

But then, to my disappointment, I got deeper into my email and learned the word wasn’t funambulism at all, it was funambulism pronounced fyoo-NAM-byə-lizm.

And this funambulism meant “the art of walking on a tightrope.”

 

Back in November, I was repairing a picnic table the kids used on the playground at the church by replacing the top and benches with pressure-treated wood after the original plastic parts had broken.

During the process of attaching one of the boards, I hit my left thumb with my hammer just below the thumbnail.

Even though I was at church, I reacted pretty much as you might expect anyone who has hit their left thumb with a hammer to react.

Only I asked for forgiveness after.

Anyway, I finished the table and after the pain went away, I forgot about the incident with my thumb and the hammer.

Until one day, as my thumbnail began to grow, the blood blistery kind of thing that shows up under your nail after you hit it with a hammer began to take shape.

Sitting at the bar of the Hard Rock Café at Baltimore’s Inner Harbor on New Year’s Day as we ate dinner while preparing to go watch the Steelers versus the Ravens game at M & T Bank Stadium, I realized I had something very unusual looking on my thumb.

“Kim,” I said,  “look at my thumb…who does that look like to you?

“Oh my gosh,” she said, “Donald Trump!  You have Donald Trump on your thumb!”

I did.

I had a caricature of Donald Trump, blood blistered tattooed on my thumbnail!

Not that there is anything wrong with that.

But I realized that to share this remarkable occurrence, was kind of like funambulism!

Because let’s face it, there are a lot of people out there I am sure, and some might even be reading this, that would probably like to tell me where to stick that thumb with the Donald Trump image on it!

But I would have to decline because that’s not nice and I need that thumb, and in fact, that might cause some of that ambulism I was discussing earlier since it would be hard to walk like that.

And the sad thing is, trying to write something that mentions Donald Trump, or anything political, or anything that might mention the differences we might have with one another really is kind of like funambulism.

It is like the art of walking a tightrope.

And that’s too bad.

 

 

Here is the table
Happy New Year

Happy New Year

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Though the holidays were officially over, with the weekend coming and a couple more loved ones still to visit, she dipped into a Harris Teeter to pick up a few things.  She took her place in line at the self-checkout behind an older woman who was already scanning her groceries.  With the help of a young clerk the old woman carefully took her items out of her handbasket and slid them over the scanner and into her bag.

She watched as the old lady, barely skin and bones and looking disheveled in a tassel cap, an old sweater, and baggy sweatpants continued slowly processing her groceries.

Three tomatoes, not even in a bag and all on one stem, half a loaf of bread, lunch meat, and a half gallon of ice cream.  When the total approached twenty-five dollars, the old woman told the young clerk “tell me when I get to thirty dollars.”

Soon after, the clerk put the lunch meat aside because it was going to put her over her thirty-dollar limit.

The woman in line observing all this thought back to a time when she was younger and a struggling single mom of a couple of young kids.  She would take her calculator with her when she would go grocery shopping to stay within her budget.

“Ma’am, can I just pay for your groceries?” she asked the old woman.

Hearing the offer and turning towards the voice, a bit surprised she replied “Would you? I am 90 years old, and things are getting harder.”

“Ma’am I am blessed, and I would like to help you,” and with all the old women’s groceries now scanned and in the bags, she swiped her card and paid the bill.

After checking out her own items and leaving the store, she looked for the old woman, but she was gone.

 

Yesterday was January 10th.

I have come to realize January 10th is the real New Year’s Day in my house.

It’s not always obvious, you can’t always feel it, and sometimes for short periods maybe even you forget it exists.  It seems to surface when you least expect it and sadly and sometimes inexcusably, it might even go unnoticed.

And it’s particularly ugly and insidious starting sometime before Thanksgiving and ending in early January where it lives deep in your expectations of joy and happiness, and the inner peace we search for in the story of the birth of a child, then in the anticipation of the new beginnings and opportunities of a new year.

And as hard as you try to deny its effects, no amount of wine or eggnog, happy or sentimental seasonal movie binging, or decorations and holiday celebrations are going to keep that thing under wraps.

It’s called grief.

And it doesn’t matter how many awesome sons-in-law, grandchildren, or kids you are blessed with, there is still always going to be one missing.

And sometimes even a bonehead husband and father like me who should know better doesn’t always read the signs at the right times or know when it’s time to take a step back; because sometimes it takes me until January 10th to realize that was the reason that the joy schedules didn’t always match up, that the attempt at the special moment fell flat, and mentioning that Santa Claus had come didn’t quite have the impact expected.

 

On Monday, January 9, on what would have been Donny’s 36th birthday, Kim put up a nice post on her Facebook page remembering Donny.  She received many nice comments, many of those coming from others who had also lost children.

I have read them all, several times really.

Comments like “Thinking of you Kim.  Donny was one of a kind.  Much love to you and your family.”

Donny was one of a kind.

And like the good person who helped the old lady in the Harris Teeter that day by paying for her groceries, Donny was a good person too.

And though situations like this always bring to mind the old adage “why do bad things happen to good people,” the truth is, bad things can happen to anyone.

But there really are good people we know or have known, in our lives.

And that brings to mind another old adage and just goes to show you, sometimes…

The apple doesn’t always fall far from the tree.

 

 

Postscript:

I have referenced this before and Kim mentioned it in her Facebook post, these words were sent to us twenty years ago and remain displayed in our kitchen:

“no matter how tough life gets, if you can see the shore of heaven, and draw strength from Christ, you’ll make it”.

On January 10th we made a nice dinner, poured some champagne in our year 2000 anniversary flutes, and toasted Happy New Year.

Let the new year now begin.

Happy New Year!

What’s At Stake Is the Democracy Stupid!

What’s At Stake Is the Democracy Stupid!

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For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.  They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.  But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work …

 

2 Timothy 4:3-5

 

Mary (not her real name) tells the story of her 70-year-old mom, a retired schoolteacher, who just went back to work out of necessity.

Joe (also not his real name), is an African American man who understands Mary’s story. He and his wife were retired but are also now back working because they need to.

The conversations of average Americans in a waiting room of a doctor’s office.

Conversations, in this case, telling the stories of Americans who have worked hard all their lives to earn the ability to take a pause in their later years and relax, now finding it necessary to return to work.

 

I heard a good sermon recently.

It was about the importance of sound doctrine.

Teachings that agree with the Bible.

Something that is not so popular anymore.

The preacher went on to say that sound doctrine is important because it promotes health and holiness and in fact could be considered a matter of life and death.

That good works are the mark of sound doctrine and that actions we believe are good make the world a better place.

Sound doctrine gives us the ability to determine truth from falsehood.

 

The preacher spoke about the devaluation of prayer.

When people stop praying, we suffer.  The world suffers.

Because to some degree, humans have relied on prayer to maintain their mental status.

A world without prayer is bleak, and leads to stress, and possibly destructive behaviors.

When we are experiencing stress, prayer gives us that all-important ability to pause, and allow God’s perspective to determine what we do from there.

Because human thriving is declining.

And we need to pray about it.

 

I don’t like to write about politics, frankly, I am not qualified.  But that never stops other people from talking or writing about it.

But never the less, in my case I think I will write about prayer instead, which I also may not be qualified to write about, but I will anyway.

 

There is an election coming up fairly soon.

An election where nothing short of our democracy itself is at stake.

I listened to the President’s speech the other evening.

Though I thought it was a bit bizarre, it certainly would have played well in any time slot on MSNBC.

I have been listening to MSNBC lately.

It was kind of a tired topic, given all the other piles of doo-doo we are up to our necks in right now; more about Trump, more about January 6th, and more about how election integrity will threaten our democracy.

And how the rest of us dumbasses aren’t getting it.

Democracy is what is at stake stupid!

 

Democracy.

 

A government by the people…

 

The rule of the majority…

 

A government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections…

A political unit that has a democratic government…

The common people especially when constituting the source of political authority…

The absence of hereditary or arbitrary class distinctions or privileges…

The word democracy most often refers to a form of government in which people choose leaders by voting…

 

A democratic system of government is a form of government in which supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodic free elections…

 

I don’t know about where you folks live, but I am pretty sure I live in a democracy, and in a few days that will be proven because a democracy is  “a form of government in which people choose leaders by voting.”

 

And unless you are going to allow yourself to be led by the nose into believing something otherwise, our democracy is not at stake.

In fact, I think that those who would tell us that our democracy is at stake might be the ones putting our democracy at stake.  It sounds to me like they might be encouraging a one-party system of rule, they might be the ones attempting to seize control, trying to restrict our rights, arrest anyone who disagrees, and control the narrative.

 

I may be a dumbass, but I am not stupid.

And neither are you.

And we may have a generation or two without the life experiences or the knowledge of history to the extent to be able to discern what is right or wrong, good or evil, and not beyond the limits of our rights as Americans.

We have had civil unrest before in this country.  January 6th was a mob that included some right-wing nut cases and bad actors doing what Abbie Hoffman would explain as seizing an opportunity.  But I would bet the majority of those people were simply regular folks armed with nothing more than their cell phones, with their worst intentions grabbing a selfie to post on social media later that evening.

“The attempted coup that almost threatened our democracy” was neither an attempted coup nor a threat to our democracy.  Yet there are a lot of people in very influential roles that would try to have us believe that, or worse, have us believe that they believe that.

President Biden mentioned the brutal attack on Paul Pelosi and made the parallel between that unfortunate incident and the events of January 6 as a further example of a threat to our democracy.

 

I don’t know, I don’t really think that guy represented the sentiments of the average American.  In fact, he is not even an American, he is a Canadian.  A guy who once lived in a storage unit and was “consumed by darkness.”  Mental illness at least in this man’s case, does not threaten our democracy.

Our country has experienced Presidential assassinations like John Kennedy; Presidential candidates assassinated like Robert Kennedy; attempted assassinations like Ronald Reagan; and prominent  Civil Rights activists like Martin Luther King assassinated.  None of these events threatened our democracy, they may have in fact strengthened our resolve.

But you might be expected to think otherwise.

And then there was guy on MSNBC the other day who questioned the “fact whether we will be a democracy in the future, whether our children will be arrested and conceivably killed.” This was proposed by MSNBC commentator Michael Beschloss.

Scary stuff.

All made up to scare us into lining up the right way.

 

But I am supposed to be writing about prayer.

About taking a pause.

About doing good works that make the world a better place to live.

About remembering the words of 2 Timothy:

And you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work …

About the wisdom of the message that if your ears itch, don’t just surround yourself with those that will tell you what you want to hear.

Take some chances, do the work.  If you don’t find your sound doctrine in the Bible, maybe you will find it somewhere else, from someone you know and respect, your parents maybe.

And if you do find your sound doctrine in MSNBC, maybe try listening to Foxnews.

Or if it’s Foxnews, maybe try listening to MSNBC.

And before you vote, take a pause.

Pray about it, or meditate on it, or do whatever it takes to make you thrive and be less stressed.

Then vote for whatever you think is the common sense thing to do for you, your family, and your country.

Because we are a government by the people.

We are a democracy, and in a democracy, we the people, shouldn’t feel threatened.

 

 

Postscript:

This afternoon, feeling empowered and patriotic, I did my due diligence, I paused, I prayed, and I voted.  No one offered me a bottle of water or a glass of wine, and though I was disappointed, I understood, that could be interpreted as coercion.  They verified I was who I was, and where I lived by me showing my driver’s license and handed me a ballot.

The photo above was taken from a post in April 2020 around the fourth week of our covid shutdown. A reminder of different times indeed.