One should have been sleeping, but this one was lying abed between the wee hours and dawn, wide awake and no prospect of getting back to sleep.
I would not count sheep; don't like mutton, and Mary can darn well keep her little lamb. Instead, I thought about the impending 2013 on the calendar, and I realized that I had not yet factored the number.
2013 will not be a prime year.
3 x 11 x 61 = 2013
and thus the factors of 2013 are 1,3,11,33,61,183,671, and 2013. I don't see anything in there that bodes particular good favor. But then I don't generally put much stock in numerology.*
Finally, the restless night passes, the sun rises and another cold day in the Midwest is in prospect.
The morning news seems to indicate only that 2013 will begin as 2012 ends, cold. A glance at the calendar tells us that February has lost its "extra" day and is back to its truncated truncated state.
Flipping forward we find that once again July will follow June.
Then 365 days from now we will be looking 2014 in the eye. Should we live so long. It won't be prime, either.
*Arithmetic, on the other hand, I believe in.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
growls and grins
Old man vanilla looked out
on the earth a-freezin'
where the snow lay round about.
He's sittin' here a-sneezin'.
Four more inches of heavy wet
white upon the world has set
(sat? fat, rat, ratz,
ramafrazzle rackafratz).
on the earth a-freezin'
where the snow lay round about.
He's sittin' here a-sneezin'.
Four more inches of heavy wet
white upon the world has set
(sat? fat, rat, ratz,
ramafrazzle rackafratz).
Friday, December 28, 2012
Tannenbaum, O, Tannenbaum
Late Christmas night just before going to bed, I removed the lights from the outdoor tree lest they be frozen there all winter. Preparation for the storm.
And the wind came, and the snow came, and night. In the morning, air temperature still below freezing, the sun came up and shone upon the tree. Nature redecorated the tree, and did a marvelously artistic job, a more beautiful after-Christmas tree than the Christmas tree was with all its bright lights.
We are an artistic bunch, mankind. Yet with all our talent, technology and creativity, we cannot match the delights of the natural wonders with which the Creator of All Things has endowed us.
And the wind came, and the snow came, and night. In the morning, air temperature still below freezing, the sun came up and shone upon the tree. Nature redecorated the tree, and did a marvelously artistic job, a more beautiful after-Christmas tree than the Christmas tree was with all its bright lights.
We are an artistic bunch, mankind. Yet with all our talent, technology and creativity, we cannot match the delights of the natural wonders with which the Creator of All Things has endowed us.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Blechh!
Of course I was not going outside to photograph the "natural wonder." Hence, you are treated to the view through my screen.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Gift Scarf and Möbius
My sister, Ilene, gave to BBBH an "Infinity Scarf." Trade-name, I guess. Anyway, one glance at the beautifully-made fabric item assured me that it was a Möbius strip. I announced this information to the gift recipient at once. She was less than interested.
So I started with my standard seventh-grade presentation of the concept. A Möbius strip is a geometric figure which has only one side, and possesses but one edge. (She: So?) Clearly this was going to rival in difficulty the actual presentation to a seventh grade class.
It is lots of fun to make a paper model of this figure with its weird properties, for with a pencil and a pair of scissors some amazing results can be obtained. (So?)
I am now talking to myself. I did not even get to the rudimentary math involved, and that is the real fun! The advantage lies with the seventh graders, for they are a captive audience, and may not wander from the precinct at will.
So I started with my standard seventh-grade presentation of the concept. A Möbius strip is a geometric figure which has only one side, and possesses but one edge. (She: So?) Clearly this was going to rival in difficulty the actual presentation to a seventh grade class.
It is lots of fun to make a paper model of this figure with its weird properties, for with a pencil and a pair of scissors some amazing results can be obtained. (So?)
I am now talking to myself. I did not even get to the rudimentary math involved, and that is the real fun! The advantage lies with the seventh graders, for they are a captive audience, and may not wander from the precinct at will.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sugar Plums Pop, and...
Christmas! morning, sometime before daybreak. Eldon, still in pjs, slips silently into the living room, as kids all over the world have done for generations.
There it is! The package is exactly right. He knows! This is it! This is the Christmas! Eldon has been dreaming of for, well, ever since he can remember.
The swinging door connecting the kitchen and the living area swings into the room and Dad enters. Mom is right behind Dad. "Go ahead, Son," Dad says. "Rip 'er open!"
He didn't have to be told twice. (For once in his life.)
So as we allow Eldon to enjoy his gift, let us all reflect on the greatest gift of all, the Gift of Eternal Life.
There it is! The package is exactly right. He knows! This is it! This is the Christmas! Eldon has been dreaming of for, well, ever since he can remember.
The swinging door connecting the kitchen and the living area swings into the room and Dad enters. Mom is right behind Dad. "Go ahead, Son," Dad says. "Rip 'er open!"
He didn't have to be told twice. (For once in his life.)
So as we allow Eldon to enjoy his gift, let us all reflect on the greatest gift of all, the Gift of Eternal Life.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men." --John 1:1-4
Monday, December 24, 2012
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
He caught her in a jewelry store. She is happy; he is terrified.
Vanilla and BBBH wish you a Merry Christmas!
May the blessings of the Season be yours now; and the Grace of God be with you evermore.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Advent Sunday Four
On the Fourth Sunday in Advent, the first three candles are re-lighted, and the fourth candle, the Candle of Peace, is lighted. The Scripture lessons are these:
Worship the Great God who has given us His Son, the spilling of Whose blood alone can make us fit for the Kingdom. Go in faith believing, live in peace with your fellow men. Share the Good News of Jesus Christ.
Rejoice!
From The Prophets: Micah 5
Excerpt: But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. 5:2
The Gospel: Luke 1:39-55
Excerpt: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior." 1:46b
The Psalm 80:1-7
Excerpt: "Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved." 80:7
The Epistle: Hebrews 10:5-10
Excerpt: "And it is by God's will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. " 10:10
The Gospel: Luke 1:39-55
Excerpt: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior." 1:46b
The Psalm 80:1-7
Excerpt: "Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved." 80:7
The Epistle: Hebrews 10:5-10
Excerpt: "And it is by God's will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. " 10:10
Anticipate the Coming of the Lord. Contemplate the Peace of the Lord.
Worship the Great God who has given us His Son, the spilling of Whose blood alone can make us fit for the Kingdom. Go in faith believing, live in peace with your fellow men. Share the Good News of Jesus Christ.
Rejoice!
Saturday, December 22, 2012
End of Week Potpourri
Being an overview of the week from Sunday's family Christmas party to Friday's snow and cold.
There were cookies...and cake...and... |
there were adult offspring...and... |
there were wee ones....and |
things went well from Sunday to Thursday when vanilla wound up on a gurney here, ...then... |
we came out of the ER at nine in the evening to encounter snow and ice and wind, lots of WIND! |
Health update: I'm fine. No, really.
Friday, December 21, 2012
To the End of Time
STSTT Post Number 1400
I have not done any research regarding the Mayan calendar and the apocalypse. I have not posted an advance warning of our supposed demise. You are reading this, which does nothing more nor less than to demonstrate to you that the world is still here.
I think the foofaraw is largely the fault of simple misunderstanding of events. From what I have heard (one could not avoid hearing some of this) it appears that December 21, 2012 is the last day of the Mayan calendar. The misinterpretation is this: some have assumed that because it is the last day of the calendar, it is the last day of the world. All it really means is that the workmen finally tired of the chore of chipping and carving, laid down their tools and said, "The heck with it, let's go for a swim and a cold beer."
Have you never left a task unfinished? Of course you have. The only portent for the future is that that task was left unfinished (and that maybe someone else will have to do your job for you).
Happy December 21, and a Merry Christmas, and may the rest of 2012 be filled with good things in your life.
I have not done any research regarding the Mayan calendar and the apocalypse. I have not posted an advance warning of our supposed demise. You are reading this, which does nothing more nor less than to demonstrate to you that the world is still here.
I think the foofaraw is largely the fault of simple misunderstanding of events. From what I have heard (one could not avoid hearing some of this) it appears that December 21, 2012 is the last day of the Mayan calendar. The misinterpretation is this: some have assumed that because it is the last day of the calendar, it is the last day of the world. All it really means is that the workmen finally tired of the chore of chipping and carving, laid down their tools and said, "The heck with it, let's go for a swim and a cold beer."
Have you never left a task unfinished? Of course you have. The only portent for the future is that that task was left unfinished (and that maybe someone else will have to do your job for you).
Happy December 21, and a Merry Christmas, and may the rest of 2012 be filled with good things in your life.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
History and Fantasy
Landsberg,
Bavaria
December 20, 1924
A) Today following 264 days
of imprisonment for his conviction for treason, Adolph Hitler was released.
During his time in Landsberg, he wrote Mein Kampf. He was assisted by his
personal factotum, Rudolf Hess. Hitler’s time in prison was
much like a vacation at a posh country club, for viands were abundant and fit
for a king, visiting privileges for his friends and cronies were quite generous.
B) Today, following 264 days
of imprisonment for his conviction for treason, his appeals having been
exhausted, Adolph Hitler was executed.
Which is history and which is
fantasy?
Results:
Scenario A) Twenty-one years
later, the entire world in turmoil and conflict and following the deaths of millions, Hitler himself died, a suicide.
Scenario B) Who
knows?
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
A Christmas Carol
Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is published on December 19,
1843.
In short,
Office, day before Christmas
Mean old man, calling it “humbug" refuses nephew’s invitation to
Christmas dinner.
In bed that night
Mean old man is visited by ghost
of one-time partner, is warned to change his ways.
Ghost of Christmas Past takes mean old man on “tour” of happier times
in his youth, a reminder of what was.
Ghost of Christmas Present takes mean old man out to see the joy in
the world around him.
Ghost of Christmas Future shows mean old man his ultimate demise,
dishonored by his fellow men, if he doesn’t change his ways.
Christmas morning
Scrooge awakens, no longer mean old man, but rather a kind, generous
and benevolent old man whom everyone is bound to love.
(How likely is that?)
And yet this story has endured, has never been out of print, has been
dramatized, bowdlerized, sanitized, and digitized; presented on paper, on stage,
on celluloid, in paintings and in drawings, and via electronics.
It is considered a “classic” and scarce there be a person in the Western World who has not
been exposed to the story.
As much as anything, I think (note how I gave you a “heads-up”?
Opinion coming!) Dickens was hoping to see an infusion of joy into the Christmas
Season, which had fallen into a state of dour and somber observation rather than
joyous celebration; and, Dickens was hoping to draw the attention of the
“better’ classes of people” to the plight of the poor and down-trodden. And in
so doing, he wrote a story that bids fair to live in perpetuity, with which even small
children to this day are familiar.
(How likely is that?)
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Charles Wesley: Preacher, Poet, Theologian
Charles Wesley was born December 18, 1707 to Samuel and
Susanna Annesley Wesley. He was one of nineteen children born to the union, and
one of the ten who lived to adulthood. Susanna was serious about the education
of her children, and she was serious about her faith. All of the children,
girls and boys, were trained in the classics and in Latin and Greek. She has
been called the Mother of Methodism, because two of her sons, Charles and John,
were widely known as the founders of Methodism.
Charles Wesley was a prolific writer and composer of lyrics,
for he is known to have written thousands of songs and hymns of the Christian
faith. Most readers of this column can no doubt name several Wesley hymns, can
indeed sing them. Wesley is famously known for
accuracy and care in theological teaching within his hymns. Some might have a
favorite among them.
Because of the season, today’s featured Charles Wesley
hymn is “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Were it the Easter Season, we might feature “Christ the Lord is Risen
Today," which is certainly a favorite of mine, along with “O, For a Thousand
Tongues to Sing.”
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
1. Hark! The Herald Angels
sing,
"Glory to the new-born King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God
and sinners reconciled!"
Joyful, all ye nations, rise.
Join the triumph of
the skies.
With th' Angelic Hosts proclaim,
"Christ is born in
Bethlehem!"
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born King."
2. Christ, by highest heaven
adored,
Christ, the everlasting lord
Late in time behold Him
come,
Off-spring of a Virgin's womb
Veiled in flesh the Godhead
see,
Hail, the incarnate deity
Pleased as Man with men to
dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel.
Hark!
the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the New-born king!"
3. Hail the heav'n-born Prince of
Peace,
Hail, the Sun of
Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with healing in His
Wings.
Now He lays His Glory by,
Born that man no more may die
Born to
raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the
herald angels sing,
"Glory to the New-born king!"
4. Come, Desire of nations
come,
Fix in us Thy humble home;
Oh, to all Thyself impart,
Formed in
each believing heart!
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born
king;
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!"
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the New-born
king!"
5. Adam's likeness, Lord,
efface,
Stamp Thine image in its place:
Second Adam from
above,
Reinstate us in Thy love.
Let us Thee, though lost,
regain,
Thee, the Life, the inner man:
O, to all Thyself impart,
Formed
in each believing heart.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to
the New-born king!"
Charles Wesley 1707 - 1788 RIP
Labels:
Christmas,
church,
honor,
literature,
spiritual life
Monday, December 17, 2012
Christmas! Gone?
What to do? indeed. Eldon is in the soup now. Only a week until
Christmas! Eve, the night the Jolly Old Guy in the Red Suit makes his annual
rounds. Not that that makes much difference now.
Well, it was Friday afternoon; it had been a long, long week and a
certain fourth grade classroom is insufferably stuffy in the afternoons. Anyway. Mrs. H surely must be as tired as I am. I’ve never seen any evidence
of this, thought Eldon, but she cannot be, must not be, Wonder Woman. Recess
came at 1:45, an hour and twenty minutes before dismissal. Back into the
classroom at two means what? an hour and five minutes before release for the
week. I can’t make it, Eldon mused as he strolled aimlessly toward the far
left side of the playground. It’s extremity bordered the creek, and anything
within ten yards of the creek was off-limits. Yet sometimes, good fortune comes
ones way.
The softball game was in progress, and a kid got a lucky hit, placing
the ball thirty feet beyond Eldon. It landed just inside the forbidden
territory. The fielder made a dash for the ball and Eldon saw his chance.
Crouching, making himself small as possible., Eldon shot to his left and was
behind an old mulberry tree in a trice. He peeked out. Mrs. H was still
standing by the sidewalk looking the other way. Very soon she blew her whistle
and her charges ran to the door.
All but one charge charged into the building,
and the remaining one charged into the brush, jumped across the creek and was on
his way to... He was on his way where? He certainly could not arrive home this
early, and wandering through the village would be entirely too conspicuous. So,
while his classmates enjoyed hearing another chapter of Tales of A Fourth Grade Nothing Eldon wandered across a recently-combined cornfield, kicking at an occasional
stob, picking up an occasional clod and heaving it toward an imaginary
enemy.
His triumph was short-lived, because this solitude, while being in
the great out-of-doors and free of the stuffy, smelly classroom miasma, was not
nearly so much fun as the boy had imagined it would be. The hour dragged on and
on, the lad’s fingers were miserably cold. Finally Eldon saw a bus pass on the
nearby road. He could head home now.
“Hi, Mom,” Eldon enthused. That was weird. It was like pulling nails, and I mean fingernails, to get a word from Eldon when he arrived home. But Mom didn’t need to guess, because his truancy had been reported to her long before he arrived home. Funny how that works.
Color Christmas! black, Eldon thought. Oh, man, color Christmas!
gone.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Advent, Third Sunday
The pink candle, The Joy Candle, is lighted today. The candles of Hope and Peace are alight. As Christ is our Hope, as He is Peace, Christ is our Joy!
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth! --Isaiah 52:7 (KJV)
Friday, December 14, 2012
Shadows
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Redeem the Time #T
Monday morning BBBH left the premises with the announcement that she was "going shopping; I'll see you when I see you."
This rather left me at loose ends in an empty house. Oh, I did have a load of laundry in the washer and a load in the dryer, so I was destined to have a few minutes of productive time. What else to do? Ah, peanut butter cookies. I ripped a recipe from a BH&G that was lying around and gathered the required ingredients.
I do not cook, but Beautiful tells me (often) "If you can read, you can cook." I'm not about to let that dictum reach the stage of verification, but I don't mind making cookies or candy on occasion, and I have been know to bake a cake now and then.
The details would only bore you, thus it is sufficient to say that the cookies were baked, the kitchen cleaned up, and the laundry folded by the time the spouse arrived home.
What a good boy am I.
The point? Surely not to fish for your approbation or admiration. But go ahead, if you wish. Rather it is this. I was thinking of an expression, probably biblical1, which my father used quite often. "Redeem the time," he would say. I suspect, looking back through the tunnel of time, that often his point was simply that I was a sluggard, or at best I was wasting good time which might be better utilized. When I was twelve, fourteen, seventeen, or whatever, I suspect that I had little enough grasp of the true value of the time we are allotted. I may have taken his words as chastisement and received them with resentment on occasion.
That is one of the problems of youth. In our youth, we have the strength and stamina for the tasks set before us, but we haven't the good sense to recognize the gift we have received in having been granted time.2
Now, Dad is gone and the time remaining to me is rushing past like a foehn wind down the east slope of the Rockies. I have neither the strength nor the stamina, I have too little time. What I have is the wisdom that comes with experience,3 but not time enough to avail myself of the benefit of that wisdom.
So, in an effort to "redeem the time," I may just bake more cookies, read more poetry, take more pictures. Well, it's a thought.
1Ephesians 5:15-17
2Teenagers, sadly, are immortal in their own eyes.
3BBBH says it is true we learn by experience; but, we will never have that experience again. So what do we do with the lesson learned?
This rather left me at loose ends in an empty house. Oh, I did have a load of laundry in the washer and a load in the dryer, so I was destined to have a few minutes of productive time. What else to do? Ah, peanut butter cookies. I ripped a recipe from a BH&G that was lying around and gathered the required ingredients.
I do not cook, but Beautiful tells me (often) "If you can read, you can cook." I'm not about to let that dictum reach the stage of verification, but I don't mind making cookies or candy on occasion, and I have been know to bake a cake now and then.
The details would only bore you, thus it is sufficient to say that the cookies were baked, the kitchen cleaned up, and the laundry folded by the time the spouse arrived home.
What a good boy am I.
The point? Surely not to fish for your approbation or admiration. But go ahead, if you wish. Rather it is this. I was thinking of an expression, probably biblical1, which my father used quite often. "Redeem the time," he would say. I suspect, looking back through the tunnel of time, that often his point was simply that I was a sluggard, or at best I was wasting good time which might be better utilized. When I was twelve, fourteen, seventeen, or whatever, I suspect that I had little enough grasp of the true value of the time we are allotted. I may have taken his words as chastisement and received them with resentment on occasion.
That is one of the problems of youth. In our youth, we have the strength and stamina for the tasks set before us, but we haven't the good sense to recognize the gift we have received in having been granted time.2
Now, Dad is gone and the time remaining to me is rushing past like a foehn wind down the east slope of the Rockies. I have neither the strength nor the stamina, I have too little time. What I have is the wisdom that comes with experience,3 but not time enough to avail myself of the benefit of that wisdom.
So, in an effort to "redeem the time," I may just bake more cookies, read more poetry, take more pictures. Well, it's a thought.
1Ephesians 5:15-17
2Teenagers, sadly, are immortal in their own eyes.
3BBBH says it is true we learn by experience; but, we will never have that experience again. So what do we do with the lesson learned?
Monday, December 10, 2012
Christmas! Gift
Eldon looked at the calendar. He noted that today is
December 10. Christmas! will soon be here. What? No, it is not “what?” for
ever since the disappointment of last Christmas! Eldon has known exactly what he
wants this year. Eldon is nine now. That has to be old enough. Does he need
to start dropping hints? Well, that did not work last year. What to do? What
to do?
Eldon is
too big to climb up in Santa’s lap and wheedle. Wheedling Mama or Daddy doesn't work. “Gets me what I don’t want. I guess,” the boy thought, “I will have to
try good behavior.”
Oh, what a trial that will be. But it’s only fifteen days
until Christmas! “What to do? what to do?”
What is "it" that Eldon so fervently desires for Christmas!? What can he do to improve and promote his chances of receiving "it"?
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Advent, Second Sunday
Luke 1 (CEB) Song of Zechariah
67 John’s father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied,
“Bless the Lord God of Israel
because he has come to help and has delivered his people.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us in his servant David’s house,
just as he said through the mouths of his holy prophets long ago.
He has brought salvation from our enemies
and from the power of all those who hate us.
He has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,
and remembered his holy covenant,
the solemn pledge he made to our ancestor Abraham.
He has granted that we would be rescued
from the power of our enemies
so that we could serve him without fear,
in holiness and righteousness in God’s eyes,
for as long as we live.
You, child, will be called a prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way.
You will tell his people how to be saved
through the forgiveness of their sins.
Because of our God’s deep compassion,
the dawn from heaven will break upon us,
to give light to those who are sitting in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide us on the path of peace.”
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Singing for Supper Won't Get It
Vanilla is sitting here typing, but hungry. No supper tonight. BBBH decided what she was going to fix for dinner. She started looking for the item which was part of the grocery purchase four days ago.
I "help" in the kitchen. Such things as clean-up, pots and pans, and loading and unloading the dishwasher comprise the basic chores. On shopping days, I also carry in groceries and put them away.
When Beautiful could not find this item in the freezer, she went into search mode. Destroy mode came later.
The box was found in the pantry. And why not?
Does not this item look like all the other boxes that one would store in the pantry?
I probably don't need to tell you that when I dug this from the waste bin to take the pictures the odor almost knocked me down. (I wondered why it smelled funny in the pantry the last day or so.)
Anyway, it is my fault that there is no supper tonight. Clearly my fault. Destroy mode? BBBH found it necessary to "mention" that that was $8
down the drain.
I am going to build a "man-cave" and retreat into it.
Maybe even pull it in after me.
I "help" in the kitchen. Such things as clean-up, pots and pans, and loading and unloading the dishwasher comprise the basic chores. On shopping days, I also carry in groceries and put them away.
When Beautiful could not find this item in the freezer, she went into search mode. Destroy mode came later.
The box was found in the pantry. And why not?
Does not this item look like all the other boxes that one would store in the pantry?
I probably don't need to tell you that when I dug this from the waste bin to take the pictures the odor almost knocked me down. (I wondered why it smelled funny in the pantry the last day or so.)
Anyway, it is my fault that there is no supper tonight. Clearly my fault. Destroy mode? BBBH found it necessary to "mention" that that was $8
down the drain.
I am going to build a "man-cave" and retreat into it.
Maybe even pull it in after me.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Annual Reminder
Each year on this date I post a reminder of a very significant and sobering event in our history. Because this particular item from three years ago expresses exactly why I do this, I am re-posting today.
On this day I reflect that I was seven years of age when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I remember people discussing this horrible event. Of course over the years I learned a great deal more about it. My point regarding this personal observation is this. Most people younger than I have no personal memory of Pearl Harbor, and a very high percentage of people today are younger than I. So if the memory is to be kept alive, it must be inculcated into the minds of the coming generations.
Collectively, we forget at the peril of freedom and the life of the nation.
USS Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, HI. Directly behind is USS Missouri and to the left, USS Peleliu. I have had the sobering experience of visiting the Memorial, and at an earlier date I was privileged to board the Missouri when she was in Bremerton before she was recommissioned.
On this day I reflect that I was seven years of age when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I remember people discussing this horrible event. Of course over the years I learned a great deal more about it. My point regarding this personal observation is this. Most people younger than I have no personal memory of Pearl Harbor, and a very high percentage of people today are younger than I. So if the memory is to be kept alive, it must be inculcated into the minds of the coming generations.
Collectively, we forget at the peril of freedom and the life of the nation.
USS Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, HI. Directly behind is USS Missouri and to the left, USS Peleliu. I have had the sobering experience of visiting the Memorial, and at an earlier date I was privileged to board the Missouri when she was in Bremerton before she was recommissioned.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Good St. Nicholas
Today is the Feast of St. Nicholas.
Though the good man died on December 6, 343, he is remembered with adoration to
this day. He is the patron saint of children, coopers, sailors, fishermen, merchants, broadcasters, the falsely accused, repentant thieves, pharmacists, archers, and pawnbrokers. He is a particular favorite of children, and of seamen as well.
Nikolaos of Myra was well-known for
his generosity. He was known to leave coins in the shoes which were set without
the door. He gave life-changing gifts to those in need; but he devised to give
them anonymously so that the recipient would not be embarrassed as though
objects of charity.
A case in point concerns the poor
father of three daughters who had no means for their dowries. Thus, absent
marriage, the women would be reduced to prostitution as means of support.
Nikolaos devised a plan whereby he delivered a bag of gold for each of the
daughters. Stories vary as to detail, but the one I favor is this. On the
night before the birthday of each daughter on which she would reach her
majority, the good man came by and tossed a bag of gold through the window opening of the
house. After the second bag had been so delivered, the father planned to discover his benefactor by lying in wait for him; but Nikolaos, wise to the scheme,
came around the back way and dropped the bag down the chimney. The daughter
having washed her hosiery, had hung the stockings by the fireplace, and of
course the gift landed in a stocking.
It is true to this day that small
gifts often find their way into a stocking which is hung by a fireplace.
Nikolaos was also known as Nikolaos
the Wonder Worker, not only because of the largess he displayed, but he
was believed as well to have resurrected certain murdered individuals through
intercessory prayer.
Truly the story of the works of this
individual even to this day is much too long to tell in this space. But think
on occasion about Sinter Klaas, or St. Nicholas.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Christina Georgina Rossetti,
English poet, was born on December 5, 1830. She was a devout woman, and devoted to literary endeavors. She had suitors and offers of marriage, all of which she declined. Some of her most well-recognized poetry was published posthumously, as for instance this poem, "In the Bleak Mid-winter," which has been set to music and is considered an outstanding Christmas carol.
1. In the bleak
mid-winterFrosty wind made
moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winterLong ago.
2. Our God, Heaven cannot hold HimNor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee awayWhen He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winterA stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,Jesus Christ.
3. Enough for Him, whom cherubimWorship night and day,
A breastful of milkAnd a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angelsFall down before,
The ox and ass and camelWhich adore.
4. Angels and archangelsMay have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphimThronged the air;
But only His motherIn her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the BelovedWith a kiss.
5. What can I give Him,Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherdI would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise manI would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,Give my heart.
Earth stood hard as iron,Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winterLong ago.
2. Our God, Heaven cannot hold HimNor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee awayWhen He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winterA stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,Jesus Christ.
3. Enough for Him, whom cherubimWorship night and day,
A breastful of milkAnd a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angelsFall down before,
The ox and ass and camelWhich adore.
4. Angels and archangelsMay have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphimThronged the air;
But only His motherIn her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the BelovedWith a kiss.
5. What can I give Him,Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherdI would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise manI would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,Give my heart.
Christina Georgina Rossetti, 1830 – 1894 RIP
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Farewell to the Officers at Fraunces Tavern
'With a heart full of love and
gratitude I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days
may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and
honorable.'
'I cannot come to each of you but
shall feel obliged if each of you will come and take me by the
hand.'
Thus Washington addressed the assemblage at Fraunces Tavern on
December 4, 1783. It is a well-documented fact that Washington wept upon the
delivery of these words. We have relied principally on Benjamin Tallmadge’s
account.
If his account makes it appear that Washington was flushed with
sentimentality, do not be deceived. He was in fact in great distress over the
failure of Congress to meet the fiscal obligation it owed to the troops. He had
every reason to weep, having devoted his life to leading men in the endeavor to
establish a country in which everyone could exercise his freedom.
Washington resigned
his commission as commander in chief of the armies on December 23 and returned
to his home in Mt. Vernon. This, some historians declare, was the greatest act
of his life.
Read "Why Washington Wept" by Thomas Fleming.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Boy Meets Girl #T
It was more than sixty years ago. Opal had friends. One of her friends
had a friend who lived some fifteen hundred or so miles away. Opal was
“eligible,” and the friend’s friend, whom we will call “Ed” because that was his
name, was also single. Both were in their early twenties but neither had yet
met the love of her, or his, life.
I do not know how the arrangements were made, but the mutual friend “hooked
them up” by way of the US Mail. Opal and Ed started a correspondence. The
letters were frequent and apparently, though I never read any of the letters,
the level of sharing of intimacies increased with time. And time passed and a
love-of-my-life feeling developed between the pen pals. A date was chosen and
Opal began planning a wedding. Keep in mind that Ed and Opal had not yet seen
each other, though I do believe that pictures were part of the mail
packets.
My father, whose name was not Sam, was known among the younger set as “The
Marrying Parson,” for many of the young people who had been his students asked
him to officiate at their weddings when the time came. Opal and Ed asked Dad to
perform their wedding ceremony. I had a small part, too, for my friend Wes and
I were honored to be chosen to act as ushers.
The week of the wedding came. Tuesday afternoon the plane which brought Ed
from California to Colorado arrived. That evening Opal and Ed met for the first
time. This allowed them Wednesday, Thursday and a portion of Friday in which to
date one another and for Ed to meet Opal’s friends and family. The rehearsal
and associated festivities were scheduled for Friday evening, and the wedding
was to be on Saturday afternoon.
But every story has a hitch, or a twist, or an unexpected turn of events.
Or sometimes the story turns out just as one might have anticipated.
Labels:
faith,
family,
marital bliss,
romance,
tales to be told
Sunday, December 2, 2012
First Sunday in Advent: The Gospel
25 And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring;
26 Men's hearts failing
them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth:
for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.
27 And then shall they see
the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.
28 And when these things
begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption
draws nigh.
34 And take heed to
yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and
drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you
unawares.
35 For as a snare shall it
come on all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth.
36 Watch ye therefore, and
pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that
shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man.
Luke Chapter 21
Friday, November 30, 2012
Dimples #T
The Boy is a seventh-grader. The seventh grade sits in the two back seats in the next-to-last row. The four seats in front and all the seats in the row to his left are occupied by sixth-graders. The fifth grade is to the left of sixth, and of course the eighth-graders get the last row, the "move on out row," for they will be gone next year.
Next to The Boy on his left is Sarah, the prettiest little thing the lad has seen, short of a tall stack of hotcakes with butter on top and soaked in maple syrup. To say he is enamored of the girl is a misstatement of fact, for he is much too shy and withdrawn to engage in any conversation more romantic than the typical foolishness twelve-year old boys engage in. But he is smitten, can't see straight when she is walking in front of him on the way out the door. She teases him about his dimples; he is abashed.
While the school is small, not everyone knows everything about everyone else, though teacher certainly must be possessed of such knowledge. It is certain, though, that Sarah comes from "constrained" circumstances, for although she and her several siblings are clean and neat, they are dressed in clearly more than "gently worn" clothing, and Sarah's winter coat appears much too thin to ward off the blasts that sail down Mt. Manitou into town in January.
The Boy, by whatever Sherlockian means he has available to him, discovers where this Vision of Loveliness resides, and he rides his bicycle past her domicile on occasion, both in hope and in fear that he might catch a glimpse of her in her native habitat. The house is on a dead-end, for the street runs into the embankment that carries the rails of the AT&SF as it passes through town. The cinders from the stacks of the trains would fall down upon the house where Sarah lives were it not that the firebox dampers were turned down in the city. The wonder of the lad that such an Angelic Creature should emerge each day from such a dark, dingy and besmeared habitat is almost beyond his comprehension.
I cannot tell you now the color of Sarah's eyes, nor can I picture her face; yet I can still hear her laughter ripple across the playground as she and the other girls do whatever it is girls do at recess. I left the school at the end of the next year, she remained to finish eighth grade. I never again saw the girl, nor have I any idea whatever became of her. Still, I have memories. She was the first girl to say, "You have the cutest dimples."
And to this day, I've no idea what impels a girl to do that,
Next to The Boy on his left is Sarah, the prettiest little thing the lad has seen, short of a tall stack of hotcakes with butter on top and soaked in maple syrup. To say he is enamored of the girl is a misstatement of fact, for he is much too shy and withdrawn to engage in any conversation more romantic than the typical foolishness twelve-year old boys engage in. But he is smitten, can't see straight when she is walking in front of him on the way out the door. She teases him about his dimples; he is abashed.
While the school is small, not everyone knows everything about everyone else, though teacher certainly must be possessed of such knowledge. It is certain, though, that Sarah comes from "constrained" circumstances, for although she and her several siblings are clean and neat, they are dressed in clearly more than "gently worn" clothing, and Sarah's winter coat appears much too thin to ward off the blasts that sail down Mt. Manitou into town in January.
The Boy, by whatever Sherlockian means he has available to him, discovers where this Vision of Loveliness resides, and he rides his bicycle past her domicile on occasion, both in hope and in fear that he might catch a glimpse of her in her native habitat. The house is on a dead-end, for the street runs into the embankment that carries the rails of the AT&SF as it passes through town. The cinders from the stacks of the trains would fall down upon the house where Sarah lives were it not that the firebox dampers were turned down in the city. The wonder of the lad that such an Angelic Creature should emerge each day from such a dark, dingy and besmeared habitat is almost beyond his comprehension.
I cannot tell you now the color of Sarah's eyes, nor can I picture her face; yet I can still hear her laughter ripple across the playground as she and the other girls do whatever it is girls do at recess. I left the school at the end of the next year, she remained to finish eighth grade. I never again saw the girl, nor have I any idea whatever became of her. Still, I have memories. She was the first girl to say, "You have the cutest dimples."
And to this day, I've no idea what impels a girl to do that,
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Accidental Photography
Full moon is today, but I availed myself of the opportunity to get this shot last evening. Who knows? It may be occluded tonight. The November full moon is called Beaver Moon, or Full Frost Moon.
I noticed the decorations up the street, so I turned my camera in that direction. Seems I moved the camera while the shutter was still open.
And this is the result when I held still, more or less. Truth, I like the first shot better.
A reminder to me, of course, that I've done nothing to brighten up the premises in anticipation of the Christmas season. But my neighbors are on the ball.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Compton's Hardware
Every town should have a good hardware store, and by "good hardware store" I don't mean Lowe's or Home Depot. A good hardware store is a place where you will find stuff that you thought left the marketplace a generation ago; a place where an old guy knows where everything is and will discount your purchase at the register; no glitzy advertising on TV. It is a place where you can get a custom-built chimney cap or your screen doors "re-wired." And one of the greatest features is this. You may buy your bolts and nuts in the quantity you desire! No prepackaged deals where, when you need four bolts, they come in packages of three, and so on. No, go to the stacks of drawers, pick your hardware and pay for what you need.
This store, half-block from the courthouse, is such a place. If you look at the pictures and think window shopping is interesting, you should stroll inside and check out the merchandise. The friendly guys will sell you anything in the store, and if you aren't buying, they will visit with you anyway.
This store, half-block from the courthouse, is such a place. If you look at the pictures and think window shopping is interesting, you should stroll inside and check out the merchandise. The friendly guys will sell you anything in the store, and if you aren't buying, they will visit with you anyway.
It has become a tradition over the past several years for the proprietors to raise a corn crop in the entry way to the store.
If you are in need of some galvanized tubs or buckets, come on over!
Snowed a bit last evening, so you might be interested in that Flexible Flyer. The washtubs may be exactly what you were looking for-- or not.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Ahaz and I
The seventh chapter of Isaiah tells us that the LORD told Isaiah to
take his son, Shearjashub, and go out to meet Ahaz. He was to carry the message
that Syria, Ephraim, and the son of Remaliah would not prevail against him. God, through the prophet,
told Ahaz to ask of Him a sign. Ahaz refused to ask a sign; and God spoke yet again and asked this
question:
"Is it a small thing for you to weary men, but will ye weary my God
also?"
At
this point, I choose to lift the question out of context and apply it to
ourselves.
Do we weary God with our obstinance? Do we not consider that He
has somewhat for us for which we must ask? Do we continue in our way
even when it is clear that our way has yielded nothing? Should we not ask a
sign of God?
Jesus said, “ Ask, and it shall be given
you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
For
every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that
knocketh it shall be opened.”
The directions are clear. It’s in the Book.
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