To A Fine Point

He told me of his early years when he worked in Connecticut, but, he said, he wanted to pursue “further” graduate work, so he returned to Missouri where he took his PhD at University of Missouri. I told him my sister had taken her PhD at Missouri and the conversation turned to areas of expertise. I asked what his field was and he replied, “poultry nutrition.” So now I fancy that I know a fellow who knows more about chicken feed than I do, notwithstanding that I raised a family on a paycheck that amounted to about that.

I have long believed that academia narrows fields of expertise to a fine point, and here is an excellent illustration of that fact. Someday, some university is going to narrow a study down to a vanishing-point, and the recipients of the degree offered will know everything about nothing!

This little snippet is extracted from a longer post from 2012.  





Image: Oregon State University
 

New Year, Old Post

A few years ago I participated in a meme that Chuck sent my way.  I passed it on to several blogger friends.  It came back around when Bob and Jan of Little Green Truck fame mentioned it on their facebook page.  They reposted their ten loves.  It seemed appropriate at the beginning of a new year to review the things I claim to love.  I went back to the old post and copied it over here.  I had to tweak the age, but otherwise, it is still the same!

Ten Things I Love

1. I love the Lord Jesus Christ who is my savior.

2. I love my wife whom you have met as "BBBH".

3. I love my family which has become so large and so widely extended that it is a challenge as I age to remember all their names. 

4. I love being 81 years old. It's sort of a testimony to perseverance  Next up, 82! and who knows how far one can go from there!

5. I love the community in which we live. It is not "Perfect" though I have referred to it that way on the blog; but it is the best place in which I've ever lived, and that's saying something.

6. For the most part, I love blogging, both writing my own and reading others. I have tried to quit, really I have; but BBBH says I'm addicted. There are worse addictions.

7. I love political cartoons and comic strips and their creators. I don't read them all, just half-dozen of the former and dozen of the latter. I love to laugh; and laughing at the nonsense of politicians and the foibles of our fellow-man keeps us from going nuts.

8. I love Coffee.

9. I love Texas. Admittedly I have never been there between May and September. But, subtext 9a. I love the ocean and 9b. I love the desert. Texas has plenty of both.

10. I love living green things. This was my answer to the question, "Why did you ever choose to move to Indiana?"

What do you love?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

An update for 2016.  About the time this was originally posted I got to thinking about the cavalier and blase way in which we use the word "love."  Many languages utilize different words to express different levels or different facets of love.  But for us it has become a catchall, most often actually expressing what we should more accurately call "like."  I mean, for me to say "I love my wife" is scarcely comparable to saying "I love coffee."  Though both are true in some sense I assure you the word does not mean the same thing in the two expressions.

Therefore I have made a conscious effort to use the term "like" when I mean like and to thereby impute a more reverent meaning to the word "love" when I use that.  You don't have to follow my lead on this, but think about it. 

Caravan Cookstove

Throwback Thursday

I have mentioned, perhaps a long time ago, that I write this blog primarily for my own entertainment and that I am gratified if you find pleasure in it, too.

I do go back through the archives on occasion, as you have no doubt inferred from the occasional "reposts."  I found this one recently, liked it enough to bring it forward.  From November 2011.

Pawing around in the loose pictures box yields not only images, but memories. This may be the principal reason for taking photos and snapshots of people. The examples here were taken in the fall prior to our marriage in February. The little lady checking her watch there in the kitchen may have wondered why I had yet to arrive. Well, as you can see, the refrigerator has morphed into a Dodge Caravan, against which I am leaning. I am enjoying a beautiful fall evening and who knows what I am thinking? I don't even remember.

This may have been the very evening during which she asked me to marry her. At any rate, it is all the beginning of something good, something exciting, and so far, something lasting.
Might I say it is all good? I might, but is there such a thing as any marital relationship in which it is all good? In this instance, it started out good and just gets better and better!

Word of the day: inferred

Bunch of Words from an Old Guy #T

I wrote the following list on the occasion of my eightieth birthday.  That has now been well over a year ago.  But I was rereading this and thought it not a bad Sunday school lesson.  Parts of it, anyway.  So here we go again.

One-third hundred thoughts on having lived eighty years.

1.  “All things in moderation” is bad counsel; some things should not be done.  (See Exodus, chapter 20)

2.  Use real butter and drink whole milk.

3.  “All things come to him who waits.”  Torpor, poverty, want. . .

4.  Common sense is often nonsense.  What we need is uncommon sense.

5.  Sugar, if you must sweeten.  Salt sparingly.

6.  Coffee.  Lots of coffee.  Decaf is not coffee.

7.  Nap.  A daily nap may not make you younger or prettier, but you will be easier to live with.  At least while you are napping.

8.  Be punctual.  Late is a waste of others time and disrespectful.  Early is a waste of your own time and frivolous.

9.  You cannot get back a minute of time.  Spend your minutes wisely.

10. Spend your money carefully.  If you gratify every whim, you will find yourself in need. 

11. When you sell your time to an employer, give him his money’s worth.  When you are on his clock, your time is his time.

12. Technology is a marvelous servant.  Don’t let it become your master.

13. Go to church, not to see or to be seen, but to reflect there and worship with fellow believers.  I’ve done it both ways, and going to church is better.

14. Whine not; neither carp nor complain.  All it will get you is a bad reputation.

15. It is true that you are judged by the company you keep.  Choose your companions carefully.

16.  Eat your spinach.  It is not only good for you, it is good.  And Popeye would approve.

17.  You are not Clark Kent, and there are no phone booths anymore.  Leave heroics to the super heroes, but in any situation, do what is right.

18.  If you don’t know what is right, ask for directions or assistance, but do something.

19.  Most people are ordinary; love them, but love the oddballs, too.

20.  Most people are ordinary-looking.  But the people at both ends of the bell curve need love, too.

21.  If you would have friends, show yourself friendly.  Dad drilled this one into me, and he got it from the Bible.

22.  Speaking of the Bible, many people misquote or attribute things to the Bible that are not in there.  Read it for yourself.  Often.

23. Ice cream!  Year 'round, and often.

24.  When looking for wisdom, or “how to live” counsel, you will find unlimited sources.

25.  A very small percentage of the counselors you find in this endeavor will be wise or worthy.

26.  Be nice to the unwise and unworthy anyway.

27.  Many are free with unsolicited advice.  Be kind to them, too.

28.  It is easy to be a cranky old person.  Just live a long time and run counter to a lot of this stuff.

29.  It is not so easy to be a kind old person.  But you still have to live a long time, and you have to work at it.

30.  And on that topic, “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”  What?  The fewer flies the better, and what a waste of honey.  And vinegar.

31.  Which reminds me, many clichéd sayings are simply silly if not ridiculous.  Think for yourself. However, because something is a cliché does not mean that it is wrong.  Again, think for yourself.

32. Sarcasm as humor tends to wear thin rather quickly.

33. If you can’t be kind, be quiet.

33¹/₃. Eat your broccoli, too.  It’s not so good as spinach but eat it anyway.

Put that on your turntable and spin it.

Happy birthday to my baby sister, Ilene.  She is many years younger than I, but I can't tell you how many since you know my age and the next rule is

34. Never reveal a lady's age. Don't even let her know that you know.

Going Shopping?

Originally written two years ago, this is presented again, reworked somewhat, as a cautionary tale, or as a "heads up" to those of you who want to go into training for the crowd-beating start Thursday night.


Dozens, yea thousands, will be headed to the malls and other stores on Friday.  And that is just here in our little bailiwick.  Imagine the millions across the nation.  It staggers the mind.  But, I am not one of them. I wish no one anything but the best, but the shopping mania known as "Black Friday" has zero appeal for me. May corporate America put their books in the "black". It is sincerely to be hoped. Yet, too, to be hoped, is that you don't put yourself into the red. Yet many of you will do so. I suppose that most people have to reach a "certain age" before grasping the rudiments of balance between things and relationships. Many never reach that point, and those of us who do, I suspect, are regarded as either weird or too old to be of any use to anyone.

Well, enjoy yourselves. Enjoy your things. Enjoy the juggling of the bills and the decision-making with regard to which things will enhance what relationships. For myself, I will enjoy the comfort and warmth of my home, probably read a bit, perhaps catch a few minutes of the madness via the tube, just so that I have a visual validation of my smug attitude toward the whole thing.

Flesh Out the Invisible Man

Long time, no see.  I fell into feeling sorry for myself again recently.  Shall I address this on String Too Short? I asked myself.  Oh, that has been done.  So I resurrected this, not because I am a poet, but because I needed to reflect once again on the words that follow the doggerel.  If  I just sit and allow myself to think I am neglected, I need to ask myself why I can't do something about that.  Am I incapable of making a call, reaching out to someone?  Going now to the scriptures.

OH THE INVISIBLE MAN!

HE'S THE GOODEST MAN YOU NEVER SAW!
HE IS HERE EVERY DAY
HE DOES HIS CHORES. IN EVERY WAY
HE'S AS GOOD AS ARY ONE YOU KNOW
AND YET SEE HIM? I' TROW,
SEE HIM, YOU NEVER CAN.
AIN'T HE A' AWFUL GOOD INVISIBLE MAN?
INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE MAN.

I'VE SERVED MY BEST IN EVERY WAY

GAVE MY KIDS MY LIFE EVERY DAY
TO THEM I'VE BEEN AWFULLY GOOD
YET TO DATE I'VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD
WHY? EVEN TO THEM I CAN'T BE SEEN
WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH ME 'N
THE THINGS I KNOW? SEE ME?
THEY NEVER CAN.
I'M THE INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE MAN.

I DEVOTED MY LIFE TO A CAREER
THE YOUNGSTERS I ATTEMPTED TO STEER
INTO THE PATHWAYS THEY SHOULD GO
BUT NOW THERE'S SCARCE A ONE I KNOW
WHO SEES ME WHEN I PASS HIM ON THE STREET
I SHUFFLE ALONG ON TIRED FEET
AND WISH A SMILE WOULD SHINE MY WAY,
BUT NO, NOT HAPPENIN' TODAY.
IT'S WHO I AM: THE INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE MAN.

WHOA! YOU SHUFFLIN' OL' INVISIBLE MAN
INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE, INVISIBLE MAN!
DID I HEAR SOMEONE CALL?
NO, NO, NO NOT AT ALL
IT'S MERELY WIND AHOWLIN'
OR ENTS OR ELVES OR SQUIDGICUMBAWLIN'
AS EVER, AS EVER INVISIBLE MAN
CAN'T BE SEEN BY ANYONE IN THE LAN'.
THAT LONELY OL' BONEY OL' INVISIBLE MAN

--

WITH INSINCERE APOLOGIES TO J.W.RILEY AND TO H.G. WELLS

I suspect that all people have times in which feelings such as these creep into their lives. It is part of the human condition to feel alone, lonely or ignored on occasion.

Yet I know that this too shall pass. In truth I have a huge, loving family and many, many friends. They all have lives, too. And it is a busy world in which we live. There are often near-overwhelming responsibilities. A kind and loving word could lift a friend of yours; just let them know they haven't been forgotten.

And above it all, we are held in the loving hand of our Heavenly Father, who will never leave us, nor yet forsake us.  John 14:18

 Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.  Hebrews 13:5

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Felines in My Life

Another rerun for your enjoyment, slightly modified from the original.  I can do that; I wrote it.  Please don't hate me, Lin and Grace.  I know I would love your cats.

I prefer dogs to cats. I have seriously tried to understand this. Perhaps it stems from the fact that as a small child I had the most beautiful pure white cat which I named "Condibell." The day before my fifth birthday the family relocated to another state and the cat was left on a farm in the bleak environs from which we fled.

Cats are among the most beautiful of creatures in the animal kingdom, and vain about it, too. They are natural predators, and as such they are armed with savage weapons and exceeding guile. They are untrustworthy.

I hold no animosity toward those who harbor cats. Several of my dearly loved family members do. And with the exception of Mickey,* it is almost inevitable that if I visit in the home of one of these siblings, progeny, niece or auntie, and if I am seated for a sufficiently long period of time, the family feline will wind up on my lap. This is both perception and perversity. The cat has a keen sense of my lack of enthusiasm; it has the perversity of nature to choose me as its roost. Does it hope to ingratiate itself to me, change my way of thinking? Nay. It is done in spite.

I have had the unfortunate experience of having such a creature curled on my lap, and soft and silky as he was, I found myself anon stroking the luxurious fur. The cat began to purr. Its eyes closed, the purring grew more rhythmic, more pronounced. Both Tom and I were in the zone, so to speak, when suddenly and with no warning, the son of a puss twisted, quickly, quickly, and bit my thumb, drawing blood.

And though no human, man or woman, child or octogenarian, has ever "owned" a cat; yet there are millions of well-intentioned people who keep them, coddle them, and allow themselves to be ruled by them. We won't even talk about the canned food and the litter box.

Also, trust me. If your cat behaves as Tom did , it too shall be flung precipitously across your living room.  Reflexively, of course, no ill-will to be imputed.

[I did harbor a stray cat a few years ago, outdoors and in the basement, you understand. I cared for  him, and just when I was starting to grow fond of the thing, he crawled into the engine compartment of the car and the rest is gory history. Stupid cat.]

*Mickey and I understand each other.  I leave him alone and he reciprocates.  Now that is a gentlecat.

A Pretty Picture and Musings

BBBH and I are off this week doing stuff.  We hope it will be sufficiently memorable to warrant reports here.  Meanwhile, I have raided the archives from three or four years ago.  This is reworked for a re-post.


Memory and History

We know that nostalgia is an unreasonable yearning for something in the past, something that cannot be. But what we don't often think about is that everything is past. What we recall, we may hold so long as we can remember. What we record is history.

Imagine a movie being played reel-to-reel. (We have to go retrotech here for the imagery.) The top reel is the future, the lower reel, the past. As the film flicks by the lens the present is revealed, in this case 1/24th of a second for each frame. But the present can actually be defined by infinitely smaller units: nanoseconds. Nay, even less for instantly the "present" is the past. We cannot see the future. We may anticipate it, contemplate it, fantasize about it or even plan for it. But we cannot live it. Only the briefest of instants compose our present experience.

We cannot live in the past; it is gone. But we may remember it, recall it, relate it, thereby relegating yet more of our "present" to the past. What is your life without memory?

For all that philosophers and physicists may expound on this "time" we have, it is just as simple as we have limned it herein and just as complex as our memories allow.

Are you making any memories? Are you making history?

Is your hand in the hand of the Eternal Guide?

The Coloring Book

(Engaging in a bit of Texas living. I present a rehash of an earlier post.)

A few days ago we looked at a vignette from the first grade experience. Today is the tale of the coloring book. Not just any coloring book, but The Coloring Book. It was a huge, fat, glorious set of pages just begging to be crayoned. He had received the book on his sixth birthday, and he had still many, many wonderful pages to be artistically completed. (Yeah, I know. Stifled his creativity before it had a chance to grow. And other baloney.)

Anyway, it was a beautiful late summer day and school had been in session perhaps two weeks when The Boy decided to take the wonderful treasure to school. Now, those arriving at school before Teacher came out to gather the children around the flagpole to say the Pledge of Allegiance had to remain on the sidewalk or on the grassy area outside the schoolground itself.

The school was a "primary school" and housed first and second grade only. There was no public kindergarten in those times and in that place. Good heavens, how ever did the kids get an education?

So anyway, the second graders were "kings of the hill," so to speak and the firsters trembled in their very presence. At least some of them did, and the Boy was such an one. You know what happened. The "big kids" started to tease the child with his treasure. "Oh, look, the Baby brought his coworring book," and so on. So the child, crushed and intimidated, threw the book into the grass and PROCEEDED TO SIT ON IT! Dorks do have a way about them, and this elicited even more teasing in the vein of "BWAK, Bwak, buk, buk, buk-- look, the Chicken is trying to hatch his book."

Did I mention that school was not high on the list of the boy's pleasures?

(Another Tale From School)