View Full Version : Daily Bread
Teacher Terry
4-11-18, 7:15pm
WS: I really enjoy your perspective on things so hope you don't stay gone for long:))
Williamsmith
5-11-18, 1:26pm
Fifty days or so ago I approached a vast new undiscovered territory .....silence. Pausing long enough to enter in, I did so expecting to learn new things about myself, which I did and I am. But what was unexpected was the rediscovery of long forgotten joys. One of those joys is the simplicity of being myself. Disconnecting from constantly creating an “interesting” person for others to see, from immersing myself in the quick pace of social media, disconnecting .....that has been a joy.
It has allowed me to investigate my participation in consuming and producing. What and why do I consume? What and why do I produce? Is it possible to live happily with less of both? I began to see that a lot of what is described as an engaged lifestyle is simply attempting to be busy and accessible to everyone and everything at every moment. Not letting technology be an end in itself but seeing what technology is, the way we interact with it and it’s relationship with real people. Detachment helps me keep from making a sacrament of technology.
Instead of the technology being a useful tool, we become its resource to the custodians of it. We voluntarily expend hours providing the raw materials for other people to use to enhance their wealth. Their wealth does not ooze up from the pavement. Being available at all times is certainly a nice feature for others but is it for you? Can we disconnect, turn off our smartphones, sit quietly in a room by ourselves, without any distraction, breathe and listen for direction? Or do we need to constantly search for a loud voice to guide us through our day?
Are we looking for answers in the form of symbolic hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes, fires or tragedy.....or will a whisper that comes in quiet contemplation be our guide? The good news for me is that silence can be created almost anywhere and thus far hasn’t been monetized. I am wealthy as long as I can become an island unto myself for long enough to get a compass reading and go on.
As a kid I was exposed to simple mountain music. Certainly, lacking in technical prowess or trained musicianship... “old timey” music was not cutting edge technology. I can relate to simplicity in almost any realm. Music is often thought about in terms of what fills up the air but music would be nothing but noise without periods of silence. Pauses between the notes often set up anticipation. In a way, subtraction from the main theme enhances the work. Often, it is the notes that are not played that make a world of difference.
This anticipation translates to our living but without the quiet interludes, pauses and behind the beat syncopation....we cannot fully appreciate the music when it comes. I have only scratched the surface and yet it has made a stark difference in my perception of sound and my ability to be guided by a “still small voice” that can only appear with the silence. And in truth, there is really no such thing as total silence. Even in the quietest of settings, my heart still beats, the blood rushes through my veins and my breathing is perceptible. It is the quiet rhythm of life that is the baseline for all the sounds that layer on top. So silence then is not nothing. Silence is a great something. It is a great help to stop looking outside yourself and turn inward. Silence makes that possible.
Some simple old timey music ........
https://youtu.be/is4WK99hPcg
Insightful observations, WS. I find I need silence and solitude to get my ideas and then go exploring them.
It is ironic -- or, perhaps, designed -- that silence also makes what is said that much more powerful.
Thank you, williamsmith. Nice to see you back, even if briefly.
Williamsmith
5-14-18, 9:03am
It is ironic -- or, perhaps, designed -- that silence also makes what is said that much more powerful.
Thank you, williamsmith. Nice to see you back, even if briefly.
My opinion is that silence is misunderstood as a less effective communication than words. But it’s my experience that words however incitful they might be will always set boundaries within which ideas become trapped. What cannot be accurately said, is often best left blank. As a counselor, sitting quietly with a crestfallen person is often a better help than offering up words of solace. I understand that the meaning of life is being sought in books and communication. But I believe silence and quietness can be a more effective way to discover it, despite the current which runs against feelings versus science and philosophy. Perhaps in the last fifty days before my latest post.....by not saying anything.....I have learned more by being quiet than if I’d thrown thousands of letters at the blank page.
“What we cannot speak about, we must pass over in silence.”
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.
Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.
Proverbs 17:28
Williamsmith
5-21-18, 9:00am
We hadn’t intended on doing anything but subtraction this weekend. Subtraction in the sense of dumping a few hundred pounds of stuff my son left with us when he moved to Texas. Our good fortune came in the form of a house that sold in Springfield, Ohio and one that was purchased in Houston, Texas by the same couple. That couple being my son’s father and mother in -law. Which gave me an idea. Would they be willing to ship my sons stuff with their moving company?
I hummed and whistled while I staged all the crap in the garage that my son left behind. The yearbooks, the pictures, baseball cards, trophies, bats, balls, gloves, clothing, shoes, graduation gown, a television, a lamp and Christmas themed China a friend gave him. It was going to be a nice load and free up needed space in my storage challenged condo. We packed it all up in our SUV Friday night. I stood in amazement suddenly aghast at what this would probably look like to the in laws. The only thing we lacked was grandmas rocking chair strapped to the rooftop luggage rack.
Well, we won’t be seeing much of them anyway. Sometimes it sucks to be on the receiving end. The wife commented weakly that it really wasn’t all that overpowering a burden and that they had volunteered so it sort of soothed my feelings enough to start humming and whistling again thinking about how their loss was my gain......in a subtraction sort of way.
We arranged to meet them at their “sale pending” residence in Springfield some time in the afternoon Saturday and headed out. It kinda bothered me that the car seemed a little sluggish and sat lower than usual but I got over it by the time we crossed the Pennsylvania/Ohio line. We planned to stay in a hotel and bum around some antique stores in the area on Sunday. About half way into the five hour trip we stopped at a rest area and ate some leftover baked chicken picnic style. On my way back to the car I thought it prudent to check the tire pressure.....just in case.
About that time the in laws called and offered to meet us for dinner about an hour toward our direction in order to save us some driving time. What a considerate couple! I had to convince them that it would be best to just offload my sons junk right into their garage. I went down the list of inventory and explained that we probably didn’t want to be handling it twice. While it was a very true statement.....the silence on the other end of the phone made we wish I would have given them a heads up if you will. Oh well, like I said, we won’t be seeing much of them again.
So we showed up around about the agreed time and literally “dumped” the stuff sheepishly into their garage. They even helped unload. When they told me that the move was estimated to cost them up to ten thousand dollars I almost choked. I had moved from my four bedroom ranch to a condo for not much more than $200 and that included the meal I served to everyone that help.
They werent able to make us dinner and I was thankful of that. Didn’t want to take advantage of them. We ate out at a really nice place and then drove to a quaint little town called Yellow Springs. Actually, it was more like a safari where you ride around and the guide points out the zoo animals. Yellow Springs got its start in the 1800s as a utopian religious commune and has lived up to its heritage to this day. This is a town where almost everyone you’d talk to over the age of 65 would claim they were at Woodstock in the summer of 1969. The movies showing at the theatre were “Selma”, a documentary on Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and Carl Marx. I’m open minded but the stall door doesn’t open that wide. I did want to stop at the tie Dyed t-shirt place and get one with a peace sign but it was closed.
I kept my eyes peeled for Dave Chappelle, the controversial African American comedian who resides here. I kind of wanted to see if he was real. Lots of interesting people come from this town including the Chairman of the Communist Party USA. I kept imaging how exciting it would have been to live here during the McCarthy Era. Yes, it was a quaint little pot smoking town with a small communist problem.
Im not casting aspersions. I realize my own shortcomings and contradictions. I’m a minimalist that has to set number limitations on my book and record collections. I’m a pacifist with a short explosive temper. I step on the scale every morning and pull into an ice cream stand every night. I don’t watch or listen to the news much because I’m convinced it’s all just fear mongering but I have cache of weapons and ammo that an Idaho survivalist would be proud of.
I thought the Springfield/Dayton Ohio area was a fine place to visit and probably a great place to live. But as I drove home on Sunday and as my SUV seemed to effortlessly accelerate onto the Interstate I thought it was kinda nice at least one couple thought it was time to leave.
https://youtu.be/IYRgZWg0zXo
Williamsmith
5-31-18, 7:27pm
There is a little hamlet nestled in the hills of southwestern New York along the north shore of a small lake formed in the early 1800s by a dam built to power a mill. Originally just two small ponds, the resulting lake provided an ideal setting for steamboats, summer camps and eventually year round recreation. Over the years many memories have been made here and in antique shops, restaurants, bed and breakfasts, and roadside bars, black and white photographs of the past hint at the genesis of a community that has both changed with the times and remained the same.
On a sunny afternoon, my wife and I walk the sidewalks and porches between specialty shops, the lake always in view. In front of a candy shoppe is a wicker furnishing ......a group of two chairs and a love seat. One chair calls to me and I sit down. Over my shoulder to my right I see a picture I’d like to take. The roadway, a two lane asphalt, winds like a serpent through the town, around the north shore of the lake and up the hill out of sight. A few other pedestrians walk away;parents holding a small child’s hand. It is late afternoon and the light is right. It is the kind of scene I have been making note of. For some time I have been photo journaling......without the camera.
My vintage Canon AE1 is loaded and ready with 400ASA black and white film. It sits in my sun room under an end table in a camera bag waiting. In my notebook, I have written the location of several spots where photos wait to be taken. In order to concentrate on finding the right places and the right times......I practice by leaving the camera at home. There can be no gratuitous repetitive shooting. Black and white film is expensive to develop. I am determined to click but once, at the precise moment with the precise subject.
I will return to the sleepy summer retreat in the woods of New York and snap the long and winding road; on another perfect day, at the perfect time. In this way, I hope to capture a feeling.....and not just a record of my being there. Black and white seems to accept moods better than color. That is what I hope to develop. The planning is almost complete. Now it is time to head out for the journey. I am hoping to create a book or journal with every photograph accompanied by some sparse thoughts. Or perhaps...the photographs can speak for themselves.....if I can be a photographer and not just a picture taker.
Or perhaps...the photographs can speak for themselves.....if I can be a photographer and not just a picture taker.
I applaud that you know the difference between picture-taking and photography!
I also applaud the idea of picking your shots. Even though I haven't shot film in at least a decade, I still prefer to compose shots in camera and get the technical bits right. I have no love for image-manipulation software or the time spent trying to fix what could have been done right at the moment the picture was taken. The economic reason for being careful in shooting film is good, too.
But, over the years, I've fallen away from the idea that I'll get the great shot I want next time. So much can change -- weather, the immediate surroundings in the picture, my ability to get to that place again, and more -- that I will do the best I can for some shots and leave it to surpass my skills later if I ever again get the opportunity.
Life can change pretty fast. The best camera you have is the one that is with you.
Williamsmith
6-4-18, 9:45am
My formative years occurred in the late 1960s, by that I mean my indoctrination. Lots of good concepts were taught me, and on the contrary lots of paranoia was doled out about other religions, other races, other ethnicities and vices like sex, gambling, and rock and roll. The way I look at it now, I was under the grip of unrelenting dogmatism regarding these matters for a very long time...well into the early 1970s. But a strange thing happened. I started to think.
Laughter and comedy was pretty much limited to “clean” jokes. Freddy the Freeloader a character created by Red Skelton comes to mind. I did love the way Red always turned comedy into a lesson on goodness and purity. But I discovered that comedy is not always “clean” or politically correct. And I also learned that listening to unapproved comedy could get me in trouble with those who defined the boundaries. My thinking probably began in the mid 1970s about the time I discovered Monty Pythons Flying Circus and belatedly learned about Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles”.
The Church, for all its good activity, fell short of its mark when it came to tolerance and being threatened by irreverence. They had some evil sounding names for the kind of comedy that was critical of hypocrisy. Blasphemy carried some weight in Official Church circles as did Backsliding and unforgivable sins of speaking against the Holy Spirit. I suppose they still do, though I don’t run with that crowd nowadays. It reminds me of the Islamamic idea of infidels.
In any event, I just read an article in the American Thinker titled, “In a World Where Everyone’s Offended By Everything, Can Comedy Exist?” Link below.
It discusses the movie Blazing Saddles and the television cartoon show, the Simpsons. There are plenty of “offensive” scenarios in the movie and the cartoon but are we to the point where a movie like Blazing Saddles with its farcing of racism and Monty Pythons Life Of Brian with its irreverence for the crucifixtion of Christianity could never be made. Would anyone dare to make a comedy of the sacraments of Islam? Could we make fun of gays and lesbians and laugh at it?
Who’s “vision of culture” must comedy conform to? I have gone back and forth about the best comedic movie I’ve seen. Is it Blazing Saddles with the black Sheriff or Life of Brian with the crowds of followers and lampooning of religious idolatry?
A relatively obscure comic died this year. Barry Crimmins. As a child he was sexually abused by a priest. He took this experience to the stage with him. He never was politically correct and never pulled punches. I didn’t always agree with his politics but I thought I could always laugh at his jokes. There’s a nice documentary on him on Netflix called, “Call Me Lucky.” I would be nice if we could all just loosen the belt a little and quit being so “offended.”
https://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2018/04/in_a_world_where_everyones_offended_by_everything_ can_comedy_exist.html
https://youtu.be/ffwFXGPRDu4
Nice post. Comedy can be silly British humor, like Monty Python--my favorite religious comedy bit is from Spamalot--or can be more pointed social commentary, George Carlin or Louis C.K. or John Stewart. It's such a fine line to walk. What was acceptable in earlier days--like the shows you mentioned as well as All in the Family--is now verboten. But comedy is an extremely important tool for both entertainment and thought. I was very interested in the philosophy of comedy in my high school/early college years, and I think it's because I spent my whole first 12 years never laughing, but when my life was normalized in my teens, I never stopped laughing.
I'm going to read the article in the link you posted. I will always look on the bright side of life--even if it comes with the pain of awareness.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHPOzQzk9Qo
WS, I had not seen that episode, or portion of, as I am not a great Monty Python fan, but that scene is priceless. I enjoyed Catherine's scene as well. Maybe I need to go back and look at the Monty Python with a fresh perspective. Thanks for my laughs for the day.
My formative years occurred in the late 1960s, by that I mean my indoctrination. Lots of good concepts were taught me, and on the contrary lots of paranoia was doled out about other religions, other races, other ethnicities and vices like sex, gambling, and rock and roll. The way I look at it now, I was under the grip of unrelenting dogmatism regarding these matters for a very long time...well into the early 1970s. But a strange thing happened. I started to think.
Laughter and comedy was pretty much limited to “clean” jokes. Freddy the Freeloader a character created by Red Skelton comes to mind. I did love the way Red always turned comedy into a lesson on goodness and purity. But I discovered that comedy is not always “clean” or politically correct. And I also learned that listening to unapproved comedy could get me in trouble with those who defined the boundaries. My thinking probably began in the mid 1970s about the time I discovered Monty Pythons Flying Circus and belatedly learned about Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles”.
The Church, for all its good activity, fell short of its mark when it came to tolerance and being threatened by irreverence. They had some evil sounding names for the kind of comedy that was critical of hypocrisy. Blasphemy carried some weight in Official Church circles as did Backsliding and unforgivable sins of speaking against the Holy Spirit. I suppose they still do, though I don’t run with that crowd nowadays. It reminds me of the Islamamic idea of infidels.
In any event, I just read an article in the American Thinker titled, “In a World Where Everyone’s Offended By Everything, Can Comedy Exist?” Link below.
It discusses the movie Blazing Saddles and the television cartoon show, the Simpsons. There are plenty of “offensive” scenarios in the movie and the cartoon but are we to the point where a movie like Blazing Saddles with its farcing of racism and Monty Pythons Life Of Brian with its irreverence for the crucifixtion of Christianity could never be made. Would anyone dare to make a comedy of the sacraments of Islam? Could we make fun of gays and lesbians and laugh at it?
Who’s “vision of culture” must comedy conform to? I have gone back and forth about the best comedic movie I’ve seen. Is it Blazing Saddles with the black Sheriff or Life of Brian with the crowds of followers and lampooning of religious idolatry?
A relatively obscure comic died this year. Barry Crimmins. As a child he was sexually abused by a priest. He took this experience to the stage with him. He never was politically correct and never pulled punches. I didn’t always agree with his politics but I thought I could always laugh at his jokes. There’s a nice documentary on him on Netflix called, “Call Me Lucky.” I would be nice if we could all just loosen the belt a little and quit being so “offended.”
https://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2018/04/in_a_world_where_everyones_offended_by_everything_ can_comedy_exist.html
https://youtu.be/ffwFXGPRDu4
Williamsmith
6-9-18, 4:38am
Is it just a “matter of time before people get pitchforks and torches?”
Can the richest country on the face of the earth afford universal healthcare, free college and investment in infrastructure? Do we still live in a democracy or is it an oligarchy run by corporate elitists? Do they have access to any healthcare that they want, do their kids go to college, do they fly anywhere they want anytime? Have they become so rich they lost empathy for the poor? Has the disparity in wealth distribution reached a tipping point? Has the spending on military finally bankrupted the nation?
Do you think enough people believe these things that it will spawn a political revolution toward progressive politics?
https://youtu.be/yHpN7X9iK3o
How old is this show, WS?
It is not just the cost of the wars but the number of lives destroyed as well. Was some of it necessary? Yes. But Iraq? The bailout of the banks and other institutions that sold garbage investments?
Count on it! the entitlements that people have paid into for years and need are being reduced but the war machine will continue because corporate America is now completely in charge. Americans voted for it!
Williamsmith
6-9-18, 8:32am
The show was just posted yesterday. The interview of Howard Schultz occurred three days ago on Squawk Box CNBC. These types of discussions make me wonder what dominos have to fall to trigger what’s left of the middle class voters to abandon Democrats and Republicans. We have seventy, eighty and ninety year olds working minimum wage jobs to pay for gaps in their health care. We have large groups of young starters burdened with immense school debt and our infrastructure continues to erode. But we keep ramping up our military spending. It’s shameful. Does the government cut back solution narrative still fly? Don’t think so. Every other country on the planet is calling us out. When China’s wealthiest man calls us out......that’s embarrassing.
Been thinking about this while I went around my usual maintenance activities on Saturdays.
While China's wealthiest man had a very legitimate observation, China is also building up its armed power to control the Oriental sphere so there may be a little bit of an agenda there.
Now, having said that, I am going to offer more positive view of life than what seems possible at present.
Whenever I see a tragedy reported, I also see and acknowledge loudly the selflessness that is so often involved. People making chains to rescue someone OR rushing into buildings and variable situations to warn/save others, OR providing donated aid OR shelter to those in need. There is so much of this happening. People around the world share what they have and have done so for centuries. This selflessness is innate in all of us to a greater or lesser degree. We need to give and to receive to feel included and valued.
When individualism is the governing thought, selflessness is lost. I think while individualism has value, when it takes over the thought of person, communities and governments to the point that selflessness is lost sight of, mankind suffers. We are fighting against our own innate nature and wondering why we are so unhappy, angry, fearful of the future and isolated from each other. How do we solve this at present - with pills, opioids, alcohol, drugs, road rage.....
What say you, WS? Do you agree?
We have seventy, eighty and ninety year olds working minimum wage jobs to pay for gaps in their health care. We have large groups of young starters burdened with immense school debt and our infrastructure continues to erode. But we keep ramping up our military spending. It’s shameful. Does the government cut back solution narrative still fly? Don’t think so. Every other country on the planet is calling us out. When China’s wealthiest man calls us out......that’s embarrassing.
+1
I recall that bumper sticker: "It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy another bomber." -- Robert Fulghum
Teacher Terry
6-9-18, 1:42pm
When I see old people bagging groceries and offer to take them to my car no way am I letting someone older than me do that. I heard that in Florida the grocery store is full of old workers. Fine if they enjoy it but sad if required. I would much rather spend less on the military and put that money towards our poor seniors.
ToomuchStuff
6-10-18, 3:30am
The show was just posted yesterday. The interview of Howard Schultz occurred three days ago on Squawk Box CNBC. These types of discussions make me wonder what dominos have to fall to trigger what’s left of the middle class voters to abandon Democrats and Republicans. We have seventy, eighty and ninety year olds working minimum wage jobs to pay for gaps in their health care. We have large groups of young starters burdened with immense school debt and our infrastructure continues to erode. But we keep ramping up our military spending. It’s shameful. Does the government cut back solution narrative still fly? Don’t think so. Every other country on the planet is calling us out. When China’s wealthiest man calls us out......that’s embarrassing.
Prior to the 20th century, what was retirement? What was healthcare like and how was it paid for, as well as any advances to it? How about other factors that are in play (lack of pensions, automation or other advances that change the job market, so more frequent job changes, etc. etc.)?
I've heard one person say that China, has been ramping up its military spending and it generally in a booming economy state. I don't know the facts one way or another, but found his premise that they could make us to a cold war Russia, and interesting premise.
I knew a person who retired at 95, and died six months later (I was his last customer). Part of me thinks it is just the pendulum of life, going from one extreme to the other. (this too, shall pass)
Toomuchstuff, I was thinking along the same lines.
Williamsmith
6-10-18, 6:24am
Toomuchstuff, I was thinking along the same lines.
I’m simply making the observation that as a nation we lack balance between our supposed dedication to freedom and liberty and the association with and encouragement of the military industrial complex. We mortgage our grandchildren’s future in exchange for our own personal conveniences. We sacrifice our elderly in exchange for our own personal convenience. All this is born out of either fear or hatred. As a nation, we lack balance. We take military actions, drones strikes, special ops, secretly undermining other sovereign nations ....no more seriously than going to the convenience store for milk and bread.
The elderly are not working because they enjoy retrieving shopping carts or standing as a cashier for hours. They would be shouldering a rifle if the military would accept them in exchange for unlimited access to healthcare. Should we just allow the tides to determine our direction or should we attempt to steer ourselves in the direction of progress? Keeping in balance is a participatory activity. And the reason we are out of balance as I see it is due to fear and hatred.
WS, over my life experience, I have found that I follow my highest sense of principles and quietly work to implement them slowly and patiently.
Malcolm Gladwell had a book that included the theory that he called the chaos theory, I believe. Sand is poured into a growing mound and then one grain is enough to send the whole mound crashing down. The wall in Germany came tumbling down over a number of years of effort, drunk driving is reduced big-time over years of advocacy, equality for women to vote and own property took time and effort. For years I was responsible for any debt that my DH signed for but could not get a loan of even $500 in my own name without his signature. These are just a few examples.
Keep persisting in questioning and challenging the current thinking based on fear and hate and right of privilege. As one nursing friend told me, we all look the same in a hospital gown. Don't get discouraged! I don't; I have seen far too many good things unfold.
Teacher Terry
6-10-18, 10:06am
WS: as a country we have totally lost our moral compass. Hating entire groups of people has become the norm for some people.
ToomuchStuff
6-10-18, 10:55am
WS: as a country we have totally lost our moral compass. Hating entire groups of people has become the norm for some people.
Yes, that has never happened before in this country, snark.
The British, the Irish, the blacks, the yankee's, the south, the indian's, the chinese, the catholic's (what will our president do), the jew's, the japanese/chinese/gooks, etc. etc. etc.
How many people know how to use a compass?
Teacher Terry
6-10-18, 11:34am
People are more educated than times in the past and you would think there would be less pure hatred because of it.
frugal-one
6-10-18, 3:34pm
How old is this show, WS?
It is not just the cost of the wars but the number of lives destroyed as well. Was some of it necessary? Yes. But Iraq? The bailout of the banks and other institutions that sold garbage investments?
Count on it! the entitlements that people have paid into for years and need are being reduced but the war machine will continue because corporate America is now completely in charge. Americans voted for it!
Not the majority!!!
People are more educated than times in the past and you would think there would be less pure hatred because of it.
I would contest the first half of your statement. More people may be formally educated than at other times in American history. And people certainly may be exposed to more facts in the course of a day/month/life. But I don't think I'd bet the mortgage money on them being better educated now than they were. Used to be people could add and multiply numbers without a calculator, took Civics classes in grade school (as well as shop/home ec), and were taught to think critically. Not to slag the educators on this forum, but I think the system has gotten away from that, to our detriment.
Teacher Terry
6-11-18, 9:36pm
You are probably right Steve. Teachers aren’t free to teach but told what to teach and mostly to pass tests. It is extremely upsetting what is happening to our country. In the past I would vote but could always live with the opposition winning figuring all involved had the best interests of our country in mind even if we differed on what that was. That is no longer true and it is terrifying. I have read many books on the holocaust , how it happened and have been to Auschwitz. Many have made a comparison to what is happening now. People need to speak up, write, call, protest and let their voices be heard that as a country this is not who we are. We are better than this. There is strength in numbers.
Williamsmith
6-15-18, 8:25am
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.”
poet William Blake
Coming back from my morning workout, I was gifted with an ephemeral image in the morning light of a newly born day. My driveway coincidentally overlooks the launch zone for hot air balloons that visit once a year for a festival. Two such balloons were piercing the morning blanket of fog that had developed overnight in the low lying field beneath my perch on a hill. I could see the blue sky that was their goal in the background but for the moment they seemed trapped by the influence of a gray mist enveloping them. The sun burned its way skyward over the horizon silhouetting the balloons and washing out their bold colors.
In the fog of a new day they looked like ghostly pirate ships drifting slowly upward. I ran for my camera but when I returned I realized the sun was in the wrong place to capture the image and the balloons had passed behind some trees.
In that moment, time had seemingly stood still. The vision was not a part of the days endless succession. That tiny second allowed me to be a child again. The thoughts of planning the day ahead we’re instantly and unexpectedly shut out. I suppose that’s why some people keep items, tokens, or monuments hanging on their walls or sitting on their end tables....to remind them of eternity or infinity or that moment time stood still.
Like the memory I have as a child fearing sleep and the monster under my bed. What if I didn’t wake up? What if the monster came out from under and did terrible things to me? The sickening sound of the television antenna wire clicking repeating against the side of the house every time the wind blew. And then the calm of my father entering my room, his weight sagging the mattress as he sat down, me rolling toward him. In that moment when the palm of his hand was placed on my forehead, when he recited poetry to me to calm me down......time was in abatement. He would finish with a kiss on the forehead with the abrasive whiskers of his face not at all a bother to me. And he would shut the door having gifted inner peace and silence.
Early in the morning, I would hear him rise while it was still dark, the morning birds announcing a new day coming. I could hear him shaving off those whiskers with his electric Norelco. As he stepped by my room, he’d peak in on his way to work. I’d pretend to sleep, and catch the smell of his Mennan aftershave lotion and as the car started and the sound disappeared I’d wonder how long I could make this feeling last.
The experience of the moment certainly did not last but the memory like some trinket on the living room endtable reminds me that ghostly pirate balloons can stop the endless succession of time and return you to wonderful eternity.
WS. I hope you're copying and pasting these posts into a personal notebook to draw on when you write your first book.
Beautiful description of those moments that are both ephemeral and eternal.
iris lilies
6-15-18, 8:56am
Thank you dor this latest post, wsmith.
Williamsmith
6-15-18, 3:47pm
WS. I hope you're copying and pasting these posts into a personal notebook to draw on when you write your first book.
Beautiful description of those moments that are both ephemeral and eternal.
I never thought of it. There are so very few things I’ve written that I’d consider worth saving but I should for my kids at least. Thank you.
Williamsmith
6-15-18, 3:47pm
Thank you dor this latest post, wsmith.
Thank you for reading it.
Williamsmith
6-19-18, 9:42am
“A work of art is not completed by the composer or artist but by the listener or the observer so that it can change from one person to another. ”
John Cage paraphrasing Marcel Duchamp
My recent exploration of silence brought about a new consideration for the concepts of differences between a little or nothing at all and a lot. Or to express it in a different way, something blank and something filled to excess. In yet another, something bland and something brimming with taste. For example, as a child I watched my father take a blank piece of white paper and with some simple strokes of a pencil create a portrait. He was good at creating caricatures of politicians or copying cartoons from memory. At some point the creation was perfect and anything added to the drawing seemed to detract from the drawing itself.
Another example was the first time I tasted salt and vinegar potato chips. The explosion of taste that the salt contrasting with the vinegar caused my eyes to close and my taste buds to awaken. But each chip thereafter seemed to be less salty and less vinegary until after a certain number of chips; probably more than should be eaten in one sitting anyway, the taste went away almost completely.
Musically, this phenomenon struck me most vividly as I sat in a smallish dorm room accompanied by two other friends. The room was constructed of cement block and had just a few wooden furnishings and two small single beds. On a stereo player spun a vinyl disc pressing of Boston’s five man band of English-heavy metal and progressive rock and a song entitled Foreplay/Long Time. The song begins with a classical crescendo transitions to a walking baseline and back to a progressive heavy metal impression of classical music and then ......silence......but for one single note and then the Long Time beat followed by a lengthy standard rock and roll ....”Its been such a long time.... I think I should be going....Time doesn’t wait for me....It keeps on going.”
Time and silence. Two ingredients to life. And two ingredients to death. In the ancient art of zen, there isnt much difference between life and death.
The creation ,however one views it, then is reliant on the person more for whom it was created and not by the creator him/or her/ or itself. To have spun a lump of clay into a beautiful vase and to only be seen by its maker is not at all what it was created for. The real completion comes when someone else admires it in their own way, values it and places it in use where it can be seen.
This is is how I think I have begun to understand that life does not just exist in material things that can be seen and felt and owned but in a great universe of unseen things that can only be experienced when we slow down and approach silence and look inward.
messengerhot
6-19-18, 11:11pm
I came across a passage from Jeremiah 30:8. It is all about the hope that God will never disappoint us. I believe its true. Sometimes, we thought that its a burden but that leads us to something greater. Trust in God and have faith in Him, you can never go wrong.
Teacher Terry
6-19-18, 11:44pm
WS, I really think that most of what you write should be saved for your kids. It is very insightful and interesting. Don’t underestimate your self.
You make me recall why I love theatre so much. People take a dark empty space and it becomes medium of transformation. You walk off of Christopher Street in NYC into a little dingy building, through a curtain into a room with a raised platform in the middle and folding chairs around it. Soon the alchemy of lights, actors, dialogue, blocking, sets and costume creates a suspension of ordinary experience, and if the alchemy works, you emerge a different person a couple of hours later. It's an amazing miracle.
NOTE: The Christopher Street example was drawn from one of my experiences going to the theatre--specifically when I saw a production of Our Town (not my first by far). Our Town is quoted in my autosignature, and my experience of being in the play when I was young remains for me one of the most transformative experiences of my life. It's an amazing work.
Williamsmith
6-21-18, 8:59am
As far as I know, the practice of “fasting” or abstaining from food and/or water for a defined period of time, is something that is a part of every spiritual tradition. Even those who are not claiming a connection to spirituality are sometimes found fasting in an effort to cleanse their bodies of toxins and perform a regeneration of sorts.
With this premise, I think back to a time when fasting and meditation or prayer was a common part of life’s experience. Back when as soon as I was old enough to sit still in church, the princiciples Of fasting were pronounced boldly from the pulpit. But that verbal barrage would possibly not have had any impact on me had not my uncle and aunt modeled the practice on a regular basis.
The same aunt and uncle who would certainly qualify as minimalists with their tiny house, home grown food and single car family. They practiced fasting as far as I know every Wednesday of every week and then attended prayer meeting from 7pm to 9pm. The same meeting I would attend and learn about group silence, kneeling in humbleness and approaching the very entity of God through praise, repentance and petition. These were serious practices to expose a young child to.
Islam and Buddhism and a myriad of other religions have their versions of fasting but all necessarily involve denying oneself, recognizing moderation as a virtue and seeking a deeper understanding of ones relationship to creation. This Era Of Consumption seemingly would be unsympathetic to practicing fasting, a time when eating merely for the sake of enjoying gluttony is a goal over simply taking in what one needs and leaving the rest for others. Perhaps Buddhism addresses that “moderation” best in its approach to fasting.
The number 40 is prominently found in religious accounts especially in Biblical characters practicing fasting. Forty days is an extreme fast but forty hours seems reasonably moderate. I am in my 14th hour of a 40 hour liquid fast. I would not give up my morning coffee even for the Almighty. I don’t expect to hear directly from God any life changing directions, although I kind of wish he would order me to move to South Carolina where retirees are not taxed and the weather is more on average more agreeable.
Still, I do expect to be able to look a little deeper inward and perhaps find some goodness that has been sitting latent waiting to be exposed. And, I’m looking forward to a large twist on a cake cone in hour 41.
Williamsmith
6-22-18, 7:25am
Now I’m, In hour 37 of my 40 hour fast. My wife was sympathetic enough to eat her dinner at my daughters house last night. There is a significant hole in your daily activities when the task of planning and then eating food is removed.
“Now I shall be silent, and let the silence divide that which is true from that which lies.”
Rumi
Ultralight
6-22-18, 7:32am
Now I’m, In hour 37 of my 40 hour fast. My wife was sympathetic enough to eat her dinner at my daughters house last night. There is a significant hole in your daily activities when the task of planning and then eating food is removed.
“Now I shall be silent, and let the silence divide that which is true from that which lies.”
Rumi
Very remarkable, Williamsmith. Very remarkable.
Fasting takes many forms. Fasting from worry, from self-condemnation, from self-righteous judgement, or anything that gives priority to oneself. Food fasting is positive but, IMO anyway, is the easiest. Fasting of our self-centred thinking is the challenge.
Williamsmith
6-22-18, 5:45pm
Fasting takes many forms. Fasting from worry, from self-condemnation, from self-righteous judgement, or anything that gives priority to oneself. Food fasting is positive but, IMO anyway, is the easiest. Fasting of our self-centred thinking is the challenge.
I agree that one can use the concept of fasting in a self control context. After my experience, I do not believe food fasting is easiest. But it is rewarding to return to normal eating......the graham cracker cream pie had a narcotic effect on me.
.....the graham cracker cream pie had a narcotic effect on me.
That is funny! Strawberries and fresh whipping cream would be mine. Can you tell it is strawberry season here?
Williamsmith
6-26-18, 9:28am
There is a movement of sorts away from interacting with the digital world that seems consistent with simple living. I’m aware that it is ironic for a person to discuss Luddite living on an electronic device hooked to an Internet forum. Admittedly, it is hard to be in the water and not get wet so I don’t feel regret that I haven’t disconnected totally......yet. There are many reasons I still jump online, pay bills, read news from world sources, receive communication through emails and thats just right off the top of my head.
Still, I’m a budding analog life stylist. I don’t do Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or many other apps that are out there. I have a flip phone with no data plan, a 1950s moonbeam alarm clock that wakes you up with a flashing light, percolator coffee pots, Pyrex cookware, stained glass lamps, a daily newspaper, a broom and dust pan, vinyl records, and a windup timer for my kitchen that “dings” quite nicely.
Yet, I strain against the digital pull. My daughter does too. She has a reel push mower powered by legs but her husband has all the lights, locks and heating/air conditioning systems linked to his smartphone.
While I can see how digital technology seems to make life easier, I find it easier to interact in an analog world. The constant connectedness doesn’t suit me. To me, it seems to suck the time out of my life. Cutting down the digital connectedness allows for more person to person communication. All the virtual personalities seem fake to me.
I think it would go a a long way if we’d just cut back our on line connectedness and maybe shake the neighbors hand and look him in the eye more often. I always liked the analog park bench that sat in front of the local barbershop. Lots of ideas were exchanged there that nobody kept a record of.
WS, is it possible that the time is governed by the stages in our lives? The park bench in my neighbourhood is in a really lovely cemetery with large trees. I have a number of routes that I use to walk the dog, one being the cemetery route. One can sit on a bench and the pedestrian traffic will stop and visit, discuss the latest gossip in weather or political activities. They are all retirees though. I tease them when I stop to talk that they are solving the world's problems. I have gained some good insights as well.
I was told recently that our community lives in a 'bubble' - excellent food production, lots of water, few severe weather issues like tornados, floods, earthquakes and just enough of the four seasons.
Younger people rarely walk just for a walk. They race their bikes or jog or similar type of speedy activity all of which are not conducive to the idea exchange.
Younger people rarely walk just for a walk. They race their bikes or jog or similar type of speedy activity all of which are not conducive to the idea exchange.
Was it ever really any different? I can't recall the last time DD/DSiL suggested taking a walk unless one/both of the grandkids were in tow. I can't recall suggesting a walk as a young person, either, unless it was to someone I wanted to talk with on the way from one destination to another. And then we can talk about how the advent of suburbia and the decline of walkable towns and cities has affected the number of people on the street... Fortunately, walkable towns and cities are coming back into fashion.
Good points, Steve. That is why I have always enjoyed having a dog. Walking a dog has stopped me from racing around. DH and I for years took the dog for a walk and visited as we went along. As neighbours drove by, they would stop and chat so the world slowed down for a little while. It took this part of the thread to make me realize the additional value of my dog walking. Love being surprised by a discovery.
Was it ever really any different? I can't recall the last time DD/DSiL suggested taking a walk unless one/both of the grandkids were in tow. I can't recall suggesting a walk as a young person, either, unless it was to someone I wanted to talk with on the way from one destination to another. And then we can talk about how the advent of suburbia and the decline of walkable towns and cities has affected the number of people on the street... Fortunately, walkable towns and cities are coming back into fashion.
Teacher Terry
6-27-18, 4:50pm
I have always loved walking and did it as a teen and actually all my life.
My DS37 is a Luddite, and I've always admired him for it. He was the LAST person I know to get a cell phone and home computer. He doesn't have a car--he takes a bus to work in the winter and rides his Triumph motorcycle to work in the summer. He is not on any social media. He turned me on to Neil Postman (Amusing Ourselves to Death (https://www.amazon.com/Amusing-Ourselves-Death-Discourse-Business-ebook/dp/B0023ZLLH6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1530133556&sr=8-1&keywords=neil+postman) and Technolopoly (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technopoly)) when he was in college.
There is NOTHING more rewarding than seeing your children live the life you aspire to. It's like being Moses--not quite making it to the Promised Land yourself, but watching your people enter in.
Teacher Terry
6-27-18, 10:09pm
If I go more then 8 hours without eating while I am up I get shaky and the dry heaves. Never understood how people could fast.
Williamsmith
6-28-18, 8:32am
I can’t begin to remember how often I’ve been at a loss for words. Whether during crisis or being overwhelmed by the glory of creation or just plain old ignorance or stupidity. Life just seems to serve you moments when your attempts to verbalize what you are sensing turn out to be ....well feeble.
Now in the past I considered that a weakness or a shame, again depending on the situation but I’m beginning to think it might be just the way it should be. Some of my most profound interactions with other beings, both human and animal, occurred in utter silence. My relationship with my wife is certainly representative. “You say it best, when you say nothing at all.” The song goes. And for me, it’s perfectly correct.
My interactions with pets certainly back that up, if just anecdotally. Which got me thinking about all the work that goes into describing the creation and the Creator for various belief systems. And for me, it’s another of those situations when words just don’t do the topic justice. I don’t need to think of the Creator as a father, or a judge, or a surrogate brother who can only approach the King on my behalf. That kind of assigning of traits to me puts limits on the concepts and draws fences in places they shouldn’t be. I have enough rules, regulations and supposed freedoms leaning on me, I don’t need somebody using language to hem me in.
If you need an example of what I’m talking about just sit face to face with someone and stare into each other’s eyes for as short a time as five minutes. Don’t say a word. You will be amazed at how much you communicate without opening your mouth. I once sat in an interrogation room for three and a half hours with a serial rapist who specialized in victimizing mentally handicapped people. The last half hour I spent staring him down with neither of us saying a word. He refused to leave the room even though I had told him the interrogation was over. He told me more in those 30 minutes of silence than he did in the first three hours.
I dont think it’s a coincidence some of the most influential writers in history at one time or another spent time in solitary confinement. The silence of being alone has a way of purifying your thought process to where you can express hidden secrets only detected by stark aloneness. Here’s where I think technology and the electronic media have let us down some or at least we failed to realize it can’t be a complete substitute for human interaction. You can’t replicate the chemistry that goes on between living things look directly at one another within arms reach of one another.
Some of our inability to empathize with other beings might have a little to do with that separation and reliance on words presented one tweet length at a time.
Interesting post. It makes me think of what I have frequently told colleagues. As you know I do interviews with people. The interviews with people are usually from 45 minutes to 1 hr in length. When I do. in-peron interviews at a market research facility I can do 8+ in a day without breaking a sweat, even when I'm in a pressure cooker situation with a dozen clients behind the one-way mirror.
But ask me to do 8 telephone interviews in the comfort of my own home, and I'm exhausted half-way through the day. I've always wondered about why that is, but I think you've identified it. Communication is more than just listening, but when you're on the phone, that's all you have. You don't have eye-to-eye contact, or body language or any other subtle cues. Silent moments are confusing when you are on the phone ("Hello? Hello? Are you still on the line?"), so you tend not to take advantage of silence when you're on the phone.
Thanks for validating my own gut feeling about that.. and I agree that the principle extends to social media. Thats why emoji's were invented after all--so that you could read the few texted words and you don't have to guess at sincerity vs sarcasm, or any of the hundred human emotions that just can't be transmitted through a word or a smiley.
Williamsmith
7-1-18, 8:41am
As a struggling minimalist, I hate it when I have to admit that I have developed an addiction that primarily involves “collecting” physical objects. My convictions about hoarding things runs counter to my impulse to collect. So it is with utter humility and a sense of sadness that I divulge my attraction to vinyl long play records.
I have thought about how this got started. I was minding my own business at a social event for our home owners association and my neighbor and I were reminiscing about the “good old days”. He happened to mention that during the sixties he was stationed in Europe-mostly Germany- as a member of the Air Force. Like most addictions, you are going along in life quite nicely and some ner do well offers you something that turns out to be your Kryptonite. It could be beer, it could be pills, or cappuccino.......but this time he happen to mention a collection of vinyl records that he wanted rid of.
Now, I have been in this guys house plenty because I house sit for him in the Winter and his place is immaculate. He keeps everything pristine so my mind started a fantasy about what his record collection might look like. That was the last I talked to him about it for a while but I kept dwelling on it mentally and before long it became this great mystery that I had to pursue. So one day we were talking over the fence and somehow the topic got back to his collection. Well, to be honest I flat out told him I’d like to puruse the menu.
He had two of those plastic bins Loaded with vintage vinyl. One after another of mint condition 1960s and 70s records. I thumbed through them and frankly considered putting on white gloves to check the condition. I knew I didn’t want two hundred so I finally settled on 44 of the best I could find. We agreed on a price and I lugged them home. I didn’t realize it but most were German and UK first pressings. They were definitely a good investment.
Since then I have doubled my collection and I’m starting to detect sings that this thing might be out of control. I go to bed at night dreaming of certain records. I get up in the morning and try to be the first one to the garage sale that lists “LPs”. I slow down at garage sale signs and turn into every flea market and antique store. And worst of all.....I covet my neighbors remaining albums that I didn’t buy and his vintage stereo system.
My only possible solution is to is to wean myself a little at a time so I decided to concentrate to high end rare albums. Hoping 5his curbs my appetite. I know going cold turkey will be impossible. Anyone out there have a Miles Davis “Kind Of Blue”. 1959 pressing in mint condition?
https://youtu.be/TLDflhhdPCg
What a coincidence! I just bought a vinyl from "Granny's Attic"--the local volunteer thrift shop. They had a bunch of vinyls--next time I go, I'll see if I can find Miles Davis 1959 pressing (How do you find the pressing info?)
I couldn't resist spending $1 on an old Original Broadway Cast Camelot record. DH has been wandering around the house saying "This is Camelot!" because, it's true, it seems to rain at night and then the sun is out by morning. Plus we do seem to be happy in this "congenial spot."
The rain may never fall till after sundown
By eight, the morning fog must disappear
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot
We don't have a turntable, but my kids do, so I'll probably park the vinyl at their house and listen when we visit.
Regarding the addiction aspect, you may share an "addiction" with the famous addiction psychologist, Gabor Mate. He often writes that everyone has addictions, and that while he doesn't have an addiction for alcohol or drugs like most of his clients, he classifies his compulsion to buy music as an addiction.
I have been fighting an addiction to LPs myself. Back in the days when I had money and could spend it only on myself and I was furnishing a new-to-me house, I spent lots of time in thrift stores and garage sales. Albums were a buck apiece most of the time. So it was easy to take a flyer on any number of albums I heard were good or artists whose name I'd seen but never listened to, etc. I think I was up to around 500-600 albums (including CDs; stored in three places in the house) when i realized, while organizing them, that I had duplicates (sometimes vinyl and CD of the same album; sometimes multiples) and some albums I hadn't listened to since I bought them. Enough.
I decided to keep only those which I enjoy. I'm no longer a completist ("Well, I have every other 'Electric Spanner Event' album; I should have this one, too. And the solo LP by the Spanner's founder from before he created the group."). I've steadfastly refused to look at records in thrift stores and garage sales and antique stores (a true siren call, but OK because I seldom found ones I wanted that I didn't already have). I'm not keeping the CD duplicates (who would have imagined that the surviving medium would be vinyl?).
I'm listening to each album before it stays or leaves unless it's been one I've listened to faithfully for 30-40 years. That does take time. I'm running about one keeper for every two on the sell/donate pile. The money from the ones I've sold is being stashed to replace the turntable stylus when that time comes. And, out-they-go pile location outstanding, I'm down to 1-1/2 storage places in the house.
I'm still working on other "collections" but this one is on the mend. I don't mind.
Friday I bought some new albums at the Habitat store--Horowitz and Van Cliburn playing Brahms and Schumann, West Side Story, and Christmas with the Trapp Family singers. They were really good--I did not realize. That got me viewing a documentary about the Von Trapps and then I found this on youtube with the Von Trapp great-grandchildren--really lovely--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEjLS0OHWnQ
It made me happy that they're still singing, generations later!
frugal-one
7-1-18, 11:36am
If this is your only collection, I would say “go with it”. Vinyl can easily be resold. This, obviously, is something that gives you pleasure and adds excitement to your life. My DH loves the blues. I even planned a blues tour this winter for us. There are worse “vices”.
Williamsmith
7-1-18, 12:13pm
What a coincidence! I just bought a vinyl from "Granny's Attic"--the local volunteer thrift shop. They had a bunch of vinyls--next time I go, I'll see if I can find Miles Davis 1959 pressing (How do you find the pressing info?)
I use this site to research vinyl.
https://www.discogs.com (https://www.discogs.com/my)
Search for Miles Davis.....it will list all his releases, all the different versions, and how to identify what version is in your hand. The 1959 first issue pressing goes for upwards of $500 depending on the condition. More for a mint copy....substantially more! That’s very kind of you Catherine!
Love hearing about this addiction.:laff: I have a few boxes of vinyls as well. This has decided my relaxation for this afternoon to keep cool. Sort out the vinyls as I have a trip to the Habitat for Humanity store already planned.
Williamsmith
7-2-18, 9:27am
Some people have been complaining about the couple days of hot weather we’ve been having. It’s been in the low 90sF with a strong overhead sun. Not real comfy for walking midday but fine in the early morning. I’m not one of the ones to whine about it. I love it. It makes my whole body feel better, less aches and seemingly therapeutic for me. On the porch, across the way a morning dove coos. A purple finch sings a short song, a cardinal whistles, a couple crows caw their complaints and a song sparrow serenades me. He or she is my favorite. I also have a pair of chipping sparrows nesting nearby that keeps the insect population down.
Im not feeding anybody. They are fending nicely for themselves. I also don’t have pesky red squirrels scampering about my patio and threatening to get in my attic. Though I do like to toss the gray squirrels a peanut now again just because I happen to feel guilty about cutting my teeth on them as a fledgling hunter with a 16 gauge shotgun and a conviction that harvesting meat and bringing it home would prove my manliness. Lots of innocent squirrels were made victims. I’ve admitted to taking more than my share of wild game but as each year goes by I have less and less of a desire to hunt. I’d be satisfied dealing the firearms I have out to my three kids except for just the one I use for conceal carry. Problem is my daughter is married to a convicted felon, my oldest son doesn’t have the room in his trailer and my youngest son lives 1700 miles away.
So this heat wave has me thinking about retirement in a more sub tropical climate. I could liquidate what I have here in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania and afford a modest place in a retirement community down south or out west but when you examine the details of state tax friendliness, cost of living, quality of life and quality of healthcare....it’s down right like solving a rubix cube. Every time you think you are satisfied with one aspect, another goes out of whack. And every time I talk to the wife about it, she mentions that inconvenient fact of two of my children living within three miles of me currently and of course....it’s not right to move away seeing as how we support them so much. I do struggle with the paradigm where people move away from their family. My brother in law did it and left his mother to be cared for by my wife and I.
Yeah, and there’s my mother. I guess it’s a real curse to have options. It would be much better if I just sat on the porch and lamented being too poor to move anywhere. At least there’d be no temptation or latent guilt. Right now a Pilated woodpecker starts construction drilling on a dead tree and a smaller downy sounds off now and again all the while my solar birdbath gurgles in the background keeping time for the birds. It kind of sounds like they are trying to tell me something about how much I’d miss them and they me if I were to pick up stakes and move. It almost seems a sin to fantasize about living somewhere else. Almost. Still, I’ve been really glad for the summer heat wave. If I close my eyes I can pretend to be in Florida on a lanai overlooking a lake with a breeze and a golf cart in the garage. Pretending is usually better than the real thing.
https://youtu.be/JGBXnw86Mgc
Williamsmith
7-4-18, 11:01pm
My seven year old granddaughter is spending a few weeks of her summer vacation with us. She likes to make brownies and cupcakes as I suppose most little girls her age do. I suppose to know this and don’t really know this because when my own little girl was seven I was scarcely home long enough to get the grass cut let alone take time to bond with her. So since I am not beholden to any employer, and since I screwed up once and have no intention of screwing up again......I have priority number one......granddaughter. She loves the local public pool and running errands and going to the library. She surprises me by how well she can read and she’s really interested in learning to play a g chord on the guitar.
So our guest bedroom is basically dedicated to her play things except for the vintage turntable up on the dresser which caught her eye. I thought I was good at explaining things until I tried to explain what vinyl records were and how a needle could produce music. I took her over to my record bin and started flipping through albums. We traversed the Beatles, the Doors, Dylan, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Charlie Daniels, Marshall Tucker, Canned Heat, Miles Davis, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, LED Zeppelin, The Who, ...... she was fascinated by the artwork, the smell of vinyl and the physical act of placing a record on the turntable and dropping the needle.
Later I got to thinking about a quote I hadn’t thought about in a long time. “The Past is Never Dead. It’s not even Past.” William Faulkner.
Now there are certainly many many ways we can think about this but I thought about how the past directly influences the present. All those bands and musicians I listened to in the late sixties when I was not much older than my grand baby. And in the seventies I fed at the vinyl trough. I thought it was all in the past but is there ever really ....the past?
I ran across this ten minute article searching the Faulkner quote. It’s about MLK and racial equality and the recent Presidential election but it’s mostly about how the past is never dead. There is a counter balance between hope and despair. The belief that we are making improvements but the despair that it is taking a mighty long time. I think it’s worth ten minutes of your time to give it a quick read. It took me no more than ten minutes to share what a long play album was with my grand kid. I’m pretty sure it was worth every second.
https://medium.com/@sojourner1826/the-past-is-never-dead-its-not-even-past-9b6c7642e60b
What a great article. Thanks for sharing. The good thing about the counterbalance between hope and despair is that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” --I love that MLK quote. But I also like that the article ends by saying that optimism must be wielded with the vigilance to remediate injustice wherever we find it. Or, at the very least we can use history to break down our denial of it.
On another note, how wonderful for your granddaughter to spend a few weeks with you!
And back atcha
This article (https://www.theatlantic.com/amp/article/564431/)'s theme overlaps with your article's, but centers on Abraham Lincoln's warning to heed the Declaration of Independence:
....they knew the tendency of prosperity to breed tyrants, and so they established these great self-evident truths, that when in the distant future some man, some faction, some interest, should set up the doctrine that none but rich men, or none but white men, were entitled to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness, their posterity might look up again to the Declaration of Independence and take courage to renew the battle which their fathers began — so that truth, and justice, and mercy, and all the humane and Christian virtues might not be extinguished from the land; so that no man would hereafter dare to limit and circumscribe the great principles on which the temple of liberty was being built.
Thanks, WS. Interesting article. I think many of us thought we were further ahead than we seem to be now. I wish the author had spent a little more time on the "byproducts" as they affect far more people than whichever non-white non-evangelical-Christian group is in the gunsights at the moment.
And I will note that Medium has one of the ugliest most reader-unfriendly user interfaces I've seen in a long time on a site designed for interaction. But maybe that belongs in the Daily Rant thread.
There is so much of the US political and social thinking that I have not been party to so appreciate reading thoughtful commentary such as this.
I was born in South Africa and emigrated to Canada as a child. I have watched the struggle and changes in the country of my birth, in Canada, seen tried to understand the tensions in the US, the midEast, Asia and Europe. Every time, every time, I keep coming back to optimism at the intelligence that I find on thoughtful conversation with each individual to resolve the issues when they get beyond fear and emotionalism about the other. Thank you both to WS and Cath.
What a great article. Thanks for sharing. The good thing about the counterbalance between hope and despair is that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” --I love that MLK quote. But I also like that the article ends by saying that optimism must be wielded with the vigilance to remediate injustice wherever we find it. Or, at the very least we can use history to break down our denial of it.
On another note, how wonderful for your granddaughter to spend a few weeks with you!
Williamsmith
7-12-18, 8:53am
Picking up a bit where I left off. I think of them as “rescue records.” They are the discarded vinyl that sits in the plastic crates at the local Salvation Army. Most of them seem to have belonged to older people downsizing or having to move to places where stacks of vinyl and record players are not feasible. So they get dropped off at the portico and haggered employees sort through the stuff that might sell and the stuff that is junk.
I live in a rural county with a low cost of living. Bargain bin records are 25 cents a piece. I stop in regularly to puruse the offerings. Usually, I don’t find much but on occasion I have doubled, tripled and quadrupled my investment by buying and turning around and selling to a thrift store owner ten miles down the road. But yesterday was about investing in myself.
I know little about classical Broadway musicals except for certain songs an elementary music teacher insisted we learn from “The Sound Of Music.” So, it seemed appropriate that since I plan on visiting Broadway, I might bone up a bit on musicals. Here is a list of rescue records I got in very good plus condition:
The Music Man - Meredith Willson starring Robert Preston, Shirley Jones
West side Story - From the Motion picture with Natalie Woods
The Sound Of Music - Mary Martin music by Rogers and Hammerstein x2 with a gatefold
Zorba the Greek - Original Soundtrack from the movie starring Anthony Quinn
Camelot - starring Richard Burton, Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet
Oklahoma - Sound track of the Motion Picture
Also I grabbed a sealed mint copy of a Tommy Dorsey Best Of album
and a Canadian pressing of The Four Tops...”I Cant Help Myself”
Since the cashier miscounted my nine records as eight.....I got out the door spending $2.12. I’m looking forward to listening but truthfully I get the most pleasure cleaning them up, imagining the joy the original owner had when they were first purchased some fifty years ago and thinking they’d be pleased someone treasures them for the works of art they truly are. The cover artwork is often very interesting and even the record labels themselves can be unique.
How can one go wrong spending less than a large French vanilla cappuccino costs at the local Tim Hortons for a small piece of history?
WS You made me smile. I had all those albums and they were worn out when i got rid of them. Enjoy. I love that you imagine the joy the original owner had in them.
Teacher Terry
7-13-18, 12:08am
I love that you have the time to spend with your granddaughter. Jobs can be so demanding and you had a family you needed to take care of. You did the best you could. Life is always about trade offs.
The Music Man - Meredith Willson starring Robert Preston, Shirley Jones
West side Story - From the Motion picture with Natalie Woods
The Sound Of Music - Mary Martin music by Rogers and Hammerstein x2 with a gatefold
Zorba the Greek - Original Soundtrack from the movie starring Anthony Quinn
Camelot - starring Richard Burton, Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet
Oklahoma - Sound track of the Motion Picture
I definitely had all those albums in my collection back when I was in high school and I would perform to them in front of my full-length mirror. I also had Gypsy, Oliver, Man of La Mancha, Fiddler on the Roof, My Fair Lady, Funny Girl and Sweet Charity. I wore them out.
Williamsmith
7-13-18, 9:23am
I don’t know a rats rear end about Sigmund Freud and his theories on childhood development but I do know that reflections on my childhood have helped me define who I am today and more importantly embrace it.
My granddaughter leaves tomorrow and the thought of it last night during a beautiful walk around a pristine lake stirred emotions about her departure. At seven, life is graciously simple. Made up of imaginations, fantasies, pretending and role playing about being a teacher, mother, sister, friend or boss. She need only know something is ahead she can look forward to and the current activity is enough, yet she needs the consistency of a schedule and those that pass in and out of her life must pass gently.
It caused me to reflect on my own year seven and I freely admit these searches into the corner of my mind may turn up shreds of evidence from certain later years but it’s the flavor of the travel back and not the exact recipe I’m after.
I am sitting in a second grade class waiting for the janitor to ring the lunch bell. When he does my teacher knows I am walking a block south past the barber shop and directly to my grandmothers house. I will flip up the horseshoe shaped rod iron latch to the black metal fencing, slip onto the first concrete step and latch the fence behind me. Then run to the back porch where I will burst into the kitchen door in anticipation of the familiar face of my grandmother.
It is 1965, there is no evidence of the revolution in music that is occurring with the British Invasion. A compact record player belonging to my aunt is sitting in the living room with a 45 dormant on the turntable. Ricky Nelson’s “Poor Little Fool.” Nothing else musical is around. After lunch I will wander in and turn the player on, spin the record and sing with it. But grandma will reheat some homemade chili and grill a cheese sandwich for me first. And she will serve me grape juice in a jelly jar with Flintstones cartoons printed on it. I will sit at the same chair just like my grandfather does drinking his lunch time beer. I watch as he repeatedly tips the bottle and empty’s it into a glass then drags the top of it along the rim of the glass to get the very last drop. He seems to regret the emptiness of his bottle.
My grandfather does not talk talk to me except to offer me a hot pepper from his garden which he knows I will refuse. It seems to amuse him because he knows I won’t eat it. This is as deep a conversation as I will ever have with my grandfather. He is retired but still wears the same outfit he wore when he was a riveter in a steel bridge manufacturing plant. That was before a steel beam fell and crushed his ankle. He walks with a cane now but still grows a huge garden behind the house full of carrots, leaf lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, hot peppers, green peppers, dill, celery, and some flowers for grandma. There is a hutch with rabbits he keeps for fertilizing the garden and because my aunt likes bunnies.
Grandpa finishes lunch and goes back to the garage where he has a small television repair shop. There are what seems like endless black and white console tube televisions sitting around the garage. He closes the shop door. At the front of the garage is a small vegetable stand people stop by to get fresh food for the table. My grandmother has the sweetest smile for anyone who shows up and is grateful for the coins that slide into the little cash register sitting by the door. At seven, the world seems so right. I’m not aware of Operation rolling Thunder in Vietnam, assassinations, riots, civil unrest, flower power, LSD, the pill, debates over Medicare and Medicaid or the Great Society or the Voting Rights Act. I am aware of Charlie Browns Christmas.
The needle on the little record player lifts as the last sounds of pops and hisses on Poor Little Fool subsides. I hum and sing bits and pieces on my way back to school for the afternoon. Images on my grandfather and grandmother go with me, soothe me, affirm in me that as long as I am in this place .....I am in the right place. The clank of the rod iron fence latch reverberates in my mind and the smooth cold feeling of the black metal on my fingers signal it is time to go out again into the less familiar. On the walk back a young crossing guard with his silver badge and orange belt and red flag stops a car for me. I must cross back.
Williamsmith
7-16-18, 8:43am
Perhaps one of the greatest talents my parents developed in me was the ability to be alone. I can’t think of a time when I truly felt loneliness for another humans company. I have felt sad. I have been despondent. I have been depressed. But I have never felt like another humans presence would reverse those feelings. This is a somewhat strange admission to see in writing. It makes it appear like I am a narcissist or don’t value people. Not true. It is simply a coping mechanism that was required as a child and that matured into a primary feature of my character.
My parents were strict adherents to the law surrounding the “Day Of Rest.” We kept quiet until the church service benediction which occurred sometime after noon. We ate lunch at home and my parents retired to their bedroom for the afternoon. My brother and I were expected to remain quiet and not disturb them until they appeared for the afternoon supper. And then we would don our Sunday clothes again and attend church until 9pm after which we would stop at my grandparents house and I would get to watch grandpaps color television, the only one I knew existed.
Because of this routine, my brother and I learned to invent silent games, value collecting silent objects and learned how to speak in whispers. We also learned how to explain to our friends why we weren’t permitted to leave our property or play with them outside or have them over. I learned to be still and contemplate things.
In grade school I remember the teacher asking each of us in class what their favorite word was. Some said their dogs name, some had to do with fun or sweet food, some were about sports. I confused more than one person when I responded that my favorite word was, “Sshhs!”
One of my favorite quiet games was created with a pair of socks, a small brown paper candy bag, scissors and some tape. I took the bag and cut the bottom out. I taped the bag to the woodwork archway between the dining room and the living room and then I rolled the socks into a ball. With this setup, we could play a silent game of basketball. The sock ball would fit nicely through the bag, could be banked off the ceiling or wall and would make little to no noise.
I also spent hours sorting, cataloging and examining the hundreds of baseball cards we kept in shoeboxes under our beds. Each card had a small cartoon story and statistics for the player. They could be arranged by team, by year, by position or by batting average. Or usually we would make an all star team and keep them in a separate special place.
If we wanted to pay less attention to the volume of our speech we would go outside but the problem with this is we were tempted to make too much noise and disturb our parents. That would inevitably earn you a chore like washing all the woodwork in the house with Murphys Oil Soap or trimming the grass below the chain link fence by hand with shears.
I have to admit that as a child the reason for all this quietness escaped me, sometimes confused me and on more than one occasion made me angry. And later on in my young adult life, I made up for it with loud muscle cars, ear piercing rock n roll amplification and pyrotechnics smuggled into the neighborhood as M80s and Roman candles.
Later in my life when I was bedridden for three months due to an acute illness, I searched for an explanation why such a thing had happened to me at seemingly the worst possible moment of my life. I began reading through the Psalms and frankly had gotten nowhere with it. Nothing was speaking to me. And then I got to the 46th chapter 10th verse. It said, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Well, the one thing I knew how to do was to be still. Now all I had to do is wait.
Teacher Terry
7-16-18, 2:41pm
Really interesting but I don’t think it would be good to have to be that quiet as a kid.
Self-government is an important skill to learn as a child. Many children today seem to lack that focus and the poor teachers have to teach the kids about it before they start to teach anything else.
What I am amazed at is the amount of detail that you recall, WS. Neat to read.
Really interesting but I don’t think it would be good to have to be that quiet as a kid.
I took from it that WS only had to be quiet on Sunday, the Day of Rest. It appears that this "noise fast" one day a week awakened a lot of other internal resources, so I don't see it as a bad thing. Plus he had his brother to play with, and it seemed they were very creative with their quiet time.
I was naturally quiet as a kid, and living quietly in the summers with my aunt and grandmother was a great blessing. But I'm sure that everyone's temperament is different.
When my kids were young, I had a similar rule, but daily. Every night after dinner was "Quiet Time for Adults." We had to institute that policy with 4 kids, otherwise I would have gone crazy. They still bring it up, but I don't think it harmed them at all.
Williamsmith
7-16-18, 3:20pm
Self-government is an important skill to learn as a child. Many children today seem to lack that focus and the poor teachers have to teach the kids about it before they start to teach anything else.
What I am amazed at is the amount of detail that you recall, WS. Neat to read.
I suppose my ability to recall detail is both a blessing and a curse. I considered including the benediction word for word from memory but felt it was possibly too much religious speak in one short post. During my career, the benediction came to mind just before I entered a situation which called for a certain amount of wreckless courage or while in the presence of a departed person whether natural, accidental or by violence. It was paraphrased by my childhood pastor from Jude 24-25 as follows:
”And now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the throne of God, the only wise God our Saviour, Be glory, majesty, dominion and power both now and forever, Amen.”
He would raise his hands to the heavens, palms held high, close his eyes and as if to launch his flock out into its pasture filled with all the dangers of exposure to hungry wolves or thieves - declared that God Almighty alone would be the final arbiter in the game of life and death.
Later, details would and still do at times return unwelcome. It’s part of the risk of allowing oneself to be still I guess.
Teacher Terry
7-16-18, 5:41pm
My kids all loved to read so often we would all be in there reading together. Of course with 3 boys we were plenty noisy too. A guaranteed quiet time was when they napped and they went to bed early so had plenty of time. I just found it strange as I don’t know anyone that did this. Being able to self govern comes from kids not being entertained all the time by adults or devices.
”And now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the throne of God, the only wise God our Saviour, Be glory, majesty, dominion and power both now and forever, Amen.”
I haven't heard that benediction (word for word, I don't think it was a single syllable different) since my ex-wife and I left the evangelical Christian church we were attending when we moved across town to a newer home church that did not issue such a benediction.
Even though I am no longer married to that woman and left organized religion and it all seems like a couple of ilfetimes ago, I thank you, Williamsmith, for that flashback. Not an unpleasant memory at all.
Looking back, my favorite part of my entire religious childhood experiences, was when my great uncle (the pastor) would raise his hand toward us and say the benediction. Almost Word for Word as you quoted it, William Smith.
I’m not sure if the words themselves meant a lot to me or if I was just happy that church was out!
Williamsmith
7-23-18, 8:56am
I just returned from a pilgrimage of sorts. From my place in rural Pennsylvania its just a short jaunt across the heartland of Ohio, circumventing it’s Capitol of Columbus and plunging in to the hills of north central Kentucky, one can enter a societal time machine and explore the roots of distilled spirits.
Here where the limestone filtered water springs from the mountains, “immigrants” from western Pennsylvania and West Virginia settled bringing with them small private collections of yeast with which they had been fermenting grains for production of Whiskey. Here and there and over there , sprang up untold hobbyist and local productions of bourbon with various blends of rye, wheat, barley, and corn formed into a mash of proprietary formulas.
Names like Makers Mark, Buffalo Trace, Four roses, Wild Turkey, Heaven Hill, Bartons and Jim Beam are held in high esteem in the region. Visting these places, one can pass majestic horse farms, arrive via one lane asphalt paved “cow paths” and sometimes fail to get out of the way of a local trying to get to his destination a few miles per hour more than the speed limit allows. At times I thought I could picture speeding moonshine delivery cars tearing across the ridges and valleys of the area. Based on the way people drive there, I’d say it’s in their genes.
My main purpose was to visit the Makers Mark distillery near Loretto, Ky. As an ambassador, I was looking forward to discovering the location of a barrel of bourbon that had my name embossed on it. After a nice two hour tour of the awesome facility I sat and sampled some of the best bourbon produced in the world. I’m not sure exactly when sampling fine whiskey turns into overindulgence but I suspect it is just before your wife elbows you in the ribs, sticks out her hand palm up and demands you relinquish the keys to the car.
A side trip trip through the county which bears the name of my ancestors who migrated here also turned up no evidence of them being master distillers. My guess is they probably had a still out back somewhere that made some white dog whiskey and never learned the finer points of aging it in oaken barrels. After all, it was illegal for quite a long period of time. Long enough to see most production facilities go into disrepair.
In any event, it was a fine trip back in time and one which reminded me of how important history is to the current condition of our country. This is beautiful territory and is inhabited by a gracious but very independent people who value their right to pursue happiness and live in a free state without onerous government intervention. That should be no surprise for a state represented by one such as Rand Paul. Perhaps another reason Kentucky ranks right up there as one of my favorite places to hang my hat.
Lovely lazy day for exploring a beautiful area
May I ask a question that has puzzled me for some time? I am a teetollar now so pardon my lack of knowledge but back when I was exploring different drinks, I could not understand how people could drink such strange tasting stuff - gin, bourbon, rye - but I could understand the appeal of some rums. Dry wines were a major puzzle as well. I was really uncomfortable with the 'buzz' that so many report as enjoyable. When did you discover the enjoyment of bourbon - is it the taste, the associations over a lifetime or is it like a kind of chocolate or coffee?
Williamsmith
7-23-18, 10:14am
Lovely lazy day for exploring a beautiful area
May I ask a question that has puzzled me for some time? I am a teetollar now so pardon my lack of knowledge but back when I was exploring different drinks, I could not understand how people could drink such strange tasting stuff - gin, bourbon, rye - but I could understand the appeal of some rums. Dry wines were a major puzzle as well. I was really uncomfortable with the 'buzz' that so many report as enjoyable. When did you discover the enjoyment of bourbon - is it the taste, the associations over a lifetime or is it like a kind of chocolate or coffee?
There are plenty of snobby “experts” who will wow you with complex descriptions of the bourbon elitists. I’ll cut right to the point. I started drinking bourbon because it seemed to be the fastest way for me to get intoxicated in a social setting or as a way to anesthetize myself after a particularly stressful stretch of work.
In my former profession, alcohol is a professional hazard which is somewhat glorified and condoned. Other drugs are screened for routinely and heavily and can get you fired in a heartbeat. Being a drunk only seems to enhance your resume. And tolerance in the form of rehabilitation is always an option. Sometime after recognizing my ill conceived approach I actually got interested in giving the drink itself the respect it deserves. And I learned that moderation is in fact, a virtue.
Having survived that part of my maturation process, I began to study the spirit. And there is a lot to be learned about flavoring by aging, the different delicious variations on smokiness, fruitiness, sweet and spicy hints, and nutty suggestions that can be found in different makes. There is also a sort of reasonableness that goes into diluting the drink from the maker who realizes that the flavors need not be overridden by the alcohol taste. Most of the flavors are donated by a charred oaken barrel in which the whiskey is stored for five or six years. The barrel gives up the flavors that are stored in its wood grain. This gives bourbon its color. Further flavors can be added with wooden staves for up to nine weeks after the peek storage time is reached.
My wife doesn’t not adore bourbon but she can enjoy it in a fruity concoction of lemonade and cranberry juice mix or as a mint julip. I would say drinking it “neat” or simply on ice is an acquired taste. The point is, sometime along the way....a bourbon drinker appreciates the drink for what it is and where it came from more than where it can transport you. To be honest, everything we desire in life, whatever it may be we covet....is a drug.
Teacher Terry
7-23-18, 10:35am
My husband loves good scotch neat and trying different ones. I usually take a tiny sip and don’t like it. Although, I enjoy other drinks. Road trips are fun. We recently returned from a month trip with our 3 pooches.
iris lilies
7-23-18, 10:53am
Just recently
I have been drinking Scotch. And Irish whiskey. I ised to hate that stuff, but I think I was drinking the cheap kinds.
And just this morning I looked up the difference between Bourbon and Scotch.
Bourbon is usually made from corn and is always made outside of Scotland. Only Whiskey made in Scotland (they make it from barley) can be called Scotch.
I used to drink Scotch. I didn't like it, so I tended to suck it up quickly. Didn't end well. :sick:
Went back to Brandy Alexanders ( not blended). I still have one occasionally.
catherine
7-23-18, 11:48am
I'm not a fan of straight hard liquor--ice or no ice. I do like to sip some liqueurs, like cognac. I'm definitely a wine or beer person, with the occasional gin and tonic on a hot summer day.
My daughter loves cocktails, but I just feel most of them are just overpriced punches. I will have a margarita on occasion. I really don't like martinis at all.
We have a good friend of the family who is definitely a Maker's Mark guy. Doesn't drink anything else. Makes gift-giving easy.
iris lilies
7-23-18, 12:00pm
I'm not a fan of straight hard liquor--ice or no ice. I do like to sip some liqueurs, like cognac. I'm definitely a wine or beer person, with the occasional gin and tonic on a hot summer day.
My daughter loves cocktails, but I just feel most of them are just overpriced punches. I will have a margarita on occasion. I really don't like martinis at all.
We have a good friend of the family who is definitely a Maker's Mark guy. Doesn't drink anything else. Makes gift-giving easy.
so, is that an expensive Scotch?
I am enamoured of the small cigar lounge/gentleman’s drinking club in Hermann. There I sampled a few Scotch brands, and liked best the one from Arran, the island where DH’s aunt lived. It was very smooth. The experienced Scotch drinkers in my group agreed it was the best.
Williamsmith
7-23-18, 1:38pm
To the best of my knowledge, Makers Mark sells its used barrels to Laphroaig Distillery, Port Ellen Scotland.
:laff: Wonder how quickly we will hear from Ishbel?
To the best of my knowledge, Makers Mark sells its used barrels to Laphroaig Distillery, Port Ellen Scotland.
My main purpose was to visit the Makers Mark distillery near Loretto, Ky. Did you take advantage of the opportunity to seal your own bottle?
2355
To the best of my knowledge, Makers Mark sells its used barrels to Laphroaig Distillery, Port Ellen Scotland. Love Laphroaig! I know some people are turned off by the smokiness but I like all kinds of smoky foods, so why not my Scotch?
I kind of fell into liking whiskey. I was out with some friends and the bar was offering two-for-ones on Scotch. We sipped them all as taste tests. Some of them seemed quite medicinal-tasting to me. But the rest I liked (surprised me as I'm not a fan of gin, vodka, tequila, or other distilled spirits). And it interested me that despite having the equivalent of two drinks in about 45-50 minutes, I didn’t get the buzz that I'd get from two beers or glasses of wine. And (bonus!) whiskey is very low in carbs, so I can drink it relatively freely while I have to be quite careful about how many beers or what kind of wines I drink.
I think it's like enjoying coffee -- you can drink whiskey watered down or in a cocktail. But the people who really like it drink it straight or maybe with a bit of water or ice. Also like coffee, if you're going to try it, try the good stuff, not cheap swill. But it is an acquired taste.
Williamsmith
7-23-18, 9:20pm
Did you take advantage of the opportunity to seal your own bottle?
2355
Im not sure why but I was not intrigued by the “opportunity” to seal my own bottle. I simply purchased bottles from the gift shop. When my ambassador barrel ages and is ready to be bottled....I will probably do so if offered. Nice pic.
Williamsmith
7-24-18, 9:08am
I don’t often think of politics over my morning coffee but there is a certain entertainment value going on with Trumps “Reign of Terror.” I’m not sympathetic nor am I aggressively offended by it all. I suppose it’s because of my inherited skepticism of government per se (after all I worked in it). I know what motivates people in charge and “the good of the people” isn’t usually high on the list. There are significant pensions to be secured and lifelong relationships that provide “consulting” fees to make one comfortable the rest of your born days.
Still, one need choose a side sometimes if you can’t separate the parties. I have stated it and will again.....I have always been able to agree with a lot of Ron Paul’s politics, if for no other reason than he was a thorn in the side of the mainstream Republican Party. The Democratic Party left people like me in the progressive dust on Air Force One on the return trip from Dallas on November 22, 1963 so where else was there to go but the greenies.
All this circles round to the seed that stuck under my floating bridge this morning. Rand Paul has been on a tear lately. I get a kick out of his ability to become a thorn also. His calling for Trump to rescind the security clearances for people like Brennan and Clapper......now that’s downright heroic in my eyes.
Everone knows , well everyone has been reminded, that you don’t cross the “intelligence community”. What is this community they speak of and why as appointed and not elected entities do they have the power to demand your allegiance? Why do former intelligence heads still possess clearances? Especially given their cozy positions as consultants to the free press.
I have always believed it to be true that “people who talk, don’t know and people who know, don’t talk”......and especially true of the people actively working to maintain the security of our Country. These people, talk way too much and seem to relish the power the media gives them over public opinion. Now I don’t click glasses with fellas and gals of the former administration and I don’t know crap from shinola about the secret threats to our existence but I do know I wish I had a time machine so I could transport George Mason here and watch his reaction.
George was responsible for much of what went into the Constitution and then was one of three who refused to sign it. Thomas Jefferson took his ideas and spun them onto the Constitution in his own eloquent words. George got a little miffed when they wanted him to sign it without an attached Bill of Rights. George was adamant that the executive office not be filled by one person but by three. He thought one person too closely resembled the Monarchy they just separated from. He had a good point.
Mason was the author of the Virginia Declaration of Rights. Much of it was used as fodder for the Constitution. His idea of freedom of the press was interesting in that he viewed the threat of restraint of such freedom as coming from a “despotic Government.” What could be more despotic than to have certain former officials who were unelected but remain able to acquire classified information of the current elected officials and then use that information to poison the “free” press? Or worse yet, plant false information of a classified nature, act like you are discovering it and then use it against your political enemies. This would all make a great novel if it weren’t all so true.
Next time, I promise myself to talk about tagging butterflies or childhood recollections of winter rubber boots with those metal clamps.
iris lilies
7-24-18, 10:47am
My family lore is that we are related to George Mason. But, casually poking around in his lineage,
I dont see any direct connection. Perhaps perhaps I share ancient ancestors with him.
I suppose we all share ancestors if we go back far enough.
On anther note, Rand Paul rocks!
Williamsmith
7-27-18, 10:15am
“Unforgettable....that’s what you are.” I can hear my father crooning this 1951 Nat King Cole song as he moved about on a cheerful Saturday morning. Michael Badalucco, who played Baby Face Nelson in “O Brother Where Art Thou” reminds me of my father. I don’t know if dad was bi-polar but he definitely had his highs and lows and there was a big swing in between them. When he was peaking, he was singing and whistling and playing guitar. When he was in the trough, you wanted to stay out of his way.
Racism was a given growing up. It wasn’t purely against African Americans but they certainly were considered bottom of the barrel. Other ethnicities and religions weren’t off limits. It’s just everybody considered blacks to be inferior. That’s why it was more than just a curiousity when my dad raved to me one day about how great Nat King Cole was. The King died in 1965 just about the time I started becoming aware that there was more to life than Saturday morning cartoons.
Maybe this seeming contradiction planted a seed of doubt about the legitimacy of pure bigotry just enough to allow me to see the stupidity of it at an early age. Or maybe, it was my dads way of saying he was aware that blacks suffered unjustly and he was cracking the door open without going inside. Whatever the real reason, the country took a turn toward real turmoil over the equality of blacks just about the same time Nat King Cole died and MLK was assassinated. Just about the time I was developing a conscience about things and exchanging stare downs with a cute little black girl in my elementary school.
I knew it would never be acceptable to have much in common with her from both sides. My parents and her parents weren’t going to invite each other for dinner or sit on the porch chewing the fat for that matter. So I sat in class behind her for the entire six years of first through sixth grades and passed notes back and forth. She was brilliant. Brilliant enough to share valedictorian honors with another girl I knew six more years later.
That’s probably why this morning when I started thumbing through an old box of records at a garage sale, I stopped at a pristine looking Nat King Cole 1952 release of “Unforgettable.” The record itself was near mint. I also grabbed a more recent release and an interesting Johnny Cash album. All for $1.
I cleaned up the Unforgettable album and tossed it on the platter. Hearing The King singing took me back a half century to a cheerful dad and certain classmate who I would never really get to know.
https://youtu.be/MKCyUe4syc4
Teacher Terry
7-27-18, 12:06pm
Even though I grew up in a town of 50k it was racially mixed which was good. Our schools were mixed so no real prejudice as far as being friendly with black kids. However, dating was a no due to the times and everyone knew it. One of my Girl Scout leaders was black and everyone was fine with that.
Williamsmith
7-28-18, 8:50am
We recently had another homicide of an elderly man. He was taken prisoner in his own home, duct taped and tied to a chair and then stabbed to death. The actor enlisted another person to help him remove the body from the house and dispose of it in a nearby pond. That person found a conscience and went to the police. The actor went on the run and somewhere near Chicago a police officer on patrol ran into him. A gunfight ensued and the actor was killed. So simultaneously I felt great sadness for the loss of life of the murdered victim and joy at the death of the actor. Morality and justification have much to do with it.
Likewise, in reading a recent opinion piece in the Washington Post entitled “We owe our children a big apology” I thought about the topics the author briefly touched on.....eugenics, overuse of psychoactive drugs, mass inprisonment, gender biased sex selection, elimination of so called inferior beings like Down syndrome fetuses, genetic selection of intelligent or athletic traits for our offspring. All these things contribute to social blind spots and economic inequality.
So as Im thinking about these things I see another article about the protest on separation of children from their parents by immigration officials. The visual is little kids wearing white t-shirts that say ”I Am A Child”. What a smart choice for protestors. It reminded me of Neal Young’s song “I am a Child”.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/we-owe-our-children-a-big-apology/2018/07/26/0c819390-910f-11e8-bcd5-9d911c784c38_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.a0973c05b431
https://youtu.be/Y-ex8x4dxUk
I love Neil Young. Thanks for the clip.
Interesting article on many levels. I could pour out a few thoughts but this is a lazy Saturday and I'm trying to take a thinking break over coffee at the moment. But it is a provocative piece.
But I will say that one of the things that popped into my mind was a conversation I had yesterday with my son who thinks that the farther we get away from "childhood"--not in a chronological sense but in a spirit-sense, the worse off we tend to be. I reminded him what Jesus said: "Truly I say to you, unless you turn around, and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
Williamsmith
7-31-18, 8:59am
I love Neil Young. Thanks for the clip.
Interesting article on many levels. I could pour out a few thoughts but this is a lazy Saturday and I'm trying to take a thinking break over coffee at the moment. But it is a provocative piece.
But I will say that one of the things that popped into my mind was a conversation I had yesterday with my son who thinks that the farther we get away from "childhood"--not in a chronological sense but in a spirit-sense, the worse off we tend to be. I reminded him what Jesus said: "Truly I say to you, unless you turn around, and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
I was thinking about your analogy to being more childlike. We tend to make most people conform to rules simply in order to get things done in the business world or in the service industry. But being more childlike has been the result of retirement for me and the ability to strip myself of the bonds of commitment to doing things a certain way.
It has not been without its criticisms. But I am free in the sense of what I think the “kingdom of heaven” was referred to. Not a physical place as much as a sense of acceptance of where I am at. Many religious minds would like to construct a box of set rules so that a person knows if he or she is in or out. Those rules come with a set of circumstances whereby you restore your in status. A child is not so committed to the rules that they can’t adjust them to make things go better during a game. I’ve pretty much learned that when I suspend the rigidity of rules, my environment is happier.
Ive had to learn the hard way but I look at it as returning to my naive childself when I wasn’t affected by prejudices, adherence to strict guidelines and failure to understand how often I’m at a place where I can’t see the whole battlefield from my perspective.
I dont think religion is a bad thing. I think people make it so. It’s like trying on a new pair of jeans. At some point it’s all about how the jeans make you feel and how you think they make you more appealing. Maybe later in life, it’s all about how comfortable the jeans are but during the trying on period you stand naked before the mirror. That nakedness is reality and it’s what we want to cover up. Religion helps us do that. It can make us feel more appealing to others or we may think we look better as we are seen going to or from church.
The nakedness is to me what the Adam and Eve story is all about. The fig leaves are the beginning of religion. It covers up the reality of our nakedness and separation from our creator. Some people find other ways to deal with their nakedness. I have no problem with that and I think children are more accepting of differences than adults with rigid ideology. It’s nice to have things you “believe in.” But more and more I’m allowing myself to downsize the place where those “beliefs” reside. It makes me less likely to harm other people.
I draw a very distinct line between "faith" and "religion". I define faith as the story (stories) we believe about why we are here on Earth, what life is like, and what happens when we die. I define religion as human codification of how we express that faith.
Believing in Jesus Christ as The Chosen One and the path back to God is (a) faith. Thinking that Jesus would tear little kids away from their parents at a border crossing on the speculation that wrongdoing had occurred, or that God has any preference whatsoever about the car you drive or the country you live in is religion. And, from that perspective, the further away I get from organized religion, the stronger and purer my faith becomes.
But I am free in the sense of what I think the “kingdom of heaven” was referred to.
I'm not a theologian but I always find it interesting that the Lord's Prayer says "thy kingdom come" It doesn't say anything about us "going" anywhere. We can sit right here and live in the kingdom of heaven. IMHO.
I draw a very distinct line between "faith" and "religion". I define faith as the story (stories) we believe about why we are here on Earth, what life is like, and what happens when we die. I define religion as human codification of how we express that faith.
Believing in Jesus Christ as The Chosen One and the path back to God is (a) faith. Thinking that Jesus would tear little kids away from their parents at a border crossing on the speculation that wrongdoing had occurred, or that God has any preference whatsoever about the car you drive or the country you live in is religion. And, from that perspective, the further away I get from organized religion, the stronger and purer my faith becomes.
First of all, I am generally in agreement. Yet, I'm not one to throw the baby out with the bathwater or deny the positive impact many practitioners of organized religion have every day. People whose faith has compelled them to adopt foster children, or invite refugees into their homes or go to feed the homeless. My own cousin became "born-again" and we can disparage all the evangelicals, but she stops and talks to homeless people and offers help, food, or shelter. Her intervening kept me from losing my home. Yes, many evangelical Christians are very un-Christian, but there are many--many--who are walking the walk.
But I do love Martin Luther King's quote: "Most churches are social clubs with a thin veneer of religiosity." To WS's point that's when all the "rules" come into play. We're blessed if we can find a community of faith that operates through a different lens and encourages us to abandon our "adult" precepts of pride, ambition, and social acceptance..
People whose faith has compelled them to adopt foster children, or invite refugees into their homes or go to feed the homeless. My own cousin became "born-again" and we can disparage all the evangelicals, but she stops and talks to homeless people and offers help, food, or shelter. Her intervening kept me from losing my home. Yes, many evangelical Christians are very un-Christian, but there are many--many--who are walking the walk.
I have no problem at all anyone who lives the faith story that makes sense to them. If someone is about caring for people, especially the marginalized and the "other", I don't give a rip if they're a "born-again" Christian, a Roman Catholic, a Jew, a Sikh, a Wiccan, ... The faith story makes it clear what should matters and what should not.
No version of the Christian Bible with which I am familiar goes into exposition about how a public coffee company with employees of many (or no) religions should design their cups for the month-long bacchanalia that is "the Christmas holiday season". I don't see Eastern Orthodox Christians bashing Southern Baptists for celebrating Easter on "the wrong day".
IMHO, for people with mature faiths, bearing witness to their god does not depend on whether the women in their congregation wear pants or sit at the back or whether the refugee they're supporting agrees with saying "Hail Marys" for penance. Nothing wrong with following those rules for oneself. But it's a variation on the main theme. And when people try to make their rules everyone's rules, I'm absolutely out of it. If your religion can't stand hearing "Season's greetings" instead of "Merry Christmas", maybe it's time to re-prioritize and keep the main thing, the main thing.
Williamsmith
8-1-18, 7:34am
“This is where Pappy used to play when he was your age.”
I lobbed a baseball and my granddaughter awkwardly managed to catch it with my signature “Milt Pappas” mitt from the 1960’s. It is one item from my childhood that has survived every move and resides in a box in my garage. Today, we visit great grandma and I want to play catch with my grand baby on the field of my youth.
While cleaning the garage, I went to the box. It’s flaps were crisscrossed as if to secure the precious contents and as I slipped my hand into the glove.....memories of hot humid days on a dusty ball field with seven neighborhood friends come alive.
The backstop remains stubborn against the winds of time. Telephone poles soaked with creosote like substance a skeleton for a heavy chain link wall. Home plate never sat square to the pitchers mound and the third base corner always stuck up. The surface is cracked where it origally was bright white. There are metal anchors where each base should be and a metal box with a lock where the bases were kept protected from theft. We brought pieces of beer cardboard found as remains of an adult softball league or even would drawn a base in the dust with our finger.
”Me and all my buddies would play baseball games here.”
She throws the ball back and I am astonished at how hard and accurate it is. This I remember is where we tossed a Roberto Clemente Louisville slugger bat up in the air so the Captain of the other team could catch it and start the process of selecting teams. Bottle caps? Yes. The bat has been broken, glued back together, nailed and taped. Occasionally, we find a broken bat in a burn barrel nearby and rescue it.
“The snow fence wasn’t here back then. A home run was when we hit it in the gap and rounded the bases all the way home.” I throw the ball back, a little harder this time. It hits her glove and bounces out onto the ground.
On this field Ray, John, Bill, Leo, BoBo, Dave, Charlie and me spent countless hours playing ball, catching frogs and snakes, and sometimes getting in a little trouble. We bonded and we fought.
“Didn’t you guys have a coach?” , she asks and whips the ball back a little low but right on the money. “Nope.” I say, matter of factly and leave it at that.
Im thinking of where these guys are now. To the best of my knowledge Ray is the CEO of a television advertising company, Bill became an accountant and is still bragging only he’s using Facebook to show all the trips he takes, Leo is a Postman, BoBo did twenty years for a burglary that resulted in a murder, Dave is a well off engineer and Charlie made a living playing baseball just like his dad.
“Are you ready to hit the road?” I turn and look at the field one last time holding the glove of my youth. I bring it up to my nose and smell the leather and chew briefly on the rawhide string. “Let’s go Pappy,”......
Oh to live on Sugar Mountain,
With the barkers and the colored balloons.
You can’t be twenty,
On Sugar Mountain,
Though you’re thinking that
You’re leaving there too soon.
You’re leaving there too soon.
Neil Young
Lovely, WS.
It triggered memories of a small country schoolyard where we played ball, all 22 of us, in all the grades. The maple trees enfolded the whole schoolyard, surrounded on two sides by gravel roads meeting on one corner and a large field with a stream and distant bank barn and house on the other two sides. I remember a dotted fawn coming to visit through the field to our delight. Cannot remember what happened to it though. I have no confirmed idea what happened to all the kids at that school but farmers and one professor, I believe.
One rambunctious horse came running down the gravel road dragging part of a wire fence which had terrified him. I remember that he stopped nearby in utter exhaustion and I was able to walk slowly up to him, talking quietly while another schoolmate was able to gently detach the wire entangled around his one hoof. I truly understood panic for the first time and the importance of tenderness seeing that dear horse in such distress. I just now understood why the scene in the live play, Warhorse, with the coiled wire fence and the trapped horse puppet seemed so real to me. The movie, War Horse, never had the same effect as that live play. I was right there on the stage trying to help and willing that horse to calm down. Interesting...
Williamsmith
8-6-18, 2:48pm
I suspect it’s more about the search than it is about the music. At least, that’s how it begins. You have in your minds eye a depiction of some relatively rare record, it’s label and it’s accompanying outer sleeve. You almost never run across the object of your affections on any particular day or at any specific venue. But in the process of digging you run across things you never imagine, that fulfill your needs anyway. Almost always, you enter a place with little expectation of discovering anything only to be surprised. Yesterday, was such a day , as was the day before. A plethora of vintage 60s and 70s classic rock falls into your hands. You can’t believe how lucky you’ve gotten. A stash of records just shelved by the owner and you are the first to sort through.
More than reasonably priced, you check off a nice block of wanted vinyl in very nice condition. So on a Monday morning, on a whim you just check into a local junk store owned by a hoarder with no expectations. After clawing your way through stacks and stacks of milldewed albums, you decide its probably time to go get a medium twist on a cake cone at your favorite roadside stand. Out of the corner of your eye she is staring at you from the corner of a shelf constructed by two by fours. You recognize her. A 1970s Joni Mitchell release. “Ladies of the Canyon”. Reaching over and picking it up your hopes are dashed by the emptiness of the cardboard. There is no vinyl.
Shes been abused. Someone has spilled coffee on her. The inner sleeve is there but torn on the bottom and the back cover is split. She’s a ragged bit of her former self. You place her back and turn to leave. Something draws your eye to a stack of records on the shelf below without sleeves. There’s an orange/ tan label with a W7 Reprise label. You recognize it as a first release, much more valuable usually than later releases. It is Joni.
The vinyl is clear accept for a blow she took on the first two songs of the first side. No matter. You decide to rescue her not so much as a collectible but as a listening treasure. The owner accepts one dollar for her. This record will not spend its life in a box or on a shelf but will be played on the stereo. The B side holds “Big Yellow Taxi” and “Woodstock.” After cleaning her off she slips over the spindle with glee. “Hey farmer farmer...put away the DDT now.....Pave paradise put up a parking lot.” “Don't it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got til it’s gone.”
She pops constantly, but she plays without skipping. I think I’ll keep her.
Signs of the times. I read your post and felt good thinking about Joni Mitchell and some of her songs you mentioned, but I am unfamiliar with the album itself. So, I'm in my office, and from there I yelled out "Alexa!" and when she waved back her blue-green wave I commanded: "Play Ladies of the Canyon." "Playing Ladies of the Canyon" she replied. No skips. No pops. But I'm sure not the same experience, either. Still, nice to hear her voice.
Williamsmith
9-5-18, 4:09am
You slip into your chosen seat behind a girl you’ve known since the first grade in elementary school. Now, a decade later she gives you that familiar smile and you wait for the teacher to address the class. He is young and isn’t wearing a suit or tie, it’s very casual. You have taken this class because you figure it’s a “blow off”.....Modern Music Interpretation.” Compared to Latin III and Calculus , it will be a nice break. When you told your parents about it, they laughed at the silliness of teaching high school students about appreciating rock n roll.
Mr. Anthony stands before the class. When he’s not teaching history or music appreciation, he’s assisting coach the football team or in the dugout of the baseball field. You figure it can’t hurt to pretend you want to study the lyrics of songs so you can get into the good graces of the coach. You’d like to remain a starting second baseman.
He makes some preliminary comments which frankly you don’t really hear. The girl in front of you will probably be the class valedictorian and homecoming queen. She’s wearing a familiar perfume. It’s intoxicating. She’ll ask you to the school dance later that year and in order to go you will have to lie to your parents and sneak around a bit. Religion and bigotry don’t seem like good reasons to make a mess of a friendship.
But now Mr. Anthony is passing out a copy of lyrics for the first song he’s going to play to us and introduce. It all seems so not like school at all. Are we really going to listen to music and talk about it? You receive the sheet. It’s a song you have never heard of released on an album you don’t know. What are “Mona Lisa’s and Madhatters”? What does “Honky Chateau” mean and who is this Elton John?
He drops the needle and the record begins to crack and pop in the run up. No big backbeat, no guitar, no bass just a simply piano and a voice. This isnt rock n roll. Maybe youve made a mistake. He starts singing and immediately the whole class seems to be in a trance.
“Now I know, Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say
I thought I knew but now I know that rose trees never grow, in New York City.”
Its a catchy tune but something in the lyrics brings out the uncertainties you have about the coming year. Mr. Anthony stands next to the record player and actually seems to be serving the music like a dessert to the class.
“Until you’ve seen this trash can dream come true,
You stand at the edge while people run you through.
And I thank the Lord, there’s people out there like you
I thank the Lord there’s people out there like you.”
Whoa! There’s some deep shit going on here. Is a teacher really permitted to play this stuff for us? The song seems to be filling the classroom.
“While Mona Lisa’s and Madhatters
sons Of bankers, sons of lawyers.
Turn around and say good morning to the night.
For unless they see the sky,
but they can’t and that is why,
They know not if it’s dark outside or light.”
As the song finishes the needle scratches to the end of the runnout and lifts into silence. The arm swings and clicks off. Mr. Anthony pauses before he moves to sit on a table in front of the class. He splits you into groups of four and for the rest of the period the object is to discuss the lyrics amongst yourselves and present your interpretation to class the next time we gather.
This is really a strange way to run a classroom. Your group includes the perfumed genius homecoming queen, the star basketball player and a kid from a rough part of town you usually stay away from. This is going to be harder than you thought. How do you share the kind of thoughts this song illicit to other kids? And then to the whole class. You are starting to rethink this whole,”blow off” class expectation. This is going in a direction you never expected.
https://youtu.be/9tRgYfQ48A0
Williamsmith
9-10-18, 8:21am
The nice weather has unfortunately slipped away. Replacing it is a blanket of grey sullen clouds which drop a constant drizzle of cold rain. It is in the fifties and my body is protesting. There is a reminder of fall in the atmosphere. The acorns are immense and plentiful. The squirrels are scurrying about collecting them and looking at me as if to say, “You lucky son of bitch. You don’t have to run around like a fool and cache food for the winter.”
I sit with a newly brewed cup of pumpkin spice coffee from Archer Farms. I picked it up at Target for a frugal price. The first cup....and it is comforting. On the menu for tonight, lasagna soup.
I also had to transition to jeans this weekend. And sweatshirts. And coats. And an umbrella.
On the the bright side, the weather kept a lot of the competition from browsing shops I tend to visit. I had pretty much free reign over the used record bins this weekend and I found some very nice pieces which I also got very cheap. I spent most of my time driving around rural western New York. The people there are very kind and curious about the kind of music I collect. Some of them are leftovers from Woodstock and there is a hippie attitude in their self sufficient small farm approach to life.
The vinyl collection is bursting at its seams and I had to purge some that just weren’t at the quality I like. This made room for the new finds. I practically gave the discarded ones away.
I am spinning a Stephen Stills release from 1972 called “Manassas.” A very generous lady sold it to me for $1 and it had pristine vinyl, the liner notes and poster, the original inner sleeves and an outer gatefold cover that looked like it hadn’t been touch in 46 years. Apparently her brother managed or owned a “National Record Mart” back in the day and some of the records were salvaged when the store closed.
She offered to let me dig through her collection on another day. I enjoy making friendships with these small shop owners. They aren’t making anything but they are a nice addition to the landscape of small town America.
https://youtu.be/WDQZbD73tjY
Williamsmith
9-17-18, 8:55am
I was sitting around a fire ring with a group of friends and a few people I’d just met. We were trying to get to the bottom of a bottle of Evan Williams and find the answers to long pondered questions. This is a rural area with relatively friendly people who work hard, play hard and see life in black and white. They like their “four wheelers”, “gators”, tractors and farm trucks. They like the shooting sports, are impatient with the justice system and the courts and in general distrust the government. They have opinions. They might tolerate yours, and they might not.
Inevitably the question was asked of me, “How long have you been retired and what the hell do you do with yourself?” The longer I am retired the more I hate that question. So admittedly I get so that I play games with the answer. For the longest time I tried to answer honestly but it’s gotten to the point where I’ve turned it into a joke.
This time I said, “Well, I’ve been retired for eight years but really haven’t worked for anybody for about three. I added, “Its not really what I do, it’s what I don’t do that counts. For instance, I don’t go to autopsies of little kids that get burned up in fires. You know where they saw the top of their heads off and reach in and pull out their brains, weigh them, cut them in slices and then stuff them back in.”
Continuing on without missing a beat, “I don’t pick up pieces of a guys skull after he stuck the barrel of a 30.06 in his mouth and pulled the trigger. And then try to explain to his wife how the doctor made a mistake and reported he had terminal cancer.....when he didn’t!”
I kept going, “. I don’t get called at 2am to go to the scene of a homicide where an elderly woman was raped, sodomized and suffocated by an inmate that was mistakenly released early from prison. I don’t have to tell her relatives that I couldn’t promise to bring the unknown actor to justice but I’d do my best.”
Changing gears I finished, “What I do right now is go to the gym early, come home and get a hot bath and then sit with a cup of coffee or two and watch the migrating monarch butterflies for awhile. And then I do whatever the hell I want to.”
That seemed to satisfy him and we moved on to the constitutionality of DUI checkpoints.
The monarch migration is starting in earnest. The lifecycle of then monarch butterfly is most interesting. It is interesting that the butterfly I see today headed for Mexico or Florida is the fourth generation removed from the butterfly I saw last year. It is quite amazing.
Teacher Terry
9-17-18, 8:22pm
Those were vivid horrifying descriptions and unfortunately it is dinner time soon.:|(
Williamsmith
9-17-18, 8:46pm
Those were vivid horrifying descriptions and unfortunately it is dinner time soon.:|(
My apologies. Some things are best unsaid.
I admire you WS for staying sane even having those images of your experiences.
Teacher Terry
9-18-18, 1:42am
Don’t apologize I actually feel sorry that was your life. I also recently took on some private work that is making me feel really alive. I wonder if it’s because I didn’t start a career until age 34 so late to the game but had shitty jobs before that. Plus it’s part time on my terms in addition to my class.
Williamsmith
9-18-18, 1:56am
I admire you WS for staying sane even having those images of your experiences.
In the night, when I cannot sleep, I wonder about it. When it is dark, dead silent and there seems to be nothing else awake. When the sky is clear and the stars infinitely numerous and the sliver of a moon promising an entirely pie....I am speechless and wondering what I might do in this great universe that makes a difference. And I remember the monarch and it’s brief life yet it is undoubtedly seen by many during its migration. I know what a joy it is to see such a delicate being floating in the currents southwest toward a meeting of others just like him. And I know that small twists or turns or chandelles must be choreographed by a greater force. I look forward to my next aerial maneuver, perhaps just a slow bank to the left or an exciting barrel roll. It’s enough to just be on the move toward home.
Williamsmith
9-18-18, 8:32am
An acquaintance in my little community passed away today at the age of 69. I’ve shared dinners with him and had some small talk but never really knew the backstory to his battle with lung cancer. Well, his obituary cleared a few things up. It seems he was in the Air Force and served in Vietnam where he was exposed quite naturally to Agent Orange, the toxic defoliation chemical we liberally sprayed on large swaths of the country. This contributed to his early demise. It’s such a sad situation when a man literally sacrifices his youth and his golden years in the service of his country when that service seems in retrospect to have been futile or misguided.
He was quite the successful entrepreneur and built a reasonably admirable wealth which he now passes on. But I wish he didn’t have to go over there and was still around to enjoy his prosperity. Sometimes I think bringing back the draft might be a good thing. People wouldn’t be so quick to sit by for asymmetrical wars if the kids that were fighting it really didn’t want to be there and had other prospects. As it is, our volunteer army is largely made up of youth who have no future elsewhere.
I am am humbled by this man’s sacrifice and am glad his suffering is past.
Teacher Terry
9-18-18, 1:40pm
A good friend of mine died from a rare neck cancer caused by agent orange. He died 2 years ago st 67. Sorry for your loss.
Williamsmith
9-19-18, 8:14am
I want the freedom to make my own choices and the wisdom to let others do the same. So long as nobody gets hurt.
Thats the canvass in which everything else pretty much gets built for me. There’s lots of layers that seem to appear over time and I guess I think it’s our responsibility to strip off some paint that just don’t belong. Each time I stand back and look at the canvass there’s something I don’t quite like so I make adjustments. I’ve had some experiences with creativity to know there is a point where you step back and know....that’s it....it’s perfect. Well, when you are dealing with a life that has a continuous interaction with the universe....that comes as a feeling of balance for me. And there is the expected imbalance that immediately follows. That’s the beauty of life. Being able to make the. Corrections and continue flying in the general direction toward the goal.
That’s it. Just a little reflection on this wonderful experience we call life. It’s a constant metamorphosis.
It’s so ridiculous when people demand an accounting of another persons time. I faced this when I was a full time mom, although in the 80s it was more common than now, I think.
Work is completely over-glorified. Anybody who can live without working for someone else should be praised and envied, not questioned.
And this is coming from someone who loves her work.
Work is completely over-glorified. Anybody who can live without working for someone else should be praised and envied, not questioned.
And this is coming from someone who loves her work.
I've had this discussion with you guys a few time in the past: Work=Good vs Work=Bad. I've always been in the work=good camp but now I see that the answer to the work: good or bad? question is "It depends."
Depends on how you define work. I think the old-fashioned way of work, where communities were engaged in fulfilling each others' needs is normal, necessary, and spiritually fulfilling. I think work in an industrial capitalist system can be soul-sucking for a good chunk of the people who clock in and clock out every day for decades for the benefit of Mr. Acme. People may glorify it to justify their means to getting all the stuff that they don't need.
So, I somewhat agree with you, Tammy--and I get why you might love your work. You're working with people and you see the direct benefit of your labor on the people you serves in the healthcare profession. Unfortunately these days, healthcare systems are turning even healthcare workers into people on a factory line just like Edison's.
Bees don't buzz around gathering pollen saying "Hey, I'm saving up enough pollen so I can retire at the end of the summer!" I think work can be extremely satisfying, and it's just plain necessary. There's work do be done in life, whether it's harvesting food on your own homestead or selling used cars. At its best, as Gibran said, "Work is love made visible." But it's too often too hard to feel the love in the typical American workplace.
Williamsmith
9-24-18, 8:08am
I admire you WS for staying sane even having those images of your experiences.
I believe that I am relatively sane, relatively speaking. I am watching a ten part series on the Vietnam War on Neltflix. It was written by Geoffrey C. ward and directed by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick. I was drawn to the series perhaps by Burns’ entertaining and informative series on Baseball. The creators intentionally did not interview political “stars” or polarizing personalities, opting to compile interviews with people who fought on both sides and were in country.
It is a stark examination of our failure over many administrations to understand that Vietnamese people simply wanted their own country and to make their own choices. We failed to see how our policies actually inspired them to hate us. And well, much more than I can regurgitate here. Fear of the Communist domino effect played into it deeply. And President Kennedy’s calculation that if he pulled out of Vietnam, he would not be re-elected. As it turned out, it did t matter. Kennedy in many ways was not adept at making good foreign policy decisions. But the nuclear showdown over Cuba seemed to set the table for both Russia and the US to opt for proxy wars over mutually assured destruction.
But those who had to go there perhaps were the last generation who believed that their government would never lie to them. the things they saw, the things they did, the mere act of simply walking on combat patrol affected their lives forever. These people are truly those who deserve our admiration for whatever sanity they cling to today. I regularly golf with a few Vietnam War veterans and I had working partners also. My work experiences fail to register compared to theirs on the “battlefield” in Vietnam.
I believe in part, much of our current turmoil and our struggle with mental illness in this country stems from our willingness to participate in long grinding ground wars in foreign countries where many innocent civilians are killed. You cannot unsee things like that.
Teacher Terry
9-24-18, 10:57am
Having been married to a Vietnam vet and having some good friends that were it takes a huge toll on their lives and relationships.
Williamsmith
10-4-18, 1:47am
On a quiet lonely vacant night when others are able to slumber without violent interruptions or dull aching remembrances, those who can’t myself included look for company in simple musical brush strokes. Something to soothe and not stir too much. Something that applies healing to an aching heart or explores a room with one eye while the rest of your body hides behind a door or seated at the top of the stairs, gazing down toward the darkened living room. Perhaps while you kneel in a closet and peel open a forgotten folded box with photographs, yearbooks or time passages.....you might listen to something like this and then try to return to the forgiveness of unconsciousness.
https://youtu.be/9TlVi3ezTMA
Thank you, WS.
I woke at 3am and got up to have a glass of hot milk to get myself back to sleep. Never ever had jet lag like this. I listened to Miles Davis for a while and it is wonderful and soothing.
Williamsmith
10-6-18, 3:32am
Ever since I’ve started rebuilding my vintage vinyl album collection, I’ve been amazed at the unexpected places I have recovered them. I went to a fall festival with my wife. She’s a sucker for handmade seasonal sweaters ; I like pippin apples for pie making. We both went with a purpose. Like so many small towns, a group of likeminded individuals form an historical society. This place had a book sale and the library had a sale of their own. In a cardboard box of castaway records I found a copy of “My Funny Valentine: Miles Davis in Concert”. The vinyl itself was sketchy but the outer cover is near mint. Fifty cents later, I took it home. Cleaned up, I think she will play.
“My Funny Valentine” debuted in 1937 as a part of the Broadway show “Babes in Arms” which played at the Shubert Theatre on W. 44 th Street and Broadway, New York City. It’s a song that pokes fun at a partner’s strange characteristics but despite this the person makes you smile and is perfect the way they are.
Miles Davis played it this way:
https://youtu.be/OCqZE6oBSsQ
It can also be a very emotional and sultry vocal performance like Alice Fredenham did it on Britain’s Got Talent in 2013:
WS:
Mid-summer, I did go through the old LPs at Granny's Attic for you and came up with nothing interesting. But today is the last Granny's Attic of the season (:() and I'm going one last time to see if they have any old kitchen carts, so I'll go through the albums again. I know you like jazz but what else?--Throw out a few names and I'll see if I can come up with a winner! It's fun to look through those old stacks of albums. I've gotten a couple there for the son with the turntable.
Williamsmith
10-6-18, 9:00am
WS:
Mid-summer, I did go through the old LPs at Granny's Attic for you and came up with nothing interesting. But today is the last Granny's Attic of the season (:() and I'm going one last time to see if they have any old kitchen carts, so I'll go through the albums again. I know you like jazz but what else?--Throw out a few names and I'll see if I can come up with a winner! It's fun to look through those old stacks of albums. I've gotten a couple there for the son with the turntable.
Kenny Burrell, Caravan, Frank Zappa, Jody Grind, Lou Reed, Velvet Underground And Nico, The Zombies, Van Der Graaf Generator, ....to name a few obscures.
Thats very thoughtful of you Catherine.
Williamsmith
10-7-18, 10:23pm
There are some things that are inexplicable. Franco Harris’ immaculate reception....a hole in one in golf.....a bullet penetrating your torso and narrowly missing anything vital....hitting a royal flush at the Let It Ride table. But I could have never predicted this.
A perfect example of a long playing record is basically three pieces: the outer cover, the inner sleeve and the vinyl itself. Finding all three in near mint condition in the wild is almost impossible. That’s why I will often take an album home that has a very good cover but a crappy record or a crappy cover with a nice record. I hope to run across something someday that will make a complete package. But I never expect to and usually never do. I have lots of incompletes like this.
On one trip to a thrift store I ran across a Frank Sinatra album called “Nice N’ Easy”. The outer cover was rough and had been taped together at the seams. The record however was a decent looking enough example to take it home for a quarter. It sat in my container for quite some time after I cleaned it up. I noticed also that the outer cover was in Stereo and the record itself was Mono. Hmm. How’d that happen?
The other day I went to a yard sale way back a dirt road on a deteriorating property that used to be a dairy farm. There I found about six hundred records in boxes sitting on a dirty concrete floor. The only way to check them is to get down on the floor and wallow in the dirt. Among those boxes, incredibly, I found a Frank Sinatra “Nice N’ Easy” copy with a near mint outer cover in Mono and quickly set it aside without looking at the vinyl itself. I took it home for pennies.
When I got to cleaning the vinyl up I discovered that it was terribly cracked. And then I noticed that it was a Stereo copy. That’s inconceivable. So I threw the stereo outer and copy away and paired my good mono outer cover with the near mint mono copy for a perfect match.
Frank now proudly spins on my turntable .... interestingly Frank had a part in the transition from Mono to Stereo back in the day.
https://youtu.be/LjKFPzV5Dl8
Williamsmith
10-11-18, 3:07am
I find my life runs in certain places over and over again. On the farm, a one hundred acre beef spread of a friend, we access the hickory woods via a cow path. And the ruts that develop become the same pathway as over and over we pass. The hickory woods host all manner of the Commonwealths wildlife; fox and grey squirrels, snappy pine squirrels and chipmunks, holes with groundhogs, turkeys, and deer and a wide ranging bear or two. Perhaps a passing fox or even a bobcat but certainly coyotes. We invade the woods to repair tree stands and plan ambushes on deer. And we return to the barn on the same path in the same ruts to the complaints of the steers in the field.
A lot like my life, I use the same ways to get to the same places. Music is a path to get a hurting soul into a place where healing can occur. The instruments the path into the soothing woods of my mind. I remember an experiment I tried to recreate as a child. It involved playing different music to plants, in my case it was green bean sprouts. I played classical, jazz, pop and country music. And I grew some sprouts in silence. I was unable to confirm my belief that plants appreciate classical music more than other genres. But I did to my satisfaction show that plants appreciate music. The sprouts grown in silence did noticeably take longer to develop.
And so I often wake during the night troubled by thoughts and burdened by a stiff body. It helps to hear music. It helps to have someone like Yo Yo Ma at your disposal.
https://youtu.be/3uiUHvET_jg
Williamsmith
10-16-18, 9:17am
I’ve read it somewhere or heard it that everyone you meet has a purpose for your life. And certainly if my life is about average, it’s a sign that most of us have been visited by some mysterious passers by that make you think something was purposeful in the encounter. Yet, it’s not the people who have entered my universe and stayed that most intrigue me. It is those who have seemingly arrived without fanfare and then disappeared without saying goodbye.
It can be seemingly insignificant interactions like a smile , it can be obvious life changing events like a medical emergency. Or it can be a middle aged woman having a garage sale on a cold and rainy Saturday. She seemed to have that worn look about her, perhaps worried about the future or thankful the past is the past. She was cleaning out a house and had a last ditch sale to try to get rid of some of the last hangings on.
I was going through some records on her porch that had “free” written on the box. I try to be selective but I ran into some vintage Frank Sinatra and an interesting rare Ella Fitzgerald double album. As I walked off the porch she approached me and forced a gentle smile and we exchanged greetings. I was satisfied with my handful of records especially the Pink Floyd - Animals piece when she said, “I’ve got a few crates of rock n roll records in the basement but I was too tired to carry them up.” I asked if I could dig through them. She opened her side door to the house and said, “Down the steps and to the left.”
She was right. She had about a hundred and fifty or so. When I was done sorting and evaluating condition and rarity....I had forty records I was interested in. She wondered down the steps probably because I was taking so long in the “digging” process. I asked her what I owed her. “Nothing. I just want rid of them.” I insisted on giving her a token donation but she looked at me with a determined stare and firmly said, “No. I don’t want anything.”
As I loaded in the last of the records there was a pang a guilt knowing that much of what I took was near mint and still in its shrink making them profitable if I wanted to sell them. And the rest was classic rock that never lost its value. But her determination would probably turn into offense if I approached her again, so there was nothing left to do but drive away.
The short time I spent with her will probably result in my remembrance of her for the rest of my life. And if good thoughts and entreaties to God on her behalf are at all beneficial, I suppose she will have better days ahead. Mysterious people come and go and you can even identify them if you have the time.
https://youtu.be/svwD7S1WVsQ
Williamsmith
10-22-18, 9:10am
In another thread Catherine started there’s a discussion about favoring downloaded books on electronic devices over physical paper and bound books or vice versa. This started with an observation that even when one has 189 Channels of television, it’s a fraction of the couple million books available at request over the icloud.
I thought the comparisons of books to e-readers was interesting as it seemed to have a parallel to streaming music and physical vinyl records. But I got to thinking about it in a more psychological way. Obviously, I make use of YouTube as a source for musical research and on occasion enjoyment but I much prefer going to my record shelf, which is of course alphabetized and each album protected with a poly inner and outer sleeve.
I like making a selection, sliding the record out into my hand, reviewing the playlist, reading the liner notes and gingerly removing the delicate vinyl from its protective cover and slipping it onto the platter of my turntable. The press of a button launches the tone arm and needle into the air and gently onto my record where as if by magic music comes alive.
But is it about the music? At this moment I have just shy of 400 pieces in my collection. I just sold 40 at a small profit in order to alleviate my concerns about space but when I am out and about I constantly look for opportunities to find new titles I haven’t owned. Now there is no way I can own a copy of every record that has ever been produced but I suspect I would try if I had the space. I enjoy researching the record, judging its condition, determining a value, cleaning and properly storing it. I am, I believe, an obsessive compulsive person about this. This leads me to the conclusion that it is really not about the music. Music is simply the byproduct of an overzealous collector.
Can books be the object of the same situation? is it so much about the information or entertainment of reading that is the goal or is collection of book titles in an obsessive compulsive manner the real importance for a serious reader? If one read the perfect book or heard the perfect musical performance, could a person give up reading or listening to music? Of course not, but yet we know that going in don’t we?
The older we get the more limitations we find creeping up on us. I was encouraged by the discovery of a 1958 recording by Billie Holiday which was done past her prime when her singing voice had been on decline for quite some time. Yet, she was able through emotion to overcome her limitations and provide a meaningful and enjoyable experience for the listener. Something to think about as you discover more limitations along the way.
https://youtu.be/mBRqs0oTkrw
Just wanted to thank you for sharing these thoughts, WS. I especially treasure the Youtube link to the Yo Yo Ma Tiny Concert. I fell in love with the cello hearing him play the cello on a simple stage at a high school many years ago. He was by himself and playing such exquisite music totally oblivious to his audience. It was a tender love affair between him and his cello. I have never looked and heard music in quite the same way again.
I just did a search on Youtube for Yo Yo Ma and have his recordings on autoplay. Pure heaven!!!! Thank you.
WS,
a little bit related to your last entry: Yesterday I was thinking of how many toddlers I see in strollers who are given smartphones or tablets to keep them amused. The toddlers aren't looking around, they are watching a screen and scrolling. Maybe today's parents don't see the difference, but I believe these little ones are definitely missing something - they're not seeing or interacting with anything in their real environment like people, animals, landscape, sky, weather.
Maybe this is the brave new world they will inherit so it won't matter, but I think it diminishes them and us as humans. Will be very interesting to see how this generation grows up.
Teacher Terry
10-22-18, 10:49am
I definitely think it’s a bad idea to hand a toddler a cell phone to keep them amused. I used to have tons of physical books. I only have 20 now. I resisted the newspaper online until they repeatedly threw it under the car no matter how much I complained. Once I started reading it online I was saving a bunch of money. Then I realized I wouldn’t have to wait for a book to arrive if I downloaded it plus it’s cheaper or free if I downloaded from the library. Then I don’t have to physically carry a book. I enjoy not having so many physical objects.
frugal-one
10-22-18, 5:17pm
WS,
a little bit related to your last entry: Yesterday I was thinking of how many toddlers I see in strollers who are given smartphones or tablets to keep them amused. The toddlers aren't looking around, they are watching a screen and scrolling. Maybe today's parents don't see the difference, but I believe these little ones are definitely missing something - they're not seeing or interacting with anything in their real environment like people, animals, landscape, sky, weather.
Maybe this is the brave new world they will inherit so it won't matter, but I think it diminishes them and us as humans. Will be very interesting to see how this generation grows up.
My DIL would not give her daughter toys at all as a baby. I thought it was ridiculous. I gave her a toy at my house and she drooled and acted nuts. I think you can overdo anything.
Teacher Terry
10-23-18, 1:00am
Toys are how kids learn to play and entertain themselves. That’s bizarre.
Williamsmith
11-1-18, 12:39am
I don’t know what makes a child terrified at night in his bedroom. Is it the argument his mother and father are having downstairs? Is it waiting for the glass to break or the furniture to be upended? Is it the silence after hearing the front door slam and the quiet sobbing? Is it what he might find if he creeps down the stairs in his bare feet and looks around the corner of the bannister? With his mouth tasting the lacquered woodwork staring at the driveway for headlights, does he dare to ask if everything is alright or try to return to his bed without causing the steps to creak and give him away. He knows the third step below the top landing is loose. Put your foot near the wall and it won’t make a sound.
Get back in bed. Everything will be okay. Pull the covers up over your head and leave a spot for your nose and mouth, it’s over now. The rain outside is dancing off the window and the wind is rattling the pane. The shadow of the maple tree makes it look like arms are writing on the wall as the limbs sway back and forth. The gutters are directing sheets of water away from the house. The sky is angry. Don’t move. Just stare at the wall and you’ll fall asleep. The tree branches are conducting a symphony.
You are calmer now. But you suddenly become aware that your t-shirt is drenched with sweat. You slip out once again and in the dark slowly pull open the second drawer down on your dresser. You feel for a dry one. You peel the other off and toss it on the floor. You smell the new one before you stretch your arms in and flip it over your head. Somehow, it is a symbol of starting over. Now you are too awake to fall asleep and so you lay on your back, then on your side and roll a few times before you realize fear is not keeping you up. Loathing is.
But a child is nothing if not adaptable. These things happen in everybody’s family from time to time. Whatever these things are. Tomorrow nothing will be said, it will be as if it never even happened. Maybe it never did happen. Tomorrow night you might not be able to sleep again and they will ask why. They will be holding hands at the dinner table and kissing each other. It’s just the way things are. And when you can’t go to sleep again tomorrow night, he will come in and put his hand on your forehead and sing you a song. The same hand you heard the night before, the same hand that grasps a leather belt, the very same hand.
But his song is calming you and you feel as if it’s safe again. It is safe again isn’t it? But for how long? Was it really ever unsafe? You are just a child. Maybe you just don’t understand. You should be stronger. Your older brother doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe you shouldn’t either. Maybe you should just listen to the words of the song and go to sleep.
https://youtu.be/0ezlRK2jpUM
Teacher Terry
11-1-18, 12:35pm
Never heard my parents have a argument. Felt very safe.
catherine
11-1-18, 12:50pm
Never heard my parents have a argument. Felt very safe.
I identify with WS's story. Deeply.
My parents rarely argued--there was one time when my father pruned the rose bushes a little too vigorously, but I wasn't around to hear the fallout from that. :D
I didn't have a bad childhood.
iris lilies
11-1-18, 8:09pm
JustThe other night I experienced a little bit of anxiety by putting my hand over the edge of the bed because in my half-asleep state, I thought someone might grab it from under the bed.
What is that about? I don’t know but it’s not about my childhood.
Williamsmith
11-1-18, 8:35pm
JustThe other night I experienced a little bit of anxiety by putting my hand over the edge of the bed because in my half-asleep state, I thought someone might grab it from under the bed.
What is that about? I don’t know but it’s not about my childhood.
Just to be safe......check under the bed tonight before you crawl in.
WS, Your description is heartbreaking. So much fear, sadness and confusion. You are amazing.
Williamsmith
11-2-18, 8:44am
WS, Your description is heartbreaking. So much fear, sadness and confusion. You are amazing.
Like many situations in life, “People who talk, don’t know. People who know, don’t talk.” Sometimes it takes 50 years before you understand that it’s okay not to understand.
Like many situations in life, “People who talk, don’t know. People who know, don’t talk.” Sometimes it takes 50 years before you understand that it’s okay not to understand.
Having done the negative immigrant experience and others which were painful, I have found them so helpful and important to my growth as a human being. i judge less, forgive more and am so grateful for all the good that is going on in so many ways by so many people. Little things and kindnesses matter.
Williamsmith
11-2-18, 3:33pm
Having done the negative immigrant experience and others which were painful, I have found them so helpful and important to my growth as a human being. i judge less, forgive more and am so grateful for all the good that is going on in so many ways by so many people. Little things and kindnesses matter.
Its hard not to think in terms of finite sets, you are either in the circle or out of it. It’s easier that way. You don’t have to forgive people outside the circle, you don’t have to try to make accommodations for them, you can even hate them if you please for no other reason except they are outside your circle.
One commonality great spiritual leaders have (not religious personalities) ....is they think in terms of movement towards or away from the center not being inside or outside. Thus, Jesus could rightly scold the disciples for judging prostitutes, thieves and tax collectors. While some people look like they obviously are in the circle (a priest ) to use a modern day example and some people look like they are distinctly outside the circle (a heroin addicted homeless person). The truth may be the addict may be moving towards discipleship while the priest is moving away.
Where I really struggle is when another is in emotional or spiritual pain. Physical pain gives you some direction because one is trained to respond with certain steps or the triage process. Emotional pain or spiritual pain is much harder to respond to appropriately.
I found a friend, whose DH had passed suddenly, in front of a store shortly afterwards looking absolutely blank and bewildered. My heart ached for her so I simply reached out and gently hugged her. She gripped me so tightly, found her mental way back and then let go. I still get hugs from her and that moment is never discussed. The heart has to lead the way.
The key, I think, is that another feels heard when in anguish. Still working on this...
Williamsmith
11-5-18, 9:55am
This time of year my sunroom is the perfect place to hang out in the morning. This is where I have a television mounted on the wall, a stereo and turntable, a small work table for cleaning records and packaging for shipping, my guitars and a small amplifier. The large windows facing north and west look out over a valley of maples, oaks, birch, pine and aspen. The colors and the falling leaves gently remind me of what is to come.....the endless cycle of nature.
I like to think random thoughts while I look out the windows. I am appreciative that for the most part, I have arrived at the point in time on my circle of life where I make most of the decisions for myself. But because of my humanness, I can reminisce about the past (when much of my life was spent serving other people) and presume what the future might hold.
I do not presume that my life is linear and constantly will be improving. Just being observant one can acknowledge that the circle of life includes a time when winter will come and spring will not. I am banking on the fact that this prepares us for the inevitable time when we eventually make our way completely around the circle and cross into the beginning of a much larger one with an infinite circumference.
Another former coworker just passed away. I suppose that’s why I am thinking in terms of circles instead of infinite lines today. At 73, By today’s standards that seems too early to me. But then given his stresses and experiences I guess he wasn’t complaining. As much as we get bombarded with fountain of youth advertising, its a wonder anyone can come to terms with their circle closing.
I know the leaves will soon be gone from the valley and the grey branches will stand against the wind and snow until earths axial tilt changes again and daylight increases. When that time comes, more than likely I’ll be looking for the signs of spring right here from my sunroom perch overlooking a simply valley. I’m good with that.
Williamsmith
12-2-18, 5:30am
My local community is there waiting to engage me. As a child’s whole universe is his house, so is my small town to me...if I want it to be. Only if I want. Strength and diversity can be found there. The local bookstore waits to reveal treasures shelved, perhaps dusty or untouched for years. They are waiting to be moved again, carried and to have light hit their pages as they are turned.
A local community brings heaps of unwanted things to the thrift stores where workers, sometimes work releasers sift through separating junk from jewels. A caravan of people stride in and out of the doors buying at one tenth the price and putting pieces back in use, perhaps another book or a record or a toaster or winter jacket. The second hand stores feed the poor and are the heartbeat of my community.
The fruit stand and deli doles out locally grown and organic food away from the steady drone of industrialized agribusiness. Few glued together boxes can be found here. These have not been trucked half way around the country ...these are picked and placed and selected and prepared and eaten ...nearby.
The barber sits expectantly for another customer who will sit and talk about the county tax increase to pay for the extravagant justice building next to the old courthouse. A few locks of hair will hit the floor, more order to the head results from the local conversation almost as a byproduct. A quarter might be turned into a wretched meter.
My cheesecake sits gently but heavy in a white paper sack. The small bakery smells engulf my head with childhood memories behind glass waterfall cases. I point to a breakfast roll, tasting the pecans and maple in my mind. I will taste them for real tomorrow morning. Today, the shop owner places them in a white cardboard box as gently as passing a baby. I take one last breath before going back to the sidewalk and the smells of my hometown.
A special needs person ducks into a sandwich shop where he will cheerfully and sincerely greet new customers as they enter. He goes about cleaning up the dining area, mopping and making small talk. He might offer a thin newspaper while someone waits. Front page headlines discuss how to navigate the newly constructed bridge whose sidewalk was designed without any protection from snowplows or passing cars. The only people who need to use it are struggling restaurant workers, homeless and the disabled.
Under the misty grey fog of early winter, a community breathes, takes a heavy step toward progress and is carried three steps back by the current of centralization. There is a pulse. It still has a desire to live.
https://youtu.be/aOWOO2bbiIE
Beautiful, WS!!!! You are introducing me to Leonard Cohen and the beauty of his music. Thank you.
Teacher Terry
12-2-18, 12:13pm
I read that if you make it through the 10 most dangerous years (55-65) without cancer, stroke or heat attack that most likely you will make it to your 80’s. It’s hard to lose friends.
Beautiful, WS!!!! You are introducing me to Leonard Cohen and the beauty of his music. Thank you.
WS.. beautiful vignette of your community.
razz.. Leonard Cohen is awesome, and I hope WS doesn't mind if I offer an encore.. one of my favorite Cohen songs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48AJBXs5dNc
I could go on, but you last post, WS, and the two Cohen songs were just really nice. My eyes welled up a little. Thank you folks.
Williamsmith
12-16-18, 5:29am
Music is an outward extension of our inner selves. In its most basic state, it is a heartbeat. In this form possessed by every living thing with an organic rhythm. And so music has a foundation of language suited to communicate with anyone....whether stranger or aquaintance. It is the gift of creation. There will always be music as long as there is a beating heart and there will always be hope. Music is capable of expressing all the ranges of moods of living things, if only we pause to listen to our hearts.
https://youtu.be/445TI6gEMJs
Oh, to have that facility of playing on the spot! Wonderful! Thanks.
Williamsmith
12-16-18, 9:47am
My wife checks my emails for me. It’s not because she has some urge to be my secretary. It’s her way of clearing the way for her to delete the unnecessary spam from our lives as quickly as possible. And she knows that if she leaves it up to me, I’ll do it when I get to it and not when it “needs” done.
So she shows me an email from the self appointed grand pub-a of retirees noting the list of attendees at the annual pre Christmas get together. I read the first paragraph of well known former co-workers and blurt our, “There isn’t one of them I’d want to talk to let alone have to listen to how important their lives are even in retirement.” And my wife gives me the, “Im married to a grumpy curmudgeon, look.” You know, it’s the kind of look you get from your beagle when you tell him that soup bone covered with ants isn’t coming into the house with him.
She points out that the list in paragraph two starts out with one of my best golfing and hunting buddies. I acknowledge that it’s true but rightly suggest I can visit him any time I please. Now I’m at the point in my life where I don’t care if I’m liked or not and I certainly don’t want to be recognized and dragged back in time to rehash old investigations and hold court on some exploits I’d rather forget or whose statute of limitations might not have run out.
I suspect she thinks but doesn’t say that if she passes before I do, I will become a hermit who prefers his own company to the company of nearly anyone on earth. And she’s probably right although I’d certainly have a beagle or some such hunting breed to suffer with. I definitely prefer the chickadees and tufted titmouses at my feeder to the blowhards repeating long past heroic adventures of public service with a nod toward fictional accounts of stardom stamping out the crimes of degenerates long gone in their prime.
But I give the wife credit. She knows how to wake up in the morning and greet me with an affectionate “good morning” and then courteously remain quiet for at least an hour thereafter when it’s more likely I can be approached with the suggested daily activities without danger of being ignored. At about that time she can tell me what emails have come in and I can pretend to read them and give her the okay to make them disappear. It’s a system that works for both of us. Kind of like Congress.
SteveinMN
12-16-18, 10:03am
I read the first paragraph of well known former co-workers and blurt our, “There isn’t one of them I’d want to talk to let alone have to listen to how important their lives are even in retirement.”
Exactly why I never attended a high school reunion after the first one. I figure the interesting people either couldn't bother to show or doing five to ten for some crime or another. Whoever believes social media is to blame for displaying only cheerful happy lives of achievement has never gone to a class or retiree reunion.
I didn’t know retiree reunions even existed.
Williamsmith
12-19-18, 10:17pm
I guess I miss the innocence of being a child. You spend your whole life trying to vanquish the fog of uncertainty about mysteries only to arrive in adulthood wishing you could believe in fantasies again. You plan years after puberty how you are going to flee your hometown and explore the world, only to settle within ten miles of your childhood homestead. As a child your life seems to play out before you like a winding road acrossed an endless desert disappearing into the horizon where earth meets sky and it does not occur to you that the road has an end...somehere out there.
To be unaware of the finite nature of existence in such a joyous playful way...that is how old men wish to look in the mirror at themselves again. Imagining a floor spread with plastic GI Joe figures, gum bands, baseball cards, jacks, monopoly, card games, toy six shooters, bicycles, footballs, wax teeth, Superman masks, comic books and a plate of cookies and milk and carrots on a cold winters eve.
It is how all men end up. Wishing they were boys again. Feeling like the world is offered for the taking yet uncertain of how to get ahold of it, that’s the feeling that isn’t there anymore. You’ve held on tightly and now it is certain the time to let go is so close it’s overwhelming. And yet you know when the time comes, it should be more like just getting out of one car and getting into another. You hope it’s that way. Those who go before you, show you the way. You don’t bother with looking for places to play anymore. That’s okay but the ones left behind still look for you to show up. They might delay the start of the game, hoping with the innocence of a child that you’ll come late. But you don’t. So they reluctantly slowly resume play.
https://youtu.be/Md56g4G34bw
Teacher Terry
12-19-18, 11:36pm
This time of life is interesting as I wonder how did I get this old? It seems like yesterday my mom was this age and I was 30. Not knowing how much time you have left and when you are young you never wonder about this.
ApatheticNoMore
12-19-18, 11:55pm
I don't think children think they are going to die soon (and unless they have a horrible disease etc., they aren't) but I remember lying awake worrying about eventual death as a child. And I mentioned it to my mom maybe soon after my dad died, and much to my surprise she did too as a child. So I think it might really be kind of a universal experience in childhood.
I don't know if even in my feelings of greatest powerlessness to change anything in adulthood I have ever felt as powerless as I did as a child though (not about death, we are all pretty powerless over that, but about life). I don't miss that.
catherine
12-20-18, 9:36am
So far I've enjoyed every stage of my journey. When I talk to my kids who have young families, I immediately think of Maurice Chevalier--"I'm Glad I'm Not Young Anymore." I loved it while it lasted. I look back at photographs and I think "Gee, I looked better than I thought I did at that time!" but I'm fine today with my sags and wrinkles and freedom to plan my day the way I want.
I don't know what will happen over the next decade or two, if I'm to be one of the lucky ones that fulfills the life expectancy numbers they quote. As for death, I hope I am ready when it comes, and I would not want my last thoughts about my life to be what my MIL's were: she told me a couple of days before she died: "I lived a wasted life." I still have things I want to do, and I don't want my work in Pharma to keep crowding those things out.
My son writes songs, and here are the lyrics to one of his songs, which speaks to the matter-of-factness with which I think I approach aging:
This is my rising moon
These are my crow’s feet
These are my laughing lines
A shadow on a charcoal street
This is my setting sun
This is my aging face
Smiling on and on
Flowers in a kitchen vase
Oh Catherine, your son's lyrics are beautiful.
Teacher Terry
12-20-18, 11:46am
Catherine, why did your MIL feel like her life was wasted? I too have enjoyed the seasons of my life. I would not want to raise my kids again although I enjoyed it very much at the time. One reason we have been taking 2 big trips every year is so we aren’t missing out on what we wanted to do. DH is interviewing for a f.t. job and if he gets it we will only be taking one a year. He is not ready to be retired.
catherine
12-20-18, 12:03pm
Tybee: Thank you. I'm his mother, so I'm biased, but I do think he's a poet.
TT: My MIL lived a traditional 50s life for a female, which was derailed when her husband died in his 40s, leaving her with two kids to raise. She had her parents live with her to cut down on living expenses, and her mother would constantly remind her that her job was to be a mother. My MIL learned how to drive and took a FT clerk's job in Macy's, never imagining that she might do better with her "can do" nature. She felt a career would undermine her job as a mother. Her mother also told her that if she went out and had fun, she was also abandoning her children. So she never met anyone or dated. This was the set-up for her symbiotic, dysfunctional relationship with BIL.
She scrimped and saved on her sales clerk salary, and provided for the family, kept a clean, well-maintained house, and lived extremely frugally. When she was close to retirement age, she was given the opportunity to work in the retail workers union office--as a member of the union she had always spoken up for her co-workers and called management out on grievances. So now she would be paid for it.
She was elected to serve as vice-president of the Macy's RWDSU and started commuting to Herald Square via a train and two subway trains--in her late 60s. But she LOVED that job, and she excelled. She was a force to be reckoned with if you were management. She reluctantly retired at age 75, and always played around with going back. But instead she grew depressed and disinterested in life in general. So, her "wasted life" was not realizing she could have had a very successful career in the union, and she also didn't have to endure such self-sacrifice, just because of her mother's expectations.
Cath, your comment about your MIL goes to show how important it is to give each person the gift of a positive sense of the value of their life in terms that they can understand. It is a skill that I learned slowly over time. It is also hard to do at times as the listener has self-expectations that are unmet and won't hear about anything else.
I have loved my life with all its ups and downs. I decided to let go of the 'downs', cherish the 'ups' and am glad to be living now. I tell my neighbours that I am going to be in my house until I am 99 and will re-evaluate then.
Teacher Terry
12-20-18, 12:38pm
Catherine, that’s sad that her mother put such expectations on her. She sounds like a smart, good woman.
SteveinMN
12-20-18, 1:46pm
Huh. When I read Wiliiamsmith's latest post, I had a hard time identifying with it. My childhood was not so happy that I would want to go back to it if I could. I miss my mid-20s, when I had graduated from college and life was full of possibility. And maybe it helps that I have another quarter-century to fulfill the life-expectancy -- err -- expectancy. But I think I'm living my best life right now and I hope that continues for years to come.
Williamsmith
12-20-18, 10:21pm
I spent a childhood of countless hours playing all sorts of games with one person. We invented all sorts of competitions, created extravagant worlds of fantasy, dreamed of becoming meaningful members of the community and wildly successful in everything we would try. We sprawled out on fields of grass flat on our backs and stared at the cumulus clouds as they floated by and wondered where they might end up and eventually where we might end up. The possibilities were always endless and always exciting and exhilarating. Our child minds never imagined we might fail at anything or come up short or someday not have those endless horizons to explore.
Imagine a hospital room and being told you are so sick nothing can be done for you just one week before Christmas .....and now your child like dream is simply to get released for Christmas. All your dreams, your plans, your wild fantasies smashed in pieces before you with no glue to put it right. My former playmate, my forever blood. His nightmare, my confusion.
“Christmas makes me both happy and blue.”
https://youtu.be/ErMvIPr36Sw
Williamsmith
1-3-19, 3:25am
He’d packed what he thought he’d need for a weeks stay in the cabin. It was to be a time of isolation and there was a strange comfort that settled around him as he steered the truck up the lonely winding approach to the place he used to share with a brother and a father and a mother. He had a sort of nostalgia for those days and part of the reason he came here alone was to see if he could stir up remembrances of good days gone by and at the same time possibly remind himself that he had a life to live without them and what the purpose of that life might be. But not without their memory or inspiration, so up the truck climbed, switchback after switchback dodging fallen trees and rocking through pot holes that hadn’t been fixed in several seasons.
Even through the ever increasing heaviness of the snowfall and as the wind buffeted the truck and with the heater on the old truck blowing as hard as it could, he looked out at landmarks as they passed by and thought of events in the past. The frog pond where he and his brother played endless hours while dad saw to the woodpile or fixed the last leak in the camp roof. That old grand maple tree where he’d silently waited with his father on the opening day of deer season fifty years ago. The wooden planks that had been nailed into the trunk were mostly gone now, one just hanging on by a rusty nail. The old stand not fit for climbing into seemed to shout at him as he passed. It was begging to be repaired.
On the last bit of the lane in sight of the dilapidated cabin an old snag had fallen across. He had to stop and get out to size it up. He rolled a heavy log chain out of the bed and onto the ground. Looking for a gap between the log and the frozen ground and jamming his gloved hand here and there blindly under the snow he was able to wrap it and hook the chain and pull it far enough off the road. He passed the fire ring and the frozen outhouse, brakes squealing in complaint as he came to a stop.
There with both hands on the wheel, flurries racing past the windshield cutting the headlights and disappearing onto the ground....he just sat and stared at the place. The ghosts of days past must be out there amongst the trees, and sitting around the campfire and ambling about inside. They must in the kitchen cooking a bacon and egg breakfast or wrapped in a moldy blanket in one of the upstairs bunks not wanting to roll out of bed. They must be sleepily stumbling down the creaking steps toward the smell of Maxwell House and Jimmy Dean.
He thought he saw the back of a hunter leaning against a shag bark hickory, blazed orange dotted with a yellow tag cradling a beloved Remington Gamemaster like a baby. He smelled the ash of the wood stove being stoked and its heavy cast iron door and wire handle squealing shut. Mom leaned against the door on the porch, her hair pulled back but a few strands hanging in her eyes, she brushed them back and they stubbornly fell again.
This is part of why he had come here. The other part was yet unknown to him. In search of answers about how to carry on or perhaps instinctually returning to this primal place. Convinced of the need to reconnect, he stepped out and began unloading food, clothing and memories. It was time to take inventory and press on. But first the inventory.
https://youtu.be/WBWZb1pxH4w
WS, you are introducing me to singers and music that I have not truly appreciated or even heard before like this one. I treasure each one and the intro to each.
Williamsmith
1-3-19, 1:00pm
WS, you are introducing me to singers and music that I have not truly appreciated or even heard before like this one. I treasure each one and the intro to each.
Razz, Netflix has a superb documentary with an interesting twist about Sixto Rodriguez called, “Sugarman”. I highly recommend it. He might have been as well known as Bob Dylan had he not been Hispanic, who knows but his life story is profound and has relevance to happiness in simple living.
Williamsmith
1-7-19, 10:12am
Lots of discussion about and concerning plastics. I’m not trying to rehash it here but lately I’ve become aware of how plastics (throwaway) one use items undermine my capacity to appreciate things for creating an easier lifestyle for me. I never look at a plastic water bottle and appreciate it. I know it’s going to get tossed as soon as I’m done drinking the water inside. So there is no “relationship” value to the plastic. Now if some of my friends heard me speaking like this they’d likely chuckling but those same friends wouldn’t want to hunt with a disposable rifle, or use disposable wrenches to work on their autos. And they are distinctly, as am I, emotionally attached to tools which have been with them or even handed down from a previous generation.
So what? Well, I’m gradually warming up to the idea of say reusable grocery bags, bamboo toothbrushes, local pottery drinking cups and bathroom accessories that aren’t plastic. Those household items that have become throwaway perhaps mostly because the industry which produces them needs them to be disposable to meet their business model. How is a Dixie cup in the bathroom more convenient than a ceramic cup? But mostly, I need to relate to the items I use on a more personal level. If I do that, I find that I can enjoy the more mundane events of my daily living. Like, using a goats milk peppermint soap that is make by a local artisan rather than a mass produced product. That soap is even wrapped in such a delightful way that I don’t even want to discard it.
In the end, it also reduces the clutter that is so much a necessity of living with plastics. You can discard it, but it becomes someone else’s clutter to deal with. I have tried to think of a plastic item that when I hold it makes me want to keep it. I have become so accustomed to ditching plastic that it has permeated my thinking process about other more important relationships. There’s plenty of appropriate uses for plastic but I don’t think I’ll ever respect it. Well, I do love me some Tupperware.
I love that way of thinking! Being in touch with the intrinsic life of an object. Thich Nhat Hanh says that when you eat an apple you are eating the sun and the soil and the rain because those things created the apple. You are also one with the farmer who planted and cared for the tree, and the workers who picked it. This sounds similar to what you are saying about having a "relationship" with an object.
When I think of the fact that plastics were only invented and widely used in the middle of the last century, it motivates me to understand that in many cases, we don't need them. People certainly lived without them for a long time.
Getting back to the relationship thing, I do understand what you're saying. How can you respect something you know from the get-go is intended to be disposed of? It's like a one-night stand.
Teacher Terry
1-7-19, 11:54am
I don’t buy disposable stuff for every day use. I carry a travel mug in my car to fill with water and use a regular cup in the bathroom. WS, I too hate all the disposable stuff. I carry a cloth bag in my car. The only time I use paper plates is when I have a big outside barbecue in the summer. I invite more people than I have plates for.
When I think of the fact that plastics were only invented and widely used in the middle of the last century, it motivates me to understand that in many cases, we don't need them. People certainly lived without them for a long time. Getting back to the relationship thing, I do understand what you're saying. How can you respect something you know from the get-go is intended to be disposed of? It's like a one-night stand.
I think we can respect design and fitness for purpose. For example, those thin plastic containers for bottled water provide clean potable water in locations where it may not readily be present or where it is difficult to manage the logistics of accommodating everyone's not-necessarily-clean container. If I am at a public gathering, I could bring my own container for water, but I may not know what water sources exist. If they're usable (e.g., not out of order or the mixed warm-cold taps in the men's restroom) it could be helpful if my container has a restrictive lid on it so spills are minimized or prevented (goodbye ceramic cup). Those are purposes eminently suitable for bottled water. That people now drink bottled water at home rather than fill from the tap/filter pitcher/refrigerator is not the fault of the technology but of people's behavior. Similarly, plastic food packaging became popular because it avoids vectors for contamination from open storage, unclean serving containers, and so on. I'm not saying we should love as much plastic as has become prevalent in our world, but it has its place, even if it's temporary, and fitness for purpose is effective. Remember glass syringes and baby bottles?
And plastics can be incredibly durable compared to other materials. Most trash cans are plastic now because the metal ones (even the galvanized ones) rusted pretty readily. Plastic bumpers on cars resist more dings than metal bumpers and present less weight for the vehicle to carry around, improving fuel mileage (a worthwhile goal, eh?). Children's furniture and toys often are plastic because it is impervious to water in a way that wood isn't and is lighter (to ship, move around, etc.) than metal of equivalent strength. There is an economic element to it as well.
And then there are Williamsmith's beloved LPs. Plastic. Now those are plastic objects a person can love. But they're still plastic.
I'm not saying we have to love plastics or use as much as we do. But they do have a place and, often, can do things few or no other materials can with the same ease and economy. Now, if we could ever get serious about considering the cradle-to-grave costs of all the materials we use in our lives the equation would differ. But as the world has evolved, plastics -- even the short-term kind -- have had good reason to become ubiquitous.
Teacher Terry
1-7-19, 5:34pm
We use plastic travel mugs with lids so not a big mess if they get knocked over. I never have a problem finding somewhere to fill it up.
Williamsmith
1-7-19, 7:55pm
I’m certainly not questioning the usefulness of plastics. I’m exploring the variable relationships we have with inanimate objects based on their relative ease of disposal and comparative replacement costs. I generally value an item more when the replacement of it will get my financial attention. But it occurs to me that the type of relationship I have with say my guitar can be applied to a simple item like a wooden spatula.
I can choose to care for both in the same careful manner or I can rationalize ignoring it with the knowledge that it is easy to replace. I’m just saying that we have become conditioned to distance ourselves from true appreciation by their relative ease of replacement. And plastic is just the most obvious example of that. And I can’t help but wonder if this expectation doesn’t translate into our interpersonal relationships. As irrational as it seems to be, could some of our seeming ambivalence to our fellow man come from our gradual lack of appreciation of more things that are easily replaced? Some circuitous thinking I’ll admit.
Teacher Terry
1-7-19, 8:24pm
Yes I think it can spill over into people. Look at the way people treat animals disposing of beloved pets once they are old or inconvenient. I can’t work the front desk at the humane society when I volunteered because I will totally lose my shit!
It might be circuitous thinking but I think it has credibility.
I was standing watching a local garbage collector pick up his bin on loan at a home undergoing renovations. The driver was careful about how he backed up, lined up the tow cable carefully and slowly pulled the bin. At a particular point, the bin slowly tipped up a little and slid into a special slot on the truck. He checked and double-checked every step of the process. It was slow, efficient and soundless. I was admiring the care of the driver, the engineering in design, the convenience and how neatly everything was arranged.
A couple I had not met came by and looked around to see what I was watching. They saw nothing noteworthy so stopped to ask what I was looking at. I explained my enjoyment of the care, the design etc of the whole garbage collection process at the that home. They looked amused at me and then considered the truck as it drove away. Every time we met thereafter about 2-3 times a week, I was asked what interesting item had caught me attention. Over time, they started telling me of some interesting items that they had encountered and we became casual friends.
The conscious awareness is what is lacking. We take so much for granted and don't see things for the thought, care and effort taken in their production and use. I am grateful daily for so much and find life is enjoyable as a result.
I’m exploring the variable relationships we have with inanimate objects based on their relative ease of disposal and comparative replacement costs. I generally value an item more when the replacement of it will get my financial attention. But it occurs to me that the type of relationship I have with say my guitar can be applied to a simple item like a wooden spatula.
Fair... My response was addressed more toward catherine's suggestion that we don't need plastics.
I guess I take a different tack than most people in that I believe craft applies to both one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry and red Solo cups. Items do not typically get placed in my trash with a Marie Kondo-esque reverence :) but I appreciate a well-wrapped (or, ftm, a poorly-wrapped) product or the ingenious design of something as simple as my razor (a 1961 Gillette Adjustable). But I've been like that for a long time.
Fair... My response was addressed more toward catherine's suggestion that we don't need plastics.
Well, it's true--we don't NEED plastics at a very fundamental level. We've learned to need them. Whether or not they add to our quality of life is a matter of debate--may be true, may not be.
WS's thoughts about how our throw-away habits may have infiltrated into other areas of our lives is worth thinking about. How many people have thrown away good, well-crafted cabinetry to replace them with IKEA particleboard? How many people have thrown away a friendship because of a few misspoken words?
I remember having clear, strong "relationships" with our Christmas trees when I was a child, and I'd literally cry when they were taken out to the curb. Sounds silly, but even relationships with inanimate items can have value.
I could speculate that in some not so distant future plastics will be viewed as much as the bronze or iron age in the advances of civilization (or what we call civilization). They coat the insides of aluminum cans, are the base for computer components and most other electronics, they are part of fleece and polyester garments and the nylon shells of coats, and are integral to many medical devices. And yoga pants. Like it or not our modern lifestyle is married to plastics. Plastics that are used for product packaging is probably one of the easiest to avoid and at least some things can be recycled. And alternatives to plastics are not without their own environmental cost. I remember a day when plastic was the preferred grocery bag to avoid tree consuming paper.
As long as we play within the constraints of our culture, it's not as much finding alternatives, but the the old adage, reduce, reuse, recycle.
Williamsmith
1-8-19, 10:07pm
Well, my first experiment at the grocery store had mixed results. I don’t shop at “you know where”......I go to a local grocery where the cashiers seem to be receptive to small talk and aren’t stingy with their smiles and hey seem sympathetic to me when my coupon is expired by nine hours.
Anyway, so there are these nice reusable bags with handles hanging right over the cashiers shoulders and I order one up for 99 cents. I feel quite certain I can establish a relationship with this sturdy carrier. The cashier packs two large pasta sauce cans, six vegetable cans, a six pack of stevia sweetened pop, eight yogurt containers and tops it off with a loaf of bread. Wow! It seemed to weigh forty pounds. She did suggest lining the bottom with cardboard. What, so you can put a cube of Coke in there?
Think I’ll get another reusable bag and spread the haul out.
I actually have a fondness (relationship-wise) for my reusable bag. I got two for free from the Master Gardener program, when the county recycling head came in to give her talk.
It looks just like this (https://www.ebay.com/itm/INSULATED-REUSABLE-GROCERY-BAG-SOLID-LIME-GREEN-Thermal-Zipper-Shopping-Tote-/221862847687), but with the county logo on it. I LOVE that it's sturdy, insulated, and it zips.
Williamsmith
1-8-19, 10:40pm
Wow! That’s a high end grocery bag! I could go on vacation with that.
Teacher Terry
1-8-19, 10:46pm
That’s too much for one bag:))
I actually have a fondness (relationship-wise) for my reusable bag. I got two for free from the Master Gardener program, when the county recycling head came in to give her talk.
It looks just like this (https://www.ebay.com/itm/INSULATED-REUSABLE-GROCERY-BAG-SOLID-LIME-GREEN-Thermal-Zipper-Shopping-Tote-/221862847687), but with the county logo on it. I LOVE that it's sturdy, insulated, and it zips.
Looks like a really sturdy bag. I wonder if it is washable as I find that I need to wash mine. We used to get cloth bags from the liquor board and they are still going strong, if a little stained.
I actually have a fondness (relationship-wise) for my reusable bag. I got two for free from the Master Gardener program, when the county recycling head came in to give her talk.
It looks just like this (https://www.ebay.com/itm/INSULATED-REUSABLE-GROCERY-BAG-SOLID-LIME-GREEN-Thermal-Zipper-Shopping-Tote-/221862847687), but with the county logo on it. I LOVE that it's sturdy, insulated, and it zips.
It seems slightly ironic that a reusable bag would be plastic coated, but I get the point of things.
I have some heavy duty cotton bags that I like and are machine washable, at least in cold water. Once I put one in the drier which was a mistake.
Shifting the focus of discussion from recyclable shopping bags to a much more weighty topic, there was an op-ed piece in the NYT today by the author of a book called "Resisting Throwaway Culture" and his thoughts are fairly closely aligned with the idea that without too much of a stretch, you can say that attitudes about single use plastic carry over into attitudes about life itself (or vice versa).
BTW: I'm sharing this link because it's tied in with WS's latest Daily Bread topic--NOT because I want to open a can of worms on the topic of abortion! I just thought it was an interesting piece and is relevant to the plastics/relationship discussion in a way. Is the Throwaway Culture hand-in-glove with the Dehumanizing Culture?
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/09/opinion/abortion-pro-life.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage
Williamsmith
1-11-19, 3:33am
My son and his wife are on his way to South Africa. I guess the travel time alone takes up an entire day. He lands in Johannesburg and visits some natural wonder called Victoria Falls located between Zimbabwe and Zambia. From there they take safari in several different national parks. It’s an adventure and unforgettable life experience I’m sure. I’m not jealous. Don’t like to travel in strange countries, plenty to see and do right here. But I will enjoy hearing about it. The wife’s grandmother left them a little money when she passed away with the stipulation they use it to travel. That was a thoughtful gesture.
Teacher Terry
1-11-19, 10:49am
WS, that sounds like a great trip for your kids. My kids go to a lot of places I have no desire to see like India and Vietnam. I love to travel but Europe and cruises are more my style.
Williamsmith
1-15-19, 9:37am
This whole border wall thing has me thinking about fences. I personally never constructed one but I grew up with this chain link fence around our back yard. Supposedly this was to keep our dog in the yard and not defecating on the neighbors property but there were some things about it I gradually understood.
There was a reason the fencing was installed with the sharp jagged edge on the top side and the nice rounded edges next to the ground. It had nothing to do with the dog. I remember that our game balls (baseballs, basketballs and footballs) would go sailing over the fence and we would be faced with the long journey down the driveway, up the road, up the neighbors driveway and into their yard to retrieve them. And then double back for the return. We had to get there and back without my mother seeing us or the game would be over and we’d be doing something less “intrusive” to our neighbors right to not be hassled by the kids next door.
So given the increased risk of discovery, we often decided to climb the fence, hop over, grab the ball quick enough to sling it back into our own yard and then climb and hop in return. Trouble with that was another rule.....”don’t climb the fence.” Which if caught would end the game anyway. But the other problem was those jagged sharp pointy tips of galvanized steel. Almost inevitably, you would cut your wrist climbing and jumping in either direction or both.
I also noticed that the fence created the problem of trimming the grass under it and it became a chore I hated. This was done with a hand trimmer while on your knees. Ocassionally a rabbit would stray into the yard to munch on clover. While I didn’t mind a bunny now and again, my dog had other convictions. I remember a troubling incident that played out when an unfortunate hare found the clover in our yard too tempting. My dog chased it back to a small opening in the fencing and it got stuck exposing its hind quarters to the dog. I never heard the crunching of bones before and squalling of a rabbit and I never wanted to again. My dad took a shovel and clobbered the poor bunny on the head to put it out of its misery and then removed the remains from the fence and slung it into the weeds on the bordering property.
I noticed that the fencing was nice and shiny when it was first installed but it wasn’t long before it began to rust and look nasty. A cut wrist on a rusted jagged edge seemed to take longer to heal. The rust would also rub off on your clothes and signal you had broken the rule of no fence climbing to mom. The fence was an uncommon landmark in my neighborhood. Almost nobody else had one. And it seemed to signal a certain attitude to the rest of the neighbors. “These people want to be left alone.” It really wasn’t too far off the mark. We didn’t have to put up no trespassing signs or beware of dog signs either. The fence said it all. It was an expensive purchase but it seemed important to my parents to have a barrier between “us” and “them”.
If I had the choice, I would have grown up without a fence. I would have gladly kept my dog in his yard on a chain or maybe he could have been an inside dog. I would have maybe gotten to know my next door neighbors better. And I would have had so many self inflicted wounds. I’m reminded of it when I see neighbors who have build fences back to back along their border. And every time I have to wait for my security gate to open on my way out of my secure community.
https://youtu.be/ev4hm-ft0zE
catherine
1-15-19, 10:06am
There are fences and there are fences. There are white picket ones, chain link, stockade, brick wall, split rail, bamboo. They are used, as you mentioned, to contain dogs and kids, provide privacy, and sometimes to comply with safety rules, such as the fence enclosures people with pools have to have. As a gardener, I recognize their value as a framework for garden borders, and they also sometimes have an aesthetic quality as part of a landscape design.
Interestingly, my husband agrees with you. He has said, often, that he HATES fences. We will never have one as long as he is alive. He is also an extrovert who sometimes has difficulty with personal boundaries, and I've sometimes made the connection between his personality and his hatred of fences.
I, on the other hand, as the family dog walker, have often coveted my daughter's fence. She awakens briefly in the morning to let out the dog and goes back to bed. When we've had dogs, my routine was up at sunrise, dress rapidly, deny myself my first cup of coffee until after I've walked the dog a mile around the neighborhood. We did have a tie-down so the dog could hang out with us in the back yard, which raises another point for me personally--we live adjacent to a public park, so all of our summer shenanigans were in full view of everyone in the neighborhood.
We don't have a fence in Vermont, either. We're wide open--and the 9 other houses form a border around our common ground, so there is precious little privacy. I like my neighbors when they are there on weekends, but, unlike DH, I'm an introvert, so I also like it when they leave. I would like a quiet corner in my yard.
Teacher Terry
1-15-19, 12:02pm
We like privacy and have a fence. I like being able to let the dogs out while I make coffee. They also like to roam the yard and talk to the neighbors dogs. We still talk to the neighbors all the time. We entertain frequently in our backyard.
Add me to the loving the fence crowd. It contains my gardens and my dogs, and we spend hours out there, and I know they are safe.
My fences, with hollyhocks and roses and lilies, are also beautiful!
Teacher Terry
1-15-19, 1:03pm
I have had to throw a ball back to the neighbor kids many times it answer the door to let them in the backyard. I am fine with that.
I have two neighbours in my backyard separated from me by a 4 foot chain link fence. One neighbour has a row of tall conifers just inside their side of the fence and this provides quiet privacy and wonderful home for many birds. I have a row of alternating service berry and redbud trees all along on my side of the fence. In the summer, their foliage provides wonderful and attractive privacy.
The other part has the new owner who suggested to me that she needed a new fence between us.
Her property has high fencing running on both sides down to our joint property line. I asked her about air circulation in her small backyard if she is completely surrounded by 6 foot fencing. She hadn't thought of that at all. For now all is quiet which suits me as I have no interest in a 6 foot fence.
I love walled gardens and love 6 foot fences. We enjoyed seeing walled in gardens in England, and also Stonewall Jackson's walled in garden in Lexington, Virginia.
One of the awesome things about walled in gardens is that you can manipulate the microclimates a bit and grow fruit trees that you could not grow without the wall.
Jackson's garden:
https://www.vmi.edu/media/content-assets/images/departments/museums/sjh-gardens.jpg
https://us.123rf.com/450wm/quasargal/quasargal1510/quasargal151000914/46384495-garden-of-stonewall-jacksons-house-in-lexington-virginia-usa.jpg?ver=6
I love walled gardens and love 6 foot fences. We enjoyed seeing walled in gardens in England, and also Stonewall Jackson's walled in garden in Lexington, Virginia.
One of the awesome things about walled in gardens is that you can manipulate the microclimates a bit and grow fruit trees that you could not grow without the wall.
Jackson's garden:
https://www.vmi.edu/media/content-assets/images/departments/museums/sjh-gardens.jpg
https://us.123rf.com/450wm/quasargal/quasargal1510/quasargal151000914/46384495-garden-of-stonewall-jacksons-house-in-lexington-virginia-usa.jpg?ver=6
It is lovely and I would enjoy this kind of fence, Tybee, but how large a space are these English gardens?
My neighbour has a 30'x30' space with her 2-story semi-detached house in front of it, 6 foot fence down each side and our shared chainlink in the back.
The Jackson garden is on a narrow city lot, maybe 30-40 feet wide? It did not go back very far, as you can see in the photo--maybe 60 feet?
iris lilies
1-15-19, 3:43pm
Agreed about the wall shaping a microclimate. The Missouri Botanical Gardens here, less than 2 miles from me, grows plants more tender than I can reliably geow, and theirs are huge and old.
OTOH I learned this about my completely fenced iris garden many years ago: that fence kept the drying wind from blowing over plants and as a result, I had a severe infestation of Leaf Spot fungus in my iris beds. These iris were 100% in sun and yet, the Leaf Spot! Ugh. After I moved them all to my other garden which sits on a corner and gets winds from two directions, I didnt have that problem again. I refer to that site as “the prarie” due to the wide open space, kinda unusual here in urban plots.
Williamsmith
1-17-19, 9:20am
This years winter project has been selling off a good bit of my vintage vinyl and saving for a new guitar. It’s not a sexy classic rock guitar like the Gibson SG I acquired last time or any of the shredding brands that those guitar hero’s use on stage to impress all the girls or guys if you will. There are some Smokin hot female guitar players out there. But anyway, no I’m going to get that workhorse of country music and Keith Richards Of The Rolling Stones.......the Fender Telecaster.
Of course it’s got to be the American made model. They don’t come cheap so I’m parting with some of my best german vintage classic Rock and psych albums, a few rare jazz and some mainstream stuff still sealed. I’m about 2/3 there and it’s getting down to the nitty gritty. I’m going to have to be ruthless in my choices. Some Hendrix, some Iron Butterfly, a Miles Davis, some Creedence Clearwater Revival, a CSN&Young or two should get me over the top. And I have a stash of dollar bin stuff and a ready buyer that will pay for a guitar stand.
I enjoy record collecting but I enjoy guitars more. And I feel like when you can make one hobby pay for another it’s a win win situation. There’s not going to be a easy transition here to the next topic. Fact is, I’d like to talk about coffee mugs.
So I have gradually lost interest in all my coffee cups. My wife made the tragic mistake of giving away all her every day China and buying new. The old stuff had these small coffee cups, that were a white color. They were perfect and fit my hand nicely. The new china is made in China. It’s very irregular and inconsistent. We both hate it.
There is a nice set of Nortake china in the hutch that we never take out. Those coffee cups are awesome. They are perfectly engineered to fit my hand and every cup is the same. The Japanese know how to make quality stuff. But my wife threatened harm would come to me if I broke one of those cups. I have a collection of mugs which just seem to find there way into the cupboard and I’ve used them over the years but the coffee always seems to get cold before I get to the bottom due mostly because they are too large. And none of them really feel comfortable in my hand.
I found myself in the local thrift store staring at an assortment of glasses, cups and mugs that owners decided they didn’t want anymore. There were some ugly mugs, some too big ones, some cruddy looking ones and some colors that hurt my eyes. Then I discovered this tan colored English coffee/tea cup that was twice as tall as it was wide and had a handle that mated with my fingers. It was tastefully decorated with a blue daisy pattern. The bottom revealed it was a “Churchill”. At 99 cents, I fell in love. The thing that really sold me was that the top was fluted perfectly for my mouth. And I get to the bottom while my coffee is still quite hot. I tossed a couple of my mugs out of the cupboard and placed my new English partner in its home.
I am in tune with the world now.
Teacher Terry
1-17-19, 11:22am
My coffee mugs are important to me. I have replaced mine with only polish pottery ones that are perfect in every way.
Williamsmith
2-1-19, 11:15pm
In a former vocation, I was know for my unorthodox approach and had I been supervised by any of the other non commissioned officers available in my troop, I would have likely found myself kicked out of my CIU. Not due to my inability to perform at a high level, but because sometimes I had a tendency to embarrass people along the way who stuck strictly to inherited assumptions regarding the proper way to do things. I did not. I only cared about results and those outcomes which served the greater good of the people we served....the victims. This put me at odds with people not in my direct chain of command but who I was expected to work in concert with both inside and outside of my agency.
My direct supervisor understood me and he knew if given a long enough leash, I would provide for closure and all the unforgivable sour notes I struck along the way would be forgotten and the entire body of my work would be understood as a poor man’s masterpiece. I would walk into dangerous situations in order to get a quicker resolution, would remain out working past authorized overtime, create tools out of paperwork that nobody had ever seen and got people to talk using inventive techniques that stretched the boundary of “proper police procedure.”
The only proper police procedure in my book was that which produced the truth about an incident. And so it is not unusual that I would be nicknamed, “Monk.” Not Adrian Monk.......But Thelonious Sphere Monk.
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