Month: March 2019

March 28, 2019

Twenty five characteristics of a strong human.*

1. defines success in terms of the common weal
2. distinguishes the comparative sizes of problems
3. forges forgiveness into restored relationship
4. possesses sturdy genes
5. cultivates receiving as essential to effective communication
6. parses compliments and criticisms with equal generosity
7. finds vocation in purposeful everyday living
8. regards the spirit that is holy
9. digs for wealth — the best lode consists of human bonding
10. discerns when an onus can morph into an opportunity
11. respects her/his storehouse of personal resources
12. honors beauty for its own sake
13. finds what is good and tells others of it
14. encounters what is not good and offers critique
15. protects the earth as an antique treasure
16. stays till the floor is swept
17. travels lightly and politely
18. forgives his/her own mistakes
19. believes that faith is more than a doctrine or denomination
20. reveres the innate capacity of all creatures
21. makes room for sorrow
22. perceives temperance as a measure of fullness
23. intalls and obeys personal go, caution and stop signals
24. pulls weeds a square foot at a time
25  inhales reception, exhales gratitude

• Not exhaustive. Twenty five is simply a convenient number.
• In no intended order.
• Unfortunately not autobiograplhical.

March 27, 2019

The weather forecast for the week made the decision for me — Wednesday would be the day. And it has been a memorable day … for exploring Sugar Creek and its environs. 

 

 

I was the only person in Mossy Point, so after my hike it was my job to get the car out of the mud. It took about a half hour and many handfuls of stones carried from the road.

The day was simply special.

March 26, 2019

This morning a strange and somewhat startling thought came to mind:  what might happen to me and/or to my close friends today? 

Is it not true that most people don’t take a guess at what might transpire and further, they exist somewhat thoughtlessly as they head into this Wednesday. May it even be said that most felons had no idea upon waking in the morning that they would later in the day commit a crime that would forever change their lives.

Shortly after getting up, I drove on an errand and came upon three vehicles that had just collided. The drivers were out of their cars probably waiting for an officer. Was this accident not a surprise, even a shock that rudely upset their days!

This afternoon Rudy threw up a meal, on yes, a good carpet. I had made a big mistake in giving him a treat that upset his stomach. What was I thinking when I fed him? 

And then the other side. In the morning we can’t possibly predict the myriad of times that we will escape harm or the consequences of our own bad decisions. Generally unaware of such deliverances, we don’t offer thanks at the end of the day for unrecognized mercies.

During these thoughts today I remembered the prayer Jesus shared with his followers: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”  Without wanting to be sanctimonious about life, I think it a worthy prayer for it helps us to care, it helps us to be free of fear and it helps us to be grateful. 

March 25, 2017

Eighteen months after a hospital doctor in Spain gave me an injection I received the bill. Two hundred sixty eight euros.

Today I went to my bank to wire payment. Easier said than done. When I asked the teller whether she was commissioned to send wires, she said yes, but It had been a year since she handled a foreign wire. She warned that the process would take at least a half hour. Actually, more than that.

She had to make sure that the hospital bill would go to the right account in the right bank for the right amount. But she didn’t know Spanish so I tried to figure out the particulars. Names and addresses and dates and money matters are presented differently in Spain and in Spanish. 

The teller was not accustomed to finding money exchange rates. “I’ve been only to Canada,” she said. But she made the right calls and discovered, of course, that a euro is more powerful than a dollar. Plus the wire cost $75.

Contrary to what you might think, this transactional back and forth was fun and even jolly. I told her why I needed an injection — infected bed bug bites. “Yikes! Did you bring them home with you?” “Where and when did I get them?”  I told her about the walk which puzzled her no end. “You walked? That’s it? You just walked?”

I promised to show her my album of photos from the memorable pilgrimage on El Camino. I hope she looks through the entire album because she will eventually come to the photo of one of the infected sores.

March 24, 2019

By good luck I came upon this scene in early morning. 

What urged me to reach for my camera were memories of long ago, when deep in sleep at 4:30 in the morning, my dad called, “Time to get up, boys.”  There was no second call.

Yes, we were school kids. Yes, we were sleepy, but the cows had to be milked and the chickens fed. There could be no argument; there could be no complaining. 

There were three of us — Daddy, Merv and I. We took turns on three jobs: milking the cows, cleaning and re-bedding the stables, and feeding the chickens. Typically we had steers which made a fourth chore.

As for milking cows, I never timed the morning ritual. It’s a good guess that we arrived at the barn by 4:45 and got the cows fed and ready for milking by 5:15. Summers we sent our collie to the meadow to call in the cows. Always, always they entered the barn in the same order. (And we milked them in the same order.) Winters they stayed in their stancheons. We used De Laval equipment, and could argue for an hour with the neighbor guys who used Surge equipment. 

We then had an hour for milking before the Hershey truck would arrive for a can or two of milk from the evening before, kept in a cooler in the milk house, and the can or two from the morning’s milking. I was too small to lift a full can from the cooler.

Cleaning stables wasn’t a bad job, but I had to whistle or sing for courage when I had to go up to the second floor of the dark barn in winters, and up a ladder to pitch fresh straw to the first floor. Who might be hiding there?

The chickens were easy to take care of unless it involved carrying 100-pound bags of mash. Evenings we gathered eggs.

Morning chores over, we went to the house for breakfast. After getting ready for school, we walked out our long lane where we met the school bus.  I wonder whether we carried to school the odor of a dairy barn.

March 22, 2019

Today after helping with several housekeeping chores, I went outside to occupy the garden. Winter weather stayed with us well into March, so this day in the low 50s was enough to convince me spring has arrived.

The gardening chores deserved no headlines. I cut fallen branches into six- inch kindling pieces, deconstructed the hose apparatus that carries winter water away from the garage and again hooked up the drum units that will hold spring and summer rains, turned the compost pile that is noticeably smaller this year, swept the garage and oiled the tools. Fun.

For the first time we will hire a local garden service to prepare the garden of trees and shrubs and grasses for spring. While I know that outside assistance can prolong our staying in this house and property, I cringe at the thought that outsiders will do my garden work. 

When I left the farm at age 17 I could not have predicted — I would not even had the interest to try to imagine it — that gardens and fields, barns and tool sheds, cattle, tractors, hand tools and compost-making would follow me just about everywhere I have traveled and resided. 

After a four-hour romp in garden and garage, I still had time to drive over to Edmunson Street to take a walk around a barn that I have admired ever since we moved to Irvington. Friends have now purchased the property and given me permission to snoop.  Here is their barn and mine.

Why is the evening hour in the living room the best occasion of the day?

1. The room is simple, yet to my sense of things, beautiful.
2. Pace slows to low-low.
3. Today’s to-dos are completed.
4. The house is quiet excepting for Vivaldi and Bach.
5. In cold weather the fireplace glows.
6. The day occasioned contact with family and friends.
7. Two bookmarks indicate where to begin reading.
8. A crossword puzzle is waiting somewhat impatiently.
9. This time and place are one with Being.
10. I am grateful to have lived another day.

 

March 20, 2019

Today an acquaintance spoke of the hostile home environment that he survived. I felt a heavy sadness for him and others who knew or know of domestic discord.

My own childhood home contrasted with his. I carry a happy picture of my farmer dad coming into the kitchen from the barn or fields and there meeting my mother. Right in front of us children they not only kissed but held on to each other in a long embrace. Of course this open show of affection did not happen every day, but often enough to assure that I would never forget it. Ours was not a perfect family, not close to it, but we had first-hand experience with love.

March 19, 2019

Yesterday’s blog represents the beautiful, happy, productive realm of my existence. I live in gratitude for the privilege of living in this realm.

But there are other realms that sometimes overlap, sometimes overwhelm what should be life-giving, worthy and even holy. Today’s blog will identify several.

1. Photos of the devastation in Mozambique and Zimbabwe show a land in pieces. How many people this very moment are struggling for their lives? Is climate change a suspect?
   
2. The body of a whale was recovered in the Philippines that had ingested  80 pounds of plastic.
   
3. A survivor of Syria’s prison system tells of the torture he survived. More than 100,000 prisoners are unaccounted for.
   
4. Muslim children, heading out to school, fear for their lives after learning of the double mosque shooting in New Zealand.
   
5. Did Boeing insiders know of the vulnerable aspect of 737 Max, two of which crashed under similar circumstances?
   
6. A collusion of sorts has assured the acceptance of wealthy parents’ children into several exclusive universities including Yale.
   
7. The size of funds embezzled from government tills and illegal businesses, then hidden in overseas accounts confounds even one’s imagination. It is estimated that more than 50% of Russia’s monetary wealth was stolen in the 1990s, much of which is now in concealed accounts in the United States.
   
8. The pope has apparently rejected the resignation of a  French cardinal convicted of sexual abuse cover-up.
   
9. Mike Trout, a Los Angeles Angels outfielder has agreed to a deal that will pay him $430 million over the next 12 years. Sports salaries reveal the wealth of professional sports team owners.
   
10. And as a final item I shall copy a paragraph from a paid advertisement in the New York Times Sunday Review (a rarity) written by Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers.
    
    

The wealthiest Americans don’t have to worry about how they will pay for groceries, or a visit to a doctor when they’re sick, or heat for their homes during frigid weather. They never have to think about whether their children will be able to afford to go to college or how they’ll pay for summer programs to see their children safe when school is out. But tens of millions of Americans are consumed with those worries, and the budget President Donald Trump released last week decimates the very programs that help address the needs of the most vulnerable Americans. 

On this brisk late winter morning, Rudy and I went walking in Fort Ben.

The whole week has been blessed by this hike.