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Showing posts from November, 2013

side by side on the table sat

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mene, mene, tekel, upharsin If Amos eighth century prophet of doom had been writing about football, this would be The Day in Gainesville and Ann Arbor Thus says the Lord, the God of hosts, the Lord: In all the squares there shall be wailing; and in all the streets they shall say, “Alas! alas!” They shall call the farmers to mourning, and those skilled in lamentation, to wailing; in all the vineyards there shall be wailing, for I will pass through the midst of you, says the Lord. Alas for you who desire the day of the Lord! Why do you want the day of the Lord? It is darkness, not light; as if someone fled from a lion, and was met by a bear; or went into the house and rested a hand against the wall, and was bitten by a snake. Is not the day of the Lord darkness, not light, and gloom with no brightness in it? (Amos 5:16-20) If John of Patmos had written The Apocalypse , the Book of Revelation, about the sixty minutes of football, this would be the day, not of salvation and everl

Saying Too Much

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about that wind in the pines It’s possible to say too much, isn’t it. My diet -- no, d _ _ _ is one of those four-letter words I try to skip here -- my range of foods since October 2010 specifically excludes bacon; but yesterday our Thanksgiving spread included a Brussels sprouts dish that Ray makes once or twice a year starting last Thanksgiving. Whether he blanches them first I don’t know, but they are sliced and cooked in cream with a couple of other things including lots of cut up bits of bacon. The pot cooks down until it’s thicker than the most delicious brown turkey gravy, and I had one small serving. But I did not eat Ray’s mashed potatoes before the FDA comes out and determines whether the first ingredient listed must be potatoes or heavy cream. Anyway, there being some of both last night for leftovers, my supper included a spare tablespoon of Ray’s mashed with a tablespoon of the sprouts gravy, then the ACE inhibitor, carvedilol and statin; plus a furosemide even knowing

for traveling mercies

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Thanksgiving for Traveling Mercies On this day my mother used to tell me that she and my father were thankful, as they neared sixty years of marriage, that they had never lost a child or grandchild. That is a thankfulness and appreciation of which I am unendingly conscious as husband, father, grandfather, cousin, uncle, friend -- son, grandson, nephew -- , loved one and one who loves and has loved; perhaps especially in this vocation of sharing life and its experiences with many people and families.  My own continuing prayer is for what some call traveling mercies , for where I am and have been and may yet be, for loved ones where they are on the road, the roads, wher ever they are and whatever they are doing, driving, riding, sleeping, studying, in class, at work or school or the office and on the way there and back, taking a test, tending a child, being a child, cooking, shopping, eating, being a blessing, protecting, loving and being loved and cherished.  What do I

Hallelujah, Amen

Can somebody shout Hallelujah -- Just the other side of Thanksgiving Day, this very weekend, comes the First Sunday of Advent. No doubt it will be a low Sunday with many folks out of town visiting and celebrating Thanksgiving and feasting with loved ones. We’ll be doing that in our family, right here. Kristen is already home from college for the weekend, and Tass, Jeremy, Caroline and Charlotte are to arrive late this afternoon. We plan to welcome and enjoy with a family steak dinner, cooked outside on the grill. Ray, a chef at a fancy restaurant at the Beach, will be working, Ray usually grills the steaks and I sit there with a glass of red wine and say, “Mine’s done, take it off.” It used to be that I grilled the steaks and Ray kept my wineglass filled. Either way, I’ll miss Ray this evening. Advent One is my Sunday to preach, and it’s made a little more challenging than usual, because along with the ominous readings of this apocalyptic Sunday, we are to baptize a tiny ba

time travel

Let him who has ears to hear travel in time Sunday morning we had a splendid sermon which our rector began by remembering his feelings and where he was that Friday, November 22, 1963 when news came that President Kennedy had been killed, then tied to our untimely gospel about Christ the King. Untimely because Linda just bought our Thanksgiving turkey and a new Christmas tree, and holiday season lights are going up around town, yet here we are on Calvary’s Hill with Jesus on the Cross, and it’s Good Friday afternoon not "sleigh bells ring, are you listening."  Sermons have life and every sermon is different for every hearer as Spirit touches and Word speaks differently and personally for each one in the crowd. Sunday morning I heard every word clearly even as I was moved to a different time and place in my own life, not only a faraway city because we lived in Yokohama, and time because it was Saturday morning there not Friday as it was in Dallas, but also to a differ

... and start over."

... and start over."  Sleeping ‘til 5:30 is not my thing but happened because at 2:35 I sat up on the edge of the bed, stared out over the front yard and down to the Bay, thought about Alfred, wondered whether that was light surf or wind in the pines, remembered Rhode Island mornings, snuggled back down for a moment and woke when Linda closed the open porch door at 5:30. Late was good, especially considering James M. Robinson’s The Gospel of Jesus had put my lights out at 8:30. Seems Robinson was a helpful sedative one other time.  Still like the topic, so just ordered The Gospel of Jesus by the late Robert W. Funk, a cheap used copy on Amazon Prime so free shipping. Funk's scholarship has integrity and loyalty to the historical Jesus that intrigues me. Having at least two other Funk books, my confidence is high, also my hope and expectation. Looks like nearly a couple months of PCNH comic sections stacking up there for me. This morning Linda handed me the Viewp

1931 Ford

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Cool out, 54F out my back door on the way to get the newspaper, but windy, stiff breeze makes it feel chilly though it isn’t. Pleasant with a sweater. At 78 I still have sweaters my mother made for me forty, forty-five, maybe fifty years ago and this is the season for one. Football, no point in talking about it, SCar cleaned up but everyone else on my cheering list -- -- not going there. What’s happening? Is anyone driving down to see a game in The Swamp when you can rue it from your sickbed and know it’s a bad dream and you’ll only wake up with a headache -- I’ll wake up in a few minutes in a sweat, realize it was a nightmare, and laugh, pinch me. This isn’t where I came in. Can it get worse? Oh yes, yes indeedy, wait till Saturday. This is what I get for poking incredulous jabs at UCF early in the season. Can we start over?  A friend had two flat tires on a trip, that’s stuff from old times. It’s why in my growing up years and before, some cars had not one spare tire, b

Balmy

Late in the year, November 23, so brought a sweater and neck scarf out onto the downstairs front porch to watch and wait for Linda’s PCNH. Don’t need either one, it’s that -- balmy is the word, 66F and 83%. The carrier throws the newspaper on the back driveway unless there’s a substitute, in which case it may get thrown on the walk down front. The car rolls by slowly in silence, usually here long before now, four a.m. One morning a few years ago there was no paper because the carrier had had a heart attack, pray all is well this morning. Newspaper thrown from a car by someone old enough to fear a heart attack: this must not be Grovers Corners anymore. It was when I grew up here. Doesn’t matter, Joe Crowell, Jr. is gone either way, age or war. There’s the rolling car, pause and get the paper, don’t like Linda going out in the dark. Headlines include GAME DAY. BCS team #2 paying $900,000 to play the Idaho Vandals who are 1-9 this season and were 1-11 last year. They must b

YahGerechtigkeit

Jeremiah 23:1-6 King James Version (KJV) 1  Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! saith the Lord. 2 Therefore thus saith the Lord God of Israel against the pastors that feed my people; Ye have scattered my flock, and driven them away, and have not visited them: behold, I will visit upon you the evil of your doings, saith the Lord. 3 And I will gather the remnant of my flock out of all countries whither I have driven them, and will bring them again to their folds; and they shall be fruitful and increase. 4 And I will set up shepherds over them which shall feed them: and they shall fear no more, nor be dismayed, neither shall they be lacking, saith the Lord. 5 Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous Branch, and a King shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judgment and justice in the earth. 6 In his days Judah shall be saved, and Israel shall dwell safely: and this is his name whereby he shall be c

Rite One, Rite Two, Rite Riot

Rite One, Rite Two, Rite Riot This morning after reading Delanceyplace about the 1913 Riot at the Rite in Paris, I took advantage of modern electronics and watched two large screen presentations of Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps to see what the disturbance was all about. In Paris, the first is abstruse, a one-ring circus of horses and men and difficult for a novice to perceive. I should have read about it before watching, but wanted to get that first audience’s sense of shock. No ballet fan, watching and wondering how they managed dozens of horses in that 1913 performance and why was Igor so surprised and infuriated at the riot, I watched another.  Same cacaphony, the second is in Berlin, hundreds of young dancers, girls and boys, two parts and to the point. With total chaos of both dancing and music, the second is like middle school gradual to high school, and almost delightful. Anyone who has taught middle school and been in the hall when classes are changing would fe

Black this Morning

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Every morning when I come down several things are waiting to be opened, that help make life more interesting. Not that life needs help, it’s interesting as it is, even left alone like the black coffee in the Navy-style mug that says “Life is good” and “Do what you like. Like what you do.” Coffee that now and then gets a sprinkle of black pepper, or cinnamon, or a splash of milk, or a little cup of Linda’s french vanilla whitener. Or this time of year when she makes pumpkin pie, a dollop of thick whipped cream. Black this morning. But the laptop ... in the email there’s always delanceyplace. Sometimes a welcome email from a friend, today some old historic Navy pictures from MJ --  the battleship reminds me that Captain Brown who ran USS MISSOURI aground was once the CO of our Navy base here, and a member of our church and a friend, how sad my parents were when the grounding ended his career. Only this week I said I’d never missed the Navy but sometimes I wonder if I lied t

Pogo and the Visigoths

Pogo and the Visigoths Difficult to say nothing, indeed, saying nothing spells cowardice the other side of the Bully coin and as guilty.  LAX s hooter, shopping mall shooters, bombers, bullies, suicide bombers at Iranian embassy in Beirut kill at least 23, shooters at schools, Richie Incognito bullied as a boy, now obscenely, perversely a contemptible racist bully himself. LaPierre and his goons in the national Capitol. Taliban and al Qaeda self-righteous bullies and center evil of the universe, breaking into a hospital in Syria, dragging out a wounded soldier, decapitating him  and gleefully dancing about with his head,  only to find out he was one of their own soldiers being treated in hospital. IRS. Assad in Syria, all who support Assad, all who oppose Assad, Assad himself. Netanyahu for U.S. Secretary of State? NSA. Everyone with power over others, God help us even kindly National Park Service rangers during The Shutdown showing bully colors vice gentle heroes in sheeps cloth

817 & 403

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817 & 403 Five Gold Rings & Four on the Tree My NFL memory. Autumn 1971/2/3 getting off the gray Navy bus in Cincinnati with RearAdmiral Chet Heffner and others and watching Browns fans, the manhood of Cleveland, exiting  their bus loaded up drunk and steaming toward the stadium gate chugging  DE fense   DE fense DE fense DE fense   DE fense  strutting macho as a fascist firedrill. That’s my view of pro football and Incognito hasn't helped: grow up. Compared to CFB, why Tebow would want that for his life instead of working with youngsters as a CFB coach or high school head coach beats the hell out of me. Matthew 6:24, Tim, let him who has ears hear, how loud does the Lord have to speak, how hard does God have to shake you? Grow up, be a man, praise the Lord, say another prayer and get a job. Though he does sell TT memorabilia on his FB page. Watching football games Saturday, I saw a Chevrolet Malibu commercial. For some reason -- no, truth, there's no rea

MGoBlue

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No sense to some fool priest’s CFB two cents, but anybody who watched something else during the Auburn Georgia game deserved to miss the game of the season. One of those games where Bubba had a favorite but not a Dawg in the fight -- in fact, a Gator never has a Dawg in the fight, never, never, ever . Going down to the final couple minutes it looked like the Tiger was about to snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory. If Bubba was a religious man he would rate that final Auburn touchdown an Act of God, did you see that ball bounce? only the Holy Ghost could pull that off, St. Nick and St. Ricardo getting their miracles for canonization. Even so it wasn’t over till the clock said. Georgia did a scrappy comeback.  Gators did respectable against SCar, but Coach pulled it out. Love this morning: BCS projections slipping OSU below Baylor. Disagree, but love. MGoBlue in third overtime. How many EMS ambulances were in the parking lot to deal with heart attacks? T