Never have I felt myself a spiritual person, somewhat religious but not spiritual. Maybe high, lit, pied, stoned in the sense of share a little tea with Goldie, but still not. That was her skit, Goldie Hawn’s segment on Rowan and Martin’s Laugh In, weekly television favorite my year at Naval War College 1968-69, anticipated and the total conversation in the carpool of officers the next morning. At some point, Richard Nixon appeared saying, “Sock it to me?”
He's the only man who got my vote for president three times, but a Navy CPO who worked for me 1959-61 had worked for Nixon and detested him as an arrogant essohbee. Chief Cook was his name, don't remember his first name, stories of train whistle stops with President Eisenhower and running out of Hellmann's, the only mayo Ike would eat, and, with a secret service escort, running into town, buying a few jars, grabbing a taxi and meeting the train at the next stop.
Laugh In, and a key memory of that year, my second tour in the frigid northland: after hearing the snow plow scrape by in the night, the next morning finding a white Dodge station wagon at the curb and shoveling it out of a mountain of snow in Newport, RI, from whence we PCS’d to San Diego and I went back to sea for two years during the Vietnam War.
Appreciating this morning: Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation except that today he begins, “We all want resurrection” and my reaction is that he should speak for himself. Okay for the balance of the essay.
The moon has set and but for stripes of pink clouds the sky is clear as Tuesday comes present and accounted for.
setting moon from PB407 with thanks