The musings of a middle-aged (Middle of what?! How many 122 year-old men do you know?) father, husband, teacher, actor, singer, storyteller and poet who has deeply held beliefs on politics, ethics, and love and who is awfully wishy-washy on other stuff.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Save the Coosa River Basin!
The Etowah Darter(from the CRBI website)
Please consider joining the Coosa River Basin Initiative for 2010. Dues are $35. The mission of this wonderful grass-roots environmental organization is to preserve and protect the Coosa River watershed, so vital to the health, economy, recreation, and wildlife of all of Northwest Georgia. Immediate and important battles coming up in the new year include:
• protecting our watershed and others from the transfer of millions of addition gallons per day to satisfy that leaky wasteful behemoth Atlanta that sucks so much already from Lake Lanier and the little Chattahoochee daily. Sign the No Water Grabs petition!
• stopping overdevelopment in the floodplain of the Coosa, the Etowah, and the Oostanaula, including the incredible plan for the City of Rome to gift 60 wetland acres of our central park in the very heart of Rome to developers for a song, allowing the developers to fill the duck pond and wetland with dirt and erect yet another strip shopping center within a mile of what must surely be acres of unoccupied retail, office, and commercial space.
I am a newly elected member of the board of directors of CRBI and I'd love to feel that I had a part in drumming up some more help. If we do not let our city, county, and state leaders know that we oppose these unhealthy, and really unwise policies, our children and grandchildren and great grandchildren will miss out on having this wonderful wetland and greenspace in the center of our city. And they will not continue to have the river system with the most diverse ecology in the US, as they do now.
CRBI is the most effective force for the environment we have in Northwest Georgia. Be a part of it.
Can you tell I feel strongly about this?
Visit www.coosa.org for more facts and membership info.
Twenty-odd years ago a young woman was advised to abort the human seed growing in her body. Doctors feared her necessary medical treatments would seriously damage her baby. She had a choice to make and chose instead to allow that sprouting embryo to grow. She would pray for a healthy baby but accept the outcome whatever it was. After exiting her womb, that bundle of potentiality became one of the great college football players of all time.
I applaud her choice.
I am glad she had a choice to make.
I could not criticize her if her choice had been the reverse.
Now, the fact is, an abortion is ALWAYS a brutal, painful, agonizing, choice to make. Anyone who tries to trivialize it is foolish, in my book. Anyone who would use abortion as casually as spermicide or a condom will rue that choice if they have an ounce of humanity. We are doing a great disservice to the young women of our country by so callously accepting the huge number of abortions currently happening. That such an astronomical number of our young women are allowing themselves to be used by uncommitted men is painful to me. That this joyless debauchery is resulting in way too many young women having unwanted pregnancies and then way too many abortions is sad. If we believe to our bones, as I do, that women have an unalienable right to choose abortion, and also believe that abortion is harmful to the women involved, we have a responsibilty to work to prevent that choice from having to be made so often.
The response by some pro-choice groups to the case above will do more damage to the pro-choice cause than fifty anti-abortion Super Bowl ads. The majority of Americans are pro-choice AND anti-abortion. If the screamers appear, as they do, pro-abortion, they will offend at least three-quarters of the people paying attention, in my opinion. They offend me.
The proper attitude of pro-choice groups should be to applaud that mother for the choice she made two decades ago and to proclaim their dedication to assuring that all women continue to have a choice.
I suppose I must have been a husky baby. My parents said that was how I earned the nickname. At 5'8" I'm not now exactly the image that comes to the minds of others when you call, "Samson!"
Grady Columbus Shaw, Jr.
But "Samson" I have been for 62 years -- to you. And for not quite so long to my cousin Gordon, and "Mama Shaw", and Uncle James, Bill, Jack, and "Daddy Shaw". I really didn't even notice it much, I was so used to it growing up. A few months ago, when I walked across the parking lot at Gordon's funeral to greet you and Margaret through your driver's side window, I'm not sure your, "Hey there, Samson!" registered at first. The warmth registered. The genuine joy to see me registered. And that silly appellation helped communicate it.
Margaret, Danny, and Grady
Yesterday, only moments after I learned that Grady Columbus Shaw, Jr. had died, it struck me that I will on Earth never again hear that particular communication of love and joy. That all the members of that boisterous group of Shaw brothers, and their parents, are gone now.
And all by myself, I choked up. Silly, I guess.
You were never quite as merciless in your teasing of the oldest grandson as the wise-cracking Bill or Jack. You could tease, too, but always with an "aw, shucks" in your voice and a twinkle in your eye. You were unfailingly generous and kind. For your last few years you had that unsightly cancer on your face. At Gordon's funeral I noticed a little boy, maybe 7 or 8, watching you. Finally he could stand it no more and came right up to you asked, "What's wrong with your nose, mister?" You betrayed no discomfort at all, and replied in that same soft kind voice I've known all my life, "It's just a sore, son." The boy was satisfied and moved on. And so did you.
Grady Columbus Shaw, Jr. is fourth from the left in the front. He flew 20 missions in the Pacific during World War II as a nose bomber on a B24 Liberator. He was part of the 31st Bomb Squadron - Hofer Crew (Four Fan Fanny, Serial 44-41669).
My mother says that you were to her more brother than in-law since you were a young teen when she became the teenaged bride of your older brother. She says that she and you and Bill played together, and in a way, grew up together.
(l-r) James, Bil, and Grady (Junior) Shaw
I know that I loved seeing you even more in recent years, if for no other reason than the degree to which you recalled for me the voice, the carriage, the love of life, of my father whom I still ache for after almost 24 years.
So, Uncle Grady -- I've finally gotten used to that more respectful way to address you -- I won't pretend to know how these things work, but I hope that you are somewhere now with Charles, and James, and Bill, and Jack, and maybe Gordon -- all of you laughing your heads off, Bill almost snorting and choking at Jack's shenanigans. Maybe there are some fire crackers. Maybe cigarettes don't cause harm here. They ARE a handy way to light the fuses. Or maybe the Lord allows dogs, and you have Trouble, the Boston Terrier, to pester. Mama Shaw in apron, cooking a feast, fusses at you from the kitchen, probably, and Daddy Shaw responds with a grin, "Good Grannies, Lillian, (pronounce that 'Lil-yun') let the boys have fun. I swanie, it's about time!"
(l-r) Joan Shaw (Turrentine), Ruth Baird Shaw, Charles Shaw, Lillian Shaw (Mama Shaw ), Bill Shaw (making a face, of course), James Shaw, Margaret Shaw (partially hidden), Grady Shaw, Sr. (Daddy Shaw - foreground), Grady Shaw, Jr.
If that's the way it works, your brothers are a happy crew today.
But back here we're not feeling so hot. There are tears for our loss and a few regrets for phone calls and visits unmade. We will bury you on Wednesday near the earthly remains of Charles, James, Bill, Jack, Mama Shaw and Daddy Shaw. We will gather later to remember you at Avondale-Patillo United Methodist Church. Jim will preach. Others may say a few words. And I will sing "Amazing Grace", sadly aware that, although I will always be...
We have heard Bil Lepp tell his lies several times now. Last January we heard Bil at the wonderful Pike Pidders Storytelling Festival at Troy State University in Alabama. Hilarious. Then we got to hear him again at the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, TN in October. We bought two of his CDs and have enjoyed listening to his stories in the car on trips. Bil is an ordained Methodist minister as well as official West Virginia Champion liar. There is no inconsistency in this, is there Jim, Mother, David, Warren, Jared, Parson, Jacqui, Maria? This morning I listened to an actual sermon* by Bil. Not bad.
Here is a short essay: A Plea for Plungers. It is a plea all my blogging & Facebook Friends should heed.
Go Tell It On the Mountain --- in several genres!! Jesus Christ is born!
Choral:
Aretha Franklin (Soul):
Dolly Parton (Country) -- Dolly's distractions aside, this is a joyous version. (You have to click the link to see this one.) James Taylor (Folk/Rock):
(reposted fro 12/27/2008) Noel Paul Stookey is one of my favorite musicians. He is one third of Peter, Paul, and Mary. He is also an exceptional solo performer. Here he is with an unusual Christmas song for the Second Day of Christmas - "Christmas Dinner.
(reposted fro 12/26/2008) Christmastide began last night and stretches through Epiphany on January Sixth. So in honor of that tradition here's John Denver with the famous muppets and an early Sunday Concert:
I continue to recycle old Christmas posts. Here's one from 12/11/2005:
Daddy's Roses writes good advice today about staying young. My wife keeps me from aging quite so quickly by dragging me to, among other things, the Christmas Parade. The Median Sib writes today of a Tennessee Christmas Parade. Sounds a lot like the Rome, Georgia parade to me. We don't have tractors, except the tractor-trailor variety.
We had to go the the parade when our kids were little because it is a part of common law that little kids have to go to the Christmas Parade. We braved the elements to watch in their school years because they were in the parade (band, scouts, school floats, etc.) and there is a well-established law that requires parents to attend when kids are on display. This year we had no child in the parade. Sheila drug me there anyway.
And I'm glad she did.
We have float competitions, so there are always floats with someone holding an award plaque. And each participant has a number. We have about 120 or so. Several bands, businesses, radio stations, churches, scout troops, civic groups, Ret Hat ladies, Shriners, Sons of Confederate Vets, retirement homes, and, of course, Miss This, Miss That, and Little Miss the Other.
Up and down the crowds roam venders hawking glow sticks, balloons, etc. All very picturesque -- and youthifying, I'm sure.
(This is a reposting of a golden oldie. This epistle was originally posted 12/25/2007)
A Happy Christmas to All!!
We divided this poem up among my 26 students and practiced using our strongest voices and our most eloquent expression. Of course, we forgot strong and expressive voices completely when we recited the poem for parents.
Everybody knows this one. It is a delightful Christmas tradition. It names the eight reindeer. It gives a wonderful description of Saint Nicholas. You can sing it. It is a vocabulary builder.
(Added 1-03-08: Hear my podcast of this poem here.)
A Visit from St. Nicholas
’T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle, But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
-- Clement Moore
NOTES
Clement Moore -- There is a lot of disagreement about whether or not this famous poem was written by Clement Moore.
sugar-plums -- small balls of sugar candy.
droll -- an adjective to describe something comical or odd.
Donder and Blitzen -- Donder is often called “Donner”. And at one time Blitzen was called “Blixem”! Here is a website that tells that story. Can you name all of Santa’s Reindeer?
Tomorrow night will be the longest of the year. Our church has used the winter solstice as a opportunity to minister to those who have a tough time at Christmas. It is tough to be alone at Christmas, or deal with sad remembrances or betrayal or job loss or illness. Here's what our pastor, David Campbell wrote about the Longest Night service:
Thirty years ago this past Sunday, my grandfather passed away. It was a Thursday evening. He had been sick for a while. I came home from some after-school activity, and got the news that he was gone. I was sixteen. He was seventy-three. It was the first time in my life I faced a loss this close. This says of course, I was blessed. Many people don’t have all their grandparents until they are sixteen. I did. And they lived close by and I have many fond memories of them all.
And of course, my loss was nothing compared to my grandmother’s. I had lost one of four grandparents. She had lost her husband of 43 years. She had lost her life partner. I could not imagine then, nor can I imagine now, how difficult the Christmas of ’79 was for my grandmother. Christmas for her, would never be the same.
And so it is for many people. Maybe it is the death of a spouse… or a sibling… or a child. Maybe it is an illness or divorce. Maybe you find yourself unemployed for the first time in many years. Maybe your health is not what is used to be. There are many ways to experience loss. And that experience affects others, including Christmas.
That is why we do the Service of Longest Night. We sing of “Good tidings of comfort and joy.” Most Christmas services focus on “joy”. This one is designed to focus on “comfort”. Each year, we hear from someone in the congregation who has suffered loss.
This year, Andrew Lewis will speak. As most of you know, in the summer of 2006, Andrew suffered a stroke. That is not anything you expect in your twenties. It changed his life. He will share of that experience and how God worked in his life through this difficult time. As always, there will be time for people to come and pray. You can light a candle (or candles) to symbolize an event in your life.
If you are going through a difficult December, this is for you. Know you are invited. If you know someone who could benefit, please invite and bring them. Even in the most painful times of life, God is still with us. Come and hear that word on December 21st (The longest night of the year) at 6:00.
The fact that Andrew Lewis is my beloved nephew has nothing to do with my invitation! ;-)
Whether or not you attend the Longest Night service, I hope you will drop by by Trinity United Methodist Church on Turner-McCall Boulevard in Rome for the Live Nativity Scene tonight or one of the following four nights, 7-9 p.m. to meditate a while about the real Christmas story. It's been a part of my family tradition since 1962. Some of you were there in the late fifties whn the Live Nativity at Trinity was initiated. Come on into the fellowship hall to warm up and, if you like, become a part of the scene. I usually try to take a turn standing on Christmas Eve. If you see a shepherd or wise man who looks a bit like Terrell, please stick around till my half-hour shift is done and say Hi! If you come on Christmas Eve you might also enjoy the Candlelight service (at 4 p.m. or at 5:30 p.m.) in the sanctuary before the Nativity Scene begins.
Jack invited me to his church to see him in their Christmas pageant. It isn't often that a fourth-grader so formally asks my presence at a weekend event. I asked if he had lines, yes, he admitted, several. He didn't mention a song. He seemed so serious, yet humble in his request, I thought I'd do it. As Sheila and I were waiting for our soup and sandwich lunches at Panera today Jack & his mom popped up to repeat his request and I decided to really make the effort. I'm so glad I did.
The large Baptist church is nearly filled this Sunday night. The center chancel area is stacked with three tall tiers for a choir of about thirty. An inn door is erected on stage left and the adjacent stable at stage right. The lighting, sound, costumes, and sets are elaborate.
The pastor talks with a small group of children about the Christmas story as the lights reveal Isaiah for a monologue, then the desperate couple wander through the congregation seeking a room, finally having to settle for the stable. Gabriel startles everyone with sudden appearances. Between scenes the choir beautifully sings "Lo, How a Rose" and "Silent Night" and other carols. Then the shepherds are surprised by Gabriel and his host (the choir). Jack is the smallest shepherd. My quiet 9-year-old student delivers his lines with conviction and abandon! .. and even humor.
When the other shepherds visit the stable, someone must stay with the sheep. Jack's lack of seniority, I suppose, condemns him to that role. And that's when I get my surprise. He gets to imagine what he would present the newborn king with Christina Rosetti's words as he sings an excerpt (the last two stanzas I think) of the beautiful poem/carol "In the Bleak Mid-winter".
In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away When He comes to reign: In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim Worship night and day, A breastful of milk And a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him, whom angels Fall down before, The ox and ass and camel Which adore.
Angels and archangels May have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim Thronged the air, But only His mother In her maiden bliss, Worshipped the Beloved With a kiss.
What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, If I were a wise man I would do my part, Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.
- Christina Rossetti
I would like to have found a solo version of the song for you, but I didn't care for those I could find on YouTube. Here is the Gloucester Cathedral Choir with a very nice bonus Sunday Concert in honor of Jack:
There must have been a hundred voices in the combined choirs. There was a handbell choir. There was an eloquent opening prayer by Warren Jones. A kids choir. A wonderful soloist for "O Holy Night". There was beautiful narration of the Christmas story by Jacqui Rose-Tucker. There were opportunities for the thousand or so inspired listeners to contribute voice to six carols interspersed through the evening. There was rousing brass, stirring woodwinds, dramatic percussion. There were varied and interesting arrangements:
• a magnificent overture that set the stage perfectly. • a performance of the lovely "Do You Hear What I hear?" that reached out and shook you with the question, demanding a thoughtful answer • a very Middle Eastern "We Three Kings" that evoked minarets and camels and maybe a belly-dancer here and there arranged by... ... our own Sam Baltzer. One expected to see the three Kings swaying into the Forum in gaudy silks high atop their camels following that Star. • and some of us added our own Halelujahs to Handel's famous Chorus at the end.
Wow.
There may be another town our size somewhere that enjoys as much great free music, but surely none better. Sam Baltzer is a Rome treasure.
If the Christmas season ended tonight, I'd rank it pretty high just for tonight!
He loved being a daddy and granddaddy. He doted on each of those grandchildren. He invented a ridiculous name for each...Whippersnapper, Scamp, Scalawag. And one the grandkids eventually came up with an unusual name for the granddad which was soon adopted by all the others.
This year, 1986, almost the whole clan gathered for a three day family reunion at Thanksgiving. They got together at a daughter’s home in Tennessee. There was great food. There were family stories. The whole bunch crowded into the Grand Old Opry to hear Little Jimmy Dickens and Sarah Cannon (Minnie Pearl). He took about half the bunch with him to a big craft/antique fair. Back at the haouse there was more laughing and joking and more stories and more food. And on that last day, as everyone was ready to drive off toward their separate cities and towns and states, someone said: “We ought to take some pictures!” So some were dragged back inside to pose. There were pictures made of just about every combination of grandparents, parents, and children imaginable.
He hated to leave, but he had something up his sleeve. He was glad to get back to his special projects.
You see he had decided to use his woodworking shop to build a memento for each of the children. Sleds for the boys - some were Yankees and could use them - and doll cradles for the girls - just right for the Cabbage Patch dolls every child had in 1986.
Monday and Tuesday, December first and second he spent a good bit of time gathering materials. Making drawings and templates. By Wednesday afternoon, December third, his basement shop was strewn with maple and oak and pine pieces. There were cardboard templates of cradle rockers and sled runners. There were some pieces already cut and ready for sanding. Others were marked for cutting. He had been there for a bit that morning I imagine. His jacket was hanging on a nail by the back door with his carpenters pencil and rule in the pocket.
But he wasn’t there.
He had gone out to bring in some firewood that morning. Collapsed into a chair. The EMTs worked to revive him as they sped to the hospital but it was to no avail. He died before noon.
That afternoon his son walked around the house, trying to find a way to cope with overwhelming grief. Then the son walked down those stairs into the basement workshop. He could smell the cut wood and in that jacket by the door he could even smell his Dad's Old Spice and sweat. He could see his Dad in the care and love invested in patterns and pieces of wood. And suddenly he knew how to use the grief. His father had left therapy all around that basement.
He called his brother. “You take the sleds. I’ll handle the cradles.” For three weeks they were their father’s hands on earth. For three weeks they cut and shaped and sanded and stained and polished. There have never been sleds or cradles more saturated with love.
And on Christmas morning 10 children found under their Christmas trees beautiful final gifts from their loving Grandshaw -- that was their silly name for him.
But my brother and I had received the greatest gift of all that Christmas of 1986... our father gave us a job to do.
I wrote a poem about Daddy’s workshop and those sleds and cradles:
In Daddy’s Workshop, The Day He Died December 3, 1986 for Charles Shaw, 1919-1986
Scraps of pine, pieces of oak await his hands measuring, guiding the teeth of a saw, — the bite of a router, — the grit of a sander, — color from a brush, — the polishing rag. His stubby fingers trace the shaped edges; test the smooth surface.
Scent of pine, and pungent oak mingle with his in the denim jacket on a nail near the door, with pocketed pencil and tape handy.
He stands here, hours ago, the great boy, planning his surprise, sketching, exploring the shapes to be formed.
Scraps of pine, pieces of oak — want cutting, shaping, sanding, shining; — cry to be more: sled, cradle, rocking horse; — await his hands.
He speaks to the scraps and pieces: “Tomorrow I’ll buy maple for the runners.”
Tomorrow is here;
and he is here — in scraps and pieces — in scent and plans; and here am I, — his hands.
Scraps of pine, pieces of oak cry to the him in me:
You have rockers, ends, planks, plans, and three weeks till Christmas.
On Thursday at the Rome/Carrollton District United Methodist pastors' Christmas dinner I concluded this way:
Now I’m a double Methodist PK. My wonderful mother is right here in my audience so I’ll have to finish up this most personal of stories by reminding you that...
Another Father has given a bunch of jobs to be completed right here in the north and west part of Georgia. And I for one am very grateful for the way Charles Shaw and Ruth Shaw have worked at those jobs. But I’m also very grateful for the way Jim Turrentine and David Campbell and Warren Jones and Jacqui Rose-Tucker and Dewey Bailey [who told a story tonight that I’d never heard about my Dad] ....and all of you in this room... are working as the Father’s hands on Earth.
Another glorious Thanksgiving. Mama read the 100th Psalm and led us in a prayer Then we sang the doxology and dug into a record breaking collection of wonderful recipes. Turkey, cornbread-dressing, spiral-sliced ham, onion pie, yeast rolls, tomato pie, various cranberry sauces including a tart sauce for the meat that includes cranberries and horseradish and onion, a cranberry sauce hors d'oeuvre made of slices of jellied cranberry sauce with walnuts and a cream cheese concoction, regular pound cake, chocolate pound cake, pecan pie, ... I could go on.
My favorite dessert was Lillian's Skillet Apple Pie. The recipe comes from the Taste and See That the Lord is Good Cookbook published by the Tallahassee Heights United Methodist Church. One stick butter Two pie crusts Half cup of granulated sugar Two teaspoons cinnamon One cup brown sugar Four to sic Granny Smith apples
Preheat oven to 350° Put butter in skillet and place in oven to melt. Stir brown sugar into butter till blended well. Place one pie crust on top of mixture in skillet. Place sliced apples on that. Mix cinnamon with granulated sugar and sprinkle onto apples. Top this with the second crust. Make small slits in crust. Brush crust with butter and sprinkle with a little sugar. Bake 45 minutes until lightly browned. Serve warm and top with a generous dollop of ice cream. Yum!
Thanksgiving doubles in our family as a celebration for our birthday buddies, Joan and Amanda. And this year we had the added attraction of our little grand-niece fräulein, Emma, who is visiting with her Mom and Dad, Michi and Josh. What a little charmer!
I am a blessed man in too many ways to enumerate. A loving wife. Two great young women who call me "Dad". A brilliant and adoring and adorable mother. A generous and thoughtful extended family of five sisters, a brother, and a whole passel of neices and nephews and the resulting greats and in-laws. I married into another whole wonderful family that treats me like blood kin. I live in the greatest country on earth that allows me to think for myself. I have a job that allows me to perform (one of my favorite activities) and fool around in nature (another favorite pasttime). I live in a beautiful old house smack in the middle of a gorgeous town, with a riverside walking trail right out my back door, and two blocks from the church where I worship. I have a heritage of smart, funny, boisterous, reverent, affectionate loved ones that I remember with true love and gratitude this Thanksgiving day. Thank you Lord!
Continuing a tradition begun by Abraham Lincoln in 1863, President Obama made the following proclamation for Thanksgiving, 2009.
A PROCLAMATION
What began as a harvest celebration between European settlers and indigenous communities nearly four centuries ago has become our cherished tradition of Thanksgiving. This day's roots are intertwined with those of our Nation, and its history traces the American narrative.
Today, we recall President George Washington, who proclaimed our first national day of public thanksgiving to be observed "by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God," and President Abraham Lincoln, who established our annual Thanksgiving Day to help mend a fractured Nation in the midst of civil war. We also recognize the contributions of Native Americans, who helped the early colonists survive their first harsh winter and continue to strengthen our Nation. From our earliest days of independence, and in times of tragedy and triumph, Americans have come together to celebrate Thanksgiving.
As Americans, we hail from every part of the world. While we observe traditions from every culture, Thanksgiving Day is a unique national tradition we all share. Its spirit binds us together as one people, each of us thankful for our common blessings.
As we gather once again among loved ones, let us also reach out to our neighbors and fellow citizens in need of a helping hand. This is a time for us to renew our bonds with one another, and we can fulfill that commitment by serving our communities and our Nation throughout the year. In doing so, we pay tribute to our country's men and women in uniform who set an example of service that inspires us all. Let us be guided by the legacy of those who have fought for the freedoms for which we give thanks, and be worthy heirs to the noble tradition of goodwill shown on this day.
NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Thursday, November 26, 2009, as a National Day of Thanksgiving. I encourage all the people of the United States to come together, whether in our homes, places of worship, community centers, or any place where family, friends and neighbors may gather, with gratitude for all we have received in the past year; to express appreciation to those whose lives enrich our own; and to share our bounty with others.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this twentieth day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand nine, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-fourth.
Few have as much for which to be thankful on this American holiday. Here is a post I wrote about a few of my many blessings. It was written in February 2007.
_________
Seven Blessings: First Edition
I am surely the most blessed human being in the world. I am so incredibly blessed that it is hard to know where to start. Since this is the first edition of what will, perhaps, be a series, I feel an obligation to be basic. Two of my sisters (I have five) have already posted theirs. You can check them out at Sunday Seven. Here we go --
1. I am constantly blessed by my family:
I live with someone who loves me and whom I love and trust and have fun with. I have two daughters who love me, tell me so, and despite their occasional aggravation with me, seem absolutely devoted to me. I admire each more than they can know. I am the son of an incredible woman who is a pastor, writer, poet, wonderful cook, and loving mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. I am a sibling to six other people and a brother-in-law to several more and the uncle or cousin of a bunch more, all of whom get along remarkably well, with only occasional growls - usually about political stuff - all of whom love each other, treat each other's children like their own, and seem to actually enjoy being together.
I had a father whose love for me was unconditional, thank goodness, since I was a petulant teen at times. I was spoiled rotten by my paternal grandparents and adored my maternal grandmother and even though my mother's father died when she was a child his tremendous influence on her and her siblings was a positive influence on me as well. I don't want to leave out my wonderful aunts and uncles: Aunt Mary kept my baby picture on her bedroom wall till the day she died. Uncle Tom, the State Patrolman, let me off the hook and didn't tell Mama and Daddy when he stopped teen Terrell that night ("Please, Lord," I prayed, "don't let that be Uncle Tom!" It was.) Daddy's brothers called me "Sampson", Uncle Grady still does, and teased me mercilessly, (and I loved it) and slipped me nickels for slushy Cokes out of the barber shop Cokebox and dimes for ice cream cones down the street at the drug store.
My wife's family adopted me as soon as Sheila did, as a full-fledged member of that family, and I love them just as much as my own.
2. I am blessed to be an American.
Other countries' skies are as blue; their mountains are sometimes even higher; their flora and fauna as fascinating; their people and customs as intriquing; or as Lloyd Stone wrote in the wonderful hymn:
This is my song, Oh God of all the nations, A song of peace for lands afar and mine. This is my home, the country where my heart is; Here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine. But other hearts in other lands are beating, With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country's skies are bluer than the ocean, And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine. But other lands have sunlight too and clover, And skies are everywhere as blue as mine. Oh hear my song, oh God of all the nations, A song of peace for their land and for mine.
I will not pretend that my country is perfect. It has often fallen short of its promise. But what a promise. What a dream. What a beacon of light it has been at its best!
5. I am blessed with pretty good health for a nearly sixty-year-old.
I take an aspirin a day, a small BP pill, and something for triglicerides. I have an achy foot and generally achy joints, but after I quit taking Crestor, the big hurts stopped (If you are taking that stuff and start to have major joint pain, talk to your doctor!) Trying to get the cholesterol down with oatmeal and walking is sometimes a pain, figuratively, but getting it down with Crestor was always a literal pain.
6. Speaking of walking, I am blessed to live where a wonderful walking path goes right past my backyard.
I walk at least 3 to 5 times a week usually 2 or 3 miles at a time, along our scenic Riverwalk or through our quaint downtown. My companion is a wonderful conversationalist, who laughs at my wit, and who loves me - my wife.
7. What a blessing singing has been to me.
It has made me a bunch of friends. It helped me win Sheila. It has allowed me to show out on stage in a bunch of musicals. It provided me some of my favorite experiences with my daughters. It gives me some of my favorite teaching moments. It has given me some of the most intensely joyful moments of my life.
Oh, my! I've just gotten started! But Sundays roll around every seven days.
Another in my lazy man's posts for Thanksgiving Week. This was an thinly disguised effort to rev up my readership during the Hallothanksmas Season by posting a recipe for a dish much loved by many but not by me.
From November 2007: __________
I am not fond of Sweet Potato Soufflé. Georgia Warner was a great friend of my late mother-in-law, Mavis Matthews. I am posting Georgia's recipe -- which I am assured by connoisseurs of Sweet Potato Soufflé is an excellent one -- for purely ulterior motives.
Georgia's Sweet Potato Soufflé
3 cups of mashed sweet potatoes 1 cup of oleo, melted and cooled 2/3 cup of canned milk 1 cup of sugar 3 eggs 1 teaspoon of vanilla
Mix the above ingredients and pour into a casserole dish.
Then:
1 packed cup of brown sugar 1/3 cup of flour 1 cup of chopped Georgia pecans 1/3 cup of softened oleo
Mix these ingredients and spread over the potatoes. Bake at 350° for one hour.
- Georgia Warner From Taste and See That the Lord is Good (Psalm 34:8) A cookbook from Tallahassee Heights United Methodist Church
For toilet paper (What percentage of humans in history have had such a luxury?)
And while we're at it, for indoor flush toilets. (I have walked a path at night, indoor flush is preferable.)
For opposable thumbs (Without them, no Lord of the Rings or 23rd Psalm... or Sweet Potato Soufflé, for that matter.)
For persistence of vision (OK, this theory has been debunked, but I'm thankful for persistence of conciousness or whatever it is about us that allows us to perceive the present and connect it to the past and even envision a future.)
For iPod (All my music in a package smaller than a cigarette pack, for heavens sake!)
For ice cream (Only we twentieth and twenty-first century folks get to eat this delicacy regularly, though Dolley Madison served it at James' inauguration. I'll bet James never had a dish of Jamocha Almond Fudge or Moose Tracks.)
For Thomas Edison (and Henry Ford, Steve Wozniak, and all those other guys) who came up with ways to make me more enlightened (after a fashion) than the great Kings, Philosophers, Heroes, and Conquerors of the past.
For the wonderful interaction of a mixture of gases with the flora and fauna and soil and copious amounts of liquid water and sunlight on our beautiful blue marble that allows this grand but isolated oasis to support me and mine.
For family days and dinners with Mama's Yeast Rolls, spiral-sliced ham and a huge turkey, mashed potatoes and Mama's Wonderful Dressing, Carol's Famous Apple Pie, Mama's Marinated Carrots, and, yes my friends, Sweet Potato Soufflé. Yes, I said, Sweet Potato Soufflé. That's Sweet Potato Soufflé. And Southern Pecan Pie. And delicious Banana Pudding. (Do think Mary Winkler would like Sweet Potato Souffle? Or Crawford Loritts? Do Sunnis, Shites, and Kurds eat Sweet Potato Souffle? Is this dish the attraction to all those illegal Mexican immigrants? Will a huge fence from the mouth of the Rio Grande to the Pacific keep out those determined to have Sweet Potato Souffle? Can I sink any lower in my quest for Sitemeter hits? As I've said, I don't even like Sweet Potato Souffle, and I'm tired of reading about Mary Winkler, bless her heart! And what, after all, does the best Scrabble play ever recorded add up to? Scrabble's "Don Larsen" is Michael Cresta, a carpenter.)
For the wonderful laughter that follows lines like these:
"...cows have many." "...there goes a chicken!' "...boom, boom!"
Thanksgiving Edition
Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
I have been so neglectful of the Limb of late! Here is the first of a few oldie goldies(?) for you for this week of Thanksgiving.
From November 19, 2007:
_________
Acrostic poems are great for special occasions at school. Kids like structure. They want to know how to DO it. The acrostic gives them a beginning point for each line, but a lot of leeway for what follows. Aileen Fisher's little acrostic of thanksgiving is a great model.
All in a Word
T for time to be together, turkey, talk, and tangy weather. H for harvest stored away, home, and hearth, and holiday. A for autumn's frosty art, and abundance in the heart. N for neighbors, and November, nice things, new things to remember. K for kitchen, kettles' croon, kith and kin expected soon. S for sizzles, sights, and sounds, and something special that abounds. That spells ~~~THANKS---for joy in living and a jolly good Thanksgiving.
- Aileen Fisher
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The series of posts, A Poem to Start the Week, is my little anthology of poetry, many of which I have used with my students in elementary schools during 27 years of teaching.
Sunday Concert - Fear Builds Walls Instead of Bridges
Good morning! I have been sorely neglecting my blog and my Sunday Concert offerings!
This is one of my favorite tunes, and I also love the hymns to this tune: "This is my Song" for its message of brotherhood and "Be Still My Soul".
I've written a couple of times about "This is my Song" and "Finlandia" A Sunday Seven Finlandia
Now I can add another hymn that uses Sibelius' beautiful "Finlandia". This is sung as part of one of the Gaither Homecoming concerts and is new to me.
I then shall live. As one who's been forgiven. I'll walk with joy to know my debts are paid. I know my name is clear before my father. I am his child and I am not afraid. So greatly pardoned I'll forgive my brother The Law of love I gladly will obey
I then shall live as one who's learned compassion. I've been so loved That I'll risk loving too. I know how fear builds walls instead of bridges I'll dare to see another's point of view And when relationships demand commitment Then I'll be there to care and follow through.
Your kingdom come, around, and through, and in me Your power and glory, let them shine through me Your hallowed name, oh may I bear with honor And may Your living kingdom come in me The Bread of Life! Oh May I share with honor And may you feed a hungry world through me
Remarks of President Barack Obama - As Prepared for Delivery
Memorial Service at Fort Hood
November 10, 2009
We come together filled with sorrow for the thirteen Americans that we have lost; with gratitude for the lives that they led; and with a determination to honor them through the work we carry on.
This is a time of war. And yet these Americans did not die on a foreign field of battle. They were killed here, on American soil, in the heart of this great American community. It is this fact that makes the tragedy even more painful and even more incomprehensible.
For those families who have lost a loved one, no words can fill the void that has been left. We knew these men and women as soldiers and caregivers. You knew them as mothers and fathers; sons and daughters; sisters and brothers.
But here is what you must also know: your loved ones endure through the life of our nation. Their memory will be honored in the places they lived and by the people they touched. Their life's work is our security, and the freedom that we too often take for granted. Every evening that the sun sets on a tranquil town; every dawn that a flag is unfurled; every moment that an American enjoys life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness - that is their legacy.
Neither this country - nor the values that we were founded upon - could exist without men and women like these thirteen Americans. And that is why we must pay tribute to their stories.
Chief Warrant Officer Michael Cahill had served in the National Guard and worked as a physician's assistant for decades. A husband and father of three, he was so committed to his patients that on the day he died, he was back at work just weeks after having a heart attack.
Major Libardo Eduardo Caraveo spoke little English when he came to America as a teenager. But he put himself through college, earned a PhD, and was helping combat units cope with the stress of deployment. He is survived by his wife, sons and step-daughters.
Staff Sergeant Justin DeCrow joined the Army right after high school, married his high school sweetheart, and had served as a light wheeled mechanic and Satellite Communications Operator. He was known as an optimist, a mentor, and a loving husband and father.
After retiring from the Army as a Major, John Gaffaney cared for society's most vulnerable during two decades as a psychiatric nurse. He spent three years trying to return to active duty in this time of war, and he was preparing to deploy to Iraq as a Captain. He leaves behind a wife and son.
Specialist Frederick Greene was a Tennessean who wanted to join the Army for a long time, and did so in 2008 with the support of his family. As a combat engineer he was a natural leader, and he is survived by his wife and two daughters.
Specialist Jason Hunt was also recently married, with three children to care for. He joined the Army after high school. He did a tour in Iraq, and it was there that he re-enlisted for six more years on his 21st birthday so that he could continue to serve.
Staff Sergeant Amy Krueger was an athlete in high school, joined the Army shortly after 9/11, and had since returned home to speak to students about her experience. When her mother told her she couldn't take on Osama bin Laden by herself, Amy replied: "Watch me."
Private First Class Aaron Nemelka was an Eagle Scout who just recently signed up to do one of the most dangerous jobs in the service - defuse bombs - so that he could help save lives. He was proudly carrying on a tradition of military service that runs deep within his family.
Private First Class Michael Pearson loved his family and loved his music, and his goal was to be a music teacher. He excelled at playing the guitar, and could create songs on the spot and show others how to play. He joined the military a year ago, and was preparing for his first deployment.
Captain Russell Seager worked as a nurse for the VA, helping veterans with Post-Traumatic Stress. He had great respect for the military, and signed up to serve so that he could help soldiers cope with the stress of combat and return to civilian life. He leaves behind a wife and son.
Private Francheska Velez, the daughter of a father from Colombia and a Puerto Rican mother, had recently served in Korea and in Iraq, and was pursuing a career in the Army. When she was killed, she was pregnant with her first child, and was excited about becoming a mother.
Lieutenant Colonel Juanita Warman was the daughter and granddaughter of Army veterans. She was a single mother who put herself through college and graduate school, and served as a nurse practitioner while raising her two daughters. She also left behind a loving husband.
Private First Class Kham Xiong came to America from Thailand as a small child. He was a husband and father who followed his brother into the military because his family had a strong history of service. He was preparing for his first deployment to Afghanistan.
These men and women came from all parts of the country. Some had long careers in the military. Some had signed up to serve in the shadow of 9/11. Some had known intense combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, and some cared for those who did. Their lives speak to the strength, the dignity and the decency of those who serve, and that is how they will be remembered.
That same spirit is embodied in the community here at Fort Hood, and in the many wounded who are still recovering. In those terrible minutes during the attack, soldiers made makeshift tourniquets out of their clothes. They braved gunfire to reach the wounded, and ferried them to safety in the backs of cars and a pick-up truck.
One young soldier, Amber Bahr, was so intent on helping others that she did not realize for some time that she, herself, had been shot in the back. Two police officers - Mark Todd and Kim Munley - saved countless lives by risking their own. One medic - Francisco de la Serna - treated both Officer Munley and the gunman who shot her.
It may be hard to comprehend the twisted logic that led to this tragedy. But this much we do know - no faith justifies these murderous and craven acts; no just and loving God looks upon them with favor. And for what he has done, we know that the killer will be met with justice - in this world, and the next.
These are trying times for our country. In Afghanistan and Pakistan, the same extremists who killed nearly 3,000 Americans continue to endanger America, our allies, and innocent Afghans and Pakistanis. In Iraq, we are working to bring a war to a successful end, as there are still those who would deny the Iraqi people the future that Americans and Iraqis have sacrificed so much for.
As we face these challenges, the stories of those at Fort Hood reaffirm the core values that we are fighting for, and the strength that we must draw upon. Theirs are tales of American men and women answering an extraordinary call - the call to serve their comrades, their communities, and their country. In an age of selfishness, they embody responsibility. In an era of division, they call upon us to come together. In a time of cynicism, they remind us of who we are as Americans.
We are a nation that endures because of the courage of those who defend it. We saw that valor in those who braved bullets here at Fort Hood, just as surely as we see it in those who signed up knowing that they would serve in harm's way.
We are a nation of laws whose commitment to justice is so enduring that we would treat a gunman and give him due process, just as surely as we will see that he pays for his crimes.
We are a nation that guarantees the freedom to worship as one chooses. And instead of claiming God for our side, we remember Lincoln's words, and always pray to be on the side of God.
We are a nation that is dedicated to the proposition that all men and women are created equal. We live that truth within our military, and see it in the varied backgrounds of those we lay to rest today. We defend that truth at home and abroad, and we know that Americans will always be found on the side of liberty and equality. That is who we are as a people.
Tomorrow is Veterans Day. It is a chance to pause, and to pay tribute - for students to learn of the struggles that preceded them; for families to honor the service of parents and grandparents; for citizens to reflect upon the sacrifices that have been made in pursuit of a more perfect union.
For history is filled with heroes. You may remember the stories of a grandfather who marched across Europe; an uncle who fought in Vietnam; a sister who served in the Gulf. But as we honor the many generations who have served, I think all of us - every single American - must acknowledge that this generation has more than proved itself the equal of those who have come before.
We need not look to the past for greatness, because it is before our very eyes.
This generation of soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines and Coast Guardsmen have volunteered in a time of certain danger. They are part of the finest fighting force that the world has ever known. They have served tour after tour of duty in distant, different and difficult places. They have stood watch in blinding deserts and on snowy mountains. They have extended the opportunity of self-government to peoples that have suffered tyranny and war. They are man and woman; white, black, and brown; of all faiths and stations - all Americans, serving together to protect our people, while giving others half a world away the chance to lead a better life.
In today's wars, there is not always a simple ceremony that signals our troops' success - no surrender papers to be signed, or capital to be claimed. But the measure of their impact is no less great - in a world of threats that no know borders, it will be marked in the safety of our cities and towns, and the security and opportunity that is extended abroad. And it will serve as testimony to the character of those who serve, and the example that you set for America and for the world.
Here, at Fort Hood, we pay tribute to thirteen men and women who were not able to escape the horror of war, even in the comfort of home. Later today, at Fort Lewis, one community will gather to remember so many in one Stryker Brigade who have fallen in Afghanistan.
Long after they are laid to rest - when the fighting has finished, and our nation has endured; when today's servicemen and women are veterans, and their children have grown - it will be said of this generation that they believed under the most trying of tests; that they persevered not just when it was easy, but when it was hard; and that they paid the price and bore the burden to secure this nation, and stood up for the values that live in the hearts of all free peoples.
So we say goodbye to those who now belong to eternity. We press ahead in pursuit of the peace that guided their service. May God bless the memory of those we lost. And may God bless the United States of America.
I came in dead last. But according to the last count, 4481 voters in the Kettering School Board race -- Kettering, Ohio -- voted for me. Obviously, these 4481 voters were the ones who had carefully studied this race in depth.
I did project a point of view in this election, and did outline a specific platform. Much more than the other candidates. Taking a stand probably has a bigger downside politically, than it does an upside. But, with the right campaign, I think I could have won.
I've got to wonder how many who voted for me had any idea what my point of view is. A number of people I spoke with would say, "I'm voting for you, because you asked me to." Some who voted for me might have liked my signs or liked the name, BOCK. Some probably voted for me because they completely misunderstand my point of view.
But some also said, "I'm going to carefully study the League of Women Voters Guide before I decide."
My statement in the guide, I will make as part of a request to the new board when it begins in January. Fate has made me an activist.
The League Statement:
Public education needs a big leap in quality — including a big leap in cost effectiveness. We need a ten year process of transformation that will result in a 21st century system of education. Community consensus is needed. Leadership is needed. The biggest challenge for the Kettering School Board is to lead the community in creating a shared vision of the future, and, in creating a well-thought out, long-term plan to bring that vision to reality
I can see how it might be feasible that in my school board election contest I might win. But it seems more likely that I will not win. There are a zillion unknowns so it's almost impossible to calculate. I'm sort of resolved either way. Either way, it's been a good experience and, either way, I think some good will come from it.
I could have tried a lot harder -- but then, if I win with the scant campaign I've run, the voice of the people will have spoken even louder. I'm still plan on coming to Georgia.
This evening was the League of Women Voters “Meet the Candidates” evening. I will post a new You-tube soon showing my answers. I was disappointed by the small turnout. So, I directed my comments to the vast You-tube audience that will soon see the video that I hope to produce. The best review I heard says what I hoped to accomplish, it was by a 18 year old senior at the high school, and he said, "I appreciated your passion."
A First Interview with the Lord OK, Lord, you know what a shock this is to me. You really must be Love to allow a rank wretch like me up here. So I gotta catch my breath before I ask the first question...
The Generals Speak Some of these guys would probably take issue with me on a number of issues, but I think they agree with me that the Bush Pentagon has done a poor job.
I have enjoyed exploring some of these blogs by fellow Methodists. They include thoughtful writers of a wide variety of theological, cultural, and political viewpoints. Check 'em out.
The Etowah Darter (from the CRBI website)
(from the No Water Grabs website)
