I love that line from the classic "Gone With the Wind" A movie more famous for the stunning line, "Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a damn." First time a curse word found it's way onto the big screen. Now you can't make a movie without a stream of cussing. A couple of years ago I was going to use clip from the movie Field of Dreams, while the clip ran in class, the cuss words kept jumping out at me. It was like the cuss words all of a sudden were three times louder than the rest of the dialog. I wonder why we aren't at that church anymore?
Anyway, I digress. I call my dad about once or twice a week. We visit about the livestock at the farm, the wildlife (currently the big news is trapping wild hogs, since they are tearing up his fence-line) We visit about people that I don't know, and catch up on extended people that I do know, but don't interact with all that often. Recently we seem to be talking about funerals, who he is going to, which ones he is serving in, etc.
But yesterday, while sitting in Dallas traffic, he told me the most amazing thing, "We have five great-grandchildren on the way." FIVE! Of course one of them is my D-i-L, with the incomparable name of Isaac (meaning laughter) then two daughters from my sister, Dad's wife's granddaughter, and finally my nephew and his wife. They have been married for ten years, and frankly we had just assumed that they were not going to participate in this event.
But FIVE?!? I told dad we needed a scorecard to keep everyone straight, he commented that at his age he could get away with mixing up all the names. Actually, I keep calling my youngest grandson Eli, instead of Lincoln, so I'm following a great tradition handed down by my father.
So while the number is stunning, it is a great comfort to me that this is occurring. Since the great-grandparents are long-time kingdom residents, and every grandparent is as well, and the kids (the parents-to-be) are all believers, then my mind is little more settled about our future. Faith is handed down from generation to generation, recrafted to fit the times, but true and effective for all times. As church leaders fret and moan and fidget..FAMILIES carry forth the mission of God, organic, honest, and durable.
God in his infinite wisdom gave the Divine Love quotient to parents, not organizations. Parents will sacrifice all for their babies, organizations will sacrifice all the babies for their continuity.
To quote another movie, "The sacrifice of many for the good of the one."
I love movies, they are the cultural language of our time. My apologies to my children, I could not think of a way to use, "As you wish." in this blog, perhaps next time.
Godspeed out there. We are gathering quite a crowd behind us.
Don
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Death, Where is your Victory? Where is Your Sting?
This past week has been one of inner tension for me. To write about the event of death, and consequently introduce a scary and depressing subject in my blog. Or ignore my ruminations and write something a little lighter. Our lives are filled with the tension of the mundane and the eternal.
So, feeling prompted from within and to explore these thoughts aloud, and promising to look on the lighter side of this journey in the next blog, here goes.
Over the past several weeks, there has been a loose circle of people following the downward physical spiral of a young lady named Jenny. The facebook entries have been numerous, with some insightful and heart-rending, some cliche, others..well thoughtless. But that is the way we deal with this imposing event. We plead, we ignore, we try to move on, we try not to personalize. Yet this event is deeply personal. It hovers like a mist over all our efforts. We can't escape the eternity of it. We can't escape the inevitability. We are the only creature on this earth that lives with the understanding that it will one day end.
So I followed the story from afar. The roller-coaster was evident in my bride's updates. The emotions and the reactions chronicled through modern technology on a subject as old as time. The responses were predictable, the conclusion forgone.
How do we handle this? As judeo-christian adherents we console each other with the words that we have applied to this..she is in a better place..she is now with the Lord.. our prayers are answered. If you can allow me to let you glimpse at my cynicism for just a moment. These are mere platitudes we have developed to prevent others from seeing that we do not understand what all this means. I will tell you as one who lost his mother when she was only 57, these platitudes don't work when your world has turned dark and the shape of your heart has been changed forever. This is deep and mind-boggling stuff. The words above may be true, but they do not give us insight into the world of loss and pain and foreverness.
As I have studied over the past several years, it has occurred to me that God does not like this event any more than we do. The single most powerful example is the story of the cross and a day turned dark and curtain torn in two. He hates this event as much as we do, it clearly shows the power of the other side is still evident and is an affront to His desire that we live life as it was intended. I think we should tap the brakes a little on the "triumph" aspect and tend to the ones who were close to the deceased. They are not living a life of unanticipated joy, but are in the depths of dark and loneliness and loss.
Here is my advice. If you have lost a close one, remember what it felt like and offer a shoulder to cry on. Shed tears with them, share the mourning. Time doesn't heal the wound, but it scabs over enough to be functional. If you have not lost a close one, or don't remember the trauma, keep your mouth shut. Do what you can to help. I remember a man named Bobby McMillon driving me to the farm after my mother died, to reunite with my family. In great wisdom he said nothing. He allowed me my mourning, he allowed me my pain. I have remembered that non-conversation all these years, and have used it a multitude of times. Richard Foster says that in each situation we should consider whether the situation might be better served by our silence, than by our speaking.
Those close to Jenny's family have a very tough task over the next few weeks. To console, to help, to be available. Those of us who are not close have the task of being reflective on what this means, what is at stake, what is to be considered.
Godspeed, sometimes we have to see the pain, hitch our packs a little higher on our backs.. and continue the journey. Fewer as the trail moves along.
Don
So, feeling prompted from within and to explore these thoughts aloud, and promising to look on the lighter side of this journey in the next blog, here goes.
Over the past several weeks, there has been a loose circle of people following the downward physical spiral of a young lady named Jenny. The facebook entries have been numerous, with some insightful and heart-rending, some cliche, others..well thoughtless. But that is the way we deal with this imposing event. We plead, we ignore, we try to move on, we try not to personalize. Yet this event is deeply personal. It hovers like a mist over all our efforts. We can't escape the eternity of it. We can't escape the inevitability. We are the only creature on this earth that lives with the understanding that it will one day end.
So I followed the story from afar. The roller-coaster was evident in my bride's updates. The emotions and the reactions chronicled through modern technology on a subject as old as time. The responses were predictable, the conclusion forgone.
How do we handle this? As judeo-christian adherents we console each other with the words that we have applied to this..she is in a better place..she is now with the Lord.. our prayers are answered. If you can allow me to let you glimpse at my cynicism for just a moment. These are mere platitudes we have developed to prevent others from seeing that we do not understand what all this means. I will tell you as one who lost his mother when she was only 57, these platitudes don't work when your world has turned dark and the shape of your heart has been changed forever. This is deep and mind-boggling stuff. The words above may be true, but they do not give us insight into the world of loss and pain and foreverness.
As I have studied over the past several years, it has occurred to me that God does not like this event any more than we do. The single most powerful example is the story of the cross and a day turned dark and curtain torn in two. He hates this event as much as we do, it clearly shows the power of the other side is still evident and is an affront to His desire that we live life as it was intended. I think we should tap the brakes a little on the "triumph" aspect and tend to the ones who were close to the deceased. They are not living a life of unanticipated joy, but are in the depths of dark and loneliness and loss.
Here is my advice. If you have lost a close one, remember what it felt like and offer a shoulder to cry on. Shed tears with them, share the mourning. Time doesn't heal the wound, but it scabs over enough to be functional. If you have not lost a close one, or don't remember the trauma, keep your mouth shut. Do what you can to help. I remember a man named Bobby McMillon driving me to the farm after my mother died, to reunite with my family. In great wisdom he said nothing. He allowed me my mourning, he allowed me my pain. I have remembered that non-conversation all these years, and have used it a multitude of times. Richard Foster says that in each situation we should consider whether the situation might be better served by our silence, than by our speaking.
Those close to Jenny's family have a very tough task over the next few weeks. To console, to help, to be available. Those of us who are not close have the task of being reflective on what this means, what is at stake, what is to be considered.
Godspeed, sometimes we have to see the pain, hitch our packs a little higher on our backs.. and continue the journey. Fewer as the trail moves along.
Don
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Happy Birthday to Meee.
Here I am in St. Louis, it is cold, it is snowing, I'm calling on people who are going to give me a hard time, I'm with people who are..well, not my people. I stay in St. Louis another day then catch a flight to the city of Angels, then home Friday night. Oh, and it is my birthday. Happy birthday to me. The real party is this weekend. As soon as I land, I will drive to Abilene and spend time with my favorite people in the world, my bride, my kids, my kids-in-law, my grandkids, my dad and his wife. All the people who have shared the past 55 birthdays with me will be there. I can't wait.
But today I will keep my head down and do my job. I have joked with those around me that I don't really celebrate birthdays anymore, but anniversaries. So this is the 16th anniversary of my 40th birthday. Not that 40 was all that great, but it seems better the smaller it gets in the rearview mirror.
So how do we handle these time markers? Do we just plow on? or more likely hurtle through our day, filling it up with noise and bustle and events? It is important to me to be more reflective than that. It is important to think about the time markers in our lives, you see there are only so many.
I read not too long ago that the day of our demise is more important than the day of our birth. I have thought about that since reading it. We are the only creature that God made that has some understanding that we will not always be here. We live our lives knowing that the world flows on, but unable to change that fact. Our concept of eternity whether Hindu or Muslim or Christian pushes against the idea of always "gone" We cling to the belief that even after death there is, well something. Preachers yell at us that it can be very good, or it can be very bad, depending on what current behaviour they are trying to illicit. But what if it just is? This scares a lot of folks because they want to believe in merit and earning and trial times. And I think they hope that the folks here, trapped in our same time frame will get whats coming to them. When in reality, we all get that.
So today I look back at the turns of the journey and realize that my particular journey has been far more blessed than most. I met the love of my life in my first attempt at college. I have a father of integrity, I have kids who are mature and compassionate, I have grand kids that hug me and call me "grandaddy", I have friends who have stood with me in very bleak times, and I have been blessed far more than I could ever hope for or imagine.
So happy birthday to me. I guess I will have to eat all the cake.
Godspeed
Don
But today I will keep my head down and do my job. I have joked with those around me that I don't really celebrate birthdays anymore, but anniversaries. So this is the 16th anniversary of my 40th birthday. Not that 40 was all that great, but it seems better the smaller it gets in the rearview mirror.
So how do we handle these time markers? Do we just plow on? or more likely hurtle through our day, filling it up with noise and bustle and events? It is important to me to be more reflective than that. It is important to think about the time markers in our lives, you see there are only so many.
I read not too long ago that the day of our demise is more important than the day of our birth. I have thought about that since reading it. We are the only creature that God made that has some understanding that we will not always be here. We live our lives knowing that the world flows on, but unable to change that fact. Our concept of eternity whether Hindu or Muslim or Christian pushes against the idea of always "gone" We cling to the belief that even after death there is, well something. Preachers yell at us that it can be very good, or it can be very bad, depending on what current behaviour they are trying to illicit. But what if it just is? This scares a lot of folks because they want to believe in merit and earning and trial times. And I think they hope that the folks here, trapped in our same time frame will get whats coming to them. When in reality, we all get that.
So today I look back at the turns of the journey and realize that my particular journey has been far more blessed than most. I met the love of my life in my first attempt at college. I have a father of integrity, I have kids who are mature and compassionate, I have grand kids that hug me and call me "grandaddy", I have friends who have stood with me in very bleak times, and I have been blessed far more than I could ever hope for or imagine.
So happy birthday to me. I guess I will have to eat all the cake.
Godspeed
Don
Friday, February 12, 2010
Snow Days
Last night I spent 2 hours driving home in the midst of a snow storm. My bride had already been informed that school was closed on Friday, so I was going to make one stop at the grocery store and then home for the night.
As I drove further south, the snow deepened. The freeways were stopped, so I jumped off the main roads and meandered my way towards home.
I pulled into the subdivision and only then remembered that our house sits at the very pinnacle of a hill. Our front sidewalk branches at the street and literally goes downhill both ways. So I crept my way up the alley, maneuvering around a neighbor's Excursion stuck halfway into his driveway, and found I couldn't get my little red Ranger into my driveway. Having been forewarned by my bride who drives a Blazer with 4WD, I circled the block and skidded to a stop on the street in front of my house. Two loads of groceries and my laptop later, I was in for the night.
We fixed a great white, chicken chili recipe that my eldest had texted to me (new technology is great)and settled in to read..because the dishnetwork was not working. At 9PM I was coaxed to call the Dish network folks and the highly complicated fix to the 21st century technology was to go outside and brush all the snow off with a broom. I felt very self-sufficient. The TV was working before I got back inside. The bride was pleased, I was soggy.
This morning we awakened to 14" of snow, and an inability to get out of the driveway. I looked at all that snow, estimated that there might be several tons of the stuff and decided to let nature take its course.
It was at this point that I found that I live with a kid. For a normally cold-natured (hates anything under 75 degrees) this one was pulling on gloves and boots, head cover and jeans. She was thrilled to go outside in all the snow. So we bundled up and stomped our way to the street and took pictures and marveled at the trees and bushes, shook the snow out of the small oaks in the front yard. I was done..cold and damp are not my friends. But this woman that I married couldn't get enough, she opened all the blinds, took pictures, pointed out the way snow was stacked on the patio furniture (that was pretty cool) and all the yard art.
Maggie the mini-beagle was a lot less enthusiastic. She was torn between HAVING to go outside and WANTING to stay inside. I will say that snow as high as your head might be a little intimidating. So I think she will spend the next couple of days "holding it" until she absolutely has to go outside, then creep along the base of the house looking for an open spot.
But it nice to know that "snow days" still bring out the kid in my bride. I, on the other hand, get to play my favorite role of old curmudgeon. I'm pretty good at it.
Godspeed out there, dig us out if you haven't heard from us by spring.
Don
As I drove further south, the snow deepened. The freeways were stopped, so I jumped off the main roads and meandered my way towards home.
I pulled into the subdivision and only then remembered that our house sits at the very pinnacle of a hill. Our front sidewalk branches at the street and literally goes downhill both ways. So I crept my way up the alley, maneuvering around a neighbor's Excursion stuck halfway into his driveway, and found I couldn't get my little red Ranger into my driveway. Having been forewarned by my bride who drives a Blazer with 4WD, I circled the block and skidded to a stop on the street in front of my house. Two loads of groceries and my laptop later, I was in for the night.
We fixed a great white, chicken chili recipe that my eldest had texted to me (new technology is great)and settled in to read..because the dishnetwork was not working. At 9PM I was coaxed to call the Dish network folks and the highly complicated fix to the 21st century technology was to go outside and brush all the snow off with a broom. I felt very self-sufficient. The TV was working before I got back inside. The bride was pleased, I was soggy.
This morning we awakened to 14" of snow, and an inability to get out of the driveway. I looked at all that snow, estimated that there might be several tons of the stuff and decided to let nature take its course.
It was at this point that I found that I live with a kid. For a normally cold-natured (hates anything under 75 degrees) this one was pulling on gloves and boots, head cover and jeans. She was thrilled to go outside in all the snow. So we bundled up and stomped our way to the street and took pictures and marveled at the trees and bushes, shook the snow out of the small oaks in the front yard. I was done..cold and damp are not my friends. But this woman that I married couldn't get enough, she opened all the blinds, took pictures, pointed out the way snow was stacked on the patio furniture (that was pretty cool) and all the yard art.
Maggie the mini-beagle was a lot less enthusiastic. She was torn between HAVING to go outside and WANTING to stay inside. I will say that snow as high as your head might be a little intimidating. So I think she will spend the next couple of days "holding it" until she absolutely has to go outside, then creep along the base of the house looking for an open spot.
But it nice to know that "snow days" still bring out the kid in my bride. I, on the other hand, get to play my favorite role of old curmudgeon. I'm pretty good at it.
Godspeed out there, dig us out if you haven't heard from us by spring.
Don
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Daddy's Home!
I spent a day working from my daughter's house, keeping her son, Lincoln. She wrote out careful instructions about formula preparation, nap times, gave me verbal instructions about how to start their supper in the crockpot, and showed me where the additional diapers were located. There was a sense of uncertainty in her manner, but I am just going to chalk that up to her being a new mom and not me being an old dad. I am pretty familiar with the drill, we raised three, have two other grand kids that I have watched over, and I am a relatively bright and inventive guy. So around 7:30AM, she and Shane headed out the door. Next feeding at 9AM, no problem.
Mr. Lincoln was a little unsure of this entire event. He was supposed to be napping leading up to his 9AM feeding, but he seemed more intent on fussing. Apparently he was having some reflux issues (right there with you buddy) and was having a problem getting comfortable. So he fussed and fidgeted until the mid-morning breakfast. He slammed down the bottle, but was supposed to be up until 11AM, then down for a nap. I couldn't get him to settle, he kept complaining, then I realized he was acting sleepy, so after checking the schedule and realizing I was way off schedule, I put him down for a nap. Great, 2 hours into this and I'm off schedule by an hour. In the midst of all this, he had a rather large diaper-download, which prompted a change of diaper, pants, and numerous handi-wipes (by the way, Carrie, if you read this you are almost out of handi-wipes. I don't scrimp when it comes to handi-wipes)
Next feeding was supposed to be noon. Hmm, let him sleep? or wake him and get him back on schedule? After careful consideration, and since I was getting a lot of work done, I let him sleep. At 12:45 I could hear him fussing, so I went in and got him up and fed him his noon bottle promptly at 1:15. We seem to be losing ground on this schedule idea. Since he seemed pleasant enough, I sat him on my knee while working on the computer, where he became so enthralled, he down-loaded an even larger diaper load. Dude! Really? So off we go to change again, except this time, it was pants, onesy, diaper, socks, and the top of the changing table. Now I'm rummaging around in his drawer trying to find his next outfit. This causes great concern. My daughters have very strict views of what goes together and what doesn't. I'm off schedule, the baby is naked, and I am stuck trying to match baby outfits. I finally found a blue onsey, some blue pants, some blue socks. Okay..all good..all blue.
His scheduled nap is from 2PM to 4PM, it is now 3PM. Okay young man, you are going down for a nap. So I swaddled him in a blanket that is too small, but got it really tight, stuck his pacifier in his mouth, kissed on the forehead, gathered up an armload of diaper and handi-wipes and marched out of the room. He was asleep in minutes. Next event is feeding at 4PM.
The schedule ended at 4PM, neither parent home, the bottle is empty, so we just visited. He enjoyed the time, but I suspect that I was getting the looks I will get when he is 16 and I'm in the home..How much longer do I have to do this before someone else will come and deal with this old codger.
Then I was privileged to see something that I have witnessed a few times with our other son-in-law and experienced a lot of times. His daddy came home. His head came up, his eyes widened, he just smiled from ear to ear. He could not wait to get into his daddy's arms. And Shane brightened as well, held him close and kissed his forehead. Daddy was home, all is good, the world is spinning in the right direction.
I went home feeling warm and assured that my grandson was in good hands. It is the same feeling I get when I see our other grandchildren being cared for by our other son-in-law, it is the same feeling I will get when I see my son become the center of the universe for his little one. It is a feeling hard to describe, but priceless in its meaning.
Daddy's home. What a joy.
Godspeed out there to you daddy's, hug 'em close, they grow up fast.
Don
Mr. Lincoln was a little unsure of this entire event. He was supposed to be napping leading up to his 9AM feeding, but he seemed more intent on fussing. Apparently he was having some reflux issues (right there with you buddy) and was having a problem getting comfortable. So he fussed and fidgeted until the mid-morning breakfast. He slammed down the bottle, but was supposed to be up until 11AM, then down for a nap. I couldn't get him to settle, he kept complaining, then I realized he was acting sleepy, so after checking the schedule and realizing I was way off schedule, I put him down for a nap. Great, 2 hours into this and I'm off schedule by an hour. In the midst of all this, he had a rather large diaper-download, which prompted a change of diaper, pants, and numerous handi-wipes (by the way, Carrie, if you read this you are almost out of handi-wipes. I don't scrimp when it comes to handi-wipes)
Next feeding was supposed to be noon. Hmm, let him sleep? or wake him and get him back on schedule? After careful consideration, and since I was getting a lot of work done, I let him sleep. At 12:45 I could hear him fussing, so I went in and got him up and fed him his noon bottle promptly at 1:15. We seem to be losing ground on this schedule idea. Since he seemed pleasant enough, I sat him on my knee while working on the computer, where he became so enthralled, he down-loaded an even larger diaper load. Dude! Really? So off we go to change again, except this time, it was pants, onesy, diaper, socks, and the top of the changing table. Now I'm rummaging around in his drawer trying to find his next outfit. This causes great concern. My daughters have very strict views of what goes together and what doesn't. I'm off schedule, the baby is naked, and I am stuck trying to match baby outfits. I finally found a blue onsey, some blue pants, some blue socks. Okay..all good..all blue.
His scheduled nap is from 2PM to 4PM, it is now 3PM. Okay young man, you are going down for a nap. So I swaddled him in a blanket that is too small, but got it really tight, stuck his pacifier in his mouth, kissed on the forehead, gathered up an armload of diaper and handi-wipes and marched out of the room. He was asleep in minutes. Next event is feeding at 4PM.
The schedule ended at 4PM, neither parent home, the bottle is empty, so we just visited. He enjoyed the time, but I suspect that I was getting the looks I will get when he is 16 and I'm in the home..How much longer do I have to do this before someone else will come and deal with this old codger.
Then I was privileged to see something that I have witnessed a few times with our other son-in-law and experienced a lot of times. His daddy came home. His head came up, his eyes widened, he just smiled from ear to ear. He could not wait to get into his daddy's arms. And Shane brightened as well, held him close and kissed his forehead. Daddy was home, all is good, the world is spinning in the right direction.
I went home feeling warm and assured that my grandson was in good hands. It is the same feeling I get when I see our other grandchildren being cared for by our other son-in-law, it is the same feeling I will get when I see my son become the center of the universe for his little one. It is a feeling hard to describe, but priceless in its meaning.
Daddy's home. What a joy.
Godspeed out there to you daddy's, hug 'em close, they grow up fast.
Don
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
But Baby Its Cold Outside..
This past weekend my bride and my youngest daughter, our son and his bride all made the journey from Dallas to Canton, so that true believers like my bride can wander around their version of Shangri-la and buy stuff. I did see one funny women's tank top, a picture of George W waving at you and the caption said, "Miss me yet?" Very funny. I'm betting he isn't missing the hide-tanning that his successor is receiving. George W is looking a little brighter every day. But I digress.
The day was overcast, with a little hint of rain, but the real weather issue was that it was COLD! I don't mean nippy, fold your hands under your coat, jokingly talk about the cold. I mean tears in your eyes, stunning, gripping, can't imagine it is this cold. I have pheasant hunted in the single digits and was much warmer than this trip. The vendors who usually camp out under the trees were simply not there. The pavilions had the vendors, but no else in there. The most common sight was the lady in the booth huddled over her little propane furnace, peeking out from her parka, and dead solid certain that you were buying something before she left her little warm spot to take your money. Needless to say the lemonade stands were not very busy.
There are certain events I will attend because I love the activity. Several years ago I would play golf in any weather. Driving rain would slow me down, but it took lightening in the area to move me off the course. Now, if it is lower than 50 degrees, I don't play. Over the past couple of summers I've about decided that anything over 95 is not a good idea either. I'm wondering how narrow the range will get before I decide that I'm not playing anymore.
Shopping, however, is not in that group of activities. I do not shop, I buy. I go into stores looking for shirts, or sweaters, or underwear and if sport coats are on sale, they might as well be high-heel shoes..I ain't buying. This aspect of my nature does not endear me to my bride, this chick loves to shop. And it doesn't matter if it is 15 degrees or 115 degrees, she shops with a determination that I find just a little frightening. We joked about me being on my deathbed on Canton weekend, my bride fidgeting and looking at her watch and trying to judge if she can get to Canton, through the Pavilions and back by the time they pull the plug. Of course we have the same joke with my dad..
"It doesn't look good, it could be a matter of moments."
"Well, we might as well take him off life support, I have Meals-on-Wheels at 11:30."
You do not want my dad making that decision.
Anyway, my son and his bride and I lasted maybe an hour, then we decided to head back to Dallas. It took the rest of the weekend for me to get warm. Later in the day my bride breezed in, flushed with shopping victory, proudly displaying her "finds" in Canton.
Now I know why the Eskimos have so little, its too cold to go outside.
Godspeed to you die-hard shoppers, us buyers are going to stay inside by the warm fire.
Don
The day was overcast, with a little hint of rain, but the real weather issue was that it was COLD! I don't mean nippy, fold your hands under your coat, jokingly talk about the cold. I mean tears in your eyes, stunning, gripping, can't imagine it is this cold. I have pheasant hunted in the single digits and was much warmer than this trip. The vendors who usually camp out under the trees were simply not there. The pavilions had the vendors, but no else in there. The most common sight was the lady in the booth huddled over her little propane furnace, peeking out from her parka, and dead solid certain that you were buying something before she left her little warm spot to take your money. Needless to say the lemonade stands were not very busy.
There are certain events I will attend because I love the activity. Several years ago I would play golf in any weather. Driving rain would slow me down, but it took lightening in the area to move me off the course. Now, if it is lower than 50 degrees, I don't play. Over the past couple of summers I've about decided that anything over 95 is not a good idea either. I'm wondering how narrow the range will get before I decide that I'm not playing anymore.
Shopping, however, is not in that group of activities. I do not shop, I buy. I go into stores looking for shirts, or sweaters, or underwear and if sport coats are on sale, they might as well be high-heel shoes..I ain't buying. This aspect of my nature does not endear me to my bride, this chick loves to shop. And it doesn't matter if it is 15 degrees or 115 degrees, she shops with a determination that I find just a little frightening. We joked about me being on my deathbed on Canton weekend, my bride fidgeting and looking at her watch and trying to judge if she can get to Canton, through the Pavilions and back by the time they pull the plug. Of course we have the same joke with my dad..
"It doesn't look good, it could be a matter of moments."
"Well, we might as well take him off life support, I have Meals-on-Wheels at 11:30."
You do not want my dad making that decision.
Anyway, my son and his bride and I lasted maybe an hour, then we decided to head back to Dallas. It took the rest of the weekend for me to get warm. Later in the day my bride breezed in, flushed with shopping victory, proudly displaying her "finds" in Canton.
Now I know why the Eskimos have so little, its too cold to go outside.
Godspeed to you die-hard shoppers, us buyers are going to stay inside by the warm fire.
Don
Monday, January 25, 2010
Names
I have discovered an unsettling aspect of my aging process. There seems to be some disconnect between my brain and, well, my brain. I can't seem to remember names nearly as well as I did even a year ago, and certainly not as well as five years ago.
This is a huge problem for someone in sales and someone who routinely teaches classes and leads groups in a community of faith.
At first I thought it was just a little bit of information overload. You know, working with an old 486DX, long before the Pentium drives sort of thing. I simply had too much data accumulated over the years and no way to delete and reset. Of course there for a while I intentionally forgetting names. People who had annoyed or harmed me in some way. It was sort of my version of forgive and forget...more forget than forgive, but you know what I mean. I've come to the conclusion that it simply that my brain has decided this is trivial information and is just refusing to store it away.
It was with some comfort that I found a common traveler with the same problem. She had attended my little group Sunday morning and several new faces had shown up..I forget their names. But there was a couple there that I know had attended my groups before, the faces were familiar, but the names were not coming. So I asked my friend who these people were and watched with amazement her struggle with the names. To her credit, she hit the wife's name right off the bat. Or at least I think she did, I was so clueless that she could have made up the name and I would have stood there, nodding agreement, and in the center of my brain the little old guy who looks up all this stuff is just standing there, peeking through the eye sockets and shrugging his shoulders. So we called over one of the guys who is supposed to keep all this stuff together and asked him and he worked through it and decided that the husband's name was the name we had assigned to the son. Again, he could have made it up because the little old guy in my head had decided to sit on a dusty storage box until we decided who these people were.
I think I might get a badge and wear it on my shirt, " Tell me your name again. Can't remember it, no reflection on you, I'm sure you are charming and significant, but my brain has decided to stop accepting input, like names, dates, and data." Kind've a long badge, but it will cut down on my trying to think up clever ways to make them say their names.
There is also the possibility that the older I get the closer the circle will be drawn that I will forget people I know and love will be the recipients of this lecture. I can imagine waking up one morning and spooned in with my bride and wake up in alarm. Who is this woman?!? What if my wife finds out? Oh wait, she looks really familiar..Brenda? no, that's not it, Babs? Can't be..Beverly!!Yeah! Love of my life. Wow, that was close, I need to write this down. My humor has frequently saved me in awkward situations. I suspect anything humorous at that moment will not have the desired effect.
So to my friend at church yesterday, you passed half the test. I flunked miserably. I can't wait to get the stage in my life where I can call people by the wrong name and they will just laugh and think how dear it is that the old guy just can't remember anyone's name. At this point they just get huffy.
So Godspeed out there, the journey is long, but filled with a growing number of people who shall remain nameless...
Don
This is a huge problem for someone in sales and someone who routinely teaches classes and leads groups in a community of faith.
At first I thought it was just a little bit of information overload. You know, working with an old 486DX, long before the Pentium drives sort of thing. I simply had too much data accumulated over the years and no way to delete and reset. Of course there for a while I intentionally forgetting names. People who had annoyed or harmed me in some way. It was sort of my version of forgive and forget...more forget than forgive, but you know what I mean. I've come to the conclusion that it simply that my brain has decided this is trivial information and is just refusing to store it away.
It was with some comfort that I found a common traveler with the same problem. She had attended my little group Sunday morning and several new faces had shown up..I forget their names. But there was a couple there that I know had attended my groups before, the faces were familiar, but the names were not coming. So I asked my friend who these people were and watched with amazement her struggle with the names. To her credit, she hit the wife's name right off the bat. Or at least I think she did, I was so clueless that she could have made up the name and I would have stood there, nodding agreement, and in the center of my brain the little old guy who looks up all this stuff is just standing there, peeking through the eye sockets and shrugging his shoulders. So we called over one of the guys who is supposed to keep all this stuff together and asked him and he worked through it and decided that the husband's name was the name we had assigned to the son. Again, he could have made it up because the little old guy in my head had decided to sit on a dusty storage box until we decided who these people were.
I think I might get a badge and wear it on my shirt, " Tell me your name again. Can't remember it, no reflection on you, I'm sure you are charming and significant, but my brain has decided to stop accepting input, like names, dates, and data." Kind've a long badge, but it will cut down on my trying to think up clever ways to make them say their names.
There is also the possibility that the older I get the closer the circle will be drawn that I will forget people I know and love will be the recipients of this lecture. I can imagine waking up one morning and spooned in with my bride and wake up in alarm. Who is this woman?!? What if my wife finds out? Oh wait, she looks really familiar..Brenda? no, that's not it, Babs? Can't be..Beverly!!Yeah! Love of my life. Wow, that was close, I need to write this down. My humor has frequently saved me in awkward situations. I suspect anything humorous at that moment will not have the desired effect.
So to my friend at church yesterday, you passed half the test. I flunked miserably. I can't wait to get the stage in my life where I can call people by the wrong name and they will just laugh and think how dear it is that the old guy just can't remember anyone's name. At this point they just get huffy.
So Godspeed out there, the journey is long, but filled with a growing number of people who shall remain nameless...
Don
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)