After The Dance

SO, WE WENT TO OUR FIRST DANCE RECITAL. Unfamiliar with the protocol, we arrived very early as we had been advised. Soon the parking lot begin to fill with vehicles carrying little dancers, each with their entourage, some carrying costumes and bags, some running along behind their little Shirley Temples, spraying hair spray, glitter and something that gave the little girls a sort of orange tint. There were bored-looking brothers, dads with iPhones, grandparents with Kodaks, and others bearing enough flowers to make every florist in town profitable even before Mother’s Day.

Soon our tiny dancer arrived. My first thought: “How could this be? How could she be growing up so fast? We’ll turn around soon and she’ll be on the arm of some creepy boy on her way to the prom.”

As we walked into the performing arts center, I was surprised to find plenty of seats available. But quickly we discovered that evey seat in the joint was SAVED. And their saved status was guarded by some aunt or someone, with bedazzled jeans, at least one visible tattoo or two, and a too-tight t-shirt that said, “Don’t Mess With The B!” So I didn’t.

Soon the house lights dimmed. The first group was herded on stage to “Wild Thing” by The Troggs, a song I used to play as the drummer in a little rock band at teen dances back in the 60s. I will admit they were too cute not to be entertaining, althought they apparently abandoned every move they had been taught, opting for an improvisational style.

It will come as no surprise when I tell you that once my Grand-Girl’s group FINALLY tapped onto the stage, the lights got a little brighter, a hush fell over the crowd, and she danced and danced and danced. And if I had had once of those bouquets, I would have thrown it onto the stage, although apparently you only do that at figure skating recitals.

If you know me well, you know I pretty much have a C.S. Lewis quote for every occasion. This one is no different.

“As long as you notice and have to count the steps, you are not yet dancing, but only learning to dance.” —C.S. Lewis

At first each little dancer was aware of the crowd, and some were frozen, as in standing stone-still, not "Frozen" like that movie that all of these little princesses are so obsessed with.
Some were carefully watching their teachers who were doing the moves to the dance just offstage in the wings.

But there were times when most of them, almost losing themselves in the moment and confident of their learned lessons, just danced.

Not that I have to make a moral of this story, but isn’t life fun when we just quit counting the steps and dance? Saturday I did a lot of dancing. Not the kind that anyone could see. But I did the inner dance of a very, very proud Pops.

Thank you Karlee, for teaching your old Pops to dance.

STICKS & STONES & WORDS

IF YOU'RE GOING TO WRITE A BLOG you want to believe you have something to say, and you want to hope someone out there besides your mother will read it. Sometimes, depending on the topic you’re writing about, you want to create a sense that you might know what you’re talking about. I’m going to try that.

• I majored in journalism at The University of Tulsa.
• I’ve been to Paris.
• I love satire.
• I was once beaten up for a satirical comment.

It was fifth grade, recess on the playground at Jenks Elementary School. There was this kid that was purported to have been in fifth grade for a few years now. I quipped that, "I bet if he ever finished fifth grade he would probably be so excited that he might cut himself shaving." Word quickly spread. He was mad, out for revenge, and it would all go down at recess. Sure enough here he came. He walked up to the jungle gym I had climbed to the top of, hoping for a battle advantage. He took a long drag from his Marlboro, flipped it to the asphalt, and ground it out with his boot. A crowd gathered, like happens when there’s likely to be blood shed on the playground. Fortunately, the crowd drew the attention of the teachers “on duty”. The crowd dispersed, disappointed. After school, as I walked to the school bus, here he came around the corner. He pulled my blue, canvas-like notebook from my arms. He said, “You hurt my feelings kid. Now I’m going to hurt yours.” Then he whacked me across the head with my own notebook. I lay in the gravel stunned for a minute, then he reached down and helped me up, dusted me off and offered me a Marlboro. [At least in my fifth grade/now 64 year-old mind that’s the way I remember it.]

I know that Sticks and Stones and (maybe even 3-ring binders) can break one’s bones, but as it turns out, sometimes, Words do hurt.

I feel bad for having a laugh at Harper's expense, but what a great metaphor this is. Surely you've had times when you were having a great time and all of a sudden you find yourself tangled up in your own balloons.

For the most part, here at About Pops, I try to stay clear of hardcore politics. So what I’m aiming for here isn’t at all political commentary. It’s just me thinking out loud. Oh, and don’t you dare go away from this trying to say that I am in any way was justifying the ugly deeds of terrorists in Paris. AND, assuming anyone is still reading this (which I realize is an enormous jump to a conclusion), don’t think for a second that I am trying to equate getting beat up on the playground with the massacre at the magazine studio.

In journalism school we were taught with conviction that a free press is crucial, and I believe it. But free press or not, free speech or not, words and cartoons sometimes hurt. As I learned in the fifth grade, we are free to say whatever we want. That doesn’t mean though that we might not get hit in the head with a notebook.

I didn’t learn a lot from that day. I still love satire (I'm writing this post aren't I?). It seems we need to be secure enough in our convictions that we can laugh at ourselves. If you read my post called, Keeping Company, I chose David Letterman, Tina Fey and Amy Pohler as guests at my dinner because, although I am sometimes offended, they make me laugh.

Does humor sometimes hurt? Yes. Does it sometimes offend? Yes. Does it incite anger? Yes. Do we need to laugh? Yes.

I’m trying to reconcile our need to laugh and the fact that in the end, sometimes, Words; like Sticks and Stones, do hurt.

DISCLAIMER: If I’ve offended anyone here, I’m sorry. I hope you were at least a bit entertained. See what I mean? This is a conundrum.

While We Wait

A few years back I gathered quotes, texts and a few of my own thoughts together in a sort of Advent countdown. It was published in Curator Magazine.

I wrote it so the word count of each entry reduces by one word as the countdown progresses.

Today the magazine tweeted the link to the piece. Thank you Curator.

Leaning

Where words fail, music speaks.
—Hans Christian Andersen

You know those times when you’ve been napping deeply and your mind sort of starts to wake up before your body does? In fact, it’s almost as if you are outside of yourself in a state that allows you to be aware of your dreams and at the same time what is really happening.

A few weeks ago, I was trying to wake from a nap and my mind (with the help of cough medication) was holding me down. The TV was playing in the background. I could hear the old hymn, “Leaning of the Everlasting Arms”. I wondered if this was IT--If I was slipping across some threshold.

The hymn arrangement was beautiful. It was being played as a meditation on an awe-inspiring truth rather than something like a Sousa march, the way Southern Baptists sing it.

Finally, I awoke sufficiently to realize the song was playing as a part of an advertisement for Guinness beer. WHAT?!

Let’s get something straight right here. This little essay is not about condemning or condoning anything. So, with that said…

I know this, we all need to lean sometimes and the best place to lean is on the Everlasting Arms. I know this too: sometimes those everlasting arms take on human form: family, friends, each other.

No doubt; sometimes in the corner bar, people lean on things that will ultimately fail them. No doubt; sometimes in the corner church, people lean on religion that will ultimately fail them.

God created us as people who need people; as people who need to lean.

Whether at church or the neighborhood pub, think of how true the words to this little song about a place called “Cheers” are.

Making your way in the world today 
Takes everything you've got; 
Taking a break from all your worries 
Sure would help a lot. 
Wouldn't you like to get away? 

Sometimes you want to go 

Where everybody knows your name, 
and they're always glad you came. 
You wanna be where you can see, 
our troubles are all the same 
You wanna be where everybody knows 
Your name.

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms was written by Anthony J. Showalter in the late 1800s, inspired by Deuteronomy 33:27: "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms".

I have no idea what Mr. Showalter would have thought of his tune being used in a Guinness ad. Maybe he knew of Mr. Guinness and wouldn’t have minded. Sometimes we make assumptions you know. Sometimes we pre-judge. Here’s an interesting article about Guinness himself:

Click to read: The Story of God and Guinness in Relevant Magazine

This “Empty Chair” ad, I’ve watched it several times now. I’m not even sure it’s really about Guinness beer. I think it’s about leaning, and if it is, I can’t think of a better song than the one written by Mr. Showalter.

Certainly if there is an Honorable Mention for "Best Leaning Song Ever" if would have to go to the classic by Bill Withers:

Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain, we all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on

Please, swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won't let show

You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you'll understand
We all need somebody to lean on

CLICK HERE to watch “The Empty Chair”.