DON’T BLAME THE MAILMAN

USUALLY BY THIS TIME the Christmas cards I’ve designed have arrived from the printer and we’re sending them out to friends and family whether they want one or not. Not this year though.

a few custom cards from years gone by

It’s not a delay in the printing process, nor a failure of the postal service. It’s not that we’re in despair from this quarantine quagmire. We decided last year—Christmas 2019—would be our last year to send out cards. Had we known what Christmastime 2020 would look like, I might have gone on with a card design—something apropos and uplifting. The cover of it might have looked something like this.

merry christmas 2020 from dave & Arlene

With text on the inside that might have said something like this: Q: What do you call 3 guys in robes and turbins, riding camels and maintaining safe social distancing? A: Wise Men.

But, I didn’t have those printed and we have nothing to mail. I received a call from my dear Aunt Betty to inquire about our card, maybe concerned that her’s was lost in the mail. When I told her we decided not to send cards this year she said, “I don’t blame you. A call is just as good.” I agreed with her—in spirit—but I don’t intend to call all y’all.

“You want a Christmas Card!? All right. Here; here’s your Christmas Card.”

— Elaine Benes

Seriously and sincerely, let this be our Christmas wish: That you and yours will know peace. That you will discover wonderful ways to celebrate safely, because the season calls for the celebration of hope and joy, now more than any other time in a long, long time.

Fear not!

TIME TO REDECORATE?

ON A SUNDAY NIGHT, a man, along with his soul, stumbled into a church. A friend of mine was the music director at this church which was located downtown, a stone’s throw from the bus station. He was telling me the story, which was not unusual; this was not the first wayfarer to venture in to this church.

The man was clearly under the influence of something: jug wine, mis-taken medication or maybe a spirit of some kind; holy or otherwise. This was a Baptist church, and a time, back a few years ago, when Baptist churches gathered on Sunday night and each service ended in an alter call. On this night the wanderer wandered down the aisle and announced to the church that he was there to “redecorate his life!”

He wasn’t far off. On the little card designed to note any and all alter call responses, you would write your name and check the box for the type of decision you were making, one of the choices was: Rededication.

Redecoration / Rededication… There’s probably room for both.

The other day, I received a message from an e-magazine, one I had written for a few times called “The Curator”. I clicked through to the magazine and read a couple of those old articles. One in particular, written ten years ago brought back memories and surprised me with how real it seems to me still and how relevant the themes of restoration, redecoration, rededication, recreation and renewal are, and how maybe I’m in need.

I thought about copying and pasting the piece here for those who might want to read it, but I may have given sole publication rights to the magazine. So, I’ll include the link to the article here in case you would like CHECK IT OUT.

The Call of the Mud Angels by Dave Fuller

SHOT OR NOT

ROLES CHANGE, or maybe it’s more accurate to say roles are layered on us.

I started life as a son, then a few years later the role of brother was added on. If you could ask my mom and dad how well I played these roles, hopefully I would get a B- or C+ (if you’re grading on the curve). My brother, on my role as big brother, would be more harsh if he were being fair about it. He had a couple of close calls with death (without intent or malice) from his big brother.

One had to do with me trying to create my own entry into the school science fair, third grade, best I remember. I cut the female end off of an extension cord, stripped the insulation back a bit and taped the bare ends of the wire to a small metal folding chair. I had my little brother all strapped in and was ready to plug in my experiment, testing the thesis of the electric chair, when my dad saw what’s was going on and saved my little brother, leaving me without a science fair project.

The other had to do, innocently enough, with me experimenting with making chlorine gas. Now that I think about it, it was just about this time that my parents began to encourage me to explore the arts rather than science.

While we’re on the subject of experiments, I want to give a shout out to Jonas Salk and Albert Bruce Sabin who, in the 1950s, developed separate vaccines—one from killed virus and the other from live virus—to combat the dreaded disease polio. We’ll come back to them.

The next role layer for me was that of husband when My Amazing-Missus said Yes!! (I’ve added both of the exclamation points, I don’t know if she was actually that excited.)

Then in 1981, Corey was born and I became Dad. And then in 1987, Kyle was born and I was Dad to two wonderful boys.

Over the years I’ve had many non-familial roles. For many of those I can’t believe how blessed I have been to get to play.

In November 2008, an event occured so profound that my next role even came with a name change. Our first Grand-Girl was born and I became Pops. Now there are seven: five girls, two boys. This is a role I cherish so much I started keeping a journal about it all. Over time that became a blog—a blog about this role—About being Pops.

That’s a long swirling introduction to the point of this particular post. It is a post to say YES, I WILL TAKE THE COVID VACCINATION AS SOON AS SOMEONE WILL GIVE IT TO ME.

The oldest of our two Grand-Sons is Malachi. He’s three. On the rare occasions we get to see him and the others these days because of the virus, departing is always hard. Malachi has these beautiful curious eyes that look deep in you. His mouth is always in a sort of half smile.

MALACHI AND POPS

Every time we have to leave after a visit, he looks through my eyes and into my heart and says, “Can I go to yours [sic] house?”

My Amazing-Missus and I were talking about the exciting news of a vaccine potential and she asked if I would be willing to take an early version of it. I told her, “All I have to do is picture Malachi asking, “Can I go to yours house?” and they can shoot anything they want into any vein they choose. I AM READY!

I have an important role to play. Being Pops gives meaning and significance to my life. I can’t do it if I’m on a ventilator or worse. I know, I know. Some say the vaccine could be riskier than the disease.

When I was about five years old, my parents lined me up with hundreds of other kids at the elementary school to get a sugar cube soaked with a dose of live polio virus. Was it dangerous? Of course it was. Was it worth it? Of course it was. Were my parents terrified? I’m sure they were. They had a role to play. They decided that love meant trusting science and praying for the best.

So shoot me.

BELIEVE

DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN YOU? I hope you do.

I know it’s important to have people who like you, people who love you and people who care about you. Lately though, I’ve been thinking how crucial it is to have someone who believes in you.

I did some googling, hoping to find a good juicy quote from someone I respect to help me make the point about how vital it is to have someone who believes in you. Weirdly, but maybe not surprisingly, the conventional wisdom—based on quotations from notables on this subject—seems to be that the most important thing is to believe in yourself. Here:

“If you believe in yourself anything is possible.” —Miley Cyrus

“When you believe in yourself and you believe that you're a person of influence and a person of purpose, I believe you can rise up out of any situation.” —Joel Osteen

“You have to believe in yourself when no one else does - that makes you a winner right there.” —Venus Williams

“When people don't believe in you, you have to believe in yourself.” —Pierce Brosnan

Okay, Okay. I realize these select examples are not exactly T.S. Eliot or C.S. Lewis or even Dr. Suess. But I have a sinking feeling these would garner a few Amens.

I’m going out on a limb here and share an idea I’m mulling over these days. This probably won’t end up in a Google search of great quotes but here it is:

I’m not so sure you can believe in yourself if you don’t have at least one person of significance in your life who believes in you. —Pops

Not to brag; but I have many, well a few anyway. Without a doubt the person who has been in the stands cheering for me the longest is my Mom. She’s in her 90s now and I’m knock-knock-knocking on 70’s door. Her belief in me hasn’t always been rational or justified or realistic, but it has been unwavering.

As a kid, I aspired to be a great athelete. Mom, a former high school cheerleader at Okmulgee High, knew a thing or two about encouraging aspiring sports stars to greatness beyond their talent level and physical potential. She used to sing this song to us when we were kids:

You’ve got to be a football hero
To get along with the beautiful girls.
You’ve got to be a touchdown getter you bet,
If you want to have a baby to pet.
The fact that you are rich or handsome,
Won’t get you anything in curls.
You’ve got to be a football hero,
To get along with the beautiful girls.

Thankfully the song is wrong. You can also be a drummer in the band and be lucky enough to have an Amazing-Missus with curls.

No matter what we aspired to, achieved or didn’t, Mom was always a believer.

A friend asked me one time: what is your greatest fear? Without hesitation, I said, “Squandering opportunity and becoming irrelevant.”

I told my oldest son that the other day as he and I were talking about Life. He said, “I wouldn’t worry about that Dad. I’ve seen you reinvent yourself numerous times.”

That is so empowering and encouraging. Every time my sons or others ask me for my thoughts, I know they believe in me. And the older I get the more I’m able to see their maturity and wisdom, their quiet, solid leadership. I believe in them. I believe in their beautiful wives and our grandkids.

Since 1972, the person whose belief I trust and value most is My Amazing-Missus. Without a doubt, I believe one of the most beautiful things about our marriage is that we believe in one another.

Maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give someone is to believe in them. That’s one of the things I loved about working with teenagers for many many years. I wanted them to know that I believed in them. Of course, I wanted them to know that God believes in them. I know that too. But it sure means a lot when someone says it to you. Maybe that’s one of God’s best gifts—the people he places along our journey who believe in us.

If I can be honest, I’m in a real dilemma right now. As I’ve said, my Mom has always been there for us. Now the shoe is on the other foot. I believe in my Mom, that’s for sure. She is a fighter. She has fought back from so much. A few months ago, she had a fall—not her first. She has more articial joints than real ones. This time though she is fighting back alone. My Dad passed a little over a year ago. He was always there to encourage her. She knew he believed she could and should bounce back. With the pandemic we have not been able to visit her in the rehab unit. She has been on her own.

In her last evaluation from her care team, they reported that she will not be able to return to her assited living apartment which means she’ll be moving to the nursing home wing. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she clearly and emphatically stands on preferring anything to going to the nursing home. Last night she told me she asked the physical therapist if she would just put her and her purse on a bus to California.

I tried to explain to her that she can once again gain the strength and dexterity to return to her apartment and be safe, so we don’t worry about another fall. But, when I told her that we had packed up her stuff for storage…

I’m afraid that she has come to the point where she thinks no one believes in her anymore. She says things like, “We know that won’t happen, I’m not getting better again. I’ve done all that the therapists have asked me to do. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Now, believing in her will have to different. My mom is very social, she loves to visit with people and dig in to their personal lives. She has a way of giving people the idea that she believes in them, because she does—if they will let her.

Maybe I will say to her: Mom I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I believe you will find ways to make a difference in people’s lives just as you always have. I believe in you Mom.