WORD

IF THERE ARE WORDS for this I'm not sure I can find them. Words are powerful. Words are peaceful. Words are honest and dishonest. They shape lies and truth. They heal and hurt. Whoever said, "Sticks and stones... but words can never hurt me," is full of [insert a couple of words here, or is it a compound word?]

How is it that for certain people, to be able to say: "what's-on-his-mind", it’s like a virtue or a license. "He just tells it like it is," seems to require that we let him off the hook for any affect the words might have.

Sometimes words can fall on deaf ears or they can be put into someone elses mouth. They can be misheard, unheard, misspoken, miscontrued or misunderstood.

Ever have to eat your words? On at least one occasion I had my mouth washed out with Lava brand soap by my grandmother for using a word that I'm pretty sure I had heard her use.

It's Christmastime. Time to remember Jesus was called The Word, that he existed in the beginning and that "the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son." John 1:14

That event actually happened. In flesh, bone and blood. It happened in a part of the world that is now strewn with flesh, bone and blood, in Gaza; less than 50 miles--away in a manger--where according to the song, the babe lay his sweet head.

When I think of the Nativity, the words of that heavy, heavy question in Lamentations comes to mind: “Does it mean nothing to you, all you who pass by?"

This is where it gets tricky for me. I am not one of those with a license to tell it like I see it. When I try, it seems I hurt feelings, alienate and infuriate. So I write these words cautiously and with trepidation. I should know how to do this. Back in school, I took and passed with flying colors a class called "Rhetoric".

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rhetoric
noun
--speech or writing intended to be effective and influence people
--the study of the ways of using language effectively

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This week, I went to the doctor for my annual check-up. I'm on Medicare now so the process is a little different. I had to complete a questionnaire. One section read something like: Do you ever feel sad, afraid, angry, etc.?

I started to impulsively check YES, but I was afraid my doctor might suggest a new pill, or support group. The tip of my pin drifted toward the NO square like a pointer pulling fingers across a Ouija board, but I couldn't mark NO. So, I checked YES and quickly prepared a sane and sensible explanation, words to ensure my doc and old friend that I had it all under control.

The fact is I do feel all of those things--not all the time, and I also feel happy, hopeful, courageous, and other good things. Maybe it has something to do with my age and emotional state, but I'm blaming most of the sad/afraid/angry stuff on the current state of things. I am so sick of cutural meanness, of dehumanizing speech, of the-end-justifies-the-means politics and religion. I'm depressed from the hostile takeover of christianity by far right fundamentalists. Their message of saving the soul of America while waving a banner stitched of their own power-greedy arrogance is demoralizing to me. They march lockstep behind people who demand loyalty to their ungodly authoritarianism. They claim to be doing all of this in answer to a call to follow the WORD-become-flesh, the one of whom the Apostle Paul wrote:

Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and compassionate? Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose.

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

Though he was God,
he did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.

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Maybe this year makes next year seem particularly fraught and fragile. It seems like fascists are strikingly stirred up. Ukraine, the Middle East, the environment, political hard-lining here at home, the border, the sensitive and growing situation of homeless camped along Main street of the town where we live.

Maybe it's actually just another year. Maybe there's been worse. Surely there's been better. I remember well Christmastime 1971. My mom's heart was breaking from the weight of it. The war in Vietnam was dragging on and on. Student deferments from the military draft had ended and I had my draft lottery number. One day I got home and was met by my mom with a letter addressed to me from the Selective Service System. She was literally shaking. I opened it to find that my number, 116, from the 1970 lottery had come up. I was to meet a bus in downtown Tulsa just before Christmas to travel to OKC to take a physical for conscription.

It was a horrible Christmas for her, but 1972 brought better days. The war waned and I didn't have to go after all. In June 1972, I married my Amazing-Missus, whom Mom dearly loved. What a difference a day or a few make.

It's Christmas Eve, 2023. I am leaning on promises. The same promises born with that little baby so long ago. Promises for peace, for justice, for deliverance. To borrow a few words from John Lennon:

“You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one.”

Merry Christmas.

GRAND GIFTS

MAYBE YOU’RE HEARD the prescription for gift-giving:

Something they want
Something they need
Something to wear
Something to read

One of our Grand-Girls found a present, wrapped, with a tag bearing her name under our pitiful little tree. (So pitiful in fact that one of our Grand-Guys asked why we didn't have a Christmas tree. "We do." I said, "That's it right there." He looked at it, then looked at me and smiled as if I might be joking.) Anyway, the aforementioned Grand-Girl asked me if I wrapped it. No. Mimi does all the wrapping. I do the shopping.

"Do you know what it is?" she asked. I told her I did know because I'm the one who chose it. "Will I like it?"

I started to explain to her that is not one of the criteria of gift-giving. I googled and googled and couldn't fine any version of the list that said: "Something they like." That's too fleeting and subjective. I'm their Pops, not a mindreader.

I simply said, "I hope so. If you don't, there's probably a little girl somewhere who would love to have it."

She laughed and said, "That's kinda mean." What do you expect from a 70-something old man trying to guess what an 9-year old would want? [BTW: I went with something from Barbie world. I figure I can't go too wrong, right?] I hope each of the Grands will say, "This is just what I wanted!"

Next up: SOMETHING THEY NEED. We'll be taking the whole crew to my favorite Thai food place. Obviously everyone NEEDS food. They may not see it as much of a gift, but it is. The food there is wonderful, every single time. The people who own and run the business take such pride in the whole experience. We each NEED a memorable meal around a warm table.

SOMETHING TO WEAR. Check.

Each kid gets pajamas that match (whether they want to or not). And this year, there's an extra item in the category. Something everyone should have. Maybe I'll share a picture in a future post.

SOMETHING TO READ.

Traditionally this one has been my favorite. But there are no books under the tree this year. Not because I don't want them to read and read and read, but because I can't remember what books I've given them in the past. I'm pretty sure each of our kid's houses have a copy of the books I most want our kids to read and love. That list includes (in no certain order):

GOOD NIGHT MOON
THE CAT IN THE HAT
GOOD NIGHT, GORILLA
MAKE WAY FOR DUCKLINGS
CORDUROY
THE MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK
MADELINE
STUART LITTLE
THE VELVETEEN RABBIT
WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS
THE GIVING TREE
CHARLOTTE'S WEB
THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE
HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE
A WRINKLE IN TIME
THE OUTSIDERS
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD

Maybe it's time for them to choose a book themselves. One that intrigues them, something other than what's on Pops' list of classics. Sounds like we need to make a trip to the bookstore--something that should be on our list every year.

REMEMBERING AUNT BETTY

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Has a better opening paragraph ever been written? I've chosen to start this essay with it because it is in the spirit of what I want to talk about, but I don't have the ability or insight to craft a sentence like it.

A few days ago I stepped into a time capsule and whooshed back sixty years or so. In a little ghost of a town named Dubach, Louisana, we gathered with cousins to remember our Aunt Betty, Dan and Philip's mother and my dad's last living sibling. The night before her memorial service we gathered and told stories of childhood.

My cousin Dale said to me, "Do you remember that time we were playing Tag in the dark in Aunt Betty's backyard and you ran into the clothesline? It caught you right in the neck. Your feet went flying and you slammed on your back. We all stood around you, looking down to see if you were still alive."

I didn't remember it. Maybe I blocked that memory, but others seem as fresh as they did when we were just kids. Dubach was one of those places and the halcyon days of the late 50s and early 60s one of those times when we could run unfettered from morning to night with little to worry about; save a clothesline.

Remembering playing Tag? Did your version provide a homebase where you could be "safe" from the the pursuit of the person who was "it"?

Dubach, and more specifically, Aunt Betty's home, was a safe base. Aunt Betty took grace and eternal hope seriously. To a casual observer she might appear to have a side to her that seemed stern, strict, springing from a devotion to her faith. In reality she had higher aspirations for us all than we even had for ourselves. Make any sense? How about an example:

She was a fine musician. If you had the slightest interest in music (as I did), you would feel sort of a weird accountability to her to get it right. Dig in. Learn more. Practice, practice, practice because the art demanded it. For her, music was created by and was a gift from God. If you claimed to be a musician, you had a responsibility to honor that gift. I can't thank her enough for being my first and foremost teacher of music appreciation.

It was not just music, but in life that she expected the best. We were implored by her example to unrelenting devotion to family and faith.

Those priorities were the super glue that bound my father and his little sister. In the birth order of the six children of Chroley and Bernice Fuller of Dubach, Louisiana, Dad was fourth, Aunt Betty, fifth. Apparently, from stories we've heard many times, Dad saw himself as guardian and protector of his little sister. Later she became his spiritual and doctrinal guide.

Dad, being a Baptist pastor during a time before Baptist fell into the abyss of authoritarianism, sort of complied with the common beliefs and interpretations. One day years ago we were gathered. The subject of the role of women in faith came up. Mention was made of the current fad of religious leaders putting women in their subjective place. My Dad, who grew up with a mother who was a cornerstone in their local church and a sister who was the glue of that church, said, "I tend to agree with that view." His sister, my Aunt Betty turned from the kitchen counter where she was preparing a dish and said, "Brother! You know better than that." Turns out he did know better. He knew empirically and experientially that to view women as subserviant to anyone in the work of faith is untrue, unjust and ungodly.

A few years ago, My Amazing Missus and I were having dinner with my parents. Dad told us he and Mom wanted to talk with us about their last wishes. He said, "We've decided to be cremated upon our deaths." I was so surprised. This had never been mentioned in our many conversations on the matter. Where had this come from?! He continued, "We were visiting with your Aunt Betty on the phone the other night. She has been praying and reviewing scripture on the matter and has come to peace with a decision in favor of cremation for herself."

That settled that.

That's one of the things about homebase, that safe place from the "its" of life. There are trusted voices. People with high expectations for us but also a deep, abiding love that lets us try, and whether we succeed or not, they are there.

That's why even at 70-something, with the passing of my Aunt Betty, the ground feels a little less sure. The certain voices of my early life are passing. But we have their wisdom and spirits with us still.

After the service, a few of us cousins and spouses gathered at the cemetary in Dubach. There are so many headstones there with the "FULLER" name, that if that's your surname, you wonder how there can be any left. But, there we were, the kids who once ran around that little town, who ate at Aunt Betty and Uncle Steve's table. For a few moments, as the sun was setting and the mosquitos were beginning their attack, we were all at home base, safe, about to return to grown up life trying to outrun "it".

MAKING MUSIC

"The more I read the papers, the less I comprehend
The world and all its capers and how it soon will end."

I FEEL SORT OF GUILTY writing something about fun and funny given the horror and heartache boiling in our world. It's important to pay attention. It's appropriate to feel disgust and fear. It's vital to remember that goodness, truth and beauty exist.

So, that's my justification, now here's what's on the lighter side of my mind.

I love music. Maybe you've played that silly game, "Would you rather...?"

Here are a few examples, I borrowed from a quick search:

1. Would you rather have the ability to see 10 minutes into the future or 150 years into the future?

2. Would you rather have telekinesis (the ability to move things with your mind) or telepathy (the ability to read minds)?

3. Would you rather be forced to sing along or dance to every single song you hear?

4. Would you rather find true love today or win the lottery next year?

Sometimes, the game can turn dark with a question like: Would you rather lose your hearing or your eyesight?

At seventy-something, I'm fortunate to still have both, although some may say my hearing is selective or that the TV volume is set higher than it used to be. Two of the men I admire most, lived with the plague of a degenerative eye disease. They handled it with a grace that I should learn from. I love being able to see, read, drive and take walks by myself. But, not being able to hear music? I can't imagine.

never too young for a music appreciation class

I have a nice Hi-Fi system, and a collection of vinyl albums, some of which I purchased in high school and college. I have an Elton John album that I distinctly remember being the first album that My Amazing Missus and I purchased together as newlyweds, 50+ years ago. It's memorable because it would have been a big expense for our budget. We weren't loaded with disposable income, but My Amazing Dairy Farmer's Daughter's father kept us stocked with beef. So, all we had to buy was an occasional box of Hamburger Helper.

Over the years I've had amazing opportunities to hear really good musicians and to play drums in a variety of settings: studios, orchestra pits, parade routes, high school dances; here and abroad. Today, I play alone, on my drum kit in our master bedroom. Sometimes I wear headphones and play along with Diana Krall or The Beatles. I still try to play the 5/4 beat of Dave Brubeck's "Take Five", usually unsuccessfully.

I can spend lots of time watching a certain genre of YouTube videos. There are musicians, aspiring and accomplished that make YouTube their main performance Venue. A few of my favorites: Mona Lisa Twins, twin sisters from Austria, named (you guessed it) Mona and Lisa. Their covers of Beatles music and their ability to play so many instruments is inspiring. Another is Mary Spender, a British singer-songwriter. I love her guitar style. One of my favorite videos of hers is a duet with a kid named Josh Turner. They are playing "Sultans of Swing" by Dire Straits.

Josh Turner is another YouTuber that is so prolific. He performs, usually in his apartment, with different musicians and friends. In thinking about which of his videos to recommend to you, I thought, you know what? It's cool outside and Hobby Lobby thinks it's time to start the Christmas season, so how about this one? CLICK HERE to watch Josh Turner and friends.

Often, I'll go to her sewing room and say, "Come quick, I have another amazing video for you to watch!" As it concludes, I usually say, "I wish I had a few friends I could jam with like Josh and his friends."

Then one day I discovered "Bryan and Friends" and reality hit hard. I realized that it's probably best if I don't gather a few friends for fear we might actually turn on a camera and post publicly. But, way to go Bryan and your friends. Rock on! CLICK HERE to watch Bryan and Friends.

For me, I'm holding out to just simply sit in the corner of a studio and watch miracles like this happen. CLICK HERE to watch Tony [RIP] and Diana.

In time the Rockies may crumble
Gibraltar may tumble
They're only made of clay
But, our love is here to stay

Tony bennet and diana krall

"Love Is Here to Stay" is a popular song and jazz standard composed by George Gershwin with lyrics by Ira Gershwin for the movie The Goldwyn Follies (1938).