THE END

I GREW UP in a tradition that was facinated with End Times speculation. Preachers, waving their King James Bible, painting a picture, predicting and prophesying about the return of One who said, without irony or stammering, "But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only," found a sure-fire way to pack the house on Friday night of the revival meeting. Announcing all week long that Friday would be the night to look at signs of the end times was sort of click-baity; as is this first paragraph teasing readers to read on.

However, this post isn't about THOSE end times, but... Let's continue.

Kids these days with their acronyms. KWIM? In this little essay, I'm going to try to have some fun, make a point, and procure a silent "amen", all without getting too cute or fatalistic.

I worked for years in an industry with a 55 gallon drum full of alphabet soup of acronyms. It's an industry highly regulated by the "government". [And we all know those Feds love themselves some acronyms--FBI, CIA, HUD, BOP, DOJ, DOD, just to name a few plus that crowd favorite the IRS.

Our company has several departments and each of those have their own set of acronyms. Today's lesson is about one of those departments known by the simple acronym of IT. You know the one who's first answer to any computer issue is "Have you plugged it in?" followed by, "Turn it off, wait 30 seconds and turn it back on."

Two of their favorite acronyms are used when they want to buy some new equipment: EOL and E0S.

Our clothes dryer is having issues. It will heat and run all day. That's the issue: it will run all day. The timer/sensor/really expensive part is broken. So to keep from burning the house down we have to set a timer to remember to check on the dryer. As it goes with things like appliance life these days, you can call a repairman, add up his trip charge, his minimum charge and the cost of the part, plus the Trump Tariff upcharge. Then crunch those numbers together and realize that for another 5 or 6 bucks you can just buy a new one.

For me: Pops—a 1951 model—I have not reached EOL, yet. Ask My Amazing Missus and she might tell you that she suspects that I have reached EOS. [In case you're still guessing: EOL is End Of Life, and EOS is End Of Service.]

Last Saturday we found ourselves in an appliance store. She was politely listening to the salesguy talk about the features and reasons for jumping up from the TD5 model to the DEEEluxe TRD7 "which is heavy duty yet gentle (kind of like your husband here) with an all-metal transmission for years of quiet dependable service."

Years? That's the operative word here. I was quietly figuring in my head our EOTIOOHBMTTLRUHFS. Of course you'll recognize that acronym as the End Of Time In Our Own Home Before Moving To The Last Roundup Home For Seniors.

Haskell the salesman had now transitioned to explaining the heightened quality of life we will have because of owning the TRD7 to extolling the TRW7--the washing machine of this made in heaven pair.

The 7 in the model apparently stood for seven year warranty. "Do we need anything with a seven year warranty?" I wondered quietly to myself, pondering end times scenarios.

I scanned across the rows of shiny appliances. I became terror-struck. Our freezer in the garage is more than 25 years old. Our refrigerator--more than 20. Our mattress? Who knows? Under the threat of prosecution from some federal agency I ripped the tag off of it years ago. Crap! Now I'm fearful that Kristi Noem might show up with a van load of goons to haul me off to Aligator Alcatraz. What an ending that would be.

Can I count on these old appliances to see us through to the next phase? "Just out of curiosity Haskell, the appliance salesman, what does a refrigerator like that one there run these days with tariffs and all?"

"Let me show you one with a chest freezer below, double doors up top and a frozen snack drawer for the grandkids, Plus ice and water in the door!" "This one is three-grand, but if you don't mind a dent and ding special, we can fix you up for under $2500."

Having a few dents, dings and leaks myself, I can relate. And why not give one of these, which is a little marred through no fault of its own, a nice home.

We've sort of been saving up for a storm shelter, given we live in tornado alley. The thought crossed mind that if we're going to have a shelter and thus take a big step in potentially extending our lives, maybe we will need the W/D pair with the 7-year warranty. Could we outlive them? Sure. Could we live without them? Sure. If only we had a spring-fed stream running through our backyard; with a box of detergent, a couple of smooth rocks and a clothesline we could do our laundry like our grandparents before us.

I'm confident a pair of rocks have a very distant EOL. And, after all, isn't that what we're all hoping for? For us and our appliances?

WHAT'S NEXT?

Could we have a little fun? You know; laugh a little to keep from crying?

"Buckle up and hang on. Now we know why the streets are empty, and the man’s ravings take on some new dimension: Maybe he’s just regular unhinged, or maybe he’s been driven into lunacy by the last eight or so weeks of madness. Or maybe he’s the only sane one left. Who can tell? By late May 2020, even the most unflappable among us felt one raisin short of a fruitcake."

This is a paragraph from my friend, Alissa Wilkinson's New York Times' review of the film "Eddington". For some reason(s) her words struck me as a complete explanation of my state of mind these days. I've not seen the movie she has reviewed but still her words paint a picture that feels very familiar.

I learned a new word a few years ago. We were visiting Seattle, hitting the must-see spots there. That meant a visit to the original Starbucks in the Pike Place Market area. It was humble and seemed too small and narrow to give birth to the ubiquitous franchise we know today. I asked the barista if the coffee house, Cafe Nervosa--the one that Frasier and Niles frequented actually existed. "No." Then he recommended a likeness, a place called "Zeitgeist Coffee". So, we set out to find the Zeitgeist: the coffee house; and after I discovered the meaning of the word I realized I was in search of that too.

zeitgeist
noun

the general set of ideas, beliefs, feelings, etc. that is typical of a particular period in history

---

Buckle up and hang on indeed. Who would have thought we would all know the name Epstein? Who would have thought we would grab hard to a moment of fun at the expense of a couple of idiots going reluctantly public in front of the Kiss-Cam at a Coldplay concert. The Corporation for Public Broadcasting defunded. A den of dehumanization in Ochopee, Florida, called "Alligator Alcatraz" by those who love the idea of it. I don't know about you but I feel more and more displaced by this tsunami of zeitgeist upheavel.

I saw a post that Trump was announcing a renaming of the San Andreas Fault to Joe Biden's Fault. Mid-laugh I stopped; the thought hit me this could actually be true. Crazier things have happened... or did they?

Alissa wonders about the protagonist and it makes me wonder about myself: "Maybe he’s just regular unhinged, or maybe he’s been driven into lunacy by the last eight or so weeks of madness. Or maybe he’s the only sane one left."

We can all shudder at remembering an 8-week period in the late May of 2020 timeframe. But now we've gone into warp speed and it's dizzying. What once took eight weeks, now takes eight days. Heck, some days eight hours can be all the time we have to hang on for dear life during a full zeitgeist whiplash.

Tariffs on/tariffs off. Epstein files open/Epstein files empty. Putin is amazing/Putin is a liar. Try keeping up with the names of things. Gulf of Mexico/Gulf of America. Now Republican lawmakers, in a giant kiss on the giant backside are working to rename the opera house at the "John F Kennedy Center For Performing Arts" after the first lady. Representative Mike Simpson, a Republican from Idaho introduced the amendment. Mr. Simpson said in a statement after the vote that naming the theater after Mrs. Trump “is an excellent way to recognize her appreciation for the arts.”

HEY! I appreciate the arts too!

As if he doesn't have better things to do, POTUS is threatening to block the Washington Commanders' new stadium deal unless they revert to their former name, the Redskins. Just a thought: Maybe they could compromise and tip their helmets to his highness and go with the Washington Orangeskins.

Too far? Too soon?

Could we liken it all to being on a roller coaster, complete with all the turns and dips and hairpins and many forks in the track, not knowing which one the lead coaster car will take until the last second? Maybe the train will grind to a halt, sparks flying, and back up to take the fork less traveled, hurling us all into a dark cave. We emerge to find people who know nothing about roller coaster track building quickly throughing track pieces together leading into some unknown. We do know this: its feeling more and more like this train will never return to the station.

My favorite line of Alissa's paragraph is the last one, the one that implies at least, we're all in it together: "...even the most unflappable among us felt one raisin short of a fruitcake."

SAVE THE DATE

The Continental Army was officially formed on June 14, 1775, so June 14, 2025, the Army will be 250 years. That's a milestone worth marking and reflecting on. And apparently, plans are churning to do just that. Word is there will be a parade--the Army's birthday parade--through the center of Washington D.C.

I wish I could remember where I read the details so I could give proper credit, but the notes I made are missing the source. According to the report the parade will include:

28 M1A1 Abrams tanks (at 70 tons each, the heaviest in service)
28 Stryker armored personnel carriers
more than 100 other vehicles
a World War II-era B-25 bomber
6,700 soldiers
50 helicopters
34 horses
two mules; and
a dog.

I love a parade! In fact, it may be the pomp of a parade that first motivated me to want to be a drummer. As a kid I remember standing along the curb looking up Boston Avenue in downtown Tulsa in anxious excitement for the first of the parade to come into sight. But, before seeing that first car carrying the the grand marshall, before you could smell the horses, before any of that you could hear the cadence of the distant drums.

I've been to and marched in many many parades: Christmas parades, Rooster Day parades, Independence day parades, and one presidential inagural parade in D.C. for the infamous Nixon, which, by the way, will be the same parade route as the Army/Trump Birthday parade.

Oh I know, his name won't be on the cake so to speak but I'm sure that since by coindence he shares a birthday with the Army, he will feel celebrated too.

It should be a fine parade. Estimates are the cost will be in the $25 million to $45 million range. "But it could be higher because the Army has promised to fix any city streets that the parade damages, plus the cost of cleanup and police are not yet part of the estimate." I wonder: has DOGE heard about this?

Speaking of memorable points along the Army timeline, remember when Elvis, "King of Rock n Roll", served from 1958-1960? Let's take a look. From Wikipedia: "Before entering the Army, Presley had caused national outrage with his rock and roll music. Many parents, religious leaders, and teachers' groups welcomed his draft into the military. Despite being offered the chance to enlist in Special Services to entertain the troops and live in priority housing, Presley was persuaded by his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, to serve as a regular soldier. This earned him the respect of many of his fellow soldiers and people back in the United States who previously viewed him in a negative light."

Speaking of birthdays: depending on your view of the state of Elvis's aliveness, on January 8, 2026, Elvis will be or would have been 90 years old! How cool would it be to have a parade to commemorate? I'm open to brainstorming what it might look like: lots of Cadillacs, maybe a flyover of an old plane dropping Elvis impersonators out over the parade route, floating under bright parachutes. Maybe everyone could wear blue suede shoes. Floats could include a "Heartbreak Hotel" and another with a jail cell and a choir of recent pardonees singing "Jailhouse Rock". And of course there will be one "Hound Dog".

Although I'm not an Elvis fan, I respect his significant musical legacy and contribution. I do, however, remember his birthday every year. Coincidentally, old Pops here too was born on a January 8th, several years after the birth of Elvis. I know it's not a unique idea, but maybe I could go along for the ride as sort of a birthday 2-fer.

Speaking of psuedo-kings: There's another series of events planned for June 14, 2025. I don't know who's doing the planning but they've come up with a thought-provoking idea.

Maybe Elvis and I don't need the conspicuous consumption of a parade afterall. Remember that one Elvis song? The one with the bridge that said:

People, don't you understand
A child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man someday
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way?

-- In The Ghetto

Or, here's an idea: maybe we delay gratification for a little more than a year to, oh, let's say, July 4, 2026, and go all out for a party celebrating our Nation's 250th Birthday! We could save the $25 plus million until then and make it the the greatest, most huge party in the history of the world. I realize that steals the sparkle for those who have a June 14 birthday, but maybe if we need add-ons we could do a quick shout out to a few others with July 4 birthdays like: Calvin Coolidge, president #30. He was a conservative, limited government kind of guy. And Bill Withers who wrote songs we love and need like "Lean On Me"; or Nathaniel Hawthorne, who wrote "The Scarlet Letter", a book about sin and shame and repentance and judgement and imposing our morality on others.

July 4th just makes sense. A good party needs fireworks and July 4th is the pinnacle. And, according to the Oklahoma Fireworks Act, codified in Title 68, Section 1621-1635 of the Oklahoma Statutes the law that establishes the legal framework for the sale, possession, and use of fireworks across the state. Consumer fireworks can only be sold and used from June 15 to July 6 and from December 15 to January 2. So, to light a fuse on June 14th for a joint Army/Trump birthday bash would be illegal here in the Sooner state.

July 4th also would be perfect because Hobby Lobby already has all the trappings of a good celebration lining the shelves. Where in the H. E. Double Hockey Sticks are you going to find plates, napkins, banners, gnomes, flags, swizzle sticks, tablecloths, lights, hats, visors, flip-flops and a CD of saxophonist Kenny G playing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" for a June 14 extravaganza?!

Oh well, enough of all that. It's not my call to make. It's his party--he can strut if he wants to--strut if he wants to; you would strut too if it happened to you; ta da dat dat dat.

EASTER IN 2025

From my earliest memories, our family was fully immersed in Easter celebrating: the bunny, the eggs, the vinegar smell, the hunt, the candy, a hollow chocolate bunny and of course, Peeps. New, scratchy, stiff clothes and uncomfortable shoes, extra butch wax to keep unruly hair in check. Pre-Sunday school threats about not getting dirty or wrinkly. And as we emerged from the car in the church parking lot there was a last minute spit and polish. Mom would literally spit on a tissue and wipe our mouths and pluck the "sleep" from the corners of our eye sockets. Into the church we would march with the throng that was extra large because it's Easter, and everyone goes to church on Easter.

My Amazing-Missus was raised in the same traditions so it was easy to lead our boys in that path. We didn't hesitate to let the Bunny and stuff be a part of their Eastertime experience. I know some today worry that having Peter Cottontail, Santa, and The Tooth Fairy in the childhood narrative will cause doubts in adulthood about the reality of the stories of faith. Honestly, I never remember feeling bamboozled by the mix of fiction and non-fiction gift-givers. To this day, I readily accept the truth of Jesus' having lived and living still. Of course there are still those beyond-understanding parts that I need a deep faith to accept. I'm like that guy in the Bible that said: "Lord I believe! Help me with my unbelief."

This morning, I read an article in the New York Times that included what we might call testimonies from people of some renown. This one from Andrea Bocelli, the 66 year-old, blind, Italian singer struck a chord with me:

As a boy in a Tuscan hill town, I went to the local Catholic church for the organ. They let me play it once a month. There, in that small church, in that cobbled, orange town, I fell in love with music.

My belief in God came later, when I read Blaise Pascal’s idea of a wager: He writes that we all have a choice; to believe or not to believe. Given the uncertainty, how little we know about the world, he argues it is a better bet to choose belief, to embrace mystery. That made sense to me. So I decided to dedicate my life to my faith.

My career is my offering. Saint Augustine is quoted as saying that those who sing pray twice. If that is true, I have prayed much of my life, and I am in a constant dialogue with God. --NYT. 4/19/2025.

I'll admit it. I do not like the uncertainty we are living in in 2025. I do not like the distorting of the message of Jesus. I'm in a bit of despair, but not without hope. I choose belief and embrace the mystery.

Here's an image I found on some social feed. My first thought: That's what it feels like to be a Peep in 2025.