Tagged: family
Reaction to Today’s Obituaries
In this version of a recuring theme, I want to call your attention to each person’s “best”.
I mean that in each obituary there is usually one truth which sneaks past the editor, one ridiculous claim that isn’t about the deceased—but the writer. Some, if we’re lucky, have more than one.
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“Among his many achievements were a state basketball championship at G- High School and a state football championship at W- High School.”
-unnnnnnfortunately, you can’t take it with you.
“He and his family also spent summers growing gladiola for sale to commercial florists and at farmers markets in (city).”
-must’ve been some flowers for commercial florists to take notice.
“She was the beautiful blonde cheerleader and [her husband, E-], the handsome basketball star.” And, “She studied His Holy Word and lived in His Way always.”
-pretty much everything a little tow head girl could ask for in life, no?
“Beginning in 1982 they lived in homes in (city) that P- spent his time improving, until 1977.”
-wish I knew him!
“He was a voracious reader; reading every book in the public library during his elementary and high school years.”
-middle school must’ve been when he experimented with hard drugs though obviously he ultimately decided against the practice.
“Following an intense loss at the B- Invitational Golf Tournament, he decided against a professional golf career.”
-Oh. Interesting. So that’s why. Hmm. Quitter.
(Same man) “He was open-minded and did not see distinctions of class, education, or wealth.”
-lots of Black friends probably.
“They specialized in high quality and custom hardwood lumber for the local building industry.”
-too bad commercial buyers weren’t interested. That would’ve been something to write about.
“C- strived for morality and enjoyed the unique qualities of everyone she met.”
-is that how pro-lifers are described today?
“J- poured his heart and love of writing into this book which can be found on http://www.amazon.com.”
-slow down. Was that three double-u’s or four?
“In 1972, she graduated valedictorian from S- high school.”
-set. For. Life.
“A beautiful woman of deep faith and exceptional grace, she excelled in many endeavors in her life.”
-what can I say? Rotator cuff injury took me out in 8th grade. Downhill from there.
(Same lady.) “At the time of her selection (three years ahead of her peers) she was one of the youngest officers in the Air Force selected for promotion to full colonel.”
-no comment
(One more from this David-hearted mortal.) “L- lived the life that she wanted to have.”
-lucky!!
“S- was an astute businesswoman who helped build a successful business that still exists today.”
-ahh. Finally. In the only meaningful sense of the word, one lucky dead woman found happiness. Or as Aristotle called it, “Eudaimonia.” Flourishing.
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As always, reader, please do better. Please take life seriously. Please do not write this crap about your loved ones. If you need help, comment. Or email me. I would be happy to help you tell the truth.
Point/Counterpoint: Will the Influx of Africans to the West Work? (4)
Yes.
(By work, of course, we mean “rule of law” holding.
By fail, of course, we mean “might makes right” resuming.)
It occurs to me that the well of knowledge in the West—given its unique and rich tradition of valuing literacy—is deeper than any living African immigrant, and his total unfamiliarity with literacy, can dig in one lifetime. However, my conscience will not let the matter settle there.
The African is not without hope. The main lesson of literacy, the main point of the written record, is to insist that we tell the truth.
Will rule of law hold? Yes. If the Africans adopt our manifestly dominant tradition of valuing honesty, then it will hold.
The Rumored Sudanese Family Budgets
The great influx of Africans, in this case Sudanese, is taking on an almost uniform shape at churches across our great country. The general situation is the almost dead whites have their Sunday services as they have for the past 80 years. But then the vibrant-seeming African redeemed, fresh off the airplane, bring out the whole family, extended family, and more and use the same church buildings for their Pentecostal services.
The white pastors, then, in talking to the African church leadership have their finger on this aspect of the immigration pulse more-so than you or I. (If any of this interests you, track down a pastor. He’d love to chat after such a long break.)
The specific heartbeat one pastor revealed to a friend of mine that I want today’s post to illuminate is family money.
Want to know how these non-Western families handle the family budget? I’ll tell ya.
Rumor has it, the fathers are slaving themselves out as their wives spend without limit.
The situation, surely applicable to more than just Sudanese culture, is the wives expect to never be told “no” when it comes to money and then the husband has to figure out how to pay the bill.
Worse, the Sudanese wives, like all you lovely ladies out there, really want to work and have their own money, money which the husband is never allowed to acknowledge exists.
Reader: you know my point. That’s right. The next time you see a midnight-skinned African-looking man whose every fiber screams high strung, summon your compassion. He needs it.
And to you readers who are American wives: if anything I have written remotely describes you, then, seriously, WTF?
A Rooster Crowed
And as Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came, and seeing Peter warming himself, she looked at him and said, “You also were with the Nazarene, Jesus.”
But he denied it, saying, “I neither know nor understand what you are talking about.” And he went out into the entryway.
And when the servant-girl saw him, she began once more to say to the bystanders, “This is one of them!” But again he was denying it.
And after a little while the bystanders were again saying to Peter, “Surely you are one of them, for you are also a Galilean.”
But he began to curse and swear, “I do not know this man you are talking about!” And immediately a rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said the statement to him, “Before a rooster crows twice, you will deny Me three times.”
And throwing himself down, he began to cry.
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On this day, congregation, I ask you, “Did you hear it?”
Today Is the Definitive Day of Sadness for the United States of America
I feel sad.
It’s difficult not to brood or stew for the next several hours until the press conference.
I don’t join the “elder abuse” or “his family won’t let him” choruses.
I just feel sad.
As a child, all I wanted was to serve our great country, the greatest country the Earth had ever seen, bar none.
As a man, all I feel is sad.
I Am Never Ready
These last three days I learned that despite my training and full belief in the Boy Scouts’ “Be Prepared” motto, there are three things I am never ready for.
Firstly, America’s natural beauty, specifically the Rocky Mountains.
I drove to Salt Lake City from the Springs (and back) and while my eyes were necessarily on the road, I could’t help but marvel at the grandeur passing by my right and left.
I have decided that this area will be my kids and I’s new playground.
Secondly, folk’s response to, “What is the gospel?”
“You are insolent,” the friend of my buddy told me, as we sat next to each other late into the wedding reception. This was preceded by, “You are proselytizing.” Which was preceded by a three to five minute recounting of his entire childhood interaction with the Church which concluded, as he could tell he was avoiding the question, with a tremendously subpar answer, which he knew was subpar as he delivered it even before my eyes surely indicated so. This being preceded by his rehearsal of the lunacy of the concept of the “chosen people” and my, “Well, and to be sure—I am giving you my best now, no pulling punches—you must understand the gospel before you can understand or be at peace with any of the rest of it. There is an order of events, so to speak. So I would ask you (you don’t have to answer) what is the gospel?” And of course this was preceded by his, “You’re religious, huh? My problem is…”
I guess I am just an optimist. It’s my only explanation why I am always surprised that such a simple question can evoke such a dark response.
Thirdly, once in a lifetime offers of unimaginable wealth and luxury.
“Are you happy there? Are you happy with your job?”
I said, “Sorry what are you asking?”
“Are you settled in for good? Do you like your job?” the man repeated.
I had just met him. I learned he was a doctor. He was immediately kind. I believe his opening banter was complimenting the toast I had just given/hosted as best man. And, I never confirmed, but I am pretty sure he was a Mormon.
Do you see it now?
He saw what I had just accomplished in the other room and was ready to put those talents to work for the faith—and we all get richer in the process.
But I stumbled. Someone else was nearby and asking those around if they knew the movie that the current bluegrass band’s song was from, and I couldn’t help but ignore my new friend and lean over to answer, “O’ Brother Where Art Thou?!”
By the time that reverie ended, the moment had passed. The “doctor is out”, and never to return.
Oh well. I do like my house and I do like my job. But I also feel shame that I have acted in the same way during similar moments enough times to recognize the physical sensation I get afterwards as the “missed/blown opportunity” one. And this shame is only made worse in that these moments keep happening to me.
Maybe next time, I’ll be ready.
Point/Counterpoint: Will the Influx of Africans to the West Work? (3)
No.
The influx will not work, at least not for the first few generations (and deeper, the longer they segregate).
There has been too much “foreign aid” to their homelands, and not the requisite amount of humble (which is inherently also wise), “Say, how do you get to a place where your ‘cup runneth over’?” for the Africans to ever get out of the mindset of thinking manna falls from heaven and transition to contributing.
Reaction to a Couple Obituaries, to Include the First Ever (for this blog) Mildly Approved Sentiment
“(Person) loved his family and he spent his life in service of their welfare and happiness. Most recently, he found great joy in being a grandfather, investing an enormous amount of time and love doting on his dearest (two named grandsons). He also cared deeply for the larger community around him.”
– What is being hidden here? A “lifetime in service of their welfare and happiness”? That kind of lie can only mean bitter, bitter relationships and it also evinces a total misunderstanding of language. Sorry, it was rough being in his family folks, but a few words in the Sunday paper after he’s dead is not going to “manifest” anything pretty, let alone reach back into the past and fix the issues. And why is it wrong to pick out one or two people (from the billions) to love? Ever since whites learned the power of the phrase “black community”, they feel guilty if they don’t use part or all of it during supposedly momentous occasions. Just stop. We don’t live as members of some group which needs fancy and false descriptors any different than T-Rex or George Washington did.
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Onto the first ever approved, if mildly, obituary assertion.
“He got a black lab puppy last year in April named Oslo. She was the best thing that had happen to him in quite some time. He never went anywhere without her, and they spent hours every day playing fetch with the tennis ball. He loved telling jokes and always had a smile on his face, despite away being described as grumpy ass sometimes.”
– What makes these sentiments worthy is they are fearless. Do you see? This dude lived a kinda shitty life (if a dog is the best thing to happen to you, then you’re having a “sour go”). I love the use of “tennis” to describe the ball—like anyone really cares what kind of ball it was. So quaint. I could do without the “ass”, and I wonder why no “air quotes” around “grumpy ass”, but the beauty is that whoever wrote this had some respect for the dead. I repeat: whoever wrote this respected this man. And the dead man obviously had threatened, or lived in a way which threatened, haunting whoever lied about him after his death.
So good work. This pairing of deceased and writer can teach us all a thing or two.
Reaction to Kiefer’s Sentiment About His Father’s Passing
Kiefer Sutherland said, “He loved what he did, and did what he loved. And one can never ask for more than that.”
I disagree. I can ask for far more than that.
I have felt bliss. I want instant bliss.
I want more time than I’m slated for, and when my body was twenty-one.
I want sane women.
I want a job that requires no concern about “pleasing people” or making people “happy”.
I want my daughter.
I want every human on earth to have discernment.
I want every human on earth to acknowledge and live according to their strength of memory and speed of thought.
I want pizza on a rotating schedule from all my favorite restaurants served at a place of my choosing as I feel, and new types coming out according to a timeline of my fancy.
I want to be adored.
I want to be listened to.
Back to the time thing; I want time enough to flesh out this post and have my afternoon coffee stay hot until I say so.
In short, Mr. Kiefer Sutherland, you’re wrong. No. Doing what you love or loving what you do, or both, is not all anyone can ask.
Instead of failing at sounding wise, please just tell us how you feel at the news that your father died. Or don’t.
People: we must do better at this death thing.
What I Would’ve Told Myself About Getting Married a Second Time Had I Known Then What I Know Now
Besides the Vindictive Little Hussy Tamar from Genesis story, during our last spat, my wife also asked if I knew what a “Phrase” was and recommended that I read about “the prostitute women bring her to Jesus.”
Again, you have to really want to understand the speaker—it’s my wife; I do—in order to figure out what the hell they are saying in moments like these, but if you work within the given context, “Phrase” can be a heavily accented “Pharisee”.
Unlike the account of VLH Tamar (which is on the whole depressing and kinda embarrassing to the patriarchs of our faith—let alone Scripture itself), I could imagine why my wife would think the LORD in heaven would use the infamous “cast the first stone” story to convict a wretched sinner like me (America’s Husband) and hope that, in so doing, she will create marital bliss in the form of an unquestioned matriarchy.
My wife states plainly that “I accuse her” all the time. (I would say that I speak with truth. Can I get a witness?!)
Naturally, then, she reads about the “Phrases’s” bringing a woman caught in adultery to Jesus (keep in mind, I am not 100% that this is the correct passage. But I think it is. Also informing my guess is the international megachurch’s absolute love and reliance and incessant preaching of this account) and sees the action of accusation and puts two and two together and here we are.
A careful, objective reading of the story, however, does not persuade me (and does not include) that it has anything to offer humanity as regards interpersonal communication or family dynamics or nation building.
After the accusation (apparently uncontested), the text has:
They were saying this, testing Him, so that they might have evidence to accuse Him.
If there is one aspect of the Gospel that preachers and teachers looking to cherry-pick “scriptural applications” from the text miss whole-heartedly all the day long, it is that the Pharisees wanted Jesus dead!
How these men (and now women, #metoo) always miss this, considering the Pharisees did get their way and have him killed, is incredible, but miss it they do! And when you don’t teach what the Bible says, when you don’t do your job and help people to focus on the text, you end up screwing up a whole lot more than just one little pericope (that’s “purr-i-co-pee”, long o). You end up messing with my marriage! Marriage supposedly based in the Judeo-Christian worldview, no less.
Yes, yes. I am currently accusing. I am doing the very thing I am defending myself against.
But I am right.
How can I be sure? Because I have some special power? Not special in extraterrestrial or mutation, but yes, I have a special as in precious or rare power. I can read!
And literacy leads to other things, like answering relevant questions like,
Does Jesus, Lord of Lords and King of Kings, want humans to stop “accusing” each other of mistakes and wrongdoings?
My answer is, “How would we determine such a thing? I mean, for example, I can imagine that we could read up and discover whether he ever forbids the making of accusations. (He does not.) Then we could, if we cared to, read with an eye out for whether biblical authors themselves accuse or offer stories where the protagonist accuses—and are lauded for it. (Text doesn’t have much to offer on either side of this perspective, but Titus 1:6 hardly makes sense if all accusing is to cease.)”
Over and above my literacy power, though, is something simpler. We could simply ask, “What are your intentions, my wife? Because mine are to be head of the best family I possibly can. And yours do not seem to align with mine.”
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But this post is truly about warning myself regarding a second marriage and especially a second marriage that makes new babies.
The warning is this: Pete. You have had the worst divorce in human history—your ex steals your money daily and has kidnapped your daughter. I’m not telling you “don’t do it”. But please consider that this “felt experience” is going to feed into a heavy dread of the same thing happening again. And this means that there will be informed and resultant overreactions to the normal(?) downs of associating with the weaker sex. In short, you are entering into what may, at times, feel like a hostage situation, your kids as the leverage. A veritable, “Want to keep seeing your children? Then do as I say!” Only this time, you know all too well that everyone, including the guys (and gals, #metoo) with guns, will take her side against you.
Consider yourself warned.
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And had I known this, I would’ve proceeded as I have, optimistically, perhaps blindly, because, as the story goes, Jesus did not come to condemn people. If my wife has the Holy Spirit inside her, as she professes and I believe to be the case, then Jesus isn’t coming for me.
Want to take my kids (#metoo)? Good luck! You won’t find any fight from me. Instead, you’ll find yourself fighting the living god.
Wait, what? It’s not about the kids? What’s this? You merely want me to change my thinking? Good luck! All you have to do is remove my ability to read (or burn all Bibles—better make it all books), wipe my memory of scripture, and drop me off anytime after, say, 1900 AD when women have decided they are head of the family. I think if you pray real hard for that, the LORD will give you that good gift. (And you’ll also get that book deal and your “healing” and “blessing” along with the thousand other attendees at your “church”.)
Lord, if you’re listening (I know, I know), do not tarry.
Captain’s Log 