11.15.2021 – sun shining worship

sun shining worship
vast, beautiful cool treasures
airy heights pale beams

Church this month in the Low Country is being held outdoors on a piece of property where the Church hopes to build a Church.

Nothing too unusual about that but in this case, the Church has partnered with the Local Community Theater in an effort to build a Community venue that on Sundays will host the Church and the rest of the week will be the area community theater.

Kind of a cool idea when you come down to it.

In conversation with the Pastor he remarked that their Bank isn’t quite sure how to deal with this.

The Bank has a plan to loan money to build a Church.

The Bank has a plan to loan money to build a Community Theater.

But the Bank isn’t quite sure how to proceed when the two partner together to raise money together and share the building.

So the Church is meeting this month on the property here in Bluffton, SC.

My brain for the most part is still on Michigan’s Weather Schedule.

I look at the calendar and think Sunday Morning Church outside in November and I dressed in several layers.

Layers that weren’t necessary as the sun was out and the morning was perfect for Church.

A vacant lot in a business development in South Carolina may not be the prettiest spot on earth but that morning, with the sun on my face and the incredible blue vault of sky over head it wasn’t bad.

Bill Bryson’s account of visiting St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome came to mind.

Curch in the Low Country – Fall – 2021

Mr. Bryson wrote: “St Peter’s doesn’t look all that fabulous from the outside, not at least from the piazza at its foot, but step inside and it’s so sensational that your mouth falls open whether you want it to or not. It is a marvel, so vast and beautiful and cool and filled with treasures and airy heights and pale beams of heavenly light that you don’t know where to place your gaze.”

I felt that.

But I felt that this morning just being outdoors.

No big building.

I felt that for the warm sun on face.

It brought to mind also Berean Baptist Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

The Church where I grew up.

Not sure why but after being on the board, the church history committee, teaching 4th grade Sunday School for 10 years (if that doesn’t give you a fright I don’t know what will) and the church librarian, I still got greeted by greeters.

I would be welcomed and exchanged pleasantries,

Then I would be asked if I had been there before.

And I would answer I been going there since 1960.

Then the greeter would realize I was one of ‘those’ Hoffman’s.

There was a time when, with 11 dutch kids, we took up 2 full pews it seemed.

Two full pews of blond kids.

The Church was in the traditional design with what was probably a 4 or 5 story sanctuary open from floor to roof beams with a balcony running around three sides of the interior.

The walls reached high above the balcony on either side and way up near the top were wide stained glass windows.

There were times when everything worked out and morning sun would pour through those windows and multi colored beams of light reached out across the congregation.

I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

It wouldn’t last long.

At some point, someone sitting in the sunlight would squirm and then hold a Church bulletin over their head to shield their eyes.

Then another and another.

And that would be it for the sunshine.

Upstairs in the Balcony there were be some movement.

I knew what was coming and while I regretted the loss of sunshine what came next was pretty good,

Upstairs an usher would be making their along the balcony to stand under the windows.

In their hand would be a 20 foot bamboo pole with a metal hook on the end.

Above each window was a rolled up window shade.

Hanging down from each shade was pull cord about 20 feet long hanging down.

There was a small loop in the bottom of the cord.

As you might have guessed at the this point the usher was going to try and fish the hook on the end of the pole though the loop on the cord and pull the shade down over the window.

At this point, the sermon was over.

The Pastor knew it.

The congregation knew it.

I sure knew it.

This was like what Woody Hayes said about passing football.

Three things could happen and 2 of them were bad.

Except that with a 20 foot bamboo pole, a 20 foot cord and a spring loaded window shade there were a whole lot more than three things that could happen and only one of them was good.

This being a Baptist Church everyone ignored what was going.

This being a Baptist Church everyone watched anyway but trying to not watch.

When the pole went up and the hook missed the loop you could hear a pulse run through the church.

An audible sigh.

That poor usher knew that everyone was watching.

Now there was NO WAY that this was going to go well.

And it did go well every once in awhile.

An older, experienced usher would know what to do and they would catch that loop the first time and slowly draw the shade down and handle that tricky point of the deal where the loop was removed from the hook with the same tension being maintained on the cord so that the downward progress of the shade was maintained at a steady rate.

But there was nothing an older, experienced usher wanted to do more than to hand off the job to some new guy, some young guy who WANTED THE JOB, who wanted to show just how slick they were.

No older, experienced usher never ever wanted to deny this opportunity to learn to someone eager for the job.

We never seemed to be short of those who were eager to give this a try so this was almost always a great show.

Repeated efforts to hook the loop.

The mistake to pull straight down without working that pole to lay out at an angle so that you could bring the shade down in one continuous motion.

Let the loop off the hook.

And what we all waited for, to lose the cord at just the wrong time and release the tension in the pull in just the wrong way so that the spring was released and the shade was rolled back up happened a lot.

Sometimes this happened slowly and everyone would smile as the shade rolled up.

Sometimes this happened in a rush and a snap and then folks laughed out loud.

Sometimes it was right out of the movies and the shade rolled up so fast and so hard that it rolled over and over and tangled everything up with the cord.

When that happened I fell out of the pew and my brother Pete had to sit on me with his hand over me mouth to keep me quiet.

Once it seems that the shade shot up and rolled and snapped and actually fell off the wall but that might have just been me hoping real hard.

Did I mention there were three of these windows a side?

Somehow Church went on.

And at some point someone came up with the bright idea of putting really long cords on those shades so we didn’t need the pole anymore.

Neither here no there but it seems like that happened after I had reached an age where I might be expected to not try something with those cords had they been in reach.

It sure made church interesting from the none-going-to-meeting point of view.

I was a kid but I understood the predicament of the Pastor.

Poor guy had to keep going in the face of adversity.

But maybe because I had read Huckleberry Finn I felt maybe they might have handled this differently.

In Huckleberry Finn a funeral is interrupted by the most outrageous row busted out in the cellar a body ever heard. It was only one dog, but he made a most powerful racket, and he kept it up right along.

The funeral went on just like Church did..

But in Huck Finn, the undertaker went to investigate “… and then rose up, and shaded his mouth with his hands, and stretched his neck out towards the preacher, over the people’s heads, and says, in a kind of a coarse whisper, “He had a rat!” Then he drooped down and glided along the wall again to his place. You could see it was a great satisfaction to the people, because naturally they wanted to know. A little thing like that don’t cost nothing, and it’s just the little things that makes a man to be looked up to and liked. There warn’t no more popular man in town than what that undertaker was.

Yesterday just as the Preacher started preaching a whole bunch of Harley Davidson motorcycles went by.

My wife noticed that everyone on cue, like a drill team, looked to the right.

It was so much a group effort that the Pastor stopped and looked.

“They’re Motorcycles,” he said.

YOU HAVE ALL SEEN THEM BEFORE.

And with a laugh we went on.

There warn’t no more popular man in town than what that undertaker was.

Sermon in the Sun.

Worship in the sunshine.

Life in the low country.

11.14.2021 – Still frowned upon.

Still frowned upon.
Then, what isn’t these days, right?
Why not? What the hell.

Somewhere in the writings of Roger Angell, a writer for the New Yorker magazine who, of all things in the New Yorker, covered baseball, there is this story.

How does someone get to be the baseball writer for the New Yorker?

For one thing, you better have a way with words.

And having Katherine Angell White for a mom and EB White for a step-dad won’t hurt either.

The story goes that when the 1962 San Francisco Giants won the pennant, the news room editor of the San Francisco Chronicle yelled for the headline, WE WIN.

HOW BIG?, someone yelled back.

Same size as FIDEL DEAD!

Joseph Cotton – Orson Welles – Everett Sloan

In the movie Citizen Kane, Kane, his business manager, Mr. Bernstein, and his editor are arguing over the size of headline.

“News wasn’t big enough,” says the editor.

“If the Headline is big enough, the New is big enough,” responds Kane.

“That’s right Mr Kane,” says Berstein.

Pardon me for a strange interlude.

“The Gods Look Down and Laugh … this would be a better world for children if the parents had to eat the spinach.”

NO NOT THAT STRANGE INTERLUDE. (You will have to do the google)

I just went online to check on the spelling of Mr. Bernstein.

He may be my favorite character in Citizen Kane and he was played by actor / songwriter Everett Sloan

And I says to myself what else did Everett Sloane do in his career.

And thanks to Wikipedia I found that I had seem him over and over again in an appearance on the Andy Griffith Show.

In the episode, Keeper of the Flame, when Opie is accused of burner down a barn, the crabby old farmer, Jubal Sloane, is player by Everett Sloane.

Everett Sloane as Jubal Early

Mr. Sloane is also credited with writing lyrics to the Andy Griffith Theme song.

What do you do when you write the lyrics to one of the most recognized tunes in American history and the tune itself is known for the fact that is whistled and not sung?

Interlude over, back to the blog.

In the age of the tablet and the hand held device all headlines are the same size.

How do you ‘glance’ at the headlines to get a feel for today?

If I do that this morning what I see is Cop26, Trump, Britney and Free Britney, Ghislaine Maxwell, the Queen’s Bad Back, Maine Lobster, Pence Disloyalty, Republican Obstruction, Why staring at screens is making your eyeballs elongate – and how to stop it, Houses of tomorrow: A more hopeful vision of domesticity, or a dystopian nightmare?, Harry and Meghan, Greek prime minister tries to broker deal for return of Parthenon marbles, Texas schools resist Republican request for records on classroom books and We’re going to need a bigger planet: the problem with fixing the climate with trees.

That is just one newspaper.

If I look at the headlines on something like Google News, it seems that almost anything and anyone can get a headline.

Everything gets a headline.

Everything is still frowned upon by somebody.

It is those frowning that get the headline.

Squeaky wheel I guess,

My haiku comes from the movie, the Royal Tenenbaums.

I recently watched this movie as I was searching out other movies directed by Wes Anderson.

Sometimes I think my life IS a movie directed by Wes Anderson.

In the movie, Royal Tenenbaum, played by Gene Hackman, is approached by his ex-tennis playing son with a question.

Royal’s response is:

Still frowned upon.
But then, what isn’t these days, right?
I don’t know, maybe it works.
Why not, what the hell
.”

I am not going to tell you what the question is because it seems that the response is just perfect for anything and everything right now.

Royal continues:

Nobody knows what’s going to happen, so…
You know something.
Don’t listen to me.
I never understood her myself.
I never understood any of us.
I wish I could tell you what to do
but I just can’t.

Anyone who reads this blog, and thank you for those who do, you know that I know that God knows what is going to happen.

But in the day to day life on the this planet when you WANT to know what is going to happen in the day to day it is good, I think, to know that nobody knows what’s going to happen, so… you know something, don’t listen to me.

If you want to do something, most likely it will be frowned upon by somebody.

But then, what isn’t these days, right?

Sometimes things work out.

And sometimes you write the words to a song everyone knows, but nobody sings.

I don’t know, maybe it works.

Why not, what the hell.

*In honor of Everett Sloane, here are his lyrics to the Andy Griffith Show theme song.

Well now, take down your fishing pole
And meet me at the fishing hole
We may not get a bite all day
But don’t you rush away
What a great place to rest your bones
And mighty fine for skipping stones
You’ll feel fresh as a lemonade a-setting in the shade

What a fine day to take a stroll and wind up at the fishing hole
I can’t think of a better way to pass the time of day

We’ll have no need to call the roll
When we get to the fishing hole
They’ll be you, me, and old dog, trey to do the time away
If we don’t hook a perch or bass
We’ll cool our toes in dewy grass
Or else pull up a weed to chaw
And maybe sit and jaw

Hanging around, taking our ease
Watching that hound a scratching at his fleas

I’m gonna take down my fishing pole
And meet you at the fishing hole
I can’t think of a better way
To pass the time of day


Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Spencer / Hagen / Sloane
The Fishin’ Hole lyrics © Larrabee Music Publishing

11.13.2021 – both speed convenience

both speed, convenience
with deliciousness and the
joy of creation

My Mom and little sister, Aunt Mernie .. about 1962?

Seem to writing a lot about food lately.

But then it is the season.

Harvest time.

Thanksgiving on the way.

Cold weather.

Below 75 degree weather.

Fall weather.

All adds up to comfort food.

It is that time of year.

And a new documentary is being released on November 12.

A new documentary on Julia Child.

Says co-director  Julie Cohen, “Julia changed the way Americans thought about food, fully and completely, from the idea that the goal shouldn’t just be about speed and convenience, but deliciousness and the joy of creation.”

In a review of Julia in the Guardian, Charles Bramesco writes, ” . . . she arrived not a moment too soon, lighting up a gustatory dark age of Jell-O molds, mayonnaise-based “salads” and tinned pineapples.

I grew up in that gustatory dark age.

I grew up in that era of Jell-O molds, mayonnaise-based “salads” and tinned pineapples.

When I started making my own Thanksgiving dinners I figured that what was missing was the Jello mold from my childhood.

So started my families’ tradition of the a ring of strawberry Jello filled with strawberries, blueberries and clementine’s and covered with non-dairy whipped topping slowly melting on the Thanksgiving table.

Imagine our surprise when a guest to our table, born and raised in the South, took one look and yelled, “CONGEALED SALAD! HOW COOL IS THAT!”

Congealed Salad is now an expected part of the holiday meal.

My parents either got engaged or ‘reached an understanding’ before my Dad left to go to Europe for World War 2.

While my Dad was overseas my Mom thought about their future life together.

Even though her Mom, my Grandma Hendrickson, was acknowledged far a wide as a great cook, my Mom signed up for free cooking classes sponsored by the General Electric company.

The General Electric company wanted folks to buy their new electric ovens and stoves so what better way to make folks need them then to teach them how to use them.

According to a history of these classes I found online, the classes were in theaters where attendees watched meals being created on stage.

Attendee’s received souvenir recipe booklets to take home and study while wishing for a new electric ovem.

I think some of those recipes stayed in my Mom’s repertoire forever.

I knew we were having oven baked chicken when early in the afternoon I would hear my Mom flatten a big bag of potatoes chips with a rolling pin to create the crispy coating that the chicken would be dredged in before going into the baking pan.

Another item that from this era that lasted was my Mom’s famous Candlestick salad.

Lay a piece of lettuce on a salad plate.

Put one ring of sliced canned pineapple on the lettuce.

Take a banana and slice into two halves.

Slice the very tip off the banana halves off so that both ends are flat.

Slice a bright red maraschino cherry in half.

Stand one of the banana halves in the center of the pineapple ring.

Place a half cherry on the tip of the banana.

Drizzle whipped cream over the banana-cherry and serve.

Maybe I was sheltered or something but it wasn’t until I served this to my almost-son-in-laws and they fell out of their chairs laughing over the sexual innuendo comments they all made that I came to see this salad in an entirely different light.

DO NOT MIS UNDERSTAND ME.

My Mom was a great cook.

She embraced speed and convenience, with deliciousness and the joy of creation.

By the time I showed up, my Mom was cooking for 10 people (counting herself) everyday.

And three more kids were on the way.

All I am saying is that I grew up in the 1960’s of home cooking.

I sure don’t remember much complaining.

Well, okay, beef chunks wasn’t anybody’s favorite but there it is.

May have been a Sunday Dinner about 1962 – Note MILK (my brother Paul is reaching for the pitcher of milk that would be refilled often), juice cup – 3 veggies (though that may be a bowl of peaches for dessert) – there is a gravy bowl so there was most likely a Sunday Roast or maybe ham, rolls and TWO salt shakers or Dutch All Spice as we called it.

It was also a Dutch household.

Go online and you won’t find a lot of cookbooks of favorite dutch recipes.

Keep in mind the dutch hard candy, babbelaars.

One year when I was working at WZZM13 in Grand Rapids, Michigan, I wrote an anchor toss for the noon show to set up a live shot for our coverage of the Tulip Festival over in Holland, Michigan.

I said something along the lines of the Tulips are bright, the shoes are made of wood and the babbelaars are sweet …

The anchor read over her script and came to me and said, “BA BABEL LA lers?? HA WHA????”

I pronounced it BA BA LAARS and told her to trust me.

She said it on air but she wasn’t real comfortable with it.

On the other hand she was never real comfortable working with me since the time I was standing in the studio during the countdown to going live and I caught her eye and did the pulling-the-thumb-off-my-finger trick and she screamed as the show started.

The babbelaar is one of the best known Dutch candies.

And what is in it?

Sugar? Check!

Water? Check!

Butter? Check!

Vinegar? Vinegar!

The are pretty good, trust me.

Reading now Stanley Tucci’s Taste: My Life Though Food, I marvel over his families dedication to their cultural food history.

It must be a great thing, food wise, to have been italian.

We had spaghetti often.

And occasionally we would order a pizza as a late night treat but never for dinner.

Lunch was often SpaghettiOs or Chef Boyardee ravioli or my favorite, beef-a-roni.

All out of cans.

At the same time, my Mom watched The French Chef.

She would watch and laugh and laugh.

Her regular comment was along the lines that there had to be someone under the counter out of camera sweeping stuff out of way.

I think she would watch these things being created and then translate the recipe into feeding 10 or 12 people and that chip coated chicken looked much more realistic.

I would watch with my Mom.

I had an odd fascination with food.

A fascination with the concept of fine dining.

Once I took it upon myself to set the table for Sunday dinner.

I got out everything I could think of.

Salad forks and plates, folded napkins, butter knives and glasses for milk and water.

There was little room on our huge family table for food.

My Mom was sweet and commented how nice the table the looked.

My sisters demanded that I do all the extra dishes.

I loved reading about food as well.

The Hornblower Novels are about a British Naval Officer in the Napoleonic wars by CS Forester are a series of 11 novels.

In each novel, at least once, Forester will have a scene where a meal is described in great detail.

I read and reread all those scenes.

Jim Harrison’s romance with food, (See his essay, A Really Big Lunch) is an undercurrent in all of his writing.

And I enjoyed watched the French Chef with my Mom.

We would look at each and shake our heads or look at each other and say, wonder what that taste’s like.

The odd thing is that she often let ME try something we saw on the show.

Saturday was the big grocery day for my Mom.

I think she went every other day for various things but Saturday was the big day.

This was in the era of home milk delivery and with the size of our family, 10 half gallon cardboard cartons were delivered 3 days a week along with a stop for one last gallon after church on Sunday.

Somehow in the middle of this logistical nightmare of feeding everyone my Mom listened to my questions about cooking.

I was taught how to make scramble eggs of course and my favorite molasses cookies.

And every once in awhile, after watching something on the French Chef that caught our attention, my mom would pick up a few extra ingredients and we would make a Saturday lunch.

I remember a version of chicken cacciatore and a chicken breast in apple cider dish and Veal Scaloppini Marsala.

How did she find the time and energy to indulge this is beyond me.

What my brothers and sisters thought about this is also beyond me.

I was a little bit nuts so maybe they just included this as part the deal that I came with.

Speed and convenience, but deliciousness and the joy of creation.

That was my Mom.

I would watch her make pie.

She would get out her rolling cloth.

Lard, flour, salt and water and blueberries and then like a conjurers trick, now you see it, now you don’t, there was pie.

She cooked for all of us.

She cooked with me.

And we watched Julia Child together.

11.12.2021 – rare is the bus that

rare is the bus that
can keep both on board end at
two destinations

I grew in West Michigan and in winter time, I was taught, snow on a roof was a good thing.

In winter time, what snow on the roof meant was that house was well insulated against the cold.

If it wasn’t, if heat was escape through the roof, the snow on the roof would melt and the roof would be bare.

Insulated a home against the cold wasn’t cheap but it was cheaper than running the furnace all the time.

After 50 years in the snow I moved south to the Atlanta area.

Atlanta is known as the place that invented the two story mobile home.

Okay not a mobile home but a two story modular home.

Five Four and a Door they called them.

Five rooms on top, four rooms and a front door on the bottom.

They built them fast and they built them cheap.

One of the cost cutting measures was to build these homes without any insulation.

In the south who needed?

It didn’t get cold.

Or at least that cold.

Who needed to keep the cold out.

The sad part of the story is that was the wrong question.

Down south what you wanted to ask, what you needed to ask, was how do you keep the cold in?

One thing saved the south after World War 2.

One thing made the big cities of Atlanta and the one in Texas possible.

That was air conditioning.

Living in Altanta we ran the air conditioning a lot.

We had a house with full southern exposure.

We had a house with no insulation in the attic.

In the summer the AC ran all day and all night.

Sometimes we could get the indoor temperature upstairs to around 80 degrees.

No insulation did save money.

For the builder.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, well.

I am thinking about this about reading the best discussion of being green that I have found lately.

Muddled, top-down, technocratic: why the green new deal should be scrapped by Aditya Chakrabortty just resonated with me.

I loved the line, “Rare is the bus that can keep on board both Sadiq Khan and John McDonnell, and take them to totally different destinations.

Maybe because so much of the green issue is our fault.

Maybe because so much of the green issue is typified by the thinking described in my insulation story.

Maybe because the article just made harsh sense.

It stated:

The next few decades will not be about inventing entirely new things but substituting for what we already have. Installing heat pumps and ripping out boilers, using renewables rather than fossil fuels, relying on battery power over the internal combustion engine: moving to a lower-carbon future is not going to be a great, dramatic transformation – it will be slow and chronic, and frankly more expensive to societies reared on cheap food, cheap energy and the idea that the rest of the bill for both those things will be picked up by someone else, perhaps yet to be born.

Will it happen?

It depends on leaders and leadership I guess.

I for one can’t wait for the candidate who says at a debate, my plan is, frankly, more expensive to societies reared on cheap food, cheap energy.

Maybe arks ARE the answer?

11.11.2021 – falls the rain each day

falls the rain each day
each night under the rain the sore
the gold are as one

Adapted from the poem Still Falls the Rain by Edith Stilwell (1887-1964) in the section:

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us —
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one

Can’t say I was familiar with the poem.

Five Variants of Dives and Lazarus is a work for harp and string orchestra by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

The composition is based on the folk tune “Dives and Lazarus”, one of the folk songs quoted in Vaughan Williams’ English Folk Song Suite.

It was playing on the radio and I wondered who Dives was.

According to wikipedia, “In some European countries, the Latin description dives (Latin for “the rich man”) is treated as his proper name: Dives.”

It seems the tune for the five variants has it roots in the hymn, I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say –

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘Come unto Me and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down,
Thy head upon My breast.’
I came to Jesus as I was,
So weary, worn, and sad;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘Behold, I freely give
The living water; thirsty one,
Stoop down and drink and live.’
I came to Jesus, and I drank
Of that life-giving stream.
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
‘I am this dark world’s Light.
Look unto Me; thy morn shall rise
And all thy day be bright.’
I looked to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that Light of Life I’ll walk
Till traveling days are done.

It all started here.

Luke 16:19-31
New International Version
The Rich Man and Lazarus

There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores. The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’ But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’ He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’ ‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’

He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’

I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my Star, my Sun;