5.21.2025 – think God’s on your side

think God’s on your side
John Calvin’s under floorboards
during board meetings

He told me that I should note in my reading of journals, monographs, and texts how all the great predators were theocratic …

that if you were going to rape the land and people, whether it was the original Indians or the working class that followed …

it was important to think that God was thoroughly on your side.

“John Calvin is always under the floorboards during America s board meetings.

From True North by Jim Harrison (New York, Grove Press, 2004).

Probably quote from Mr. Harrison a lot more than I should and I admit it isn’t without some misgivings.

The passage I quote today, I feel it explains much of what makes the Evangelical Church of Trump work.

There is a lot of my West Michigan background in the background of Mr. Harrison, though his foreground can take in a lot of life I did not experience.

And I wonder, do other people get it?

Take the John Calvin reference.

I am sure that most folks might know who Mr. Calvin was, but in West Michigan, where I grew up, John Calvin wasn’t under the table, he had a seat at the table.

The local college was named, Calvin College.

My wife went to a grade school operated by the Christian Reformed Church name Calvin Christian.

Most folks I knew had copies of The Institutes of John Calvin on a shelf in their home.

But I was raised Baptist.

Mr. Calvin was there in our theology with his TULIP acronym*, but we also told the joke that Calvinism was the fear that someone, somewhere, was having a good time.

BUT I DIGRESS.

I make no apology for Mr. Harrison’s content.

It is what it is.

But his use of language and narration and view of life, lives and lifestyle is powerful.

I remember back in the day when I worked in a bookstore and this one customer, who by his dress and manner and overall appearance was probably from what we called, ‘Up North’ which took in the part of the State of Michigan that was north of Kent Country up to and including the Upper Peninsula of the state.

Boy Howdy, maybe just north of the Grand River all the way to Lake Superior.

Nothing wrong with guy understand, but going north, you entered a different world that often times might have been more comfortable had it been about 1952.

Close to the same feeling I get when I drive across the back country of the State of South Carolina.

This feller as I remember him would not have stood had he been in the band, ZZ Top, including the long beard and dark sunglasses.

He was buying a copy of Garrison Keillor’s latest book, though I can’t remember which one.

I chit chatted with him, told him I hoped he enjoyed the book as I read all the Keillor stuff and enjoyed it all myself.

He stopped and looked at me for a second.

I am getting it for my nephew”, he said, “he needs to read about life.”

Well says I, you should get something by Jim Harrison.

He stopped and looked at me for a second, looked away then back at me and said, “No, no way, this kid is not ready for Harrison …”

He looked off again, then said:

“Someday …”

And he caught my eye, nodded, a nod with a lot of understanding and kinship in it, and walked out.

*The acronym TULIP is used to represent the five core doctrines of Calvinism:
Total depravity,
Unconditional election,
Limited atonement,
Irresistible grace, and
Perseverance of the saints.

5.17.2025 – I understand that

I understand that
he’s been reading James Joyce and
T. S. Eliot

100 years ago today, May 17, 1925, in the New York Times, there was a story that “Princeton’s Literary Magazine Banned By Dr. Hibben, Who Calls May Issue Obscene. “

Dr. Hibben objected that the author of an article, “Sketches from a Madhouse” by William Mode Spackman of the class of 1927 and editor of the Nassau, the student Literary Magazine, was one of the most sacriregious and and obscene pieces of writing he had ever seen.

Inside that article in something called, Preface for the American Public, Dr. Hidden says that Spackman attacks what he calls COSMIC INANITIES as “all faculties, deans, directors, lictors, hangman, all Philadelphians, both Cabinet and society, all rules, regulations, totems, taboos, and mumbo-jumberies, all credos, standards, debarments, band and prohibitions.

Dr, Hidden tells the New York Times that “I understand that he has been reading a good deal of James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ and T. S. Eliiot and other of the modernists in literature. He has evidently been well soaked in this type of literature and has tried to go the writers one better.”

Such problems American Universities had back then doncha think?

I had never heard of Mr. Spackman but wikipedia says:

William Mode Spackman (May 20, 1905 – August 3, 1990) was an American writer. He was born in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, the son of George Harvey Spackman and Alice Pennock Mode. A graduate of the Friends School of Wilmington, Delaware and in 1927 Princeton University (B.A.; later also an M.A.), he was also a Rhodes Scholar at Balliol College, Oxford. In 1929, he married Mary Ann Matthews (1902–1978); they had three children: Peter (1930–1995), Ann (1932–1961), and Harriet (born 1934). Spackman was awarded a Rockefeller Fellowship to study public opinion at Columbia University. Spackman also taught classics briefly at New York University and worked in radio.

Spackman’s literary success came relatively late in life. He wrote about romance from a realistic rather than a romantic perspective. Highly praised by critics like John Leonard, John Updike, and Stanley Elkin, he has been called a “Fabergé of novelists” and his works have been called “delicate comedies.” The characters in his novels are school friends, their associations, often in New York City, and the women with whom they spent time.

But when he died, it was this incident the NYT remembered, writing in Mr. Spackman’s OBIT on August 9, 1990:

The author, who was born in 1905 in Coatesville, Pa., was removed as editor of Princeton’s Nassau Literary Magazine while an undergraduate. The university president, John Grier Hibben, suppressed an issue that contained what he called the ”most sacrilegious and obscene articles” he had ever seen in print. About Mr. Spackman, he said: ”I understand that he has been reading a good deal of James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ and T. S. Eliiot and other of the modernists in literature. He has evidently been well soaked in this type of literature and has tried to go the writers one better.”

After graduation, Mr. Spackman became a Rhodes Scholar at Balliol College, Oxford. Later he worked as a Rockefeller Fellow in opinion research at Columbia University, as a radio writer, as a public relations executive and a literary critic. He also taught classics at New York University and the University of Colorado. His other novels are ”A Difference in Design,” and ”A Little Decorum.” ”On the Decay of Humanism” is a volume of essays.

The obit also said this:

Alice Quinn, poetry editor of The New Yorker magazine, who was his editor at Alfred A. Knopf, said yesterday, ”Mr. Spackman was a radiant human being and a radiant writer, a writer of great charm and high style, who took as his subject men and women who really liked and enjoyed each other.”

I had never heard of him.

I have now.

I will have to read his stuff and find out if he had been reading a good deal of James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ and T. S. Eliiot and other of the modernists in literature and if He had evidently been well soaked in this type of literature and has tried to go the writers one better.

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5.11.2025 – well, son, I’ll tell you

well, son, I’ll tell you
life ain’t been no crystal stair
it’s had tacks in it

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.


But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.


So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Mother to Son” from The Collected Works of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes (University of Missouri Press, 2002).

Three generations: Mary Hendrickson - Lorraine Hendrickson Hoffman – Mary Hoffman

I think this photo is of a Labor Day walk from our families house on the North End of Grand Rapids to my Grandma Hoffman’s house over on Coit Street near the old Creston Branch Library.

On the left is my Grandma Hendrickson and on the right is my older sister, Mary.

That’s Mom in the middle.

Her life wasn’t what Mr. Hughes wrote about when describing his Mother’s life but there were tacks aplenty in Mom’s life and I was lot of them.

I was a goofy 8th-child in a family of 11.

I could have chosen to keep my mouth shut, fly under the radar and mostly likely would not have been noticed too much … but where’s the fun in that?

At least from my point of view.

So I worked to stand out.

Not that I had too.

Even with 11 kids, Mom could make you feel special.

At some point in my elementary school career I made a clay pot which I proudly presented to my Mom on Mother’s Day and she loved it and put it, for a while, in a place of pride on the kitchen counter.

Was I proud!

So I proud that I never noticed that over time, other pots and gifts replaced my pinch pot.

With 11 kids, these types of gifts accumulated and Mom had a special shelf in one of the kitchen cupboards where she safely stored them all.

But deep down I knew mine was her favorite.

I know that because year’s later, when one of my brother’s returned from college having picked up the habit of smoking, Mom put MY pot in his room to use for a ashtray.

I puzzled about that for a little bit.

But when I realized none of those other pots never ever made it out of her cupboard, I knew mine must have meant something special to her to want to share it with my brother.

So what if it became an ashtray.

She was just trying to spread the happiness.

That is a great way to describe Mom.

5.2.2025 – it is an earth song,

it is an earth song,
a body song, a spring song,
have been waiting long

It’s an earth song,—
And I’ve been waiting long for an earth song.
It’s a spring song,—
And I’ve been waiting long for a spring song.

Strong as the shoots of a new plant
Strong as the bursting of new buds
Strong as the coming of the first child from its mother’s womb.

It’s an earth song,
A body song,
A spring song,
I have been waiting long for this spring song.

Earth Song as printed in The collected poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes (Knopf, News York, 1994).

Another sign of spring is kite guy on Hilton Head Island.

Shows up the first 2 weeks of May and spends his morning getting these kites into the air and then spends his afternoons taking them down and winding up the cords.

I used to wonder about kite guy’s outlook on life.

Who would spend their vacation flying kites?

I decided that when someone flies kites with the flag of The United States of America AND the flag of the Republic of Ukraine … and a flag with the peace symbol from the Vietnam War era … you can make some assumptions.

I am reminded of the spring concerts at my elementary school back in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

One year must of raised the level of conversation between school and parents when we sang songs like Bob Dylan’s Blowing in the Wind, John Denver’s Leaving on a Jet Plane and S&G’s 59th Street Bridge Song and If I Could (El cóndor pasa).

This would have at the height of the Hippie / Anti War era in America when several of my older brothers and sisters were off in college in Ann Arbor.

Not sure what was said and by who or to who.

But the next spring we sang nothing but songs from Disney and Let’s Go Fly a Kite sticks out as the song my class sang,

For the haiku, I had to edit Mr. Hughes and change it’s to it is to get my 5 – 7 – 5.

Such cheek on my part.

I should go fly a kite.

5.1.2025 – changes in our lives

changes in our lives
accidents, happenstances
the slightest pushes

It was the first truly important night of my life.

Despite my aching bones and blistered feet I sensed a possibility of strength, of a mission that drew solace and the chance of success or victory from the fire, from the dog, from my fellow human Fred, the night, the bright moon and stars, even the owl we were hearing intermittently.

This sounds vaguely absurd now but then so many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction, and on the more negative side the girl you met at a gathering you didn’t want to attend who infected your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.

but then so many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction

From True North by Jim Harrison ( Grove/Atlantic, New York, 2004)

So many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction.

Then toss in the forward march of time.

Like the tide that twice a day comes in and sweeps the beach clean and leaves a clean slate wide open for accidents, happenstances or the slightest pushes in any direction.

All blank and wide open for changes that will infect your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.

Maybe this is where Jesus was going when mounted up on that hill side and sermonized saying, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Trouble enough for each day that will infect your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.