1.20.2020 – MLK Birthday

MLK Birthday
come so far, so far to go
Shall we yet overcome?

I found myself in a one of those small vendor booths at an antique mall in Dahlonega, Georgia on MLK Day.

The booth was filled with Confederate flags, blankets, license plates, mugs and books.

Faceout upon faceout of books.

Books with titles like “IN THE HOUSE OF ABRAHAM-Was Lincoln Illegitimate?“

A Tribute to Jefferson Davis.

And

Living Confederate Principles: A Heritage For All Time

Lots of arguments waiting to get started.

Arguing with folks whose minds were made up a long time ago.

Come far.

But so far to come.

Shall we yet overcome?

I am reminded of the lines from Mr. Sandburg’s poem, Grass.

What places is this?

Where are we now?

I am the grass ….

let me work.

Some day.

Grass by Carl Sandburg.

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we

I am the grass.
Let me work.

1.17.202 – grumbling, arguing

grumbling, arguing
warped, crooked children
shine among them, stars!

Over my desk is a bust of ‘the young’ Abraham Lincoln.

Beardless if not young.

Next to it on the wall is a cast the life mask of Mr. Lincoln, made in April, 1860 that was the model for the bust.

Daily reminders of Lincoln that I see a lot more often than I see a penny these days.

I watch the political processes of today.

The debates.

The hearings.

The sound bites.

In place of the best and the brightest, how has this pack of grumbling, arguing, warped, crooked children got themselves elected.

That’s the rub isn’t it?

Elected.

Elected by us the voters.

Where are the candidates today?

The candidates who shine among them like stars?

Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?

Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

(I got today’s haiku verbiage from Philippians 2:14-16, Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. (NIV ))

1.15.2020 -Special days, Birthdays

Special days, Birthdays
One day love to remember
My Wife’s day today

January 15, 1958 was a Wednesday and a bitterly cold day across the Grand Rapids, Michigan area.

My wife says she was born into the cold and didn’t like it and hasn’t liked it since.

As she is the 12th of 12 children, I could say the expected, “saving the best for last” or “cheaper by the dozen.”

But I won’t.

As it is her birthday, I could quote Mr. Twain when he said, “Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen.”

But I won’t.

I AM reminded of Mr. Dryden on love and time when he wrote;

“Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.”

My wife and I have been together a long time.

Lots of birthdays

Lots of years.

Our lives together are more complex each year.

The price of those years seems to increase as they increase with issues.

Love and time are at the bottom of it all.

Through love, over time, those years with her are a ‘golden gift’.

So today, my hope for her is for a happy birthday.

And a wish, at any price, for many more.

1.14.2020 – plan to disagree?

plan to disagree?
willful misunderstanding?
different drummers

The other day I quoted Founding Father John Adams’ Rule of Thirds.

Mr. Adams paraphrased rule states, “1/3rd of the people were for it, 1/3rd of the people neutral, and 1/3rd of the people opposed.”

Adams was writing about the almost war with France in the early 1800’s.

Observing the political discussion of today, I am struck by the application of Adam’s rule of thirds.

I am also stuck by the willful misunderstanding of both sides by the other side.

I am sure that before any question, people on either side, have taken their side, and plan to disagree.

Mr. Sun Tzu wrote that a battle is won or lost before it is begun.

Political questions are answered before they are ever asked.

When I started to write this, I was going to bemoan the lack of discussion.

The lack of debate.

The lack of a willingness to see the other side.

If the my dummers are loud enough, I don’t even have to pretend to hear the different drummers.

Then I asked myself what era or political question was I planning to use as a good example?

Mr. Adam’s Rule of Thirds keeps raising its ugly head.

About the only illustration I can come up with is a story my Father used to tell.

My Father’s relatives were farmers in what was then rural Ottawa County in Western Michigan.

My Father remembered how one day during the depression, his Dad took him and his sisters out to visit the family farm.

While everyone was saying hello, meeting and greeting, my Dad’s cousin came into the house.

My Dad says, “hey, where you been?”

The cousin says, “Voting!”

He pointed to the outhouse in the backyard.

“I cast my ballot for Hoover!”

1.13.2020 – After that third sip

After that third sip
Coffee, wines, local craft beers
It all tastes the same?

I had a great cup of coffee yesterday.

A latte, or caffè e latte in the original Italian.

It was in a bar slash brewery slash coffee house / reading room / restaurant.

The name of the place is the Bold Monk Brewery.

On their website, they state:

“To the mindful, to the curious
to the brilliantly flawed.
To those seeking comfort, respite,
splendor, and sustenance…
The Bold Monk welcomes you.”

I am not sure what it means either or what type of business they want to be.

But Leslie and I just wanted coffee.

The sign outside listed coffee and the hostess said of course we could get coffee and directed us to the bar.

The bartender said of course we could get coffee and handed us a menu that listed:

Today’s Roast
Cappuccino
Latte

I got a latte and my wife got a cappuccino.

It took a bit.

The coffee’s were delivered in china mugs on small wooden platters.

Mine came with a small ‘side’ cup of sugar.

But I digress.

I had three (okay, maybe five and I can’t remember the other two) but there were no options like offered at Starbucks.

None of the life changing options listed by Tom Hanks in ‘You’ve Got Mail’ when his character explained why Starbucks is a success.

Say the Hank’s Tom Fox guy, “The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino.”

Here is my point.

What I have noticed, for myself, is that with all the self selection, I can get ‘my cup of coffee’ but, after the third sip, it all tastes the same.

Not saying it doesn’t taste different from my morning coffee at home but that it taste’s the same as any other boutique coffee.

All those choices.

End up the same cup of coffee.

I got to think about the many times I have wondered what wine to get or to order with a meal.

Red with meat.

White with fish or chicken.

Chianti with Italian.

Those basics are good to know and seem to work but go beyond that.

Just visiting Kroger’s Wine Aisle and I am bewildered.

To me.

For myself.

Can any of these reds really taste that different.

Why do so many restaurant reviews often sing the glories of the locally produced vin ordinaire that was served with the meal in some out of the place in Chicago or Quebec or Bouches-du-Rhône.

I can get a bottle of wine at my local grocery store from almost anywhere in the world.

And after the third sip, it all tastes the same.

All those choices.

End up with the same glass of wine.

Sitting at the bar last night, sipping my coffee, I noticed that (beyond the brewery smell) the Bold Monk had a large of number of local craft beer on tap.

The clear pipes for the taps went straight up to the overhead beer vault where the beer was poured out by gravity.

I enjoy the craft brewery rage.

I like a nice local brew from time to time.

All these choices.

After the third sip, it all tastes the same.

End up with a glass of beer.

A good glass of beer, no doubt.

But.

I was glad that the Bold Monk took the options away from me.

I was served a very good cup of coffee.

I enjoyed it very much.

After the third sip, it tasted the same.

Tasted the same to the bottom of the cup.

Good to the last drop.