Last night Paula and I got to visit for a little while with some guests of our neighbors, Neil and Joni Arter. Their weekend guests were Ben and Jaime Bailey. We stood out in the cool night air in the cul-de-sac where we live and we had a nice visit. They were preparing to return to San Antonio this morning, and we visited about OC and people we all knew...and how the network of friends and acquaintances weaves like a huge web, with each new person we all mentioned leading us into further conversations about yet other people we all knew.
Come to find out, Ben is the son of James Bailey, a well-known minister in churches of Christ. Many, many years ago, (in what seems now to have been in a previous life), I had worked as the state representative for a company called Ministers Life. James and his wife, Marsha, were working with a church of Christ in Augusta, KS., and I had traveled there to visit with them about some life insurance coverage. When I left their home, I stopped in Wichita to spend the night at a Holiday Inn, and, as I was unloading my car for the night, an attractive woman pulled up behind my car, in her own late-model vehicle. She rolled down the window (later I thought she must have seen my out of state license plate and realized I was not from the local police department). She asked me for directions to some place in Wichita. I told her I couldn't help her ---since I was from out of town and didn't know Wichita. Then she engaged me in a conversation of a different sort...
Turns out she was a local prostitute, and, as I continued removing things from my trunk and taking them into my room for the night, she continued talking and the talk progressed into a rapid sales talk. She was trying to convince me to hire her for the evening. She told me I would 'sleep better tonight, and feel better tomorrow'. I told her I was not interested, adding that I was married and a Christian. She then went to on offer me 'Eskimo Love', but, I declined, and she drove on through the parking lot, looking for someone who might be interested in her offer. She never did explain what 'Eskimo Love' was....and I went to my room and spent the night by myself, happy to be returning to my sweet wife the next day.
Talking and laughing with the Bailey's over this event in my life that occurred when I went to Kansas to visit with Ben's parents many years ago led us off into talking about a number of other things...different towns where Ben and his parents had lived over the years. Wood Street church of Christ, for instance, where James and Marsha had worked with that congregation for a long time. I was the first person baptized in that little church, in 1954. I shared with Ben and Jaime about how one of our elders back then heard a sermon from a young man who was 'trying out' for a pulpit job there. The young man said something that may not have been totally correct (at least to that elders' point of view), and the elder, a brother Schiflett, (sort of a self-styled 'head elder'), stood up in the middle of the auditorium, right in the middle of the sermon and told the young man that he was wrong. Unnerved, the young man stammered and stuttered his way through the rest of his sermon and was interrupted and summarily 'dressed down' at least one more time for his 'errors'. I'd like to know if that young man remained in the ministry, or, having been publicly humiliated, he decided on a safer career. Anyway, we talked about a lot of things out in the street last night, and then said our goodbyes. I thought a lot about our visit with Ben and Jaime. I don't know Jaime's parents, but they must be as wonderful as James and Marsha had been and are to their kids....and they must be so very proud of how their kids have turned out. Such sweet people!
We had a really good visit, and felt like we had made a couple of new friends. Thanks, Neil and Joni, for sharing your house guests with us! Isn't it wonderful, when you can meet people you really have never had a conversation with, and through your connections in God's family, you quickly find commonality and a common appreciation of many of the same people you've met in your different walks in life? It's often impromptu, random times like these that I treasure. Paula and I feel that we know Ben and Jaime now, and they will never be strangers to us. It's wonderful, being a Christian. There are a lot of sweet moments here on earth. Can you even imagine how wonderful Heaven will be? Ben and Jaime, I hope that you two and your two sweet kids made it safely back to San Antonio today!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
In 1956, I was 12, and enjoyed working in downtown Dallas with my Dad, who, at that time was a professional photographer. His office was on the 2nd floor of a building that housed the Melba Theater. It was located near Titche's Department Store. We could look out the windows and see all the traffic and people right out our window. I loved being near so much commotion. I also loved helping with the photographic process, helping Dad with his large porcelain pans of developer and fixative. I enjoyed working in the darkroom, and seeing images come to life in the red-light of the darkroom. I enjoyed making copies on dad's machine that was one of the forerunners of copy machines. I was just a kid, and of limited usefulness to Dad, but there were things that I could do to make his life a little easier. I often rode home from work in the evening on a city bus, and enjoyed all the sights and smells and all the people who rode the bus daily from downtown Dallas to Oak Cliff where we lived.
One day, I saw a huge black woman board the bus and, after dropping her change into the box by the bus driver, I saw her painfully make her way to the back of the bus, where black people were required to sit (or stand, if no seats were available at the back of the bus). I was sitting near the back of the bus, at the rear of the seating area where non-blacks were allowed to sit. The bus was full, and there were no available seats for this woman. I was only 12 years old, but I knew enough to know that blacks were treated differently than were whites...they could only drink from 'colored' drinking fountains in the department stores and other public buildings. They had to use restrooms that were for blacks only. They could not eat in restaurants frequented by whites. They had to go around to the back of restaurants and pay for and receive food via the back door, where all the trash cans and restaurant filth were to be found. I knew they were treated differently, and I had never known a black person in school or the neighborhoods where we lived. Yet, they seemed like anybody else to me.
I saw the woman, standing there, hanging on to the 'grab bars' overhead, and saw how miserable she was from pain. I then did what I had been taught all my life to do...I stood up and offered her my seat. She gratefully took my seat and I stood there in the aisle, holding on to the grab bar as the bus continued on toward Oak Cliff. A couple of white men cursed me for giving her my seat, and called me names that I won't repeat here. I would have been afraid, had I not been on a city bus.
The white bus driver noticed that I had given my seat to the black woman. He didn't say anything while he continued driving, but when I got near my destination, and walked to the front of the bus to exit at my bus stop, he quietly thanked me for my kindness. That made me feel good inside. I knew I had done the right thing, and now an older adult told me so.
Not long after this incident, while riding home on the bus another day, with the same bus driver driving us all home, I noticed another large black woman, at a bus stop in downtown Dallas, having trouble boarding, due to some physical problem. I was a little surprised, but happy, to see the bus driver put the bus in park, open the door and then leave the bus to help the old black woman board the bus.
The next day, I wrote a letter to the Dallas Transportation Authority, praising the kind bus driver. I knew his name, and I told them the route that he drove and described what he had done.
I received a response from his supervisor, who told me that this bus driver had been given a commendation and a raise, for what he had done.
I felt good about that, and realized that there are a lot of nice people in the world, who do the right thing when they have the opportunity. That made my heart sing! My heart still sings when I do something that I know is the right thing...even when it is often inconvenient or costly in some way. It delights me when I catch others doing 'the right thing'.
I've told stories before about my Mom, or my wife, or my kids ---doing the right thing. I'm grateful to Jesus, for His influence in our lives....for making us want to 'get out of ourselves' and do things for others. I believe that it's not so much our sitting in a pew at church that honors God, but rather, living for Him by doing for others....what we do, not just at a building on Sunday, but what we do and who we are 24/7/365. How about you?...what makes your heart sing?
One day, I saw a huge black woman board the bus and, after dropping her change into the box by the bus driver, I saw her painfully make her way to the back of the bus, where black people were required to sit (or stand, if no seats were available at the back of the bus). I was sitting near the back of the bus, at the rear of the seating area where non-blacks were allowed to sit. The bus was full, and there were no available seats for this woman. I was only 12 years old, but I knew enough to know that blacks were treated differently than were whites...they could only drink from 'colored' drinking fountains in the department stores and other public buildings. They had to use restrooms that were for blacks only. They could not eat in restaurants frequented by whites. They had to go around to the back of restaurants and pay for and receive food via the back door, where all the trash cans and restaurant filth were to be found. I knew they were treated differently, and I had never known a black person in school or the neighborhoods where we lived. Yet, they seemed like anybody else to me.
I saw the woman, standing there, hanging on to the 'grab bars' overhead, and saw how miserable she was from pain. I then did what I had been taught all my life to do...I stood up and offered her my seat. She gratefully took my seat and I stood there in the aisle, holding on to the grab bar as the bus continued on toward Oak Cliff. A couple of white men cursed me for giving her my seat, and called me names that I won't repeat here. I would have been afraid, had I not been on a city bus.
The white bus driver noticed that I had given my seat to the black woman. He didn't say anything while he continued driving, but when I got near my destination, and walked to the front of the bus to exit at my bus stop, he quietly thanked me for my kindness. That made me feel good inside. I knew I had done the right thing, and now an older adult told me so.
Not long after this incident, while riding home on the bus another day, with the same bus driver driving us all home, I noticed another large black woman, at a bus stop in downtown Dallas, having trouble boarding, due to some physical problem. I was a little surprised, but happy, to see the bus driver put the bus in park, open the door and then leave the bus to help the old black woman board the bus.
The next day, I wrote a letter to the Dallas Transportation Authority, praising the kind bus driver. I knew his name, and I told them the route that he drove and described what he had done.
I received a response from his supervisor, who told me that this bus driver had been given a commendation and a raise, for what he had done.
I felt good about that, and realized that there are a lot of nice people in the world, who do the right thing when they have the opportunity. That made my heart sing! My heart still sings when I do something that I know is the right thing...even when it is often inconvenient or costly in some way. It delights me when I catch others doing 'the right thing'.
I've told stories before about my Mom, or my wife, or my kids ---doing the right thing. I'm grateful to Jesus, for His influence in our lives....for making us want to 'get out of ourselves' and do things for others. I believe that it's not so much our sitting in a pew at church that honors God, but rather, living for Him by doing for others....what we do, not just at a building on Sunday, but what we do and who we are 24/7/365. How about you?...what makes your heart sing?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Unforgettable Raymond Kelcy
Raymond Kelcy was a wonderful man. He was the Chairman of the Bible Department at OC for many years. He was also the pulpit minister at the Wilshire Church of Christ in OKC where Paula and I were members. I loved too listen to Raymond, whether in one of his classes at OC when I was a student at OC, before most of you were born (Yes, I know I look very youthful, but I am, in fact, in my 60's :), in a Bible class at Wilshire, or in the auditorium at Wilshire. I learned a lot of wonderful things about the Scriptures and about God, from Raymond Kelcy. I also learned a lot about everyday life, again, from Raymond Kelcy. Dr. Kelcy -- Raymond -- was not puffed up and full of himself. He was down to earth -- normal -- practical -- and one of my heroes. Raymond had a great sense of humor. While he was not a big 'laugher', and did not walk around with a grin on his face, he had a dry wit, and always looked for the humor in life. Without cracking a smile on HIS face, he could convulse an audience with laughter with that slow, dry wit that was his trademark.
One of the things I liked about Raymond (and there were MANY), was his willingness to admit that he had been wrong or that he had, over time, changed his mind about his understanding of this or that. He was an humble man. No 'stuffed and puffed shirt' was Raymond Kelcy. He did not worry about people thinking less of him because of a shift in position about some thought or idea in Scripture. I admired Raymond for this, and for his intelligence and his humanity. Raymond let people know that he was not perfect, and he freely admitted his shortcomings. Raymond was an intellectual giant, and a man among men.
I videotaped Raymond, as he spoke at a going-away party for Kerry and Becky Holton, who had served for years at Wilshire. Kerry had become our pulpit minister at Wilshire, after Raymond had stepped down from that position but had continued his and Hester's fellowship with the Wilshire congregation. As it turns out, I have the only video of Raymond that exists -- anywhere! I have shared that video with OC, so that a ideo record of Raymond is not lost. I also gave a copy to Lynn McMillon and to Roger Kelcy (one of Raymond's sons) and Hester, Raymond's wife. In this video, Raymond told a humorous story that is THE funniest thing I have ever heard in my entire life. Raymond had a sense of timing only matched by the great Jack Benny or Bob Hope. I have watched it maybe twenty times, and each time, I hurt from laughing.
I think of Raymond often, and my life has been forever changed by having known him and from having listened to many hundreds of hours of sermons and classes at OC and at the Wilshire congregation. They say that one never dies, as long as one is remembered. If this is indeed true, then Raymond Kelcy will live forever in the hearts of men.
One of the things I liked about Raymond (and there were MANY), was his willingness to admit that he had been wrong or that he had, over time, changed his mind about his understanding of this or that. He was an humble man. No 'stuffed and puffed shirt' was Raymond Kelcy. He did not worry about people thinking less of him because of a shift in position about some thought or idea in Scripture. I admired Raymond for this, and for his intelligence and his humanity. Raymond let people know that he was not perfect, and he freely admitted his shortcomings. Raymond was an intellectual giant, and a man among men.
I videotaped Raymond, as he spoke at a going-away party for Kerry and Becky Holton, who had served for years at Wilshire. Kerry had become our pulpit minister at Wilshire, after Raymond had stepped down from that position but had continued his and Hester's fellowship with the Wilshire congregation. As it turns out, I have the only video of Raymond that exists -- anywhere! I have shared that video with OC, so that a ideo record of Raymond is not lost. I also gave a copy to Lynn McMillon and to Roger Kelcy (one of Raymond's sons) and Hester, Raymond's wife. In this video, Raymond told a humorous story that is THE funniest thing I have ever heard in my entire life. Raymond had a sense of timing only matched by the great Jack Benny or Bob Hope. I have watched it maybe twenty times, and each time, I hurt from laughing.
I think of Raymond often, and my life has been forever changed by having known him and from having listened to many hundreds of hours of sermons and classes at OC and at the Wilshire congregation. They say that one never dies, as long as one is remembered. If this is indeed true, then Raymond Kelcy will live forever in the hearts of men.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
New China Restaurant, OKC, circa 1975
A long time ago, before most of you were born, I had hair, and wore leisure suits to work every day, selling insurance. I had an office in the little strip shopping center, just on the east side of OC, on Benson Road and Memorial. I officed with different people over the years...Bob Forrester and Bob Lashley, to name two. Bob was a home builder. I sold insurance, and for a brief stint, so did Lashley. Ah, those were the years. Men's ties were about a half-foot wide on the business end, and were often loud paisley things. Guys often wore (get this) WHITE belts with their leisure suits! Women's clothes were no better.
Bob Forrester and I got in the habit of going to a Chinese restaurant over in the Britton area every day for lunch. No exaggeration here. Seriously. EVERY workday for a year or more. We got acquainted with the wait-staff over time, and when we walked through the door, our little waitress motioned us to our 'usual' booth, along the west wall. Her name was Emily, but she pronounced it "Emory". She was a sweet young lady, and we tipped her well, so, unless she was off work, or ill, she was our waitress every day.
Over time, Bob and I settled in on our favorites from the limited menu. When "Emory" would seat us, we would tell her: "2 plus 2", and point to the two of us. Here's the breakdown on what "2 plus 2" meant, once deciphered: No.2 on the menu (beef chow mein), and 2 eggrolls-- each. We both got the same thing every time. The beef chow mein came with fried rice (Emily called it something that sounded much like "flied lice"...and Bob and I had to work through the mental picture THAT pronounciation brought to bear in our minds each day.
The perplexing thing about our ordering of such simple fare is that when we would look at "Emory" to place our order (to you Oklahomans, that is 'prace oul ol-del'). Emily would look at us, and wrinkle up her eyebrows at the "2 plus 2" and on the second part of that 2 plus 2 -- knowing that we were talking about the egg rolls -- she would ask: "2 pieces...or 2 ol-del?" (orders). We would tell her, very carefully---
"No, Emily, not 2 orders (4 eggrolls each), but ONE ORDER", to which she would reply:
"One piece?"....and on and on it would go, until the manager would intervene and tell Emily that we each wanted 2 eggrolls, not 2 orders each!
What is unbelievable is that this went on day after day, month after month, with no end. It was incredible!
In spite of her difficulty in understanding us, we tipped her well and she put up with our teasing and snickering. Bob and I have often wondered what became of our sweet little "Emory".
I had forgotten this story until I read my daughter's blog (Harmonious House -- check it out!), about the stuffing of her mailbox with a Chinese food menu from a local Chinese restaurant. Reading her story made me laugh -- a lot- and then the memories came flooding back. Thanks, Gena, for the memories!
Dad
Bob Forrester and I got in the habit of going to a Chinese restaurant over in the Britton area every day for lunch. No exaggeration here. Seriously. EVERY workday for a year or more. We got acquainted with the wait-staff over time, and when we walked through the door, our little waitress motioned us to our 'usual' booth, along the west wall. Her name was Emily, but she pronounced it "Emory". She was a sweet young lady, and we tipped her well, so, unless she was off work, or ill, she was our waitress every day.
Over time, Bob and I settled in on our favorites from the limited menu. When "Emory" would seat us, we would tell her: "2 plus 2", and point to the two of us. Here's the breakdown on what "2 plus 2" meant, once deciphered: No.2 on the menu (beef chow mein), and 2 eggrolls-- each. We both got the same thing every time. The beef chow mein came with fried rice (Emily called it something that sounded much like "flied lice"...and Bob and I had to work through the mental picture THAT pronounciation brought to bear in our minds each day.
The perplexing thing about our ordering of such simple fare is that when we would look at "Emory" to place our order (to you Oklahomans, that is 'prace oul ol-del'). Emily would look at us, and wrinkle up her eyebrows at the "2 plus 2" and on the second part of that 2 plus 2 -- knowing that we were talking about the egg rolls -- she would ask: "2 pieces...or 2 ol-del?" (orders). We would tell her, very carefully---
"No, Emily, not 2 orders (4 eggrolls each), but ONE ORDER", to which she would reply:
"One piece?"....and on and on it would go, until the manager would intervene and tell Emily that we each wanted 2 eggrolls, not 2 orders each!
What is unbelievable is that this went on day after day, month after month, with no end. It was incredible!
In spite of her difficulty in understanding us, we tipped her well and she put up with our teasing and snickering. Bob and I have often wondered what became of our sweet little "Emory".
I had forgotten this story until I read my daughter's blog (Harmonious House -- check it out!), about the stuffing of her mailbox with a Chinese food menu from a local Chinese restaurant. Reading her story made me laugh -- a lot- and then the memories came flooding back. Thanks, Gena, for the memories!
Dad
Sunday, April 19, 2009
A little bit of heaven
This afternoon I enjoyed a little bit of heaven. Erick and Gena, Raegan and Greyson came over for lunch after services at Memorial Rd. We had a good lunch and it was quieter than usual, since Greyson was asleep as he was carried into our home by his Dad. Erick put him in a dark, quiet room for a long nap. The rest of us had lunch and then Gena left for an afternoon engagement. Erick stayed for awhile, until Raegan told me (I'm known as 'Poppy') that she wanted to go to with me to her room to play. This was to be a private party for the two of us, and no one else was invited. I felt really special. We went into the room and she shut the door, so that her brother, when he awakened, would not interrupt our play time. We played with a plastic puzzle for awhile and then decided to get out the markers and draw. We invented some improbable-looking animals, such as the "OSTLE", which is a turtle/ostrich combo, and jazzed it up in a manner that would have made Dr. Seuss envious. We then invented the hump-backed, flying, feathered, plier-jawed alligator, and a few other honorable mentions. Raegan has a good imagination, and it was fun helping her see some of the combinations she'll never gaze upon in the zoo. We drew and colored and then practiced turning random squiggles into 'real' creatures or odd-looking humans.
At one point, Paula and Erick came into the room, with Greyson, after he had awakened from his nap. Raegan did not care for the interruption of our 'private time' playing together. I couldn't let her see it, but inside, I was just beaming that, for this little bit of time, I was her preferred playmate. It was a little bit of heaven, this wonderful Sunday afternoon, and I'll never forget it!
At one point, Paula and Erick came into the room, with Greyson, after he had awakened from his nap. Raegan did not care for the interruption of our 'private time' playing together. I couldn't let her see it, but inside, I was just beaming that, for this little bit of time, I was her preferred playmate. It was a little bit of heaven, this wonderful Sunday afternoon, and I'll never forget it!
Friday, April 17, 2009
WHY IS IT?..AND THIS AND THAT
I wonder about a lot of things. Sometimes the things I wonder about are not really important matters, such as business or Eternity, but about things that don't necessarily matter. They're just observations about people and the things they do or say. This is one of those 'why is its'? For our discussion of 'Why is it' examples, here's a small one, just to break the ice: Why does it MATTER whether the little quotation mark ... ' ... comes BEFORE or AFTER the question mark?
Who was the decision-maker with that little mark? WHY DOES IT MATTER? After all, years ago, all our teachers were real sticklers about rules of grammar...using 'he' or 'she' in a sentence...and when one did not know which to refer to, we would use the cumbersome 'he or she' a dozen times in an article, letter or speech. Now we have thrown all that out the window and we don't use personal pronouns anymore as much as we used to...now we freely mix all kinds of pronouns and non-pronouns for ease in communication. The old rules of grammar are gone! Do what you want! Speechwriters and politicians and Hollywood stars -- even teachers in public schools and professors in universities -- the former bastions of correctness in the use of language -- have ripped the rudder from their ships of grammatical correctness and now ply the seas of written and spoken language, riding with the wind -- without even a nod of the head given to the Master of the ship or his helmsman, the Keeper of the Compass of Proper Communication.
I have a theory about this apparent abandonment of the once-sacred rules of grammar. It seems to me that 'proper' grammar went out the window about the time some people began wearing tennis shoes and flip flops to church (no, Gena, I won't make the mistake again of calling them 'thongs'....I've learned better). Also when people stopped eating an evening meal together at a dining room table, and began eating at the bar in the kitchen, or standing up by the kitchen sink. Or when guys started wearing earrings and when some men and women began 'coming out of the closet', as it were, with all the ridiculous pairings that followed. When the word 'gay' became anything BUT gay. When holding a door for a woman was often viewed as gratuitous and chauvinistic -- even sexist. When good manners were no longer de rigueur. When people began openly cursing in public and wearing clothing with really, really foul pictures and comments. A lot of our society seemed to sort of casual-down.
Many men stopped wearing coats and ties to "wait on the table" in church. Speaking of that -- take another look at the term 'waiting on the table' -- another archaic expression -- from the sound of it, like we're expecting the table to do or say something, so we patiently 'wait' on the table). Maybe a better expression would be: 'wait tables' at church. That might more accurately convey the activity. The men could accurately be referred to as waiters, or wait-staff, as they are called at restaurants. While we're shifting over to church-related ponderings: How about the ever-present "SHALL we pray"?...or "SHALL we BE standing?" instead of something a little more contemporary, such as, "let's pray"...or "let's stand". After all, how do you BE standing...is that sort of like "We BE goin' to town"? On the other hand, after thinking about that last thought, we don't want to say "Let's stand up", since that is redundant...sort of like saying "raise the window up". If you stand, of course it's 'up'...how else do you stand except by an upward movement? Also, who says 'shall' anymore? 'Shall' is coming, more and more, to sound like one of those 'church words.'
Another church word is 'brethren', a word in common usage since before the 12th century...plural form of the word brother, and used in formal or solemn address or used when referring to members of a society, profession or sect...maybe no longer a NOW kind of word. Who knows? Just a thought...The word brethren is used to mean the community of believers...men and women...and yet it is derived from the word 'brother'.. Should we, in a splurge of equality, refer to women as Sisteren or Sistren?...thereby giving women their own identity, instead of lumping them under a word with male origins? Of course, if we did that, then the very word, woMEN, needs an overhaul, since it carries an 'Eve from Adam' connotation. Just like the word 'mailman'.....'MAIL-PERSON' won't do. MAIL-CARRIER won't do...(there's that 'Male-sounding word' again)....I guess we could use LETTER-CARRIER. Or we could latch onto 'PERSON-PERSON'....That seems safe enough, for these very, very careful, delicate, politically correct days in which we live. We live in a time when people don't take chances with some things, such as political correctness, and then throw caution to the wind and take all kinds of chances with casual sex, drugs, and cheating on their taxes. Go figure.
Speaking of 'not taking chances', I want to share something with you you may find to be funny ------
I remember, as a child, living in the 1950's, when we would drive from Houston or Dallas up to Sherman, TX to see my grandmother Tennie. We would often sit outside her home in the evenings, since Tennie did not have air conditioning back then. It was hot in that house of hers. We would sit outside and listen to all the night sounds. Sometimes we would enjoy a Grapette soda or a Dr. Pepper. If it was early enough in the evening, we would often pile into Dad's car and head off to downtown Sherman where we would get an ice cream cone at Ashburn's (the best ice cream on earth!). We would get our ice cream cones and then get back into the car and sit there slowly enjoying our ice cream cones and watching the farmers and their wives, who had driven in off the farm to have an ice cream cone. The old farmers had on their overalls and the farm women (usually generously-sized women, in faded print dresses and those lace-up 'practical shoes') would stand in front of the counter, heads raised, looking carefully and with great deliberation at the huge array of flavors that were available. The men would stand there, often with their thumbs tucked into the straps of their overalls. The women would stand there, demurely with their hands together, maybe a little uncomfortable at being in the CITY, standing in front of so many CITY-FOLKS, reading the signs:..'Hawaiian Delight'...'Cherry Vanilla'...'Tutti-Fruitti... .and on and on. After pointing at the signs (there must have been 50 flavors), they almost invariably both selected Vanilla! After all, they must have been thinking, 'You just can't be too careful! Let's go with vanilla...it's a SURE THING.'.....why is it like that? We live in a time when most people will not put their thoughts down for the world to read and maybe enjoy. Most people will voyeuristically enjoy others' thoughts, but do not, for some reason, want to disclose THEIR thoughts. They will read someone elses' thoughts, and not ever comment on another person's ramblings-- maybe so they don't accidentally disclose something that would betray agreement, or dissention, interest or disinterest. You just can't be too careful! (Maybe I better just stick with Vanilla...it's safe).
EVERYONE HAS HIS (OR HER) STORIES TO TELL...(maybe, with the New Age Grammar, I should have said: EVERYONE HAS THEIR STORIES TO TELL)..stories of interest to many of the rest of us. You only go around once in this life. Open up! Don't be a VANILLA PERSON!...TRY THE HAWAIIAN DELIGHT OR THE TUUTTI-FRUITTI...try ALL of the flavors!
Take a chance! Share your thoughts with the rest of us!
Oh, the weighty matters that occupy our random thoughts. Gena, you're the Random Thoughts Girl...the master of the This And That.. why is it.?...that things ARE as they ARE? WHY IS IT?...
Who was the decision-maker with that little mark? WHY DOES IT MATTER? After all, years ago, all our teachers were real sticklers about rules of grammar...using 'he' or 'she' in a sentence...and when one did not know which to refer to, we would use the cumbersome 'he or she' a dozen times in an article, letter or speech. Now we have thrown all that out the window and we don't use personal pronouns anymore as much as we used to...now we freely mix all kinds of pronouns and non-pronouns for ease in communication. The old rules of grammar are gone! Do what you want! Speechwriters and politicians and Hollywood stars -- even teachers in public schools and professors in universities -- the former bastions of correctness in the use of language -- have ripped the rudder from their ships of grammatical correctness and now ply the seas of written and spoken language, riding with the wind -- without even a nod of the head given to the Master of the ship or his helmsman, the Keeper of the Compass of Proper Communication.
I have a theory about this apparent abandonment of the once-sacred rules of grammar. It seems to me that 'proper' grammar went out the window about the time some people began wearing tennis shoes and flip flops to church (no, Gena, I won't make the mistake again of calling them 'thongs'....I've learned better). Also when people stopped eating an evening meal together at a dining room table, and began eating at the bar in the kitchen, or standing up by the kitchen sink. Or when guys started wearing earrings and when some men and women began 'coming out of the closet', as it were, with all the ridiculous pairings that followed. When the word 'gay' became anything BUT gay. When holding a door for a woman was often viewed as gratuitous and chauvinistic -- even sexist. When good manners were no longer de rigueur. When people began openly cursing in public and wearing clothing with really, really foul pictures and comments. A lot of our society seemed to sort of casual-down.
Many men stopped wearing coats and ties to "wait on the table" in church. Speaking of that -- take another look at the term 'waiting on the table' -- another archaic expression -- from the sound of it, like we're expecting the table to do or say something, so we patiently 'wait' on the table). Maybe a better expression would be: 'wait tables' at church. That might more accurately convey the activity. The men could accurately be referred to as waiters, or wait-staff, as they are called at restaurants. While we're shifting over to church-related ponderings: How about the ever-present "SHALL we pray"?...or "SHALL we BE standing?" instead of something a little more contemporary, such as, "let's pray"...or "let's stand". After all, how do you BE standing...is that sort of like "We BE goin' to town"? On the other hand, after thinking about that last thought, we don't want to say "Let's stand up", since that is redundant...sort of like saying "raise the window up". If you stand, of course it's 'up'...how else do you stand except by an upward movement? Also, who says 'shall' anymore? 'Shall' is coming, more and more, to sound like one of those 'church words.'
Another church word is 'brethren', a word in common usage since before the 12th century...plural form of the word brother, and used in formal or solemn address or used when referring to members of a society, profession or sect...maybe no longer a NOW kind of word. Who knows? Just a thought...The word brethren is used to mean the community of believers...men and women...and yet it is derived from the word 'brother'.. Should we, in a splurge of equality, refer to women as Sisteren or Sistren?...thereby giving women their own identity, instead of lumping them under a word with male origins? Of course, if we did that, then the very word, woMEN, needs an overhaul, since it carries an 'Eve from Adam' connotation. Just like the word 'mailman'.....'MAIL-PERSON' won't do. MAIL-CARRIER won't do...(there's that 'Male-sounding word' again)....I guess we could use LETTER-CARRIER. Or we could latch onto 'PERSON-PERSON'....That seems safe enough, for these very, very careful, delicate, politically correct days in which we live. We live in a time when people don't take chances with some things, such as political correctness, and then throw caution to the wind and take all kinds of chances with casual sex, drugs, and cheating on their taxes. Go figure.
Speaking of 'not taking chances', I want to share something with you you may find to be funny ------
I remember, as a child, living in the 1950's, when we would drive from Houston or Dallas up to Sherman, TX to see my grandmother Tennie. We would often sit outside her home in the evenings, since Tennie did not have air conditioning back then. It was hot in that house of hers. We would sit outside and listen to all the night sounds. Sometimes we would enjoy a Grapette soda or a Dr. Pepper. If it was early enough in the evening, we would often pile into Dad's car and head off to downtown Sherman where we would get an ice cream cone at Ashburn's (the best ice cream on earth!). We would get our ice cream cones and then get back into the car and sit there slowly enjoying our ice cream cones and watching the farmers and their wives, who had driven in off the farm to have an ice cream cone. The old farmers had on their overalls and the farm women (usually generously-sized women, in faded print dresses and those lace-up 'practical shoes') would stand in front of the counter, heads raised, looking carefully and with great deliberation at the huge array of flavors that were available. The men would stand there, often with their thumbs tucked into the straps of their overalls. The women would stand there, demurely with their hands together, maybe a little uncomfortable at being in the CITY, standing in front of so many CITY-FOLKS, reading the signs:..'Hawaiian Delight'...'Cherry Vanilla'...'Tutti-Fruitti... .and on and on. After pointing at the signs (there must have been 50 flavors), they almost invariably both selected Vanilla! After all, they must have been thinking, 'You just can't be too careful! Let's go with vanilla...it's a SURE THING.'.....why is it like that? We live in a time when most people will not put their thoughts down for the world to read and maybe enjoy. Most people will voyeuristically enjoy others' thoughts, but do not, for some reason, want to disclose THEIR thoughts. They will read someone elses' thoughts, and not ever comment on another person's ramblings-- maybe so they don't accidentally disclose something that would betray agreement, or dissention, interest or disinterest. You just can't be too careful! (Maybe I better just stick with Vanilla...it's safe).
EVERYONE HAS HIS (OR HER) STORIES TO TELL...(maybe, with the New Age Grammar, I should have said: EVERYONE HAS THEIR STORIES TO TELL)..stories of interest to many of the rest of us. You only go around once in this life. Open up! Don't be a VANILLA PERSON!...TRY THE HAWAIIAN DELIGHT OR THE TUUTTI-FRUITTI...try ALL of the flavors!
Take a chance! Share your thoughts with the rest of us!
Oh, the weighty matters that occupy our random thoughts. Gena, you're the Random Thoughts Girl...the master of the This And That.. why is it.?...that things ARE as they ARE? WHY IS IT?...
Saturday, March 28, 2009
'Showers for guys!' It's time to even things up!
I think that the existing system in this country needs a change. We're hearing a lot about 'Change' lately...and precious little to show for it, except rhetoric. All we're going to be left with, as others have stated, is the 'change' in our pockets.
This is a different 'change' I'm talking about this time...the one I'm on a soapbox about tonight has to do with our custom of ladies having showers for women, when they are getting married. There are a couple of different types of these showers for women...personal showers, where gifts are purchased for the prospective bride by women, and only women attend the 'personal shower.' Then there is the other kind of shower, where personal gifts are not given, and the occasional male in attendance might be safe to attend. These are the can opener, blender kind of showers.
Men are excluded from the personal showers, however, and with good reason: the gifts are personal in nature, and while men love to see their brides wearing all of these 'dainty' gifts, they are, for the most part, clueless about them. I, for one, would rather eat a bucket of bugs than to be a guy in a roomful of women opening and 'ooh-ing' and 'ah-ing' and giggling and exchanging knowing looks over the many 'personal' gifts that are presented to the bride-to-be --not that I or any other guy would likely be invited to one of these showers. I believe that these events are so secretive that armed guards are likely posted at all the doors, and that electronic sweeps are made in the rooms where these showers take place, to ensure the privacy of the participants. You would think, from the exclusivity of these events, that women were going to be MODELING these 'dainty things' at the shower itself.
I don't object to women's personal showers. I just feel that there needs to be some sort of BALANCE in these matters. I think it's high time that GUYS also be on the receiving end of 'personal' showers. However, since guys don't have much in the way of 'personal clothing' (you can buy 3 pairs of skivs for about $8.00 -- whether you choose briefs or boxers. That about sums it up the 'personal wardrobe' for guys. So, just for fun, let's consider a REAL MAN'S SHOWER, and what it COULD BE. Until now there were BRIDAL SHOWERS AND BABY SHOWERS. That's about it. NOW, HOWEVER, WE WILL CONSIDER A NEW KIND OF SHOWER: THE 'GROOMAL' SHOWER....for the PROSPECTIVE GROOM, OR AS (or, as we will use it here) the 'PG'.
Imagine this: the best man calls the prospective groom's friends, his high school and college friends, all the people who ever knew his parents or siblings -- even though none of these people have been contacted by the prospective groom in many years, and he invites them to a shower for the prospective groom. Notice of the event will have been published in the church bulletin and word of the event spread over the Internet. If the PG has lived for a long time in different cities, this event will likely be duplicated several times, in different places. The prospective groom, or PG, will haul in an incredible amount of swag!
Here's my idea about the shower: The PG could be registered at Home Depot, Lowe's, Ace Hardware, Bass Pro Shop, and maybe Auto Zone. That ought to just about cover it. Then, at the shower for the PG, the guests, who would bring their gifts in a grocery sack, or, plastic produce bag--- or,eschewing wrappers of any kind, would then hand their gifts to the PG, one at a time, and all the guys would high-five each other and quaff another big gulp of their Barg's Root Beer or other appropriate beverage, down another handful of popcorn, mixed nuts or a slab of Hot-N-Ready pizza. All of this with a generous sprinkling of 'ALL RIGHT', 'COOL, DUDE', "LOOK AT THAT!" or the incredulous, 'ARE YOU KIDDING ME?'
A few of the guests -- those with great verbal skills or, by force of personality and enthusiasm, will, in all likelihood, utter phrases like: "MAN!...THAT SAW IS ONE MEAN CUTTING MACHINE! "They might shout out: "IT'S A DEWALT!!!....or, "UNBELIEVABLE! Or, you might hear: "WOW!!! ALONG WITH THE AMMO, HE GOT A YEAR'S MEMBERSHIP AT H&H GUN RANGE!" Each of the guests would look admiringly at the generosity of the other guests, and would nod, smile, or shout atta-boys at the generosity of the other guests and their understanding of the PG's interests, hobbies and personal needs.
The Prospective Groom, or PG, would, reverently and with great appreciation, slowly remove each gift from its brown grocery bag, plastic produce bag, or straight-from-the-factory box and, with agonizing slowness and superhuman deliberation, examine each cordless drill, Gerber knife, ladder, socket wrench, set of jumper cables, box of spark plugs, gun-cleaning kit and other timeless gifts.
Good friends, stationed on each side of the PG, will either hand him the next gift, or, carefully deal with the brown bags and produce sacks and cardboard. With great humility and thankfulness, the PG will thank each of his buddies with vigorous handshakes and back-slapping guy-hugs, further bonding with his buddies and guests. This kind of male-bonding is similar to what occurs at ballgames (or around a t.v. set where ballgames are being watched) or on the battlefield in a foreign country.
Some of the guests -- those who don't fall into the 'top echelon' of the buddy-category of the PG (the 'A-List, if you will), but who also are present, with their 'group purchases', that they bought along with others who are also not 'upper echelon' buddies of the PG -- also laugh, back-slap, high-five each other like those in the inner group of the guests ---the close buddies of the PG...just not quite as loudly, and with not quite as much raucous enthusiasm. These friends are 2nd and
3rd tier friends, representing the the 'not so much buddies' category -- who, never having been close friends with the PG, contributed with others who also did not know the PG really well, but who have good and generous hearts and also wanted to be present at the shower and to participate in the gift-giving, to encourage the prospective groom, and so he could start his new marriage with all the stuff it takes to set up a new garage in style and be a proper husband for his bride. He would want for no hardware, fishing and hunting stuff, and yard tools in HIS new home!
I know that all of this may seem a little radical, but think about this: in this day of 'equal rights', the equality doesn't have to be lopsided anymore. Guys can now be equal to women! Guys can participate in one of the time-honored events that women have enjoyed for millenia --- 'SOAKING their friends!' ....After all, isn't this where the event acquired the name 'SHOWER?' :)
This is a different 'change' I'm talking about this time...the one I'm on a soapbox about tonight has to do with our custom of ladies having showers for women, when they are getting married. There are a couple of different types of these showers for women...personal showers, where gifts are purchased for the prospective bride by women, and only women attend the 'personal shower.' Then there is the other kind of shower, where personal gifts are not given, and the occasional male in attendance might be safe to attend. These are the can opener, blender kind of showers.
Men are excluded from the personal showers, however, and with good reason: the gifts are personal in nature, and while men love to see their brides wearing all of these 'dainty' gifts, they are, for the most part, clueless about them. I, for one, would rather eat a bucket of bugs than to be a guy in a roomful of women opening and 'ooh-ing' and 'ah-ing' and giggling and exchanging knowing looks over the many 'personal' gifts that are presented to the bride-to-be --not that I or any other guy would likely be invited to one of these showers. I believe that these events are so secretive that armed guards are likely posted at all the doors, and that electronic sweeps are made in the rooms where these showers take place, to ensure the privacy of the participants. You would think, from the exclusivity of these events, that women were going to be MODELING these 'dainty things' at the shower itself.
I don't object to women's personal showers. I just feel that there needs to be some sort of BALANCE in these matters. I think it's high time that GUYS also be on the receiving end of 'personal' showers. However, since guys don't have much in the way of 'personal clothing' (you can buy 3 pairs of skivs for about $8.00 -- whether you choose briefs or boxers. That about sums it up the 'personal wardrobe' for guys. So, just for fun, let's consider a REAL MAN'S SHOWER, and what it COULD BE. Until now there were BRIDAL SHOWERS AND BABY SHOWERS. That's about it. NOW, HOWEVER, WE WILL CONSIDER A NEW KIND OF SHOWER: THE 'GROOMAL' SHOWER....for the PROSPECTIVE GROOM, OR AS (or, as we will use it here) the 'PG'.
Imagine this: the best man calls the prospective groom's friends, his high school and college friends, all the people who ever knew his parents or siblings -- even though none of these people have been contacted by the prospective groom in many years, and he invites them to a shower for the prospective groom. Notice of the event will have been published in the church bulletin and word of the event spread over the Internet. If the PG has lived for a long time in different cities, this event will likely be duplicated several times, in different places. The prospective groom, or PG, will haul in an incredible amount of swag!
Here's my idea about the shower: The PG could be registered at Home Depot, Lowe's, Ace Hardware, Bass Pro Shop, and maybe Auto Zone. That ought to just about cover it. Then, at the shower for the PG, the guests, who would bring their gifts in a grocery sack, or, plastic produce bag--- or,eschewing wrappers of any kind, would then hand their gifts to the PG, one at a time, and all the guys would high-five each other and quaff another big gulp of their Barg's Root Beer or other appropriate beverage, down another handful of popcorn, mixed nuts or a slab of Hot-N-Ready pizza. All of this with a generous sprinkling of 'ALL RIGHT', 'COOL, DUDE', "LOOK AT THAT!" or the incredulous, 'ARE YOU KIDDING ME?'
A few of the guests -- those with great verbal skills or, by force of personality and enthusiasm, will, in all likelihood, utter phrases like: "MAN!...THAT SAW IS ONE MEAN CUTTING MACHINE! "They might shout out: "IT'S A DEWALT!!!....or, "UNBELIEVABLE! Or, you might hear: "WOW!!! ALONG WITH THE AMMO, HE GOT A YEAR'S MEMBERSHIP AT H&H GUN RANGE!" Each of the guests would look admiringly at the generosity of the other guests, and would nod, smile, or shout atta-boys at the generosity of the other guests and their understanding of the PG's interests, hobbies and personal needs.
The Prospective Groom, or PG, would, reverently and with great appreciation, slowly remove each gift from its brown grocery bag, plastic produce bag, or straight-from-the-factory box and, with agonizing slowness and superhuman deliberation, examine each cordless drill, Gerber knife, ladder, socket wrench, set of jumper cables, box of spark plugs, gun-cleaning kit and other timeless gifts.
Good friends, stationed on each side of the PG, will either hand him the next gift, or, carefully deal with the brown bags and produce sacks and cardboard. With great humility and thankfulness, the PG will thank each of his buddies with vigorous handshakes and back-slapping guy-hugs, further bonding with his buddies and guests. This kind of male-bonding is similar to what occurs at ballgames (or around a t.v. set where ballgames are being watched) or on the battlefield in a foreign country.
Some of the guests -- those who don't fall into the 'top echelon' of the buddy-category of the PG (the 'A-List, if you will), but who also are present, with their 'group purchases', that they bought along with others who are also not 'upper echelon' buddies of the PG -- also laugh, back-slap, high-five each other like those in the inner group of the guests ---the close buddies of the PG...just not quite as loudly, and with not quite as much raucous enthusiasm. These friends are 2nd and
3rd tier friends, representing the the 'not so much buddies' category -- who, never having been close friends with the PG, contributed with others who also did not know the PG really well, but who have good and generous hearts and also wanted to be present at the shower and to participate in the gift-giving, to encourage the prospective groom, and so he could start his new marriage with all the stuff it takes to set up a new garage in style and be a proper husband for his bride. He would want for no hardware, fishing and hunting stuff, and yard tools in HIS new home!
I know that all of this may seem a little radical, but think about this: in this day of 'equal rights', the equality doesn't have to be lopsided anymore. Guys can now be equal to women! Guys can participate in one of the time-honored events that women have enjoyed for millenia --- 'SOAKING their friends!' ....After all, isn't this where the event acquired the name 'SHOWER?' :)
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