31st October 2008

Born Dead

For those who love and want children, the joy of childbirth begins early. 22 days after the two parent cells have united, a little heart begins to beat. At 26 days the circulation of blood begins. With modern miracles parents can see their child developing and listen in to the rumbles of satisfaction. It can be a special time of sharing for those who love each other and want to bless their lives with little ones. The tragedy of carrying a child all the way to delivery, then having that child born dead can touch these couples to the quick as little else can.

Bewildered, baffled, hurt, inconsolable. These words describe the agony you will face when going to extend sympathy. What can you say? What can you do?

This is probably not the time for a take-charge personality to blunder in.

Before you go, you could collect signatures, notes, letters and cards from mutual friends, your acquaintances and theirs — people that can’t go in person. If time is thrust upon you in the waiting room you could turn the best of these into a collage, for easier handling. If you are good with a camera you might offer to take pictures of the child for memory’s sake, but again, do not push.

Gifts of inspirational poetry can be of a help at times like this. After the mother goes home gifts of music are nice, making sure the couple are able to play it on their equipment. Another gift that isn’t usually thought of is a professional massage and pedicure.

Offer to clean the house or apartment just as you would for a live birth. Bring in wholesome meals, but also furnish snacks for between meal nibbles. For people that won’t come because they won’t know what to say or do, suggest prayer and hand-holding. I have seen literal miracles happen with no other activity provided.

When you offer to provide a support group don’t forget that the father is also a victim and perhaps even more so if that is possible for he might well be questioning his manhood, his responsibility, and cursing himself for not doing enough for his wife during the period of pregnancy. If you can drag up a husky, trucker-type looking guy with a heart of gold, send him in your stead.

One thing to watch for is if this tragedy is driving the couple apart. Signs to watch for are if they won’t look at each other, looking away when the other is speaking, not wanting to eat at the same time.

Now, suffering their grief alone is not the same thing as being angry at the other partner. But dishing out blame, voicing recriminations — these things can do lots of damage and produce festering wounds that lead to divorce or a ruined marriage. If this trend manifests, immediately take steps to lighten the mood and divert the thought patterns. Suggest a three way prayer circle.. this is where each participant acts as voice in turn. If one partner won’t or can’t pray, ask them to kneel in the circle anyway.

A rotation of friends visiting is usually better than one spokesperson coming day after day. If parents of the couple arrive to be of service, coordinate with them on visiting times and meal delivery. Remember that THEY will also will need some time off and even diversional opportunities, like a good movie OUT, and a dinner OUT with a family or at least a friendly face.

Well-mannered children can be a boon and a blessing on your visits.

One word of caution. It is usually best NOT to initiate theoretical discussions of where the child has gone to. If your opinion is invited, make sure it is YOUR opinion. IF that opinion differs from your professed religion, offer that opinion next.

If all else fails, hold hands and pray silently.  The message of love will find a way through.

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31st October 2008

Straw Vote

Next Tuesday is the official election, but in many states early voters can vote early, and some of them don’t mind saying whom they want in the White House. A straw vote says our friend Obama is not faring so well. The nod away from him is the fear he will do what he says he will. “McCain is the lesser of two evils.”

Two more days of early voting have come by since the above was written. Lines are running all the way around the courthouse, then snaking over to the next street and going all the way around it, snaking over to the next street and usually stopping somewhere before going to the end of it. Obama seems to definitely be in the lead now. “He is the lesser of two evils.”

That concept is really strange to me, considering the number of truly great men and women we have in the United States. But, this post isn’t going into that.

What I want to suggest is a real straw vote.

Set it up like a jury system, with each state sending twelve VOTERS to D.C. and sequester them in luxurious surroundings while they listen as attentively as possible to all the candidates running for office. As each supplicant supplicates for their vote have three buttons for each voter. One says “Get Real!” The next one says; “I’ll vote for that.” The third one says. “You lost me buddy. Can you explain that?” The candidates (and the public) have three lights corresponding to these three buttons. Each light glows more brightly as more voters press the corresponding button. Thus, each candidate can adjust — as far as possible — his or her appeal so as to get a brighter light under “I’ll vote for that” and lunge ahead in the race for the final vote that will actually catapult the candidate into office. Think of it as Vio-FeedBack.

It might change the course of history.. It might even produce a President that isn’t the “Lesser of Two Evils!”

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31st October 2008

Lesson One

No lesson is learned until it becomes a habit.
A piece of rope hangs over my door; I see it every time I go out the door. The of piece of rope has a price tag on it. I bought the piece of rope at Lowe’s. I was so proud of myself. There was some stock boy there in the rope section, rearranging everything. “Do you need any help, sir?”
Oh no, not me. I know what kind of rope I need. Very carefully comparing prices (because price is still very paramount in my life) against textures and diameter to arrive at the very best bargain in the display. I tried to use the cutter, and somehow couldn’t make it work. Time is also important, right after price, so I asked the stock boy for help. “Can you give me 300 feet of this rope?”
“Oh, yes sir.” Yes sir, yes sir. Three bags full and I raced to the checkout stations only to find Wee Willy was telling the clerk how smart he was. Quite wisely I got in another line to pay for my rope with a debit card. 300 feet of rope. How many people need 300 feet of rope in one long continuous strand? Well, besides the cliff dwellers. I threw the rope into the bag and told Wee Willy — who was still letting that pretty thing know he was a man of great substance and wry wisdom — that I would be waiting for him at the van.
After the job was done and Wee Willy dispatched for home, I slipped onto my computer and after a while, checked my debit card balance. One purchase of $187 glared at me.. I had just paid $187 for a piece of rope? Instead of thirty few cents per foot it had been eighty big cents per foot.
There was some mistake of course, so I took the price tag and a short piece of the rope and called Lowe’s to straighten them out. After Lowe’s had straightened me out in less than five minutes I raked my soul over hot coals for fifteen minutes. Then I pressed the price tag over the rope and eventually put it over my door so I would see it every time I left for the store and say in my heart of heart.. “I will never — EVER — buy anything without seeing how much I am paying.”
Just as surely as there is a God in heaven listening to everything I say or think I went right on not looking AND within a week I had ripped myself off three more times. “Rope, you’re not doing your job!”
The rope looked right back at me with a clear conscience and said: “I’m still hanging here. Everything else is YOUR part of the job.”
I hate a rope that talks back to me.
So the months have passed and my rope still hangs there, waiting for me to turn my part of the job into a habit; Never EVER buy anything without checking the price I pay at the cash register. Anybody on a limited income should be able to remember that, but for me at least, it takes the place of a lifetime of learning to do it wrong. I won’t castigate Perry Mason any further in this article for teaching me bad habits. He had money to waste; I don’t want to waste one red cent! He was the product of a vivid imagination and I’m a real man struggling to make real money last to the end of the month. Good Bye Perry Mason. I’m going to hang your ways on my piece of rope and be done with them.
I am 66 years old now and I can not remember one day in my life that I wasn’t learning some lesson. Time and time again I have pitted my ignorance against the ways of the world — and lost. Sobbing about how unfair life is hasn’t helped a bit; I have learned that lesson a few times over too. Gradually my wounds healed over, the scabs disappeared and the scars hang on some door in my mind to remind me I have made that mistake before and I really ought to have more sense by now.
When I come right down to the wire and count my change it is all too obvious that Life is not fair: All too many times I get more than my share! The wise man finds a way to pay a stern measure back into the system.
This morning (it is now 01:07) I woke up to the realization that I am not a real man. A “real man” does the best he can and lets the (wood) chips lie where they fall. I wonder who ever sold me on that bill of goods? The wise man picks up his chips and saves them to light his fire with. Speaking of fire —
Now that my poor body is warm again,  let me take up where I should have started: I am not a real man. Man is focused altogether on acquiring, using and abusing the things of this world; and — as a spiritual being with a physical body rather than a physical being with a small core of spiritual yearnings, I need to focus my energies and muscles on spiritual pursuits.
Now don’t jump me to a conclusion here. I am not suggesting a life of service, nor do I suggest giving away what little money I have left after buying that rope as a road to happiness. I have done a lot of service projects in my time and I still contribute funds to furthering the education and opportunities of others on a regular basis. That’s great, but I have done, and do, these things because I am a spiritual being in a physical body, not because doing those things made me more spiritual.
I have learned that lesson many times and this morning the lesson came back more forcibly than ever. Every time I forget that lesson and go back to pitting my ignorance against an unfair world I end up much worse for the wear. When I’m smart (finally) and come back to nourish and strengthen my spiritual being FIRST then I can do good works and grow stronger spiritually for doing them.
None of us believe in the same God, but strangely enough most of us around the world recognize the same kind of “good” in ourselves and others.
One time I boiled that thought down to: “Good is what you would do for a friend and hope your friends would do for you.” Now that’s an equation. When both sides are balanced THEN you have good. For example, I would not want my friends to feed me at the cost of making their families go hungry, therefore I will not feed my friends at the cost of my family going hungry. However, since I am a spiritual being in a physical body, I will look for other ways to help my hungry friends.
Some of us believe God is an IT, others favor the God that is a Spirit, others believe God has an exalted body while others yet believe that God is anything they can see, hear, feel of sense. It is not my place here to preach the God I believe in. The purpose of this article is solely to preach the peculiar premise I have embraced repeatedly to save myself from rack and ruin: that I am, first and foremost, a spiritual being inside a physical body.
While I am responsible for keeping my body in good shape for as long as I own it, my first responsibility is to keep my spiritual self growing stronger and happier. When my spiritual self is healthy then my body will be more likely to be glowing with good health too. By the same token, when my physical body is glowing with good health it is much easier to have a happy, healthy spirit.
Just as my body requires exercise, good food and at least relatively clean water, my spirit needs to be strengthened as well. The food that nourishes my spiritual self the most is the Word of God and the clean water I drink for my spiritual self are my own thoughts responding to the power of the Word of God, and studying the words of others who have been inspired of God — be it from Confucius, the Pope or Zoroaster. So far you have probably been nodding your head or at least thinking about this premise, but my way of exercising my spiritual self might well have us parting company.
Spirit is made manifest in purpose. Jesus said that if you gave alms to the poor for the purpose of impressing men that you had your reward — therefore, (it’s me talking again) if you give alms to the poor because you are a spiritual being then your spirit is fed. Are you with me so far? Remembering the divine nature of purpose (when I have remembered my most important lesson again) I want to undertake even the most basic things of life for the purpose of exercising my spirit. Washing the dishes, sweeping the floor making the bed, building the fire; all these things can be done for the purpose of exercising the spirit.
Let’s take that last one, building the fire. Many of you know the trials and tribulations I have gone through because fire refuses to recognize my superior intellect. For years now I have done everything the expert fire builders have assured me will get a fire blazing in jig time and failed consistently.
Experts can start a forest fire with one match, Impatient folks use kerosene and can warm their homes quickly and easily. All I get from using gasoline is seared eyebrows and flames that only live for a nano-second. So through the years I have repeatedly lost my religion almost every time I try to start a fire. I have cussed and I have fumed but most of the time I can’t even fill the room up with a respectable amount of acrid smoke.
So, tonight I went at it differently. First I prayed to the Father of my Spirit that I would be made equal to the task, that as I learned to light this fire that my spirit would grow. Let me say it again, for emphasis: Lighting a fire is a terrible problem for me even though Scoutmasters keep asking what the problem is — therefore I prayed long and earnestly for guidance, and direction.
Then, doing as I was inspired to do, I picked up the biggest, widest board in my arsenal. I held one edge down — yeah, I know, starting with the biggest board is NOT the conventional way to light a fire, but obviously I was being taught a spiritual lesson here.
I held one edge down at an angle then (eventually) lit a wad of paper and held the most intense part of the flame beneath that point. Now, when I grab a second wad of paper please remember that I was only an assistant Scoutmaster and any time the Scoutmaster was going to demonstrate how to light a fire with just a rock and piece of steel that he would insist that I turn my back and walk away at least 30 paces so it could happen. I’m not kidding here; for the last 60 years I have had the devil’s own time lighting any fire. Tonight I was doing it God’s way.
Thus it was I used up wad of paper number one and number two with no visible results. With wad of paper number three I could see tiny tendrils of smoke rising from the wood and noticed that some of the sap was boiling just above where my flame was held. With wad of paper number four the block of wood was burning with my help. With wad of paper number five I helped that fire along until the whole edge of that block was burning. My goodness, I’ve never, ever, seen a Scoutmaster produce a better fire!
Now, does that triumphant act feed my spirit? You betchum bottom peso. I have made myself follow the promptings of the Spirit — and just getting to this point is a major accomplishment producing quantum leaps of spiritual growth — and I have seen the virtually miraculous results of a big block of wood catching on fire because I followed those spiritual promptings, which confirms the power and truth of those promptings which nurtures the strength and well-being of my spiritual being. I have been fed as if it were manna from heaven. I have successfully started a fire without cussing. My home is warm and I am happy.
Okay, to reinforce my lesson learned; let’s take my rack and ruin of a body over to the exercise machine and continue this spurt of growth. First comes prayer and in my hour of desperate need my prayer is again long and earnest. In essence I prayed that in the performance of my exercising, every muscle that moved would respond spiritually and every organ involved in that moment of exercise would be blessed with spiritual growth and well-being, that I (the spiritual being inside this body and allegedly the master of it) would feel the pulsing power of the Spirit as it coursed throughout my body because I was exercising it spiritually and physically.
Let me point out here that I am not a weakling even in my infirmities. For example, yesterday I picked up a log 14 feet in length, tapering to 10 inches in diameter at the small end, and put it in my little pickup without letting the tailgate down. Why then do I need to exercise? Because today I couldn’t even pick up the smallest third of that same log. The major cause of that variation is the diabetic condition wreaking havoc with my normal performances but naturally there are other extenuating circumstances. By inviting my spiritual essence to participate in the exercising every muscle and every organ is called upon to perform in harmony, each acting to fulfill the purpose for which it was created.
Under the guidance of the Spirit I started off slowly, noting and feeling each muscle kick in where it was supposed to. By monitoring what was going on I learned that balance and position has a great deal to do with how much strength can be applied at any given time. If that left leg is allowed to waver to one side then other muscles must be called upon to compensate. Left leg, back in place, attaboy. Now, exercise.
Purpose, balance, thrust.. this kind of exercising is doing me a world of good. Any project from lifting the helpless to scrubbing the commode can and must be done with the Spirit guiding if we are to feed our spirits and nourish them.
I believe that is the lesson we came to earth to learn; I believe that is Lesson One for most of us. Learn that one well and everything else should follow.

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30th October 2008

Winter Garden

The best time to eat winter cantaloupe is in late January, early February. These are such special treats that i will hold off picking the cantaloupe and water melon until a guest arrives. When there is snow on the ground they just can’t believe I’m serious about going to pick a melon — or a squash — for the dinner table.

I was homeless, oh 30 years ago, and going through the worst winter Arkansas had up to then. I had bundled up in a shack, saved rain water — ice water — off the roof and lived a life as primitive as Henry Thoreau chose when he was young. The ground was frozen so, to get my garden going I used 5 gallon buckets and planted my melons in that.

Leave a bucket out in the weather and the tender young melons will shiver up and die, so I posited each of my buckets just inside an open-doored garage, right under a leak in the roof. This gave them fresh air, fresh water and sunlight. Most plants don’t ask for anything more.

This past year I’ve been collecting 2.5 gallon drinking water containers manufactured for various drinking water companies, with the idea of using them for my winter garden. My idea was to have the tender plants shooting up through the 1.5″ hole. As I began to put this plan into action an obvious problem developed; how do you get the dirt in there through such a small aperture? Not even potting soil will trundle through the funnel fast enough to get the job done before summer has come and run. Now sand, maybe. I have sand in great quantities so that solves MY problem, but what about those people that want their own melons and don’t have anything but dirt?

Well, you can make the aperture larger with a knife, or scissors, but this leaves jagged, dangerous edges no matter how carefully you cut. So, what else can you cut with? Thomas Massey to the rescue! Mr. Massey was a young man when I interviewed him and I think I was the very first one to interview him because he definitely wasn’t comfortable with the attention. You’ve seen those huge, Styrofoam snowflakes suspended from store ceilings? Mr. Massey had just invented these at that time for the factory he was consulting with to improve production. He noticed that Styrofoam came in big square blocks. He had much the same problem as I’ve just described, and resolved it with an electrically heated hot wire. Drill one little hole to put the wire through and then turn the slab of Styrofoam in any direction and start cutting. Mr. Massey went on to invent jigs for the system so that the company could turn out any shape they found salable but we need not explore that part. The point is, a hot piece of metal will slice through plastic. Yes, that does mean that all your milk jugs and drink containers now destined to clutter up our landfills can be carved up for your creative craft projects. It also means that I can carve the tops right out of my water jugs with ease.

I am not set up with electric hot wires, but I do have a wood burning stove, and nails just magically appear any time I need them. I can lay my cold steel nails on top of the hot (and it does get that way occasionally) stove top. I can pick up one nail at a time with a tool now known as pliers, and carve up my jug until the nail grows cold. Then I grab the next nail in line and put the first one down in another line. Why, this is as much fun as carving pumpkin faces. Old knives will get hot and work almost as well.

People that aren’t as primitively situated as I am can just get little electric tools with heat points and carve away.

Meanwhile, back in the garden. I just happen to have a few hundred insulating panels lying around. Nail these to a post in a pattern that creates long rectangles and I have an insulated garden bed. Put my containers inside and plant away. Melons, POST!

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