With a Bang or a Whimper?

 Yesterday I pulled this old book out for some reason.  It was published in 1970 and I bought a copy soon after.

I enjoyed thumbing through it yesterday and, especially, reading my notes along the way. 

T.S. Elliott used to be one of my favorite poets.  He had a hard time with religion.  I, myself, am a Wesleyan. 

His poem, The Hollow Men, questions organized religion.  

Between the idea and the reality......Between the motion and the act.....Fall the shadow.  

My notes say:  Between the WIN Button and Whipping Inflation Now falls the shadow.

Remember how President Gerald Ford introduced the WIN button in 1974?  It didn't work but I still have my button. 

My notes also say:  Between women being accepted in theology school and being accepted for ordination falls the shadow. 

This did work.  In the United Methodist Church we now have as many women as men being accepted for ordination and they are serving in leadership positions around the country and the world. 

The famous last line of this poem is:  This is how the world ends, not with a Bang but a Whimper. 

Only last week I wrote in my journal:  How will my life end?  With a whimper or a bang?

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My Good Samaritan

 

In the 18 years I've been writing this blog, I've occasionally written about some whopper, crazy things I'd done using the heading "I Don't Make Mistakes." 

But this is not so much about me.  It's about a woman named Kim.  This morning, since the weather was cold and rainy,  I decided to do my daily two mile walk in the mall.  I carefully parked outside Penney's door, the second row, the forth spot down.   (Because I'm careful.  I don't make mistakes.)

After my walk I replaced my steps to the parking lot.  But....no car. 

I walked up and down the rows several times.  Still no car.  What to do?  I could have called any number of family and friends but I finally decided to call the police.  After all, it was their job to help.  There's even a COPs annex in the mall.  

But then a woman driving a big SUV stopped and asked if I needed help.  I gave her my car info and she drove up and down the rows.....but no car.  Finally she suggested I might have parked around the corner close to another Penney's entrance.  I didn't think so because....I don't make mistakes.  But I gave her the description again and she took off.  Thirty seconds later she was back.  

Bingo,  The car was exactly where I said it was, only in the other lot.  

What Kim did doesn't seem like a big deal right?  But here's the thing.  Not one other person asked if I needed help.  I would get it if I looked like the healthy, younger person I am inside.  But many, many people saw a little old lady with a cane wondering around the chilly, damp mall parking lot,

Kim was the only one who stopped.  It's a very big deal. 

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Miniature Rooms

 I love miniature rooms. Not to be confused with doll houses, miniature rooms can be a child fantasy but miniature rooms relate more to adult fantasy and artistry.  

I learned many years ago that, when traveling, it's usually a good experience to visit libraries in the heart of big cities.  There are, many times, big artistic surprises, including miniature rooms. 

A while back, my friend, Christie, gave me the book "Miniature Rooms."  It features the Thorne rooms at the Art Institute of Chicago.

The Thorne Miniature Rooms are one of the beloved exhibits at The Art Institute of Chicago.  Each year thousands of visitors travel slowly down the long, darkened Thorne galleries in ones and twos, peering into the 68 lighted boxes which transport their imaginations to far-off times and places. 

Miniature rooms are three demential and measured in inches.  You can 

buy one or make your own, in case you'd  like to replicate the living

room you grew up in (which I do not.)  Places like Hobby Lobby have

some supplies to get stated but finding just the right tiny books for your

miniature 4 inch high bookcase can be daunting

The creator of the Thorne rooms, Narcissa Thorne, was way, way over the top, miniature room wise.  She and her wealthy husband traveled the world and when she saw a room she loved, she would painstakingly recreate it, using materials she'd gathered as she traveled.  And I'm sure she had lots of tiny tweezers.  And I'm sure none of her treasures came from Hobby Lobby.

Her son called her life long fascination a compulsion.  

Maybe so, but her "compulsion" has enabled thousands of people each year to enjoy her works of art.  

For many years I put out a  version of a Christmas living room in my bookcase.  Crude by Mrs Thorne's standards, but a fun Christmas fantasy.  Last year was the last of the Christmas bookcase living rooms.  I no longer have the energy to move the books.  

 

                                                                    

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