Communion on the Net

We had a good discussion last week in Forum.  We talked about communion or, as some call it, the eucharist.

I can hear you yawning.

OK, here's the thing.  Communion is a big deal in all Christian denominations.  It comes from Jesus having his last meal in the Upper Room and telling his disciples to drink..."this is my blood."  And eat..."this is my body."

Some churches are very strict, like the Roman Catholics who believe that the bread and wine, after they are blessed, are actually the body and blood of Christ.  This is the most important of the seven Catholic sacraments and a very big deal.  Very sacred and done with great care and ritual.  I have respect for this tradition.

So what did we discuss in Forum?  A Methodist church in North Carolina is starting a "virtual campus" and wants to serve communion "virtually."  As in, "You get your own crackers and Grape Nehi and let's have communion over the Internet."

The College of Bishops has said "no way" and has put a moratorium on sacraments on line.

The minister at this local church has said that, traditionally, the only way his parishioners can receive communion is to be in the physical church between 9 and 11 am on a Sunday morning...."and this is no longer a good business model."

The bishops have said online communion is "irregular, experimental and abnormal."

What do I think?

Communion is extremely meaningful to me.  I want to take it with other people, all in various stages of relationship with themselves, each other and God.  My ministers always invite every person who desires to have a relationship with Christ to come to the table.   You don't have to be a member of our church - or any church.  I like that.

But, some day, I may no longer be able to get to church on a regular basis.  So I think I'd like the option of a "virtual campus."

But, whatever I think, this train is coming down the track so we older folks - instead of clicking our tongues at those young people who are experiencing God in all sorts of virtual venues - better get out of the way.


***

How to be Financially Successful in Two (Not So Easy) Steps

On December 21st we took a taxi from Midway Airport to downtown Chicago.  The driver was a young man from Ethiopia.  Here's his story in a nutshell.  He's married with four little kids.  His wife's an RN.  He's going to school and driving the taxi.  When the children were tiny he and his wife never left them at day care.  The parents worked different shifts so one of them was always home.   He told us education is a priority in their home.  Both for the kids and themselves.  They are naturalized citizens.

On a seemingly different note,  a couple of days ago we were listening to economist Clark Howard on the radio as we drove back to Florida from Atlanta.  He said that, on his recent book tour,  he asked the same question all across the country.

Will your children be as well off financially as you are?

Overwhelmingly, the answer was "No."  And the economy seems to bear that out.  The majority of us are getting poorer while a few are getting much richer.

But Clark says, and it's been proven by several studies, including a big PEW study, that there are two huge factors that turn that around.  They are:

1.  Getting an education.

2.  Getting - and staying - married.

The folks in this country who are in the worst shape, by far, are single women with children.

So there you have it.

I think our young Ethiopian cabby friend in Chicago has a good shot at the American dream.  His life is difficult but his priorities are straight.


***

Another Lego Star Wars Christmas

Photo from the box

Question:  How many of my four grandchildren (2 boys, 2 girls) in Atlanta love Legos?

Answer:  All of them.

It was another LEGO Christmas.  And more specifically, a Star Wars Lego Christmas.  And, more specifically for my ten year old,  a Princess Leia, Episode VI Return of the Jedi, Jabba's Sail Barge complete with 2 cannons, flick missiles, prison, kitchen, opening windows, Jabba's throne and 4 mini figures Christmas.

Lunch Time Christmas Day

Of course it came in a box consisting of approximately a million pieces.  (I'm thinking a 10 year old kid can never assemble this thing. )

But he did.  And well within 24 hours.  This leaves only about a dozen more Christmas Lego sets in this household to complete.  Grandma contributed four.

A few minutes ago I read a rave review of Jabba's Sail Barge on Lego's web site.  It's titled "Pretty Sweet."  It was written by a 25 year old!

Morning of the 26th.  Done!

***

Parenting Skills

I just spent several days at my daughter's house.  She has four kids, like I did.  I marvel at her patience.  She never loses her sense of humor no matter how many times she has to tell them to pick up their toys.

I hope she got this from me.  But I sort of doubt it.

I tried to be patient when my kids were little guys but projects and big messes abounded in our home and getting them to clean up was always challenging.

Once in a while I would fantasize about me being a sheriff, complete with gun and holster.  In this fantasy, after about a dozen times of me saying "clean your room," I would take the six shooter from my holster and say "You, pick up those clothes."  "You brush your teeth."  "And you, you don't even live here, go home."  And in the fantasy they would do it because I was the sheriff and I was armed.

But, of course I never acted out this scenario.

Now, this morning, I read about a 26 year old former tattoo artist who, while in the car on Christmas day with her boyfriend and kids,  decided to stop the fighting in the backseat by pulling off the road, pulling out her .380 caliber handgun from her glove box and firing six rounds into the air.

She was arrested and her six kids are now in protective custody.

A number of issues could be debated in this story.  But here's the take away for me:  Most women fantasize from time to time - about a number of things.  The vast majority of these fantasies should never be acted upon.   And, of course, this woman needs an anger management class ASAP.


***

Two Sweet Christmas Stories

Dave and I are on the road again, making our annual Christmas run.  Here are two sweet stories from along the trail.

Five nights ago we stayed in a Comfort Inn in Macon, Georgia.  As you know, I love the big breakfasts these hotels serve.  That morning I went down early to look over the selection.  It was to die for.  Eggs, bacon, danish, waffles, fruit, yogurt, bagels with cream cheese - and the ultimate treat - sausage gravy.

There was only one other traveler in the dining room so I decided to get coffee, read the paper and wait for Dave.  Suddenly the elevator doors opened and teen aged girls poured out.  The doors closed and momentarily two more loads of girls poured out.  All in their jams, Santa hats and socks.

I thought oh, oh!  And I was right.  They demolished the breakfast.  Dave came down and we both laughed at how, within 10 minutes, all of the food disappeared before our eyes.  And I mean all!  Even the boxed cereal.

As it turns out, it was a girls basketball team.  They were happy for the away game but sad to be traveling four days before Christmas.  They made up for it by eating hardily.

But, by some Christmas miracle, it took only about 15 minutes for the staff to replenish breakfast for the the rest of us.  So a happy ending for all

***

Three nights ago we were in Chicago.  Our hotel, the Essex Inn, was on South Michigan Avenue.  We decided to walk about ten blocks to Macy's.  It was drizzling rain and the temperature was dropping - but we enjoyed the walk.  Macy's was bustling.  When we stepped outside for the walk back it was much colder and the rain had turned to sleet. 

We were making our way up State Street, arm and arm and holding an umbrella when we slipped.   We went down kind of in slow motion until both of us were sprawled on the sidewalk.  We weren't hurt but we were stunned.  

But, no less than eight people surrounded us, gently, easily, pulling us back to our feet.  They were smiling and gracious.  Some stayed to chat a few minutes, most likely to make sure we were fine.  

And we were.  More than fine even.  So a happy ending for all.

***

Now it's Christmas eve.  Dave's in Chicago with grown grandchildren.  I'm in Atlanta awaiting Santa.  And that's as it should be.

***

My Very Special Day

Today is my 75th birthday.  So far, it's been fantastic!  I've spent the past year kind of working up to it.  I was born on December 18, 1938.  I remember saving bacon grease in a jar on the stove during World War II.  I remember being in elementary school and listening to General MacArthur's "Old Soldiers Never Die" speech.

I was in Atlanta and South Florida in the 70s doing civil rights work that was so scary we could have been killed but back then we thought we were invincible.

I have lived a long, interesting and, dare I say looking back, impressive life.  I hope the planet has changed a wee bit for the good because I've been around.

I have four children of whom I'm enormously proud, ten grandchildren and one great grandchild.  I love my children's spouses.

I love and respect my brother like crazy.  Likewise his wife and daughter.  And now I share Dave's beautiful family.  All together our kids, spouses and grandkids number 27.

I have friends whom I love like crazy.  The closest ones keep me centered and sane.

I have important work.  I have a deep faith.

And, despite the fact that you are sick of hearing it, I am wildly in love with Dave.  I can honestly say that, after being here for 75  years, I am the happiest I've ever been.  I'm the most fulfilled I ever been.

And I have more to share.

My son shares my birthday.  Tonight, along with other family members, we'll have the ultimate celebration.  I say that even though I just came from a celebration.  Here is a photo taken at our last family get together in October.  That's Scott who is 51 today, and me (did I say I'm 75!)  In Scott's arm is his grandson and my great grandson, Max, who is zero years old.  (Dave's in the background.)

Life goes on.  I no longer feel invincible.  But I do know that there's much more to be done, much more life to be lived and loved.


***

Francis and Name Calling

Last month Rush Limbaugh called Pope Francis a Marxist.  I was sad to see in this morning's paper that the Pope had bothered to respond.

Why do we insist on calling people what we think is the worst trait we perceive they have?  We even do it to our kids.  I know a man who calls his overweight daughter "Tubs."

Pope Francis was just voted Time Magazine's "Person of the Year."  While I'm not a Catholic, here are some of the names I like to call him:

Francis the Humble.  He chose his name to identify himself with one of the greatest but most humble saints of the church.

Keeper of the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.  Again, I'm not a Catholic but I know this became his title when he inherited the throne of St. Peter.

The People's Pope.  Francis is wildly popular among Catholics around the world and has the approval of 58% of non Catholic Americans.

Francis the Peacemaker.

Francis the Compassionate.   While he is holding the line on women's rights and gay rights, he's expressing compassion for all of us.   His most famous recent quote:  "Who am I to judge?"

While Pope Francis is most definitely not a Marxist, he was, as a young man, a nightclub bouncer.  This may help him as time moves on.


***

The Capen House

Capen on Interlachen

Back in June I wrote about preserving historic Winter Park, Florida homes.

The Capen House, named for one of the first movers and shakers in Winter Park was sold a while back and the new owners promptly announched that it would be torn down.

The Capen, while beautiful and historic, is not a particularly large house for the area.  It sat on amazingly eclectic, Interlachen Avenue where, in a span of about six blocks we can find a golf course, old mansions on huge lots, condos, normal size houses, and three large churches.  Interlachen Avenue borders Lake Osceola.  The church I attend sits right in the middle of Interlachen on the opposite side of the street.

Naturally, when the Winter Park folks got wind of the Capen tear down they got busy.  They ended up deciding to move it to the lawn of the majestic Polasek Museum.

But how will we get it there?  Picture in your mind a bunch of twelve year old boys sitting around trying to come up with ideas.

Should we drive it down the street and around the block?  Or float it across the lake?

One half of the Capen on Lake Osceola

This is kinda how these well heeled, creative Winter Park folks think.  So naturally they decided to cut the house in half and float it, one half at a time,  across the lake on barges.  To my knowledge, there was never any doubt in the minds of those in charge that this plan would work.

And it did.  The Capen is now safe and sound in its new surroundings.



***

Love and Loss

A few years back, when Dave and I were trying to figure out our future, another couple was working on similar issues.  Well, not similar - but issues.  They're a couple of decades younger than us but, like us, had complicated lives and serious obligations.

Jan is one of the most creative persons I know: a writer, artist, minister, teacher and so much more.  Gary, a singer/song writer/actor.  Like us, it took several years to make the big leap into marriage.

Dave's Thanksgiving Dinner
 with his family. 

One of the most meaningful experiences leading into our marriage was, in 2007, a six week class we took with Jan and Gary leading.  It was beyond creative.  We experienced art in all its forms.

An on going experience in the class was remembering a favorite holiday.  One week we expressed it verbally.  The next week we wrote about it.  The next we created it on paper.  All the while Gary was walking among us playing his guitar and singing.

Dave's finished product was amazing.  A depiction of a long ago favorite Thanksgiving dinner with his wife and children.

Last week Gary died unexpectedly.  Naturally, Jan is suffering mightily.  In thinking about our situations and how love and loss are inseparable, the only thing I wish I'd done differently is I wish I'd cut to the chase and proposed to Dave that first time I saw him in the airport in Chicago in 2006.




***

Temperture's Risin'

Much of the nation is suffering from the Big Chill.  Dave's hometown, Minneapolis, is minus four degrees.  Planes can't land in many parts of the country.  People can't get to work.  Lots of car crashes on the highways.  Several thousand folks in Denver were without heat last night due to an ice storm.

The NFL is suffering, with players slipping and falling on the field even before other players smash into them.

I know that folks in this country and other parts of the world are freezing their socks off so I thought I'd share our weather problems with you to let you know we're in solidarity.  We're suffering too.

In a word, it's HOT down here.  How hot is it?

• I left the house in short sleeves and sandals this morning.  I don't do that even in the summer.
• Residents at my condo are using the pool.  Normally we use the pool in the summer months and leave it to our house guests this time of year.  
• In the Saturday morning Christmas Parade Santa and Mrs. Claus were sweating. 
• I didn't see one Christmas sweater in my church yesterday.  

You'll be relieved to know that the next big national chill, coming in two or three days, will affect us.  We could dip down to the 70s.  Till then, if you live in Florida, drink plenty of water and stay in the shade.


***

Dallas Buyers Club

As you know, I like redemption movies.  You're probably scratching your head wondering how I could call "Dallas Buyers Club" a redemption movie.  It is to me - and even in a scriptural way.  In the old testament the title "kinsman-redeemer" referred to the relative who saved a widow from starving by marrying her.  Most notable in the book of Ruth where Ruth makes herself available to Boaz in order to save herself and her mother-in-law, Naomi.

But I digress.

Dallas Buyers Club is about Ron Woodroof, who, in the process of doing drugs and drinking himself to death, discovers he has AIDS.  He's given one month to live.  The diagnosis turns this marginal and very distasteful person into a fighter for the rights of persons afflicted with HIV-AIDS.  And, by the way, he hates gays.

This mostly disgusting 24 hour a day party-er/brawler becomes, in pretty short order, a scientist/world wide drug smuggler - all in order to save AIDS patients.  His unlikely business partner and new best friend is transsexual Rayon.

This true story, about Ron Woodroof, and other patients like him, who started these Buyers Clubs around the country, saved thousands of lives.  And, along the way, Woodroof saved his own.  He lived for seven years.

Matthew McConaughey plays Ron Woodroof.  I think the massive amount of weight he lost for this roll is questionable but he was excellent in this roll.

Am I recommending this movie?  Maybe.  It features the underbelly of our country. I think it's good for people like me, who are no longer exposed to this world to be reminded that this is the way many of us live.

But if you're offended by horrible language, disgusting heterosexual sex, homosexual sex, heavy drug use (all kinds, good and bad) transexuallity, trailer parks, fighting, rodeo riding or pantie hose with runs in them, beware.


***

My Shirt

My Shirt

In the early 1970s I lived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  My husband, Ken, was an urban minister and we were in the process of putting up subsidized apartments near downtown.  The architect who generously agreed to help make this happen was William G. Crawford.  He and his wife, Dottie, went to our church.  

Dottie was elegant, to say the least.  One day she invited me to go shopping with her.  She ended up buying me an expensive suit and shirt.  I suppose I should have been happy and grateful.  I was grateful but the concept of people buying ministers expensive gifts has always been distasteful to me.

I wore the suit a few times.  I have no idea what happened to it over the years.  But, over the years, I've looked at the shirt and have even tried it on a couple of times.  It's kind of a light gold color.  It's a Givenchy for Chesa.  Silk.  It has "Givenchy" embossed all over it. A couple of weeks ago I had it dry cleaned.

Yesterday I went to a birthday lunch with my Power Rangers.  I tried the shirt on but couldn't wear it.  I don't know why.  It looked good even though it's between 40 and 50 years old.

I have a big birthday coming up on the 18th.  I'm going to try to wear it that night.  Hope I can make myself do it.  Of course we can all understand the irony that I am now an architect's wife.

Built in 1970s.  Still standing. 

 


***

What's Your Favorite Christmas Song?

That's what our minister, Bob, asked us this morning.  The person behind me said "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" but she'd just heard "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" while driving to church and couldn't get it out of her head.

Bob then talked about the first "Christmas" song.  Mary's song.  It's one of the most revolutionary songs ever written.  It's been banned in some churches in some countries.  It's written by this young woman who's pregnant and unmarried but knows something magnificent is happening to and through her.

So she decides to go with it.  She trusts God and says "Let it be."  Because God has taken care of stuff so far and he will in the future - which includes her future.

And here's the revolutionary part:  She says the rich are gonna be in trouble and some of them are gonna get toppled, while the poor and hungry are gonna get what they need.

Does this sound remarkably like some of our current revolutionary talk to you?

Bob mentioned the Beatles song this morning.  It was written about Paul McCartney's mother, not the mother of Jesus - but it could have been!

When I find myself in times of trouble,
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
In my hour of darkness 
She is standing right in front of me, 
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. 

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be.  
                 Let It Be by Paul McCartney and John Lennon


***

Elliptical Torture

In my endless endeavor to not get chunky around the middle, I'm always looking for new things to do at the gym.  It's not that I want to look like Helen Gurley Brown who died at age 90 weighing the same 100 pounds she weighed her whole adult life and looking like a cadaver the last ten years.  I was never a Cosmo Girl.

But I do want to stay active and healthy.  My friend started using the Elliptical after her doctor suggested it.  She's getting great results but it's a real torture machine.  It's also deceptive.  It looks like fun.  And it feels like fun for the first 30 - 40 seconds.  Then it's murder.

Last time I talked with my friend she was up to 45 minutes on the Elliptical - and she'd lost weight.   I started a couple of weeks ago and am up to six minutes.

Don't know if it's working yet but it burns calories like crazy so that's motivating.


***

Appreciating the Little Things

Oak Harbour

No, life is disastrous, painful moments, unexpected moments and things that will break your heart.  And in between those moments that's where you savor, savor, savor.
-  Sandra Bullock in response to those who say "Life is so good."

I think I can agree with both Ms. Bullock's statement and the "Life is so good" statement.  To me, the trick is appreciating what's good on a daily basis.

This morning Orlando Sentinel columnist Scott Maxwell did his annual "101 Things We Love About Central Florida" Thanksgiving list.  It inspired me to do my own (much shorter) list of the little things in my life that make me feel good.  I'm not naming people because that list would be humongous.

I feel really good when I'm.......

1.  Eating a blueberry muffin at Panera's on Park Ave. on Saturday mornings.

2.  Walking past every single store and restaurant on Park Ave.

3.  Walking under the trees in Oak Harbour.

4.  Walking into the multicolored Mennello Museum.

5.  Doing water aerobics with the ladies.

6.  Sitting in the sanctuary of First United Methodist Church of Winter Park.

7.  Walking around Lake Eola, Lake Lily and Crane's Roost.

8.  Sitting in my living room early in the morning reading and eating an egg sandwich.

9.  Texting with family members.

10.  Listening to NPR and The Philips Phile in the car while I'm running errands.

11.  Attending the Enzian.

12.  Having catfish with beans and greens at Cracker Barrel

13.  Leading a lunch time discussion group and having the truth emerge from the group over and over again.

14.  Reading one good book after another.

15.  Eating kettle corn from the Winter Park Farmer's Market.

16.  Writing this blog.


***

Two Real Estate Brokers

This morning we went to the annual Leadership Prayer Breakfast, held here in downtown Orlando at the Church Street Station Ball Room.

The speaker was Ed Kobal who told us the remarkable story of his life. Mr. Kobal overcame serious obstacles, worked hard, gave his life to God and became fabulously well to do.   He is, or has been, a commercial real estate broker, among many other things.

I'm still pondering much of what he said.

Afterwards I read, in this morning's paper, the obituary of David Weeks, another commercial real estate broker.  Mr. Weeks was a character who lived by his own rules to the end.  The obit laid it all out there, just like he did when he was here among us.

We were reminded that, for decades, Mr. Weeks lived by this schedule:

• 10 a.m. to noon:  Work
• Noon to 2 p.m.:   Drink and play pool at the University Club in downtown Orlando.
• 2 to 6 p.m.:         Happy Hour
• 6 p.m.:                Dinner

His friends and family remembered him as a whiskey loving, storytelling maverick, twice married, twice divorced, who play hard and worked as little as possible.   He loved to play his guitar and drink with his dog Mamie (short for Cockamamie.)  His friends called him "Crazy Davie."

But his daughter said he was a great father and I knew (of) him as being instrumental in feeding the homeless downtown.

Mr. Weeks died at age 84.

I'm sure some religious folks know exactly where Mr. Weeks is spending eternity.  I don't know.  My guess is that, somewhere out there, he's met up with a loving God.  One who loves each and every one of us just as we are.


***

Fake It Till You Make It

I've had a hard week.  Some folks I love very much have been in pain.  I know that the price I pay for loving is to suffer when they suffer but it is so hard  stand by and know I can't fix things.

On another note, Dave took these photos last week when we were walking at Lake Lily in Maitland, Florida.  Seeing them reminds me of a hymn.

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL

When peace like a river, attendeth my way, 
when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my

lot, thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.

And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, 

the clouds be rolled back as a scroll; the trump shall re

sound, and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is will with my soul.

It is well with my soul,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

***

Danny Treanor

The first time I lived in Central Florida, in the 1970s, I was crazy about a skinny, young TV weather man named Danny Treanor.  Everybody was.  He was cute, entertaining and outrageously funny.  As it turns out, he was also drunk.  The station tried to force him into rehab but he thought "If I don't drink, I can't be funny."

As the years went by Danny did finally go into rehab but then he also got fired.  Of course the drinking took a terrible toll on his personal and professional life.  He worked selling time shares, as a substitute school teacher and as an I.D. checker at a bar.

Along the way he got sober.

Ten years ago he was rehired as a weatherman.  Only this time with local station Channel 13.  For the last 10  years he's entertained us all over again.  He's knowlageable about the weather, caring, mature - and funny.  He's full of self deprcating humor.

Last month, at age 68, Danny Treanor retired.  All of Central misses seeing him in our homes.  I, personally really, really miss you Danny.

By the way, Danny's been sober for 22 years.  He's a true hometown success story.


***

Lou Pearlman

Lou Pearlman Then

Lou Pearlman was once our hometown hero.  He was the "Boy Band King."  He threw lavish parties.  Some of my family members attended them.  He was the epitome of rich and famous.

Then it all came troubling down.  He masterminded a big Ponzi scheme and bilked people out of millions of dollars.  He became one of our nation's top ten swindlers.  He lost everything, pleaded guilty to money laundering and other crimes and went to prison.

Several of his victims have been involved in a long and drawn out lawsuit.  It was settled this past week.  After all of the legal fees are covered his victims will be paid a few cents on the dollar.

One of them, a man named Seland Williams and his wife, like many others, lost all of their savings to Lou Pearlman.  They now live frugally on his Air Force pension and Social Security. They will most likely receive about $400 from the settlement. But Mr. Williams has responded in a triumphant manner.  Here is his quote from yesterday's paper.

Lou Pearlman Now

Yeah, sure, it's stressful, but I know a lot of people who let things get to them and do really dumb stuff.  Believe me, money doesn't mean everything.  I love my life.  I'm 84 now, and I'll keep living as long as I can.  I'm not going to let a fellow like Lou Pearlman mess me up.

It appears to me that, at this point, Mr. Williams is doing much better than Mr. Pearlman.


***

Park Plaza Hotel

The Park Plaza Hotel on Park Avenue in Winter Park Florida is a small, elegant boutique hotel.  It has 24 rooms and 4 honeymoon suites.  Built in 1922, it retains it's original charm.  

For his birthday this past weekend, Dave booked the honeymoon suite at the Park Plaza.  I got to go with him.

Classy Lobby

Fern lined terrace

Second floor stained glass exit sign.

Classic Car show on the Ave

Breakfast on the terrace

Mormon Cowboys

When my son was a teenager he sincerely wanted to be a cowboy.  When we moved to Melbourne, Florida his opportunity came.  Deseret Ranch, owned by the Mormon Church, was about 30 miles away.  Scott wanted to apply for a summer job, knowing full well how challenging this work would be.  Since my car was his only mode of transportation at the time, it was a bit challenging for me as well.  I would have to make the daily 120 mile commute.

So it was with mixed emotions that we gave him the okay to apply.

If you would ask most folks, "Who owns the most property in Central Florida?" 99 percent of them would say Disney.  Not so,  Deseret Ranch sprawls over three Central Florida counties.  With its 300,000 (that's three hundred thousand) acres it's the largest cattle ranch in the country.

And now we're being told that the Mormon Church is buying an additional 400,000 (that's four hundred thousand) acres in Florida's panhandle.  The Mormons will then own 2% of Florida.

To my knowledge, the ranch has been good for Florida in a number of ways.  The Mormons are excellent ranchers.  And they must have terrific senses of humor what with the wildly popular "Book of Mormon" just wrapping up it's run here in downtown Orlando.  

Scott didn't get the job at the ranch.  But, over the decades, he's remained a super outdoors man -   and a super person.  He would have been a good cowboy.


***

He Knows Me

A couple of days ago Dave and I went to the post office.  I went to the first teller to mail my package.  He went to a teller two spaces over.  Neither of them knew we were together.

Dave was buying sheets of stamps.  Since there was nobody else in the post office his teller offered to show him the newest stamp, beautiful flowers.

Dave:  No, my wife doesn't like flowers.

Teller:  Are you sure?

Then she thumbed through other sheets.  Up came Johnny Cash stamps.

Dave:  She likes Johnny Cash.

After a little more flipping she came up with Rosa Parks stamps.


Dave:  She likes Rosa Parks.  

Teller:  Your wife likes Johnny Cash and Rosa Parks but doesn't like flowers?  Are you sure?

Dave:  Yes, I know my wife.  I'm sure!


***

Hershey Bars

Last night - Halloween - we made our annual trip to my son and his family's wide front porch where friends and family gather to greet Trick or Treaters.

For the last several years my son has handed over a full sized Hershey Bar to every child in the long parade of scary folks coming by the porch.

It, at first, seemed extravagant to me, but he loves every minute of it.  He considers it a spiritual experience.  He gives bottled water to tired and thirsty parents.

Last night he gave 500 Hershey Bars, (one per Trick or Treater) then the bags of candy others of us brought with us, for a total of over 600 kids in about two and a half hours.  He gave bottled water to 200 thirsty adults.

I had a wonderful Halloween again this year, but I haven't had a Hershey Bar several decades.  "Dark" is now my chocolate of choice.   But I do have a very favorite Hershey Bar experience.

In the late 1960s my husband, Ken, and our two very small children lived in a country parsonage in North Georgia while Ken was in seminary at Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta.  One or two nights a week all four of us commuted to the Emory campus to stay in a single dorm room.  We had one double bed.  The kids slept beside us in sleeping bags.  In one corner was a tiny stove with one burner, a sink and tiny refrigerator.  Dishes and utensils were extremely limited.  It was a challenge to prepare meals but it was fun.

One of our favorite treats was chocolate cake.  Do you remember when cake mix that you would mix with water and bake in it's own foil lined box was introduced?   It made four small squares of chocolate cake.   While it was still warm and we were finishing our supper, we placed two unwrapped Hershey Bars on the warm cake.

When we had cleaned up after supper and were ready for a treat - the four squares of melted Hershey Bar covered cake were perfect!


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Somewhere In Time

In many ways, Dave and I have a shared past.  For instance, we had a romantic vacation on tiny - 3.8 square miles - Mackinaw Island, north of Michigan, where cars don't exist and the favorite modes of transportation are horse drawn carriages and bicycles .

 More specifically the romantic vacation was spent at the magnificent one hundred plus year old Grand Hotel.with the world's largest front porch and five course dinners.

My romantic trip was with Ken on our honeymoon in 1960.  Dave's was with his wife, Audrey, in 1997.

We both have great memories.

Dave had never seen the extraordinarily popular 1980 movie  "Somewhere In Time," staring Christoper Reeve and Jane Seymour.  So last week I found it on Netflix and we sat on the couch and held hands and watched it.  It's very sad and romantic and takes place on the island.  More specifically, at the Grand Hotel.  This movie was and is so popular that the "Somewhere In Time" fan club still meets annually at the Grand Hotel.

1960 Taking the ferry to Mackinaw Island

Here's another interesting tidbit.  Here in the city of Winter Park Florida lives an elegant old lady named Flossie.  I've been friends with her family for many years.  For about 30 years Flossie and her husband managed an elegant hotel on Park Avenue in Winter Park in the winter months.  In the summer months they managed the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island.  After the movie came out Flossie's husband was constantly asked if he was "Arthur."  (If you've seen the movie Arthur is the little boy with the ball.)  Of course there was no Arthur because (of course) the movie was fiction.

After watching "Somewhere In Time" last week Dave and I wondered how Christoper Reeve would have handled knowing what his future held....great fame as Superman and, later, a devastating injury leaving him paralysed for decades.

I wonder, as well, if the barely 21 year old girl in this photo, on her way to Mackinaw Island, could have handled knowing what her future held?


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Rich Clergypersons

If you've read this blog for very long you've seen me rant about rich clergy.  Or clergy who just like to show off their bling.  From what I read in the scriptures it's about the farthest thing from what Jesus advocates.  And don't get me started on Prosperity Theology.

For years, my husband, Ken and I received an annual Christmas card from a clergy couple in our denomination.  The cover photo was usually of them standing in front of their fabulous home holding their tiara wearing designer dog.  We always thought about sending a photo of us either in front of the subsidized apartments for the poor we were helping to put up at the time, or a photo of us in front of the White House.  Because, in a way, that's our house too!

And now I've been reading about this German Catholic bishop who has spent $43 million on his residence in Limburg.  His nickname is "The Bishop of Bling."  He has a $20 thousand  bathtub and a $34 thousand conference table.  His private chapel came in at $4 million.

Fortunately, Pope Francis is on the case.  Hopefully, this new pope, who is bringing a fresh reminder to all of us of whom we're called to be, is not about to continue to put up with these kinds of shenanigans.


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Last Meals

Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.  Isaiah 22 :13

I've written before about last meals in prison.  Critics say last meals are an indulgence, especially for those who've committed the most heinous crimes.

I like the concept of serving last meals to those about to be executed.  I think it can be spiritual.  It separates our behavior from their acts.  It's a way to provide humane treatment and a bit of dignity.

Much has been written about last meal requests.  In Florida last meals cannot cost more that $40 and must be prepared at the prison.  Darn.  This dashes my hopes of having a Wendy's frosty and fries if I should ever be in this predicament.

Here's what some of Florida's most famous killers have ordered for their last meals:

• Danny Rolling (the Gainesville serial killer) ordered a huge meal including lobster, shrimp, potatoes and strawberry cheese cake. 
• Mark Dean Schwab, (child rapist and killer) ordered eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and a quart of chocolate milk.
• Aileen Wuornos (hitchhiking serial killer) and Ted Bundy (rapist and serial killer) refused to eat anything.  

Several prisoners across the country have refused the meal and requested the Eucharist in it's place.


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Adam and Eve and Choice

God:  Adam,  I know you're a lonely guy.  I can give you a woman who will love you, wait on you, obey you and tend to your every need.

Adam:  What will that cost me? 

God:   An arm and a leg.

Adam:  Hmmm...What can I get for a rib?

Lots of folks like to argue about the creation story.  Especially the part about Adam and Eve, and the six days, the apple, the snake and so on.  It doesn't make sense to them in light of all we know in this wonderful age in which we live.

In 1996 Baylor University named Bishop Will Willimon one of the Twelve Most Effective Preachers in the English speaking world.  Last week Dave and I heard him speak.  He's still got it!  By the way, he did not tell the story above.

But he did speak on the creation story.  I know the creation story.  I love the creation story.  I once took a class where I had to read it about 20 times.

I have no problem with it.  The story sets the scene for how we human beings started out and continue to operate.  It tells us who we are and who God is.

Here's one way to look at it.  There's a saying in literature:  It's the truth even if it didn't happen.

Bishop Willimon told us that the creation story is about Adam and Eve (us) lying and making excuses.  He also said something that, to me, was profound.  Something I hadn't thought of before.  He was talking about the Garden of Eden being a perfect place.  As you know, this couple could have anything except the fruit from that one tree.  That seems so arbitrary.

The bishop said:  Perfection without choice is a contradiction in terms.

Wow, I thought I knew most everything about the creation story.  Never thought of that!


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Washington National Cathedral

When Dave and I take the train to Washington D.C., as we plan to do in the next few months, one of the places we want to visit is the National Cathedral.  It's awesome!  It's where national leaders, and all other Americans have worshiped for nearly a century.  It's the location for the funerals and

memorial services of nearly all of our past 21 presidents.  Except for those, of course, who are still with us.

On our recent road trip we went to Epworth by the Sea, a United Methodist retreat center on St. Simon's Island.  While we were there we heard Canon Gina Campbell speak.  She's the director of worship at the National Cathedral. She's also a United Methodist minister.

How in the world did a Methodist minister get to be a canon in the Episcopalian Washington National Cathedral?  Especially since she's the only non-Episcopalian to do so.  And, need I mention, a girl?


Gina told us a bit of how that came about.  By the way, she is a "take no prisoners...."let's deal with death head on"...."no nonsense" preacher.  My kind of woman.

Canon Gina told us that she was living and working outside of New York City on 9/11.  She was subsequently pressed into counseling with victims, families of victims and those who were working with victims.  It changed her in a profound way.

This is what she said to us the other night.  When I went back to my church I knew that things like the new paint color for the parlor were important - but I just didn't care!.

I can so relate.

I look forward to seeing  The Rev. Canon Gina Gilland Campbell again when we visit the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.


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Jekyll Island

On our road trip this past week we listened to books on tape while we drove from one beautiful spot to another.  One of the books was Dave Barry's "Insane City."  It's an insanely funny book.  The city is Miami and one of the characters is a billionaire so wealthy that he belongs to "The Group of Ten."  But he's miserably unhappy because he wants to belong to the more exclusive "Group of Six."

Bridge to Jekyll Island

On Tuesday afternoon, along with two good friends, we spent the afternoon touring Jekyll Island, Georgia.  The bridge above took us from St. Simon's Island to Jekyll. We spent some time on the pristine Driftwood Beach.  (By the way, Dave took all of these photos.)

Driftwood Beach

We spent most of the afternoon at The Jekyll Island Club.  Somewhere between 1884 and 1904 a "hunt club" was started on Jekyll Island for the richest and most influential men in America.  Tycoons, politicians and socialites loved the seclusion of the island.  We're talking men like J.P. Morgan, Rockefeller, Astor, Pulitzer and Vanderbilt.  It was the most exclusive, most inaccessible club in the world.  At one time they were reputed to represent one seventh of the nation's wealth.

The "Group of 23,"as they were called at one time, had secret meetings with government officials who sneaked on to the island disguised as duck hunters.  

Original Cottage

The good news is that the Jekyll Island Club is now open to the public.  I'm sure staying at the hotel is pricey but anybody can walk around and look at the "cottages" and servant's quarters and even the hotel itself.  And that's what we did.  

By the way, the government tried to discourage these movers and shakers from all going to Jekyll at the same time because the country might fall apart if they all got wiped out.  But that's not what finally ended the era.  It was their kids saying "There's nothing to do on this island."

So, I wonder if Dave Barry was teasing "The Group of 23" in his book "Insane City" and its "Group of Ten."

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Boone North Carolina

We're on a road trip.  We're spending a few days with close friends in their beautiful home in the Blue Ridge Mountains close to Boone, North Carolina.  They've knocked themselves out showing us a good time.  When all we really needed to do is look out their back door.  Miles and miles of breathtaking scenery.

Today we walked three plus miles in a park but couldn't go to the bathroom due to the Shutdown.  Having to go to the bathroom was the only way we knew the Shutdown is still on  because we haven't seen the news for three days.  A good thing.

Appalachian State University

Blue Ridge Mountains

The town of Boone was named after Daniel.  It's a university town.  Appalachian State University has as many students as the population of Boone itself.  

Naomi and the boys

We had lunch today in the lovely close by town of Blowing Rock.  My forth day of having fish.  Yum! Yesterday we sat on the back porch of an old country store and listened to Mountain Music.  

Tomorrow we'll head back to real life.

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