Savannah's Controversial African-American Monument

David and I always stay at the River Street Inn when we go to Savannah.  It's a former Cotton Mill.  The street level lobby is on the fourth floor on Bull Street.  The first floor is on River Street with its blocks and blocks of historic buildings.

In 2002, close to the Hiatt Hotel, on River Street, a beautiful but controversial statue was added. It depicts a modern family while chains representing slavery lie at their feet.

But the statue didn't cause nearly as much controversy as the inscription below it.  It's a graphic description of the truth written by Maya Angelou.  City officials fought with African-American and others for months but the inscription won.  Here it is.

We were stolen, sold and bought together from the African content.  We got on the slave ships together.  We lay back to belly in the holds of the slave ships in each others excrement and urine together, sometimes died together, and our lifeless bodies thrown overboard together.  Today, we are standing up together, with faith and even some joy.  

Maya Angelou


***

John Wesley's Wild Time in Savannah

David and I love Savannah, Georgia.  It was settled in 1733 by James Oglethorpe.  The city is full of quirky people and wild stories about the past.

When we were there earlier this week it was cold and raining so we took a tour, which we hadn't done in a while.  This particular tour was all about the 22 squares in the old city.

If you've read the book or seen the film "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil," Monterrey Square is where the Mercer/Williams house is located. 

Reynolds Square is where the statue of the Father of Methodism, John Wesley is located.  I was anxious to hear what the tour guide would say about Wesley in Savannah.  They rarely get the story right.  Our guide said that John Wesley was a failure in Savannah because he was mean to his parishioners.  She was "sort of" right.

John, along with his brother, Charles Wesley were sent to Savannah in the 1700s by General Oglethorpe.  John Wesley was an overly pious and methodical, Oxford educated Anglican priest.  Savannah was a wild town full of wild immigrants.  He did not fit in from the get-go.

Charles Wesley was made secretary of Indian Affairs.  He lasted four months, then (essentially) said, "I'm outta here!"  Back to England he went.

John, a missionary, had met and fallen in love with a young woman named Sophia on the ship on the way over from England. Her mother had hired John to give Sophia French lessons.

After they arrived in Savannah things didn't go well. In Sophia's defense let me say that, although decades later John Wesley would be recognized as one of the greatest reformers in England and was seen by many as single-handedly keeping England from experiencing a bloody civil war, in my opinion, he never really learned how to interact with women.

Sophia finally got fed up with John's inattention and married a guy who worked in her father's store in Savannah.   John retaliated by refusing to serve Sophia and her new husband the sacrament of Holy Communion.  Sophia's husband then sued for damages.  John was hauled into court but a mistrial was declared.  A new trial was set but in the meantime John (essentially) said "I'm outta here."  He left Savannah a defeated man and never returned to the United States.

After returning to England John Wesley got himself turned around and the rest, as they say, is history.


***

The Brain Fog is Clearing Up

For a while now - like months - I've been suffering from a kind of brain fog.  I know it has to do with the Meniere's Disease that's always with me, and the medication I take to calm it.  And, of course, there's the getting older by the minute.  I don't mind the physical part so much but I missed my brain. So I decided to get it back.  And I did - with two books and a magazine.

The Artist's Way - A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.  I read this book about 15 years ago.  Some of you know it and its famous "Morning pages."  This is an exercise that requires us to sit down and write out three pages of of longhand writing, strictly stream-of-consciousness, every single day.  This exercise is not especially for writers.  It's for all of us who want to be creative, to have and share ideas.  This book is designed for creative recovery. It helped me in 2003.  It helped me in 2017.

I've started doing my "pages" again.  Not three pages, but two.  Every day.  It is a discipline - but it works.  Life changes for the good if we do our morning pages.

The New Yorker - I re-upped my subscription.  The New Yorker is full of ideas, interesting people, short stories, poetry, cartoons and smart commentary on just about everything.  The trick is to read all of it. Not just skip around to the few things I love most, like "Shouts and Murmurs" and the cartoons.

The Sun Still Rises - Meditations on Faith at Midlife by Leonora Tubbs Tisdale - I have difficulty finding devotionals.  I don't care for most of them.  Some of them make me want to start screaming (if I only had the energy.)  But here's how I got hold of this one.  Dave has a connection with Yale Divinity School.  Somebody at Yale sent him this devotional.  The writer is a professor of Homiletics at Yale.   Her writing is real and personal.  She's had her ups and downs, just like me.





My body is still having problems.  My vertigo is still acting up.  But my brain and my spirit are currently working on all four cylinders.


***

Do I Look Fat in This Shirt?

Apple managed to reinvent products that were already on the market, and got customers to think they had never seen anything like them before.  -  Steve Jobs

I asked Dave for a manly pose in this photo because he's showing off his UNTUCKit shirt he purchased a few months ago.  A recent article in my New Yorker magazine says that these shirts are hot.  Manhattan as gone from one to four UNTUCKit stores.

Why? Because they are revolutionary.  The article goes on to explain the cultural significance of a whole new shirt concept featuring a shortened shirttail that is meant to be worn untucked.  Hence the copywrited name:  UNTUCKit.

Some men think the UNTUCKit makes them look five years younger but ten pounds heavier.  Let me explain this phenomena.  As an older short woman with an expanding waistline I can assure you that I don't want to wear a shirt that cuts me off at the middle.  For me it's "the longer the better."

But I guess some older men who are long time "tucker inners" just feel uncomfortable letting their shirttails flow.  That's where UNTUCKit comes in to save the day.

Since we have no UNTUCKit stores here in Central Florida, Dave had to order his on line.  And, by the way, they are not inexpensive, despite the fact that they offer less material.

Dave did not ask the question posed in the title.  But to answer it, no his UNTUCKit doesn't make him look fat.  Dave's too tall and thin for that.


***

Bad Words

In 1972 George Carlin introduced "Seven words you can never say on television."  They were famously called "The seven forbidden words."

This was in reaction to the time, in 1966, when comedian Lenny Bruce was arrested for using nine forbidden words.  At the time it was all pretty scandalous but both Carlin and Bruce were fighting for the concept of free speech.  Just so you know, I, myself have never used these words.

But most of them are popular in the arts.  The other night on a talk show I heard Matt Damon say that when they made the film "Good Will Hunting" 20 years ago, they used the F word over one hundred times.  (That's one of the words.) Matt justified this by saying that's the way they talked growing up in Boston.  Last night I heard another one of the words on an episode of Family Feud.

Should we be protected from words that some of us find offensive?  If so, where should we draw the line?

Today we learned that our government is forbidding officials who oversee the budget for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention from using seven words - but not the same seven words George Carlin and Lenny Bruce used. The words the CDC cannot use are:

• Vulnerable
• Entitlement
• Diversity
• Transgender
• Fetus
• Evidence-based
• Science-based

The CDC was given some alternative phrases.  For instance instead of "science-based" they may use "science in consideration with community standards and wishes."


***

Old Ladie's Book Club

I just read some sad statistics about how many Americans read books.  Not many.  For instance, one of the stats said "80 per cent of families did not buy or read a book last year."

Yesterday I went to my holiday book club luncheon.  Most of us are getting up there in years but we're still reading good, diverse books that stretch us.  I've read some amazing books over the years - not because I chose them - but because they were required book club reading.

Yesterday was a treat because we had the author of the book we'd just read, who just so happens to live in Orlando, come have lunch with us and tell us a bit about herself.  By the way, every person in book club has an amazingly interesting story so what our author had to say wasn't as unique as you would think.

Marjorie Radcliffe spoke to us about her book "Teacher on the High Wire."  She was a doctor's wife with two children.  When the kids went off to collage she divorced the doctor.  She needed a job.  She was 48 years old.  She was certified in English, math, French and Spanish so she tried teaching school.  That didn't work so she signed up to be a tutor in the entertainment world!  What a life that led to.  After a while she was assigned to the Ringling Circus.  Or, as she said, "They sold me to the circus."

So the book is about the five years of Marjorie's adventures while traveling with the circus.  I had no idea what that life was like.  It's different.  For instance most of the permanent circus folks lived on the train along with the animals, etc., including 21 elephants.  Ringing had their own - mile long - train.  They definitely had their own culture.  Marjorie tells lots of sorted tails.

Before Marjorie spoke a book club member had an announcement.  Jill, who has magenta hair and is crazy smart invited us to come the the Sak Comedy Club next week when she'll be doing "stand up."

Old ladies who read books are truly an interesting bunch.


*** 

Green Bean Casserole

For the second year in a row Green Bean Casserole has been banned from my Sunday school class Christmas party.  There has been no way of arguing with the head of the planning committee.  She has unequivocally banned it.

If you are a life long United Methodist you've experienced a long life of holiday pot luck suppers sporting green bean casseroles. We Methodist cooksters are pretty famous for sticking with our favorite recipes.  So I can understand that some folks have had it.

I have known church party-goers in the past who've eaten so many mountains of delicious dishes like sweet potato casseroles and lemon squares until they've finally risen up and said "Enough."  But I've never seen the party chairman actually ban a dish, i.e.,

"Get the green bean casserole yearning out of you system before this party because it won't be welcome here."

There are all sorts of recipes for Green Bean Casserole but the best, oldest and most basic is the combination of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. milk, and green beans topped with French's French Fried Onions.  It comes in at 150 calories and 8 grams of fat per serving.

Our party was Sunday night.  It was fabulous.


***

Let Me Help With Your Financial Planning

In Ann Patchett's 2004 book, Truth and Beauty, about her friendship with fellow writer Lucy Grealy, she tells a story about Lucy, who was habitually bad with money, dealing with her problems at the time by putting all of her unopened mail (which she thought was primarily bills) directly into a big garbage bag beside the door.

Ann insisted that Lucy mail the garbage bag to her.  When it arrived the next day (because Lucy had Fed Ex'ed it overnight) Ann said, "it was larger and more terrifying than I had expected."

But, as she began the process of opening the letters and putting them in stacks, she realized that it wasn't nearly as bad a either of them expected.  Some of it was fan mail.  Ann soon got it all organized.  She was able to take care of much of it herself.

It's a sweet, short. positive vignette in the midst of a powerful, ultimately tragic story.

I, myself, have had some interesting times trying to help people get their lives organized.  Some were paying taxes for the first time.  Some were renters who were dunned with a late payment every single month. Some were my kids.  One was my husband.  Unfortunately, my willingness to "help them" was usually misguided.

At some point, I had to accept that everybody is not like me - and that, in many ways, is a very good thing.  Getting organized isn't easy. Yesterday I spent a long time on the phone talking with a friend who is overwhelmed with Christmas.  "I'm spending money like a drunken sailor," she said.  I wanted to suggest that I'd sit down with her and draw up a Christmas budget.

But that's not what she needs from me.


***

This Is a Planet

In these days when truth is a relative concept we sometimes get confused about basic things.  But...no matter how many times somebody tries to tell you we live in a three-tiered universe (or that the earth is a banana,) ...that's not true.

Apparently, we have a small but growing number of people here in the US who believe the earth is flat.  But even they are dismayed with the Flat Earth Guy in California who wants to set off his home-built rocket in order to prove the earth is flat.  He plans to attach a camera to the rocket which will snap a photo proving the "curvy" concept is a hoax perpetrated by big government.  But the last thing I heard was that "big government" refused to issue him a permit.  And even one of his fellow believers said "even Wiley Coyote wouldn't approve this stunt."

Meanwhile, by 2020,  NASA plans to launch a repair and maintenance robot to work on orbiting satellites.  This must just blow the Flat Earth Guy's mind.

I love the words some of our greatest hymn writers used to describe our world; words like "orb" and "sphere."  In the fourth verse of one of our greatest hymns "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name," often called the National Anthem of Christendom,  the words "terrestrial" and "celestial" are sometimes intermixed.

Let every kindred, every tribe
on this celestial ball
to Him all majesty ascribe,
and crown him Lord of all.


***

I Love Funerals

My Friend Tom

In the past 60 years I've attended hundreds of funerals.  Most of them have lifted me up and made me want to be a better person.  A few were those kind where the minister forgets all about the deceased and the grieving friends and family and spends the entire time trying to get us hell bound sinners saved.

But I digress.

Yesterday,  Dave and I attended the memorial service for a great man, Rear Admiral Thomas W. McKean. He left a huge family, including his wife, Kim, plus hoards of friends.  I am blessed to be among them.  I got to know Tom 20 or so years ago when he asked me to teach his Sunday School class.  He had the distinction of being the only person who asked for my resume before teaching a Sunday School class.

Besides being an Admiral, Tom was an oral surgeon.  After retiring from the Navy he became chairman of the Florida Hospital Foundation Board and he was the founder of an international medical missions team at Florida Hospital.

Once,  several years ago, my friend was leading a mission team from our church.  Tom signed up to be a team member.  My friend was nervous about this.  She was sure she would be totally intimidated by Tom.  But that didn't happen.  They got along great.  She said Tom understood "chain of command"  and had great respect for her as the leader.

I was reminded yesterday of Tom's courage in standing up for others.  In the Navy, he risked advancement by taking a stand for civil rights and women's rights.

As his children so eloquently told us, Tom left quite a legacy.  I guess this is why I love funerals.  I'm still feeling inspired by their words.  I want to be like Tom.  It's not likely that I'll join the Navy and be an admiral, but I want to continue to live a life that matters.  And I am blessed to have had people like Tom in my life to help show me the way.

We learned that Tom died quietly last Saturday morning while sitting on a bench after winning his final Bocce Ball match.  Dave plays Bocce Ball every Friday morning.  He leaned over to me in the pew and said, "That would be a good way to go."


***

When Will It End?

I'm feeling sad this morning because the accusations of sexual misconduct just keep coming.  Some of the men accused are people I've admired for decades.  It's kind of hard to believe that this is happening all at once.

But we know it's not happening all at once.  Susan Browmiller's book, published in 1975 and titled "Against Our Will:  Men, Women, and Rape," helped us understand that sexual abuse has been pervasive since time began.  It's an essential way men have exerted power over women.

Brownmiller wrote:  Man's discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to generate fear must rank as one of the most important discoveries of prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe.... Sexual coercion...is less a matter of frenzied lust than a deliberate exercise of physical power, a declaration of superiority designed to intimidate and inspire fear. 

We know that sex (rape) has been used as a weapon of war from biblical times right up to the present.    Some people of both sexes think it's just the way men are wired.  "They can't help it."  My grandma used to say "Boys will be boys."

But the vast majority of men in our society don't engage in sexual misconduct.  And even in cultures where women have no rights many men still treat them with dignity and respect.

When I woke up this morning to hear about the misconduct of Charlie Rose I said out loud "When will it end"?  But what I really want is for all of us, men and women, to say "enough."  This is not who we are.


***

Everybody Loves My Dad

Years ago, when I was getting to know Dave,  his son said to me "Everybody loves my dad."  Now, after a dozen years in, though I'm sure not "everybody" loves Dave, he does have a world of friends.

Our minister has just finished up a sermon series called "Legacy."  He was addressing questions like "What do you want to leave behind?"  and "How do you want to be remembered?"

This past Thursday night Dave and I went to the Winter Park Playhouse.  It's a beautiful little venue that produces only feel good musicals.  We, with some other friends, had purchased a block of tickets.  But when the tickets came we discovered that Dave and I weren't sitting together.  It was sad but we, of course, decided to be good sports about it.  I held up the two tickets and Dave picked one.

Our seats couldn't have been further apart.  I was against the wall on one side of the theater, he was against the wall on the other.  But the difference was I was surrounded by our friends.  When I stood up I could barely see Dave.  But I could tell he was sitting with strangers.

Sitting amongst friends and listening to the music was enjoyable but I felt bad for Dave, so after the play started I scoped out two empty seats together on the back row.  At the intermission I made my way over to rescue him.  But he didn't see me.  He was busy talking with his new friends.  They had already exchanged phone numbers.  When I told him about the two seats together he hesitated so I told him I'd go to the lobby and drop back by before the second half.  When I did he went with me but I could tell he was torn, what with having to leave this new couple in his life.

If my kids could say when I'm gone, "Everybody loved my mom," that would be quite a legacy.


***

The Florida Project

Central Florida has a horrible record of childhood poverty.  For the country, about one in 40 children lives below the poverty line.  In Central Florida it's one in 17.

Every teacher I know (and I know plenty) has kids in her class who live in hotels and motels.  That might sound exotic but this is whole families living in one room of a seedy, run down motel.  It's heartbreaking.

I also know people and groups who dedicate themselves to fixing this problem.  for about 15 years my church has been part of a group that houses temporarily homeless families until they can save enough money to pay the deposit on another apartment.

But rentals are sky high here in the land of Mickey Mouse.  So if, say, somebody breaks an arm and has to go to the hospital, that month's rent is gone.  And so is that family's housing.

Yesterday we saw the new highly acclaimed film by Sean Baker, The Florida Project.  It features a sweet, adorable, funny, happy six year old named Moonee, living with her mom in a motel close to Disney called "The Magic Castle." She is totally unaware of the dangers around her, like malnutrition, predators, speeding cars, and bedbugs.

She and her friends have the run of the place.   They're happy and carefree, full of childhood innocence. After all, they're living on the edge of paradise.  Moonee is also a little trouble maker.  She corrupts her friends into conning their way into free ice cream.  They mischievously turn off the power to the entire complex.  They start a fire in an adjoining abandoned hotel.

One of Moonee's favorite things to do is play with her Barbie doll in the bathtub.  She does this while her mom turns tricks in the room just on the other side of the bathroom door.

By the way, mom loves Moonee but she is young, paranoid, has no self control so no job, no money and no relationships.  I'm sure the concept of delayed gratification is not realistic in this case.

By the way, I know people like this.  I'll bet you do as well.

The only person in the film who is strong enough to withstand all that is happening around him is the manager, Bobby, played to perfection by Willem Defoe.  He protects his guests over and over again and they pretty much hate him for it.

Two final things:  first, the film is LOUD.  I was in so much discomfort that I took my hearing aids off and tried to close up my ears.  But I understand why we, the viewers, were made to feel this discomfort.  The guests at The Magic Castle Hotel live in a constant world of loud noise, from the roar of the traffic to the rise of nearby helicopters.

Second, I've read that the ending is highly controversial.  Moonee, who is ultimately in deep crisis, and her friend escape from The Magic Castle Hotel and find themselves, eventually, walking hand-in-hand down Disney's Main Street toward Cinderella's Castle."  That's it.  The End.

Wouldn't it be great if it was "the end."  But, Disney and Cinderella's Castle aren't real.


***

Today's The Big Day!

Today is the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation.  Martin Luther nailed up those documents on October 31, 1517.

I'm a big Luther fan and a big Reformation fan. I totally believe that we humans need to be constantly evaluating and reforming ourselves.

The main issue with Luther and his 95 theses was the church getting off the track, mainly by getting greedy.  The church was selling indulgences.  This means that you could buy your way into heaven.  I love what my minister said about this on Sunday.

Buying an indulgence was your "Get out of Hell free card."

But this is now and that was 500 years ago so what's the point?

Every local church, every denomination, and every institution in the world is constantly in danger of falling into the "greed trap."  I'm grateful we have folks around who call us into question.


***

GRATEFUL

For the last four Sundays the four ministers at my church have preached four very different sermons based on the four stanzas of the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.  Our magnificent choir sang a different version of this hymn each of the four weeks.  The overall theme was:  GRATEFUL.

Which, by the way, is not only a spiritually sound concept but is psychologically sound, and an excellent tool to keep us from going crazy in these weird times.

Come thy fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace; streams of mercy, 
  never ceasing call for songs of loudest praise...

I love the symmetry of all this, what with my OCD leanings.  It's been like solving a big puzzle, trying to understand how it all fits together.

The first sermon was on coming out of the desert.  That is whatever desert you or I might currently be in.  Like worrying about finances, or kids, or if North Korea might drop a bomb in my back yard tonight.  So let's picture a fountain bubbling up out of the desert - and go with it.   

The second sermon was on getting rid of so many crazy things we count on that we know won't work and just going with our belief in God as the ultimate source.

...he to rescue me from danger...

The third sermon was about sheep.  And how they (we) wonder off from time to time.

...prone to wonder, Lord I feel it...

The fourth (and I suppose final, but don't know for sure) sermon this morning was again a reminder of the massive number of blessings God pours down on us.

...here's my heart, o take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above...


***

Mindhunter

As of last night Dave and I have watched all ten episodes of the first season of Mindhunter on Netflix.  If you want a fast paced, exciting "find the killer and bring him or her to justice" kind of show, this is not it.

This is a very, very slow paced "think piece" about how, in the 1970s, the FBI began to do profiling in order to understand why and how people do unthinkable things to each other.

And when we hear some of these people share their stories it's really no wonder they've turned to what we call deviant behavior.   Mindhunter is essentially about crime solving with academics.  But the eventual goal is crime prevention.  Beware!  It's dark.  Both in content and visually.  (We can hardly see it.)  Much of it is interviews with serial killers.  Not for the squeamish.

Just by coincidence, if you believe in that sort of thing, I have just finished re-reading the # 1 bestselling "Silence of the Lambs" by Thomas Harris.  I read it the first time when it came out in 1988, and then saw the film which won the Big Five Academy Awards in 1991 for best film, producer, director, screenwriter and actor.

"Silence of the Lambs" is fiction.  But it also explores why people do evil things to other people.  FBI rookie Clarice Starling gets inside Buffalo Bill's head.  She also has great respect for Dr. Lector's intellect and rules of conduct.

I don't think he'd ever bushwhack me - it's rude, and he wouldn't get to ask any questions that way.  Sure he'd do it as soon as I bored him.

So if you, like me, must wait for season two of Mindhunter, I suggest you re-read "Silence of the Lambs."  It's full of brilliant minds, evil and good.  And this time around I was way more aware of the strong, smart, good women, especially Clarice and Catherine Martin.


***

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."  - Most quoted line from A Good Man is Hard to Find.

Written in 1953,  this short story is probably Flannery O'Connor's most popular and controversial.  It's also funny and grotesque.  If you read it in college you probably either loved it or hated it.

But did you understand it?

I recently reread it after 50 or so years.  This time I loved every word.   Did I understand it?  Not sure.  But I got some great insights.

First, the main character, Grandma, is a piece of work.  I'm a grandma but I sincerely hope that's all we have in common.  But is it?  Unlike "Grandma," the story has caused me to continue to self-evaluate before before somebody puts a gun to my head.

It's a simple tale of a family; mom, dad, the kids and grandma, taking a little trip.  They end up being at the mercy of three killers, who, under the direction of The Misfit, murder them one by one.

The whole family is unlikeable but grandma is the worst.  However, she, of course, sees herself as the best.

Her collars and cuffs were white organdy trimmed with lace and at her neckline she had pinned a purple spray of cloth violets containing a sachet.  In case of an accident anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady.

Grandma thinks appearances are everything.  It's important that you conduct yourself as if you come from the right kind of people.  Grandma loved the old days in Tennessee where people knew their place.

The old lady said that in her opinion Europe was entirely to blame for the way things are now.

I know that every word in this story is thick with meaning.  I'm sure the names of all the characters have significance.  The little boy is "John Wesley."  The cat, who causes the accident that eventually gets them all shot is "Pitty Sing."

Toward the end of the story, after all the other family members have been murdered, Grandma tries to talk her way out of her predicament.  She tries to bargain with The Misfit by telling him he is a "Good Man."  But then, gradually, the theology gets real, on both sides.  They discuss whether or not Jesus really raised the dead.  The Misfit says:

...if he didn't then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can - by killing somebody or burning down his house...

In the end, Grandma and The Misfit both explore the concept of God's grace.  Grandma even sees how she and The Misfit have that in common.  Just before he shoots her in the head she says:

Why you're one of my babies.  You're one of my own children.

EPILOGUE

A couple of weeks ago Stephen Colbert had guest Conan O'Brien on The Late Show.  What do we know about Colbert and O'Brien besides being wealthy, crazy talented entertainers?  They're both crazy smart intellectuals.  And, Colbert is a devout Christian.  Flannery O'Connor's name came up in the conversation.  They both said she was one of their favorite writers.  And what O'Connor story did they agree was her best?

A Good Man is Hard to Find.


***

The Senator

The Senator, 1930

This is the story of a beloved tree in Longwood, Florida.  The Senator was the oldest, biggest bald cypress in the world.  It was believed to be about 3,500 years old.  It was here before my ancestors or your ancestors, unless you are Native American.

The Seminole Indians used it as a landmark.  After civilization came to Florida, folks from everywhere came to see The Senator.

Winter Park Art Show art made from The General

And then, in 2012, a woman hopped over the fence you see in this photo from 1930, and crawled inside a hallow part of the base of the tree in order to hide while she smoked crystal meth.

In doing so she burned down The General.  If you lived in Florida at the time you are aware of what a tragedy it was.

This morning we went to the fall art show in Winter Park.  We didn't mean to.  We always go to Park Avenue on Saturday morning so we were just pleasantly surprised to see the park covered with white booths filled with art.  What a treat.

One of the booths surprised me by being filled exclusively with art sculptured from The General.  The artist told me that the state contacted artists about doing something creative with what little was left of the tree.  So there were the beautifully carved objects.  Somehow I found this healing.




***

Our Souls at Night

I love stories about old people falling in love.  It happens more than you think.  In church, in assisted living, on vacation, in the hospital.  In other words, wherever older folks hang out.  And you'd think that it would be so easy at this time in our lives.  It's anything but!

Last week I read the award winning book by Kent Haruf, "Our Souls at Night."  I loved it.

Last night we saw the film on Netflix.  I liked it but, for me, the ending was very different from the book.

It's a simple story.  Addie, a widow in a little town in Colorado walks to her widowed neighbor Louis's house to offer him a proposition.  Would he like to come over some nights and sleep with her.

It's not about sex and it never will get to be about sex.  This is the part younger people don't understand.  The proposition is about loneliness .  It leads to love.

Later, Addie's troubled son, Gene, drops his seven year old son on Addie's doorstep.  Gene has no use for Louis. Addie and Louis both love the little boy.  But toward the end Gene makes Addie choose between her grandson and Louis.

Eventually, she falls and breaks her hip.  Gene has her taken by ambulance from the little town and the house she's lived in for 48 years and put in an assisted living facility in Denver.

The film and book are slow moving (like the couple) and filled with symbolism.  Addie looks at her close friend, ten years her senior, and  sees herself.  In a heartbreaking scene at the end, Louis stands at his kitchen sink, washing one fork, one cup and one plate.

The film ends a bit differently than the book.  Gene is clearly furious with his mother Addie for the trauma he suffered as a child.  She is guilted into leaving Louis and devoting all of her limited energy to her son and grandson.

How realistic is this story line?  I think it happens often in real life.  How many people do you know in their 70s and 80s who are still cleaning up their kid's messes - including raising grandchildren?  How many grown children do you know who are completely disgusted with the concept of their parent having a love life?  Why do they feel that way?

On a lighter note, as I was reading the book I was having trouble picturing Addie and Louis as this doddering old couple when I knew they were being played in the film by ever sexy Jane Fonda and Robert Redford.  But I was happily surprised to see them last night.  They were softened up and looked reasonably old and doddering.  I thought Jane looked much softer as Addie in her frizzy white hair and old lady clothes.  Redford, on the other hand still had his disturbing (for an 81 year old) red hair and eyebrows.


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Our Bodies Ourselves

In 1969 a small group of women in Boston got together to talk and write about, among other things, women's bodies.  In 1971, mostly by word of mouth, 250,000 copies of this original version of  "Our Bodies Ourselves" were sold and helped start the women's movement.

It was extremely controversial.  Jerry Falwell called it "obscene trash."

 Hard to believe, but prior to that time there was very little information available to the average woman about our physical selves.  Then along comes this (eventually) almost 1,000 page book that lays it all out there - in detail.  With pictures.

Also known as The Boston Women's Health Book, it has provided clear, unbiased information about women's health for over 40 years.  It seemed subversive  early on - mainly because, at the time, it was.

My son speaks on many college campuses throughout the year.  This past week I was fortunate enough to be invited to go with him to Wabash College in Indiana.  It's a small, old, elite all men's college located in the tiny town of Crawfordsville.  My husband, Ken, was a graduate.  I had a moving trip down memory lane for which I will be forever grateful.  We were treated like royalty.

On the first day we toured the little bookstore which is mostly a souvenir shop.  However I found a few books in the corner that had been marked down to one dollar.  Among them was a copy of "Our Bodies, Ourselves."  OK, what's up with this small, all men's college even having this book?  Why is it on sale for a dollar?  Yes, I bought it, thinking that I would reminisce and leave it when I left as I often do with books I buy on the road.

We were housed in a lovely old home that was the original president's residence.  It's furnished in the era in which it was built.  Elegant.  I lugged this book, along with a couple of others all the way back across campus and up a flight of stairs.

Over the next couple of days I read through it.  It turns out the last revision was in 2011 so I saw parts I'd never read.  And I had totally forgotten how explicit the book was.  After all, it's about women's body parts - and feelings - with photos.

When we were packing I wondered about leaving the book in the room.  But, realizing where I was and its contents, that would not do.  I went downstairs to the home's library.  All the books were about old Wabash, a 200 year old all male college.  Nothing about the women's movement.

So, with a lot of reorganization, I jammed it into my little suitcase.  When my son hefted the bag into the plane's overhead  compartment he must have been thinking about how much heavier it was than when we started the trip.

Three pounds heavier to be exact.


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Columbus - The Movie

Is architecture healing?

Yesterday we went to our little gem of a theater, the Enzian, to see the film, "Columbus."  Being in this cozy theater, whether sitting at tables or, in our case, on a couch, is always fun - and calming.  This starts as soon as you drive into the wooded lot, park the car, and then walk through the lovely outdoor Eden bar.

And the film "Columbus" was excellent - and also calming.  Let me give you a little background.

There is a town in Indiana (of all places) that has a plethora of structures designed by famous modern architects, like I. M. Pei, Eero Saarinen and Richard Meier.    Many years ago, J. Irwin Miller, president of Cummins Engine, based in Columbus, established a foundation and commissioned renowned architects to design scores of magnificent buildings, including his own home.


This film celebrates these structures while also asking the question,  is architecture healing?  The story line involves a young woman who is in pain, her heroin addicted mother, a Korean man who is in pain - and the buildings.

This film is very sloooow mooooving.  My advice to you is to sit back and enjoy every scene.  If you do I think you'll find that, yes, architecture is healing.  For us as well as the characters in the film.

As you know I'm from Indiana and will be in Indianapolis later this week.  I hope I find that my fellow Hoosiers are excited about "Columbus" the movie.


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Hugh Hefner and Me

Hold on because I'm about to use the "F" word.  Feminism.  Hugh Hefner died this past week at age 91.  He's getting mixed reviews for his life choices.  He was, by almost any measure, successful.  We remember Playboys, bunnies, the clubs, the mansion, the non-stop sex and materialism.  He was seen as a "visionary."

Hef's doorplate at the original Playboy Mansion read "If you don't swing, don't ring." He projected his personal image as a man having sex with multiple young women 24-7.

And it was all mainstream and glamorous - as long as the men had money and the women were young and beautiful and pretended to enjoy themselves.

In the 60s and 70s I was a civil rights person which means to me, by definition, a women's rights person.  Some people thought the same was true of Hugh Hefner.  I didn't think so.  Somewhere along the way Hefner started writing these rants that were eventually called The Playboy Philosophy.  I actually read them.  In response I wrote several poems.  Here are two that were published.

THE DEHUMANIZATION OF ALICE

She posed for the number one magazine,
And was euphoric to discover,
That because of her magnificent body and brain,
Low and behold! she made the cover!

Last week I saw Alice on the magazine,
In the midst of a card game on a wooden chest,
Withe the score being kept on her exquisite face,
And a beer can sitting on her lovely breast. 



THE THINGMAKER

i saw a layout
in playboy magazine
featuring a racing car
shaped like a women

dear playboy
i am not a machine
i am a human being

is your relationship
with your machine
unfulfiling
undemanding
unsatisfactory
unloving
incomplete
unfinished

next time 
try a person


***

Vertigo Update

Thanks to all of you who've wondered why I haven't been writing for a while.  Let's blame the vertigo.  Actually, it's not so much the vertigo as the medication I take to tame it.

It renders me unmotivated.

I found a doctor who's known as the vertigo expert in Florida and he's only 20 miles away. He's called "The Dizzy Doctor."

He immediately diagnosed me with Meniere's Disease.   It's characterized by severe, spontaneous bouts of vertigo and vomiting lasting from several hours to days - along with a boatload of other symptoms that are disturbingly familiar to me.  The treatment is totally different from my previous diagnosis, BPPV.

It's hard to believe how difficult it is, especially as we get older,  to get a proper diagnosis for our ailments.  I have two friends who suffered for years before learning they had Parkinson's Disease.  For those of us who don't like to make fuss, it can take much longer.  It's up to us to persevere.

I'm coming along.  I take the meds and haven't had a bad bout since June.  I still feel happy for every single day I'm alive on this crazy planet.  Some additional symptoms of Meniere's Disease are depression, anxiety and fear.

I don't have these.  What a blessing!


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Hurricane Irma is Like a Three-Ring Circus

I'm writing this late Saturday afternoon, September 9th.  The biggest, meanest Hurricane ever recorded in the Atlantic is hovering around Cuba and trying to decide which way to turn.  This is only a couple of weeks after Hurricane Harvey tore into Texas and devastated a huge area.

Will Irma visit our house?  We don't know.  But you know you're in trouble when Anderson Cooper shows up on your local TV screen.

We're as ready as we can be.  But for what?  We don't know.  Our hotels are full of people who've been chased off the east coast of South Florida.  Now Irma has decided not to visit the east coast.  (Maybe.)

I'm getting ready to lead a five week noon luncheon study at my church on "The Cultivated Life" by Susan Phillips.  She compares this cultivated life to a "Circus" life.  In the circus some people are constantly performing (think all news channels today) while others are just watching and getting excited and nervous. (Think every person in Florida.)  The watchers are thinking "I'm not doing enough."  "I don't know enough."

And just when we think we might be getting it - "It" changes.

The Cultivated Life is all about relationships.  There are people trying to grab the last loaf of bread in the convenience store and there are people giving the last loaf of bread to somebody else.  This afternoon my friend invited us to go with  several people in our neighborhood to the movies to see the new Reese Witherspoon film.

It's a romantic comedy and has nothing to do with whether or not we're all gonna die tomorrow at 4 p.m.

Of course, the most helpful relationship is the one we have with a God who loves and cares for us.  Except if, in fact, you believe that God is sending these monster hurricanes to teach us a lesson.  In that case, you're on your own.


***

We're All in This Together

Today at lunch Dave and I talked about Hurricane Harvey.  The horror of it and the amazing heroes who keep emerging out of it.  We wondered if some day we'll be able to harness the weather by finding a way to distribute water thereby eliminating hurricanes and drought.

Dave was skeptical but I think it's possible.

A while back I read a book by American Catholic theologian, Robert Barron.  It's a tough read but I liked it.  In one section he talks about all of creation being connected.  I love the following illustration.

The movement of my fingers now typing these words is dependent upon a chain of causes stretching up through my muscular and nervous system to my brain; and my brain's activity is here and now dependent upon the influence of the oxygen that I am breathing; which is in turn dependent upon the gravitational attraction of the earth that keeps it in the atmosphere, which is dependent upon the spin of the planet, which is dependent upon the pull of the sound, etc.  If we continued in this vein, we would inevitably arrive at God.....

So, whether we like it or not, we're all interconnected.  And most of us, including God, are pretty good problem solvers.


***

Be Brave

Last Tuesday night our community had a forum on free speech versus hate speech.  It was sponsored by the Jewish Commuity and  Holocaust Memorial Centers which are very close to my house.

Scott Maxwell, the moderator, asked this question:  If the neo-Nazis started coming down Maitland Avenue, how should we respond?  By the way,  I live on Maitland Avenue.

The concensis was "stay home."  If you can't do that, just be observers, because violent extremists are almost always trying to provoke a response.  If it's one-on-one hate speech we might respond with a personal story of how much that hurts us or somebody we love.

Geraldine Thompson, a former congresswoman, and a person I've admired for a long time told this story.  When her husband became the first African-American judge in Orange County a reception was organized for the judges' wives at the Orlando Country Club.  At that time they had the policy "No Jews, No Blacks and No Dogs."

Geraldine Thompson responded by saying "It is my intention to attend that function so that if you're going to call the police, you need to call them now, because I'm coming."  Then she got a call from another judges' wife whom she'd never met.  "I understand that you're going to this reception for the judges' wives.  I'll come to pick you up and we'll go together.  If they want to arrest you they'll have to arrest me as well."

The point of all this, to me, is that bravery in these instances means being loving and kind in the face of hate.

Another person on the panel, a former skin head, when asked how she got turned around,  said that she was in prison for committing a hate crime and one simple question coming from a woman that she didn't feel like she deserved a kindness from said,

"Hey, do you know how to play criibbage?"   I wish I had been the woman to ask her that question.  You know how much I love to play cribbage.


***

Dress for Success

My soul is exposed without a tie and, preferably, a suit.  - Llewellyn King, host of "White House Chronicle" on PBS.

This guy would fit right in
at my church. 

How do you know what to wear these days?  Mr. Llewellyn is right to lament the demise of the tie.  They're still right for some business occasions but sport coat and open dress shirt usually rule the day.

Dressing up, apparently, is something most people no longer like to do, especially men.  I, myself, on the day I retired declared I would never wear a dress again.  I was married in 2009 in a big fancy church wearing black slacks.

This guy would fit right in a my church.

Are there any rules? Yes, if they are clear cut and written down.  Otherwise, anything goes.  In my big church in well to do Winter Park, Florida - pretty much anything goes.  It used to bother me to see our young acolytes, in their white and red robes not quite covering their flip flops.  But no more.  Dave is one of about a third of the men who wear khakis, dress shirt and sport coat.  A few weeks ago he gave away his dress suit (the one he was married in) but not before he purchased a new one - which he's never worn.

Mr. Llewellyn wonders what God must think.

My hope is that God has way more important things on God's mind.

I also don't agree with Mr. Llewellyn that Hollywood is at fault.  But I do believe that some fashion designer somewhere is deciding right now what we will be wearing in the year 2020.

And we have no control over it.


***

Elvis Died 40 Years Ago

Elvis Presley died in August of 1977.  Time Magazine did a big spread on Elvis this week and I was reminded, again, of what a phenomena he was.   But his life was, in many ways, an American tragedy.

His first record was cut in 1954 when I was a sophomore in high school so we were contemporaries.  I always loved his music (and still do) but I never understood the rest of it. Here are a few facts from the article.

• In the 1960s, none other than Leonard Bernstein called Elvis "the greatest cultural force in the 20th century. "
• He is thought to be the most commercially successful solo musical artist of all time. 
• In 2016 he was the fourth top-earning dead celebrity in America.  Right behind his short time son-in-law, Michael Jackson. 
• Graceland is still among the most -visited private homes in the nation along with the White House.
• His performances were a combination of highly sexual and highly religious - and it worked. 
• Somewhere along the way his life began to unravel right before our eyes and we watched him slowly disappear. 

But my fascination isn't with Elvis himself, but with the cult-like following he had - and 40 years after his death - still has.  He's been likened to Jesus.

Several months ago when I read,  J. D. Vance's book, "Hillbilly Elegy," I was reminded of the Elvis phenomena and how there are millions of folks in America that I just don't understand.  But here's the thing:  I want to understand them.  Many of them I care for and respect and some I love.

Next week in Forum we will be discussing "Hillbilly Elegy."  I'm hoping to get some insight.


***

Cats

My daughter sent me and her other siblings a reminder yesterday that it was International Cat Day, so we should remember our last cat, Fuzzy Ann Crossman.

Fuzzy died a tragic death in a garage door accident  while my kids were away at college.

 I found Fuzzy and, technically, was at fault since I didn't realize she was asleep on the top of the garage door opener rod before I hit the button.  Since I quickly got her to the pet hospital and ordered the vet to put her to sleep "immediately," they have always suspected me of being overzealous.  However, the vet took one look at Fuzzy wrapped up in a baby blanket in the cardboard box and immediately agreed with my diagnosis. This all took place 24 years ago.

Yesterday my son texted to me and the others "Cess Crossman = Cat Killer."

This morning I told all this to my water aerobics group expecting some sympathy but I received none.  Just numerous stories, all sympathetic to cats.  My friend, Barb, is nervous because she's getting older and "when I die, who will take care of the cat?"  I did not respond.  And I doubt that, since she'd just heard my story, she was asking me.

Patti told about her friend whose cat disappeared so, after a few months, they got another cat.  Then the first cat returned and life was one big cat fight.  So they decided to take the original cat back to the pet store only to discover that he was an imposter - not their original cat.  They still felt guilty.

I texted my kids back yesterday saying this "My Preferred Title:  Dr. Kevorkian for Cats - Somebody Has to Do It."


***

Sam Shepard

Sam Shepard died this week.  He was 73 years old.  He died from complications of ALS, a truly horrible disease.

It's sometimes strange how lives come together.  I barely knew who Sam Shepard was, other than a character actor, before I met Dave and started visiting him in Minnesota.  Whenever I was there we would spend a couple of days in Stillwater.  This is a tiny old, picturesque logging town on the St. Croix River.  I love it.

I soon became aware that Sam Shepard and Jessica Lange lived in Stillwater.  They were a couple for about 27 years and had two children together.  Just as we started visiting Stillwater we began to hear that the relationship was ending.  But we still liked seeing Jessica Lange's lovely home.  And I enjoyed getting to know more about both of them.

Lange's Stillwater Home

I was surprised to learn that Sam Shepard was a Pulitzer Prize winning playwright - among other things.  He generally wrote gritty, sad things about farmers, the open road, rock stars and residents of trailer parks.  Chris Jones of the Chicago Tribune wrote that ...Shepard was widely regarded as the greatest playwright of his generation and was the subject of countless books and academic studies.

I would never have known Sam Shepard was a writer if not for our Stillwater connection.  Following is an example of Shepard's writing.  It's particularly sad in light of his awful illness and early death.  But ends with a note of hope.

I hate endings, Just detest them.
Beginnings are definitely the most exciting,
middles are perplexing
and endings are a disaster.
The temptation towards resolution,
towards wrapping up the package,
seems to me a terrible trap.
Why not be more honest with the moment?
The most authentic endings are the ones
which are already revolving
towards another beginning.
That's genius

Sam Shepard, in The Paris Review

Dying for Dummies

Poet and translator of Hebrew literature, Chana Bloch died recently.  Her poetry was about life.  Her life.

Today, as I was riding to lunch with my friend, we discussed the "new normal" that comes when our health becomes precarious.  In some ways we're lucky because we are the first generation to  have (some of) the information we need and (hopefully) the funds and insurance to pay for it.

But my friend told me today that one of the best things she bought to help care for her husband was a whistle so he could wake her up in a hurry.  (What a great low cost tip!)  But I'm again reminded that even with all the information and help available, getting older is still fairly uncharted, unrecorded territory.

I, myself, am trying to stay reasonably comfortable this summer while we figure out where this Meniere's disease is going.  Hopefully, far, far away.  So, even though I'm laying low, I'm getting better and feeling grateful every day for this one amazing life.

Here is one of Chana Bloch's poems.  It was printed in the July 7th issue of the New Yorker (two months after her death.)

DYING FOR DUMMIES

I used to study the bigger kids --
they'd show-and-tell me
how to wiggle my hips
how to razz the boys.

Now I'm watching my cohort
master the skills at each grade
of incapacity
and get promoted to the next.

To the oldest I'm a novice.

"These seventy-five-year-olds,
they think they know everything,"
say Cousin Leo.  He's ninety.

Who thinks, Leo?  Who knows?

We're too busy reading "Gratitude."
and "Being Mortal,"
passing around the revised edition
of "Dying for Dummies,"

still trying to get it right.
And the young study us. 


***

The Wedding Banquet

In the book of Matthew, Jesus tells a perplexing parable about a king who prepares a wedding banquet for his son.  He tells his servants to gather all who've been invited but they refuse to come.  He gets upset, sends out more servants but the potential wedding guests don't want to be bothered and kill the servants.

The king is enraged so he sends his army to destroy the murderers and burn down their city.  Then he tells his servants to go out into the street and invite everyone they see to the banquet.

OK, we've all gone to wedding banquets that have had some glitches.  So we get it.  Looks like the king made the best of a bad situation.

But then when the king finds a man at the party who is not wearing wedding clothes.  Matthew 22:12-14 ends the story this way:

"'Friend, he asked, how did you get in here without wedding clothes?  The man was speechless.  Then the king told the attendants. 'Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'  For many are invited, but few are chosen.'"

OK, I get the lesson but it seems unduly harsh to me.  So when, a couple of days ago, I read an article about a woman in Indianapolis  (my home town) it reminded me of this parable - only with a twist.

Sarah's Wedding Banquet Guests

Sarah Cummins and her fiance called off their wedding a week before the ceremony.  They were left with a nonrefundable contract for the Ritz Charles in Carmel (an upscale suburb of Indianapolis) for a plated dinner for 170 guests.

Sarah, a 25-year-old pharmacy student at Purdue University, decided that rather than throw away the food she would bring some purpose to the event and began contacting area homeless shelters until she had 170 folks lined up.  She greeted each one of her guests, including a dozen veterans, as they arrived.  And (get this) several local businesses and residents donated suits, dresses and other items for the guests to wear.  (So, thankfully there was no weeping and gnashing of teeth outside the Ritz Charles in Carmel last Saturday.)

I love this story and I think Jesus loves it too.


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