Two Men Named John

A couple of days ago my old friend Dr. John Galloway died.  He was extraordinarily well loved by his wife, family, colleagues and friends.  He deserved it.  He was an extraordinary man.  A few years ago he developed a horrible illness called lewy body dementia which is a lot like Alzheimer's but worse.  He had non-stop comfort and care until the end. But, still, his death, in many ways, was a blessing.  He has been, and will be missed, by many groups of people, including Forum, where he was once a vital leader.

This past summer another man named John started attending Forum.  He was extremely quiet.  Some folks, including Dave, made an effort to get to know him but he mostly sat in the back of the room and did not participate in the discussions.  In the fall, he quit coming.  I don't know if anybody noticed.  I did not.  We are a big group.

Last week my friend called to tell me that John had died.  She knew him a tiny bit better because he occasionally met with her and a few others at the library.  She thought he had a brain tumor but she wasn't sure.  One day he just disappeared.  A few weeks later my friend receive a note from John's sister who lives in another state telling her that had John died on October 25th.  He apparently had no other family.  The sister gave no forwarding address.

That's almost all I know about John.  I do know his last name but since he was so private I don't want to share it.  Also, this isn't about John.  It's about me and all of us who have a new person show up in our lives, perhaps looking for something.  Here's a poem I wrote in 1975:

MARGARET RITZ

Margaret Ritz, Margaret Ritz,
I'll call you when I can. 
You haven't seem me lately,
But that was the risk you ran, 
When you chose me for a friend,
And cluttered up my plan.
I do important things, you know,
I'll call you when I can. 

Margaret Ritz, Margaret Ritz,
I heard you when you said,
That friends are hard to come by, 
But I've got to plan ahead.
Now you've played an awful trick on me, 
In the church bulletin I read, 
While meditating on my life, 
"Margaret Ritz is dead."

- Cecily Crossman, 1975

John, I sincerely hope you found what you were looking for on those Sundays you visited Forum.


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Bean Soup

We had bean soup for lunch today

I used to cook - but now I don't.  Well, hardly do.  The other day, while having lunch with good friends, we talked about this concept.  I shared my current bean soup recipe and a couple of people said, "you need to share that."  So here it is.

First, decades ago, I made the best bean soup ever.  Even better than Senate Bean Soup.  (I wonder if the Republicans and the Democrats still sit around the Senate dining room and eat bean soup.  If not, they should.)

Anyway, the earlier bean soup started with dried beans, a ham hock, and a bunch of other ingredients and 24 hours later the soup was ready.  Here is the current version that tastes just as good.

Cecily's Bean Soup
 (Serves 3)

1.  Combine a spoonful of low-salt chicken bouillon with a cup of water in a sauce pan.  Let it come to a simmer.

2.  Add a can of great northern beans.  Mash them a bit with your potato masher.

3.  Add a can of Campbell's Bean with Bacon soup, plus two cans water.  Stir it all up.

4.  Add a hand full of diced ham.  (I buy the small packet of diced ham then divide it into five snack baggies and put it in the freezer.  It's great added into things like scrambled eggs - or this bean soup.)

5.  Add a tablespoon of Worcestershire Sauce.

All of this takes less than five minutes.  Let the soup boil a few minutes then put a lid on it and turn the stove off.  It will thicken up.

I serve it with chopped sweet onions and sometimes (when I'm feeling fancy) chopped tomatoes.  Warning:  Yes, this soup is salty.

Enjoy.

P.S. I put the left over soup a cup in the fridge.  It makes a great snack when you're sitting on the couch later watching Netflix.


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Joy, Joy, Joy

The foundation of authentic Christian spirituality is not fear, but joy. - Richard Rohr

I have put a temporary moratorium on my own personal news feeds.  It's kind of working.  My daughter called yesterday to say how I must be sad that one of my icons, John Glenn died.  I had no idea.

Dave is confused.  I am a news junky.  I told him I just can't handle the "We're all gonna die" speak right now.  He reminded me that, that is one of my favorite lines.  But I had to remind him that I mean it in a realistic, something good to look forward to way.  Not the scorched earth way the news folks are giving it to us now.

I cheated a little this morning and read one of my favorite syndicated columnists and even he said, "But Lord, I am just tired."  Me too, Leonard.

So here's what!  Unless something truly earth shaking happens,  I plan to celebrate my holidays.  Lots of get togethers coming up.  Let's just enjoy. OK?

How can we possibly do that?  When I was a consultant I used to remind people that most small talk is negative.  But one person can turn it around.

And now, in reading my really convoluted, hard to digest book "The Divine Dance" that I'm (for some strange reason) enjoying - even though I'm reading only four pages a day - Richard Rohr says the following:

...neuroscience now tells us that fear, negativity, and hatred stick like Velcro to the nerves, while positivity, gratitude, and appreciation slide away like Teflon from those same nerves - until we savor them, or choose them for a minimum of a conscious fifteen seconds.  Only then do they imprint. 

So, until at least next month, I'm planning to savor the good stuff and eschew the fear, negativity and hatred.

I have been wanting the see the new movie "Manchester by the Sea."  Our theater section of the paper (yes, I'm still reading that) gave this film a four star review this morning.  But it also said it's a "Heartbreaking work of staggering sorrow."

I'll see it in January.


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Symbols

My niece recently asked my opinion on Protestants (namely Methodists) using Catholic symbols.  I essentially said to her, "whatever works."  

And then I thought of my old friend, Jim McWhinnie, who seldom posts on Facebook anymore because his battle with Alzheimer's is becoming epic.  I've shared several times that, besides being a brilliant minister, he's one of the bravest men I know, in that he's chosen to share his Alzheimer''s experience with us.  Here is part of his post from last week.  It addresses the Catholic symbols that continue to comfort him. 

On my daily prayer stroll, I pray my own version of rosary, a blend of the Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant.  As I touch each of the one hundred knots, I pray the Jesus Prayer, "Lord, have mercy on this sinner."  In the spaces I sing the Gloria.  And each time my fingers touch the cross I pray the Lord's Prayer.

At least ten years before my husband, Ken, died from a number of illnesses including dementia, I began to notice small evidences of strange behavior.  One thing that caught my attention was that, after 30 years of ministry,  he had The Lord's Prayer typed up and pasted into the front of his Bible.  "Humm."

Jim, in last week's posting, goes on to say:

Today...for the first time ever...I struggled to remember the words of the Lord's Prayer.  I tried and tried...and for a few moments my soul did panic...but on the last touching of the cross on my rosary, I pieced together the scattered phrases of "Our Father."

So here is a case where, obviously, the physical symbol reminded Jim of what he was about.  At the end of his posting he shared this even better news. 

But the goodness I experienced as the Spirit of the Lord touched my own spirit was this...I believe I heard the Lord whisper with me..."Be at peace... those words and the spirit of those words have become part and parcel of your soul.  When the words seem lost...let the silence take their place."

Thank you, Jim.

***

Dave and Brad

My Dave likes Brad Pitt.  I think it's mostly because Brad's from Missouri and has a passion for architecture.  Dave is from Kansas and has a passion for architecture.

I'm not sure how much Dave knows about Brad's acting career or personal life.

But when Brad got mixed up with Angelina Jolie, Dave was not happy.  Years ago, when I asked him why, he said "Brad's so wholesome and clean cut and she is just weird."  Since Dave rarely says anything bad about anybody he later said he wanted to change that "weird" to "different."  But if we look at the dictionary definition of "weird" and see unearthly, uncanny, fantastic, bizarre and then think about Angelina, it seems about right.

Almost all that Dave knows about Angelia is that she wore that vial of blood belonging to Billy Bob Thornton around her neck when she was married to him.

Recently, due to a strange set of circumstances which he did not initiate,  Dave started receiving Star magazine.  It comes often.  So he is now reading about the big breakup and believing every word of it.  When he reports his concerns about Brad I have to stop and think, Brad who?  then remember he's been reading the Star.

This week's cover story features Brad and Kate Hudson.  Dave just said to me at lunch, "I think Brad will be much happier with Kate."  I said,

"Hope so."


***

Emily and Cecily

Emily Dickinson is seen as one of the greatest poets of all time.  She's certainly one of my favorites.  She's been a great inspiration, and, in some ways, I feel like she's my soul mate.  Here we are at about the same age.

Most of her poems were composed in her bedroom in her parent's home in Amherst, Massachusetts.  Emily was a recluse but she sent poems to friends and relatives, sometimes fashioning them into little books she made herself.

But only ten of her poems were published in her lifetime - all anonymously.  Just think about that in terms of the  Facebook/Kardashian world in which we live.

Emily Dickinson wrote about personal things, like death and faith and relationships.  Her poems contained excellent practical advice.  Many are short and pithy.

"Faith" is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency! 

- Emily Dickinson

I'm not the person I'm going to be
                     But I'm getting to be
                                  Getting free

-Cecily Crossman


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Sanity Saving Poems

A couple of days ago I was talking with a neighbor who was having difficulty communicating with her husband.  She said he's too busy for her.  He's "out saving the world."  When that happened with my husband, Ken, I sometimes wrote a poem about it.





THE PERFECT ALIBI, CONTINUED

You were hours late for dinner
     again,
The egg rolls I had worked on all afternoon,
     Were limp.
Contrasting my rigid demeanor.

Our dinner guest,
A psychiatrist,
Seemed bemused,
And appeared to be 
Mentally taking notes,
On the unfolding of this,
All to frequent,
Domestic drama.

I remained calm
Throughout the description,
Of your last minute gallant efforts
To save a public official's job.

But the part about rescuing,
The man in the wheelchair,
Trapped in the revolving door,
Was just too much!

Why can't you ever,
Just stop off
For a few drinks,
Like a normal person?

Cecily Crossman


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