What Time iIs It?

When four grandchildren were here a couple of weeks ago I told them about one of Dave's cognitive tests (which, by the way,  he passes with flying colors.)

For example, for this one the therapist handed Dave a blank sheet of paper and asked him to draw a circle.  Then he was asked to draw the numbers on a clock.  And next he was asked to set the hands at ten minutes after ten.

Piece of cake. right?

However every one of these smart, high tech kids said they couldn't do it.  What an eye opener for me.  This generation of young people apparently tell time digitally - exclusively.

When we asked them how they would follow the instruction, they said the answer would look like 10:10.  They are apparently unfamiliar with the little hand on the 10 and the big hand on the 2.

I wonder if when they go to The Magic Kingdom they will start clockwise or counterclockwise.

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And Then There Were Nine

Over the years you've often heard me refer to my Power Rangers.  This is a group of ten women who've been together for twenty-five, plus, years.

We started as an accountability group and over the decades became so much more.  Much good has come to the world through this gang of ten.   Far more than we could have accomplished separately.

We began as a group of powerful women - and in the ways that really count, we still are.  But now we are missing one.  Robbi Walker died a few days ago.  She was the powerful matriarch of a powerful family and a powerful force in my life - and so much more.

Several months ago Dave told me he couldn't sleep the night before.  Why not?  Those of you who know Dave will be surprised with his response.  He was praying.  More specifically, he was praying for Robbi and her family.

I said, "tell me about that."

Well he started in explaining to God about who Robbi was and is.  He didn't know her well but he cared very much for her and loved hearing me talk about her accomplishments and how she impacted my life.  Dave explained to God about how Robbi, after her children were grown, went off to seminary to become a United Methodist minister and after she finished she was the pastor of a tiny church in Winter Park, Florida for a few years before she retired.

After the Robbi reports, Dave told God some things about Bill, her husband, and what an amazing leader he was (and is) in law, Methodism, business, raising chickens, etc.

This is where I started rolling my eyes.  If God didn't already know these things about the amazing Bill Walker, God was the only one in the Southeastern United States who didn't.

But, then, Dave thought he needed to tell God something about the magnificent children the Walkers had raised.  He told God several things about Michele, and her many triumphs and tragedies and more triumphs.

By this time I actually said to Dave, "I'm glad you don't know Sean and Kennan because we'd never get out of this kitchen."

But wasn't Dave asking questions that most of us have asked?  Why has a family, one that has blessed so many, been given such challenges?

I don't know.  I only know that I loved Robbi; she fought the long, hard fight and is now at peace with God.


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Today is D-Day

Our Memorial Day was kind of a blur this year.  But, today, D-Day, I was surprised to see lots of coverage.  However one article in the paper was about how the D-Day invasion is fading from memory.

In 2007, two years before we married, David and I took a romantic cruise from Paris to La havre France.  Seeing Monet's home and the beautiful towns along the way was pure joy.  But one spot was different.  Normandy.  It was solemn and more moving than I ever imagined it would be.

War is hell.  Instead of writing something about D-Day, I've decided to share my mother's poem about Armistice - the signing , in 1911, of the end of World War I (the war to end all wars.)

My mother, Carmen Strange Riley, wrote beautiful, funny, intelligent poetry.  She died at age 37  after spending years in a TB sanitarium.  I don't know how old she was when she wrote this poem in celebration of Armistice Day in Louisville, Kentucky.   She wrote several poems from a child's point of view and sometimes as an only child which was interesting because she was one of the youngest of 13 children.  But, no matter when she wrote it, she expresses all of our feelings about having our loved ones return from war.

P.S.  Let's try not to let D-Day fade from memory.  Watch "The Longest Day"




The Kid's Armistice 

My paw's coming' home now,
'Cause my maw, she 'ist said so.

Boy, won't I be glad to see him
He had to go to war you know.

Paw, he was kinda' young
When maw an' him first met;
An' I wuz young when paw went to war,
An' I ain't very old yet.

Maw, she says there's most a thousand people kilt;
I wonder what they kilt 'em for.
I sure am glad my paw didn't get hurt
In that mean old war.

Last night the whistles blew and blew,
An' maw sang the sweetest song
Maw said 'twas Armistice, and I'm glad
"Cause now my paw'll come home.

Uncle Bob (that's maw's brother) got kilt,
An'when maw got the message, she just cried;
An last night when the whistles blew, she said
"I don't know what we'd done if paw had died."

My Paw's coming' home now,
In a week or two or three;
And I'll kiss him and look in his pockets,
Cause he'll bring home something to maw an' me.

Carmen Strange


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Girl Power, Old Testament Style

Jael and the Tent Peg

Old Testament women had no power.  Men had all the power.  Except there are a bunch of Old Testament stories about powerful women.  What's up with that?  I don't know.  On Sunday I heard one of my favorite "Girl Power" Old Testament stories.

It's about Jael.  Was she good or was she bad?  I'll let you decide.

What theological truth is this story providing?  I have no idea.

First, let me remind you that I don't condone violence.  Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets in trouble with her publisher because she wants to change the name of the book "War and Peace" to "War - What is it Good For"?  I'm with Elaine on this subject.

But back to Jael.  In the book of Judges in the Old Testament, one of the judges was Deborah (a girl -How did that happen?  We don't know.)  Deborah tells the leader of the Israelite army, Barak, that he needs to go to war with the Canaanites and, more specifically, get rid of Sisera, the leader of the Canaanite army.

But Barak is scared.  He says in Judges 4:8 If you will go with me I will go, but if you will not go with me I will not go."  (What's up with that?  I don't know.)

So Deborah agrees but tells him that he'll win the war but a woman will get the credit.  (Spoiler alert - it won't be Deborah.  It will be Jael.)

They have the big battle and all goes well however, Sisera (the Canaanite army leader) escapes.  He's wondering around then stumbles into the tent of Jael.  She welcomes him in, gives him a drink, waits until he falls asleep and then......pounds a tent peg through his head and into the ground!

That's pretty much the end of the story.  Except there is a poem about Sisera's mom waiting for him to come home from the war - but we know this won't happen because of the tent peg incident.  However, I like the poem because it reminds us that war always leaves moms waiting for a child who will never come home.


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Love and Understanding

Norman Rockwell
Do unto others as you would
have them do unto you

In the early 1970s I was on an inner city committee in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  We were committed to do our part to deal with the huge issue of racism in South Florida.  All of the awful things you have seen or imagined happening in the south at that time were happening there.

But we knew that most people did not think of themselves as racist.  It was just the way things had always been done.  It was how God intended!  One evening our leader, a black psychologist,  suggested that we might offer some nonthreatening discussion classes to groups of while folks in South Florida.

After weeks of hammering it out, this is what was decided:

• The title would be "Racism"
• We would offer classes to white church and community groups
• We would present discussions on personal and institutional racism
• We would invite a small group of blacks to be present 
• The class would be led by a black/white team

Never, in my wildest dreams did I think I would be one of these leaders.  But I was.  Father Brown, a brilliant young black Episcopal priest, and I led this "Racism" discussion in many homes, offices and churches in South Florida.  And, as it turned out, I designed much of the content - and in doing so, I learned much about my country, my culture and myself. 

One of the first things we did, after getting everybody introduced and comfortable, was to ask the folks in the room why they thought segregation and all that involved seeing  African Americans as second class citizens was right.  

Invariably the first answer that came back was, "It's in the Bible."  

"OK, let's look it up."

The group never failed to be surprised when we tried to find the scriptures that suggested white supremacy and could not.  The Old Testament is big on the Jews being God's chosen people and therefore everybody else is questionable but the big justification for black slavery in the south was "The curse of Ham," found in Genesis 9:25-27.

And Noah said "Cursed be Canaan!  A slave of slaves, a slave to his brothers!  Blessed be God, the God of Shem, but Canaan shall be his slave.  God prosper Japheth...But Canaan shall be his slave. 

Each and every time folks were astonished that this was it.  Two verses in the Old Testament, taken out of context, that most people didn't understand and had never before even read, had keep blacks in the American south in bondage.

We're now experiencing a hotbed of other issues siting the Bible as the final authority.  If you are disturbed by what's happening, I would like to gently invite you to begin by reading the scriptures in question. And then add a layer of tradition, reason, and experience (John Wesley's Quadrilateral.)

You might find yourself loving and understanding a little more even if it doesn't change your mind.



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This is Still My Best Time

As some of you know, I love Roz Chast's memoir, Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?  Chast is a long time cartoonist for The New Yorker.  But she's also written several graphic novels that are dark, hard hitting and extremely funny.

In the "Can't We Talk" book she deals with her parents' aging.  Currently I can see a little bit of myself in her mother's total denial of her husband's downward trend.

My Dave has hit a rough patch, health wise.  This has included a brain bleed, brain surgery and other gory stuff.  After a second fall, he's now at the same rehab hospital he was in a couple of weeks ago.

Regular hospitals are where we go to lie still, maybe in a coma, etc. and have round the clock care to save our lives.  Really good rehab hospitals are where we go to get back to where we were before we got sick or had the accident in the first place.  It's a whole different program and it's very hard work.  If you're in your 70s or older it's really, really hard to get back to where you were before.  You have to be all in with the program.

Dave's not kicking and screaming.  He is all in, but he is out of his comfort zone.   He had five hours of rehab today, physical, occupational and cognitive .  And I left him this evening playing cribbage with his friend.  This is part of his therapy.  He actually aced his cognitive test but they still want his brain to be stimulated every day.  (By the way, this standard cognitive test is terrifying to me.  Not sure I could pass it at this point.)

Even though he just wants to sleep, Dave did well with everything except he kinda flunked his putting on his tube socks part of occupational therapy so ( in case you think I'm be too hard on him)  I bought him some shorter socks at the grocery store before coming home tonight.

In the morning I'm taking in two Architectural Record magazines.  Also nagging him about planning our next trip.  And, yes, even with everything that's happened in the last month, this is still my best time.  

P.S.  The support we've had from family and friends is overwhelming.  That's another blog posting.


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Are The Super Wealthy all a Bunch of Bozos?

One of my kids told me a story the other day that would make us think so.  We all know or read about greedy, clueless, entitled folks who never learned to say "please" and "thank you" because - why should they?   Isn't it our job to serve them?

But on the same day I heard the negative rich guys story I talked with friends who had just attended a generous giving conference.

The truth is that I'm blown away by how generous some super wealthy (and not so super wealthy) folks can be.  And it's hard work to give in a way that helps and not hurt.

Today I read an article about one of my favorite super wealthy people:  Melinda Gates.  She's written a new book, The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World.  In it she makes herself vulnerable by sharing some of the universal problems most women face, like sexism and abuse.

The main reason I'm enamored with Melinda Gates is because she's all about empowerment for women.  And I absolutely agree with her stance that the greatest lifesaving poverty-ending, women-empowered innovation ever created is - contraceptives.  

In her book Melinda Gates also speaks to the burden of having great wealth.  (What?)  It's true, even for the rest of us who are not uber wealthy.  Finding ways to give away money without doing more harm than good takes a tremendous amount of time, energy and caring.

So thank you all of you super wealthy folks around the world who are helping us save the planet and the living things on it.  It's called Creation Care - and it's a big job.


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