Tread

I like it when family and friends suggest things for me to watch, especially in this shut-down time.  So, when my son suggested I watch the documentary, Tread, I gave it a shot.

But about two thirds of the way through I thought I was going to have to tell him he owes me an hour of my life.  But then yesterday when we were on a little road trip and he was on the phone,   I heard him suggesting that Tread might be a good discussion starter in their eclectic men's Bible study group.

 And, all at once, it clicked. I knew exactly what he had in mind.  And I agreed.  It would make for real conversation on how we handle ourselves when we get pushed to the edge by perceived injustice.

In Tread Marvin Theemeyer is a guy who considers himself a man's man.  His love of snowboarding led him to the small town of  Grandy Colorado where he lived for a couple of decades.  He was an excellent welder, owned a muffler shop,  and had friends, including a long time girlfriend.  He also had a strong faith.

Over time he had some disputes the town over property rights.  He felt that the way people got ahead in this town was by keeping other people down, including him.  He felt like he wasn't being heard or respected.  At some point he decided God's will had to be done - through him.   So he went all "Old Testament" on them.

Spoiler Alert:  Marv transforms his bulldozer into a tank and pretty much destroys the town of Grandy. Then kills himself while still in the tank.

Do I know anyone who's done what Marv did?  Of course not.  But I know many people, good people, who've destroyed the things and hurt the people they loved the most.  Let's have a discussion on why do we do this.

In case you think this is a "guy thing," following is a poem I, myself, in a time of deep frustration, wrote to express my feelings.  (You can find Tread on Netflix.)


HELLO SIXTIES

I shouted out the Emancipaiton
       Proclamation, 
The Civil Rights Act, 
And the wording to the Equal Rights
      Amendment.

And you said, 
"Let's go to bed."

I joined an underground movement,
And plotted to overthrow the government.

And you said, 
"You're cute when you're mad."

I blew up your post office,
And half of your university.

And you said,
"Are you having your period?"

With one fell swoop,
I destroyed everything we both held dear.

And you finally said, 
"Why are you doing this?"

"I'M JUST TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION."

 - Cecily Crossman


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Celebs - They're (Not) Just Like Us

For the last six months I've been pretty much homebound because  of illness and for the same reason every other one of you is currently holed up in your house.  

I'm fortunate to have constant sources of comfort, and intellectual, spiritual and physical care.  But, like you, my needs are ever changing.  A while back I was told my reading materials were too intense and I needed to lighten up so I ordered subscriptions to several magazines, including The New Yorker (my favorite,) Esquire, Architectural Digest and People.

Like the New Yorker, People comes once a week.  I've done my best trying to identify with the celebrities featured in People.  For instance, like Kim Kardashian, we should all be able relate to seeing all of our triumphs and tragedies as photo ops.  Right?  And we can all relate to the heartbreak of having a wildly talented but insane husband running for president.  Right?  (I'm referring to Kanye West here - no one else.)

And, unlike the UK Royals, Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, are regular people who've been mistreated by their in-laws.  That's a common relatable experience.  Yesterday I was thumbing through some of their serious concerns that made Harry give up his birthright.  

 - Meghan was falsely accused of wearing the wrong color nail polish.

 - Kate didn't offer Meghan a lift in her Range Rover when they were both going shopping on the same day.

And, one of my favorites,
 - Megan's dresser purposely dragged her heels about finding Meghan the proper diamond tiara for her wedding rehearsal.  (We've all been there.)

So, as we all know because they're in People Magazine so often, Harry and Meghan did not accept (or were not offered) an assist from the folks in buying their starter home in California.  They had to come up with the 14.65 million dollars on their own.

 On the other hand, I have been able to truly (and seriously)  relate to Sean Penn, who's currently working to help heal our world by helping provide the largest Covid 19 testing site in the country.  And he and I are sporting the same hair style.  So I guess I do have some things in common with celebs after all.




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Beyond the Blue Horizon

First, a disclaimer.  I'm not planning on leaving any time soon.  But I, like you, am bombarded every day with messages expressing fear about the future.  Thankfully, along with that, I'm also bombarded with hope and good humor and deeply meaningful messages from my worship leaders and others.

But during these extraordinarily trying times I find it helpful to look beyond.  It's kind of like losing your job but knowing you have a great IRA waiting for you when you retire.  Only this is about a billion times better.  (Since we're now hearing about trillion dollar budgets, I'd better make that a gazillion times better.)

There are many songs and hymns that remind us of this blessing to come.  Most are overtly faith based, some are secular but imply the same message.   When my husband, Ken, was critically ill and in the hospital my daughter-in-law took her hymnal to his bedside and sang "going home" songs to him.  He loved this.  It was calming and reassuring.

Several years ago my husband David asked that Over the Rainbow (the Hawaiian version) be sung at his memorial service.  After hearing it done at an earlier service he said those words expressed his own feelings.  My friend's mother had Beyond the Blue Horizon sung at her funeral.

However, we don't hear much in sermons, in a positive way, about what heaven will be like. It is, in some instances, used to (literally) scare the Hell out of us.  We don't need that right now.    We're having the Hell scared out of us every single day.

So I've turned back to trying to find literature that presents the sunny side of death.  Because we, like King Lear, tend to wonder if it might be like an eternal bad dream.

There are many near death experience books but the vast majority are not for me.  I'm too analytical for my own good and have difficultly with the woo woo stuff as well the fear factor that implies it's  for just a few of those who get the RSVP.  Only they don't always agree on "which few" will make the cut.

I've order a few books over the past months thinking they would be comforting to the dying but they are meant only to comfort the ones left behind.  While there's good it doesn't address this time of over the top anxiety, it doesn't address our need to feel confident about the future.

So I turned back to the life after death message presented by renowned neurosurgeon, Dr. Eban Alexander in his book "Proof of Heaven" which became a huge bestseller.   Dr. Alexander, himself a brain surgeon, contracted bacterial meningitis and was "brain dead" for eight days.  I've just finished  rereading his account of what heaven is like.  Not a particularly religious man prior to this experience, Dr. Alexander describes a heaven as brilliant, vibrant, estatic, stunning....(God said to him)...you are unconditionally loved, you have nothing to fear.

Dr. Alexander has since written more books on the subject.  He's still sharing this amazing promise.  If I ever have a near death experience, this would be exactly the same message I'd like to bring back.

Beyond the blue horizon
Waits a beautiful day
Goodbye to things that bore me
Joy is waiting for me
I see a new horizon
My life has only begun
Beyond the blue horizon
Lies a rising sun


***

The Thirteen Tribes of Kentucky

My mother, Carmen, is front row with grandpa's arms around her.

Father Abraham had many sons,

Many sons had father Abraham

I am one of them and so are you

So let's just praise the Lord.   

I loved seeing my kids sing this song when they were little.  Of course I had to remind the girls that daughters counted too.  The Bible tells us that many generations after Abraham and Sarah had their family,  the 12 sons of Jacob were named to head up different parts of Israel, and much later, around 930 BC, the Kingdoms of Israel split in half.  

I love reading the stories in the Old Testament about the shenanigans these tribes were in to - like all of us, they were flawed.  But God used them anyway,

Fast forward a few thousand years to my family of origin. My grandparents on my mother's side had 13 children.  I have no idea how many first cousins I have but I'm guessing about 40.  And if we extrapolate that out another two or three generations, it has to be way up in the hundreds or even thousands.  I never lived in Kentucky but, as a child, I visited often.  And then in 1962 I left for Florida and a whole new life.  

And now, while I'm mostly secluded due to illness and coronavirus,  I have become a part of a LARGE email group of descendants of my grandparents.  Most of these folks I don't know at all because they're not my generation.  They are a couple of generations younger.  All of my mother's siblings are gone and most of the cousins in my generation are gone.  

The leader of this email group has done an excellent job of organizing and laying out instructions.  He began by encouraging us to recall what we know about my grandparents After a few weeks of stories and photos, then adding two of the original 13 a time, beginning with the oldest.  I can't wait until they get to Carmen.  This is not establishing ancestry.  It's about telling stories, little vignettes to help us know something about these folks.  

I cannot begin to say how meaningful this has been to me. My grandparents were extremely poor.  Grandma had her first child when she was 14.  While she had no control over how many children she had she was a strong matriarch.  She saddled up and rode her horse side saddle. She took care of business.  Grandpa was a dreamer.   But here's what they and their offspring valued:  Family.  

Family was everything.  I never met my uncle Walter because he died before I was born.  He was killed by his brother-in-law in a hunting accident.  When grandma heard about this she "took to her bed."  

The stories being shared are overwhelming positive and loving.  I thought I couldn't remember much but then was reminded by stories about how many of the men were musical, "They taught me how to sing in harmony."  That reminded me immediately that, at most Sunday gatherings,  when the men sat of the front porch waiting for the women to prepare the massive meals, they frequently yodeled.  Other than Roy Rogers, I don't remember yodeling being a popular thing. 

And it's clear that many of the original 13 children had many gifts besides music.  Several of them wrote stories and poems.  Extreme poverty and very little education didn't disrupt the need to write.  

One second cousin told about how one of my aunts was peeling potatoes for one of these dinners and her sister complained because she was cutting off too much potato with the skin.  I totally got this.   

It took a few generations but the poverty improved.   While the people on this email group don't talk about themselves it's clear that they have excelled in many areas.  They are telling the truth but dealing gently with their forefathers and mothers.

***

The Game of Life

Zero-sum is a situation in game theory in which one person's gain is equivalent to another's loss.  A zero-sum game may have as few as two players or as many as millions of participants. 



When my kids (especially my boys) were young we spent much of the summer playing board games.  Life, Risk and Monopoly were favorites.  I thought it was good for them.  It required strategic thinking, ambition and patience.  These games can take hours or days to complete.

Over the years I've changed my mind.  If you read this blog regularly you know I've become sort of incensed with Monopoly. And their newer concept Ms. Monopoly drove me over the edge.  And now they've come up with the cheaters version.

(As a side note, you regular readers also know that I've always had issues with Barbie.)

Since the beginning of time we humans have been filled with fear and a need to gain control.  And now we're feeling this way 24-7, and for good reason. Last Sunday my minister, David Miller, preached on the theme:  Life With God.  He talked about board games and especially "The Game of Life" where only the winner retires in Millionaire Estates.

Using the Prodigal Son scripture he painted the picture of how the older son was steaming mad because he did all the right stuff while the younger kid messed up big time but was still welcomed with open arms.  Nothing "Zero-sum" about this story.

You know one of my favorite things to contemplate is the nature of God.  David dealt directly with this by giving us some examples like how we develop principles and formulas, and deal making (I'll do all of these good things and God will bless me, right?")and my very least favorite of all "Prosperity Theology."

We continue to be confused about the difference between being and doing, between having it all and sharing.  But, for me, I know that Life, Risk, or Monopoly or Thunderball type thinking will not help me rack up points and is not my ticket to being the winner.

So, what is the point?  It's all about relationships.  I'm afraid of many things right now and I've always had a need to be in control.  But the nature of God is mysterious.  I know there are things I'll never figure out in this life.

But, at my best, whenever I'm in pain, exhausted and scared, I know God is with me.  Always has been and always will be.  And I'm very much aware that we're all in this life together.


***

My Literary Buddy is Gone

Symbolically, another library burned down a while back because the legendary Jane Casselberry passed away at age 95.

She's been in my life for many decades.  Couldn't say we were close friends but we "got" each other and the last ten years or so have been the best because she was my constant literary buddy.

I first met Jane and her husband, Len, when my husband Ken and I went to Community United Methodist Church in Casselberry.  They were quite a couple.  To me, Len was a smart, kind, fun, quirky guy.  For as long as I knew him I never knew what he did for a living.  He was mysterious.

Jane, on the other hand, was a writer all of her life.  She wrote for the Sanford Herald for more than 25 years.  She wrote and edited everything from business news to obituaries.  And she was active in everything.  She served all all kinds of boards.  She was always "up."

Jane and Len met in high school in Winter Park, Florida, and I was told that, since Len didn't have access to a phone, he climbed a telephone pole and taped into the line to get in touch with Jane.

They married during WWII and moved to Casselberry,  a town just north of Orlando, that Len's dad founded in 1927.  Casselberry now has a population 30,000 people.

And, along the way she and Len had five children who are all outstanding in their own right - and they took excellent care of their parents - who lived almost 10 decades.

But the reason her passing has been my own personal loss is because, for the last several years, we corresponded regularly, sometimes daily, mostly on social media but in other ways as well.  She consistently commented on every blog entry I wrote.  Always smart.  Always funny.  Always interested.  Always interesting. Right up to the very end of her long life.

Despite, to me, being very different people, Jane and Len had an amazing marriage and were constant companions.  Len died a couple of years ago and, while she was devastated, Jane never missed a beat in our correspondence and her interest in the world and all those around her.

Once, a long time ago, Jane and Len, Ken and I went out to dinner.  Len told us this story.  They were in a plane headed for Hawaii when the plane developed engine trouble.    As the plane, began to dive, they had to prepare for a crash landing in the Pacific.  With their heads between their legs and tightly holding hands Len said, "Jane, we're either going to Hawaii or to heaven.  But we're going together."

That time they made it to Hawaii - but it helps me to know that, even though they had to wait two years - this time they made it to heaven.

***

Paranoid Pandemic Fun Day

I've not been well for a while so, along with the obsessive mask wearing and social distancing, I've been staying home and practicing my new hobby; washing my hands a silly number of times a day.   At least I don't have to take them off first like this Lego guy.

This strange illness I currently have (non-Covid related) causes mini panic attacks.  Paranoia abounds.  Besides this, along with many of you,  I am doing my best trying to comfort folks every day who are in much worse shape than I am.

But my current big problem is my hair.

I suspect my neighbors have been wishing I'd cover my head with a paper bag like Charlie Brown did when he thought his head had turned into a baseball.

So, since I'm feeling better, but after much handwringing, I decided to venture out for a haircut.  But, of course, I was worried and grilled my friends about their various hair cut experiences, not to mention grilling the hairdresser like Elaine did on the Seinfeld episode where she conducted an extensive check list interview with her boyfriend to determine if he was "Sponge worthy."

Yesterday morning I headed for the salon.  My stylist met me at the door of this large, beautifully appointed salon.  She and I were the only two people there.  She was even more Covid alert than me, which was impressive.  It was all good.  I didn't panic.

The salon shares a (very crowded) parking lot with Panera Bread.  I backed my car out and right square in the middle of the one way travel lane my car promptly died.  I was crossways in the lane.  Blocking traffic.

But still no panic.  I called Panera.  A young man came out and I suggested if he could get a couple of people they could push the car into the parking space behind me.  He left and came back with a girl and they did the job.  (Yeah Girl Power!) I tried to tip them $20 but they refused to accept it.

I called AAA and the tow truck arrived shortly.  He jump started the dead-as-a-doornail battery but could not sell me a new one so I had to drive home with this battery on life support.

But still no panic!

Once I got home I called the proper AAA person for installing a battery and an hour later I had a healthy car - and a cute haircut.

Next I called the manager of Panera to tell him about these kids who saved me from an angry mob, and saved his lunch crowd, and refused a $20 tip.  That was fun.

Then I contacted AAA to praise the guys who rescued me as well.

Every one of these people, including my hairdresser,  wore masks and practiced kindness.  All in all, a very good day.


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