My Sunday Feeling

 Some time ago, 60 Minutes did a piece on the great English actor Micheal Caine.  In the story, they asked Caine, who is no spring chicken (and wasn’t then either) what it was like to be older.  He said something to the effect that it was pretty sad for him because most of his friends were gone.  

It is Lent.  And I can relate.  I still have most of my friends.  But people that I was close to are starting to leave.  The last two and half years have been brutal.  My brother Dave was found dead in his bed up in Missouri.  My Uncle Howard died at the ripe old age of 90.  My cousin Rebecca laid down for a nap at her sister’s house and never got up.  And least week my pastor and friend Vic Nixon died.  Vic married me and buried my mother.  You don’t get much more connected up than that.

And one of my friends has gone the way of full blown psychosis.  He might as well be dead to me.  He, like the dear souls listed above, is most assuredly on another shore.  And I can’t bring him back from there either.

Hey look.  I’m pushing 70.  I’m just a beer-truck-blowing-a-red-light away from joining the Choir Invisible.  Most likely my bad genes will catch up to me and I will go the traditional family route to the Pearly Gates via cardiac disease.  So far so good though.  Or something crazy could happen to me.  Something crazy like I could get shot in the back of the head by a swindling close relative while fooling around at a dog pen.  Then again, I don’t plan on moving to South Carolina anytime soon. Like ever. 

What does Lent have to do with these ruminations?  Not much I guess other than it is never a completely bad thing to be cognizant of the fact that we live in the temporal and that tomorrow is not guaranteed to any of us.  

It is traditional, primarily in Catholic and Orthodox Christianity, to “give up” something during these 45 days of Lent.  Catholics are forbidden to eat meat on Fridays during the Pentential Season.  The Deacon has that one covered as she is vegan. I know folks that are giving up coffee and alcohol.  That’s two I’ve heard about this season.

Protestants don’t make such a big deal out of Lenten abstinence .  When I was a kid I used to give up sweets although Mother didn’t really let us have much in the way of candy back in the day.  Maybe that’s why I don’t have much of a sweet tooth to this day.  Speaking of Vic, he liked his wine.  He told me he always gave it up for Lent, if only to make sure he wasn’t hooked on it.  And of course, he wasn’t.

What about me?  How am I gonna observe Lent?  This is what I told the boys in the Theology Club at school.  I am going to observe Lent by doubling down on my Legal Aid stuff during the period.  And I’m going to give more money to homeless charities and civil liberties organizations.  That has more significance to me than giving up coffee or cussing for 45 days.  By the way, I’ve tried the latter.  Epic fail.  

Oh well.  I am only human am I not?

There’s something else I’m going to do.  I’m going to try to reach out to folks I haven’t talked to in awhile.  Haven’t quite figured out exactly who they will be yet.  And there’s a damn good reason why I haven’t reached out to some folks.  But a lot of the time we fall away from others just because we do.  Work, family, other obligations get in the way.  It happens.

I’m hardly one to hold myself out as a model for right living and I don’t really give unsolicited advice.  But there’s bound to be someone in your life that you haven’t talked to in awhile for no reason other than inertia.  

Reach out to one of those folks during this Lent. Some of them might be gone sooner than later to a distant shore where you can’t get them back. Hell you might be gone soon.  I might be gone.  None of us are guaranteed tomorrow.

Ask Michael Caine.  

  

My Sunday Feeling

 The sun is making a cameo appearance in the sky again as I type this.  It is good to see it again.  In case you haven’t heard, we had 3 consecutive ice storms smite the Central Arkansas area in the last 3 days.  

Ice is the worst.  With snow you can at least get around and occasionally drive.  It is not advisable on the hilly street the Deacon and I live on.  But you can do it.  Not so with ice.  I looked out on the skating rink in my back yard and visions of hip fractures danced in my head. 

All you can do under the circumstances is to stock up on provisions, resign yourself to camping out indoors until the “weather event” ends and hope that the power stays on.  We had coffee, food, booze and internet access.  Could be worse.  And for a lot of poor souls it IS worse.  God help them and the social agencies that provide food and warm shelter to those that are without.  Their’s is a mighty work indeed.  

Still, despite the fact that we wanted for nothing, this 3-4 day period of isolation felt oddly familiar.  And not in a good way.  I remember autumn 3 years ago.  The world as most Americans knew it had shut down.  Joe came home from college.  Melissa quit teaching in person.  She, Joe and all of my teacher buddies became acquainted-or better acquainted-with Google classroom and/or Zoom.  

Deja vu all over again. Only this time without kids. Consider.  Most of us were stuck once again in our homes.  Melissa was back to teaching occupational therapy online which has got to be damned difficult to do while I tried to stay out of the way.  I received texts from my teacher friends, mostly during their prep periods.  Just like 3 years ago none of us had anybody to talk to except each other.  And mostly by text.

The heating system here even went out again briefly and then revived itself some 3 hours later.  It has worked fine ever since. Only this time unlike 3 years ago I didn’t pay a repair man to stand in the driveway and say “Man. That’s strange” as my stepdaughter was yelling “The heater just came on!” from the front porch.  This go-around I accepted it on faith that the damn thing would kick back on.  And for once my faith was rewarded.  And I didn’t have to write anybody a check.

The last few days being cooped up in the house brought back terrible memories of a terrible time when COVID was a death sentence.  Scientists were racing to find a vaccine while idiots and charlatans foolishly hawked quack cures like Ivermectin and household disinfectants.  One of that number happened to be the President of the United States.  Truly that was a horrible time that will live in infamy upon history’s immortal scroll.

We should never forget just what a terrible time the pandemic was.  It touched virtually every segment of our society and we are just now getting up on our feet.  Just in time for a handful of fools in the House to threaten to cause a default on the sovereign debt of the United States by refusing to raise the debt ceiling to pay for bills already appropriated by-guess who?-the damn Congress.

But there is nothing I can do about it other than to accept on faith-since I seem to be doing that more lately-some common sense will kick in on its own up there on the Hill.  But I know what I can and will do.  I’m going to write a check for a homeless ministry instead to a heating and air company.    

That’s what I can do.  And I can be glad that spring, and baseball, is not all that far away.