I am not a theologian or a scholar, but I am very aware of the fact that pain is necessary to all of us. In my own life, I think I can honestly say that out of the deepest pain has come the strongest conviction of the presence of God and the love of God. -Elizabeth Elliot
Well, today I hit 50- five decades, a half-century, one-twentieth of a millennium. But I can't complain- it's been good (and always getting better). Last night, since everyone was home, we had a small birthday party- just immediate family (the only way to do it, as far as I'm concerned!). The perennial favorite of the honoree is orange cake with lemon icing with a few orange peel gratings in the icing. But getting the cards from the kids and having the simple time together is always fun.
In the morning we went to church and did an errand at Wal Mart. I gave nos. 2 and 3 (no. 1 was working) a choice of "Polar Express" or "Christmas with the Kranks" and they chose the latter for an afternoon matinee. With the weather stormy and rainy it was a good day for a matinee. The movie was funny and a nice break, so to speak. I enjoy Tim Allen in the few movies of his I've seen- funny in a way that we all enjoy, without resorting to bad taste and bathroom humor. We picked-up grinders for the kids on the way home. Then a simple celebration of my birthday (see tomorrow's blog for details).
Don't you find that you don't really begin to feel rested until you've had time away from work and time to get caught-up with errands, jobs and responsibilities? Today was one of those days where I was able to really feel relaxed and enjoy it.
We took the two boys to NY Pizza for supper. There's a seven-foot Statue of Liberty with a lit torch near the entrance and the background music is all Frank Sinatra. Number one left early for a firehouse meeting.
Number three is at the last session of "teen" Alpha and number two is missing it because she's helping my mother prepare for Thanksgiving Day. It's been a good experience for them and they've had a chance to make some friends. Like Mom and Dad, they're better in smaller .
I am really proud of son number one (the oldest). He is working as an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) for American Medical Response. He is also busy doing volunteer EMT work with the local fire department as well as a local ambulance company. And he is a full-time student in a college Paramedic program, which is quite intense. Until last spring he was also working as a pharmacy Technician at the local CVS.
In all of these things he is doing excellent work and really puts himself fully into it. The fact that the nature of the work (and his career) field is so vital and helpful to people in need is icing on the cake. He is a young man of character and dedication and it is so encouraging to see those qualities so much in evidence in one's son at a relatively young age. I couldn't do the kind of work he does, so he got that ability from his mother, for certain.
The classroom was on the third floor of an older building adjacent to Washington Square Park and didn't have an elevator. After class the whole class would clomp down three flights of wide stairs and I took this opportunity to chat. It was probably the second or third session that I suggested going to a nearby place for a cup of coffee after class and we did so. I think the place was on Broadway just a couple of blocks away and near the subway station that one of us used to get home. It wasn't far from a Mexican restaurant that I had been to a few times with Bud and Roy. After coffee I walked her to the subway stop and then walked to my station. I was interested.
Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket; they are regarded as dust on the scales...Before him all the nations are as nothing; they are regarded by him as worthless and less than nothing. Isaiah 40:17
A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning. The city is like poetry: it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines. The island of Manhattan is without any doubt the greatest human concentrate on earth, the poem whose magic is comprehensible to millions of permanent residents but whose full meaning will always remain illusive. -from Here is New York, by E.B. White
In 1981 I was living on Governor's Island in NY harbor. When I got up in the morning and opened my window shade, the Statue of Liberty was so close that it filled the window (how's that for a cool view?). It was a five minute ride to Manhattan by ferry and I was as busy in town as my job allowed (Assistant Pollution Prevention Officer and later Ship Movement Officer at the office of the US Coast Guard "Captain of the Port").
Three nights a week I took the Broadway IRT to 72nd Street for a good workout at the NY Karate Club (brown belt). The senior instructor was named Mori, a Japanese man in his late 30's who lived in New Jersey- a seventh degree black belt. Shotokan is known for being a strict and traditional form of karate. The sessions started with the students washing the floor. In the fall of 1981 I took an evening, non-credit course at NYU (Introduction to the Arts, taught by a woman named Ethyl).
Sitting in the adjacent row was a quiet, attractive, intelligent young woman with dark auburn hair.
I decided to take the day off to get some things done and kind of ease into the weekend. Getting the leaves out of the gutters is one of the lesser joys of the New England autumn. It’s a particular pleasure to be up and down the ladder over and over with a light rain and temperature in the low 40’s.
My lunchtime mission today is to go to Wal Mart for several items. I want to try something called Loctite for a nut that keeps coming loose from a glide rocker in our living room. Also, some blank cd's, some good quality no. 2 pencils (don't you hate the cheap pencils that don't sharpen the way they're supposed to?), a stocking hat and a couple of other things I can't remember (the list is in my car).
K., an old friend, recently described people who talk on Christian radio stations as sounding like they believe that the Republican party is going to be what finally ushers in the Millennial Kingdom of Christ. He also said of the two parties (I am paraphrasing because I lost his email): one [party] is overtly evil, and the other covertly so.
My daughter has inherited the "headache gene" from me, as has my youngest son. Actually, it seems to be a sort of combination of my family history of migraines and wife's family history of allergies. I hope the neurologist can be of help to her; it can be quite discouraging to get frequent headaches, not to mention painful. For many years I had severe migraines about once a week. It usually started in early afternoon and by the time I got home from work I had to go straight to bed and sleep through the night. I'm now able to control them with medication, so the last three or four years have been much better.
Jack came over for his weekly guitar lesson. He's working in two books: one is a Berklee College guitar method that focuses on reading and the other is a Blues method. He's learning to do different (electric) blues styles. The book teaches different parts to each blues tune, using different riffs and chords. I make him play each of them in different keys so he has the chance to learn how do play in different keys and also learn the notes of the fretboard all the way up. This gives us a chance to "jam" together, so it's fun for both of us and he gets to learn how to focus on what he's playing and listen to another musician without getting distracted and losing concentration. He's making good progress and developing some self-confidence, so I'm pleased.
This coming Saturday my daughter and I are going to New York for the weekend. She wants to go to the Met (museum, not opera), so we'll spend most of Saturday there and maybe find a movie to go to Saturday evening. We're staying at the Murray Hill Inn, in the Murray Hill section which is where wife was living when we were married in 1982.
When I was in high school in the late 60's and early 70's, we began to hear a lot about what was then called the "Women's Liberation Movement." There were certain watchwords and catch-phrases associated with the movement that we heard over and over again in the media- for example, male chauvinist pigs. The term has faded over the years and so has another, related term- sex object.
Last night at supper I blew it (again) with my oldest son. It was one of those times that all that was required was patience and I fell short. This morning I called him from work and apologized.
All five of us were home for supper together for the first time in a while. We had a lentil casserole (it's better than it sounds) with cranberry muffins and peas in the pod. We chatted a little about the election results and a friend of my son's who ran for local office for the first time and lost. After supper my son went to the firehouse for a while. Wife and I went for a walk.
November weather is here, right on schedule. The bright colors of October are all blending into browns and the clouds are settling in. I used to think of November as a dreary month but decades of New England Novembers have taught me to appreciate that which appears dreary.
This quote from Watchman Nee is pertinent to our times. When he said this, in the 1930's, China (his homeland) and Great Britain were at war with Japan:
