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Bunker Hill Standing Rock Road

Saturday, June 24, 2006

This is our place. You wouldn’t believe all the trouble I had to go to to get a picture of this view.

It’s lots of work, believe me. Mainly I have to go there and mow grass. More later.

distantviewhouse.jpg

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How Do I Know I Am Lovable?

Sunday, June 18, 2006

How do I know I am lovable? A lady brought it up at Wednesday night prayer service this past week. She said, “You are lovable; don’t let anyone tell you that you are not.”

I thanked her for it afterwards. Then out on the front steps I stumbled into a small discussion that included her again and some other loved ones. I brought it up again and she was very willing to repeat the premise. God made us and loves us and so we are lovable.

But I have another proof. Here’s how it flows. I look at other people and see that they are lovable. How do I know they are lovable? Because I see their beauty and value and I love them.
So I see others as lovable and I know I am like them. So I know I am too. I know other people should love me. They should take a look at me, listen to my voice, look in my face and love me. I should do the same for them. If we look at each other with true eyes, then we should see each other truly.

But if we look at each other with lens-caps over our eyes we will not see each other, we will not know of each other’s real existence, we will not know each other needs to love and be loved.

And it is certainly possible for us to have persons right in front of us, and many times for long periods of time, without our seeing them at all. We see an image of what we think that person to be. We see phantoms that reside in the air between our souls and the soul of the other. We even see ourselves as phantoms of the same sort. Because we look at ourselves in the mirrors of others and those mirrors are false because they are of our own making.

God, look at me with true eyes and tell me what you see.

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Throwed Rolls et al

Friday, May 19, 2006

Around Christmas when we were planning to go to the Gulf Coast to visit family, my friend Beth told me to be sure to go to the place where they have the throwed rolls. Well, sure enough we went to Foley but Lambert’s Cafe was closed that day. I think it was Christmas Eve. So we didn’t eat there; didn’t have a choice really. But we did take some pictures. I took them for Beth to prove to her that I really do listen to what she says.

Now the throwed roll thing has catapulted all out of proportion. My friend Rex went to the Gulf Coast with his wife and wrote about it on his weblog. I read it and left a comment asking if he had gone to Lambert’s to catch any throwed rolls. Well, he didn’t, but darned if he didn’t just have to write a whole weblog entry about all the ramifications of having one’s food thrown at one, even though he nor I have ever been there. See Rex’s blog here.

For what it’s worth I have two reviews filed away in my mental archives about Lambert’s Cafe. My cousin-in-law Linda says it’s OK but it’s not worth the money. On the other hand her dad says it’s great and it’s worth every bit of the money.

So there you are. Here’s the picture.

Throwed Rolls

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Dear John in a Squeeky Voice, or Bent on Self-Immolation

Sunday, April 30, 2006

In the Peanuts comic strip, one of the kids (Lucy or Linus?) used to make a habit of telling the Beethoven-playing Schoeder that what people really want to hear is ‘waltzes, schottisches, and polkas’. And they were quite right, in more ways than we know.

But I want to add one more kind to the list. People like to hear ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice. So, going on that radical assumption, I did it. But let me back up a little.

The previous Friday, no the previous to that, three of my co-workers entertained with voice and guitar. I was so proud of them for their courage and humility and I decided just then I would end my seven year bitter ol’, wornout, jaded, don’t-do-that-anymore songwriter phase. So I went to our entertainment director and said, ‘put me down for next Friday. I promise to tune my guitar’. And she did and I did tune my guitar. And welded the pegs in place (only kidding).

I went home and wrote my parody, based on one of my old humorous songs (to the melody of ‘Bill Grogan’s Goat’), included all the inside work-place jokes and prepared myself mentally. I kept saying to myself, ‘what I really need is to stand up and humiliate myself.’ and I insured that by telling everyone, ‘watch me humiliate myself this Friday in Room 5′.

I said, ‘It’s not gonna be pretty but you will laugh’. And they did. But I didn’t have time for an encore. So I re-upped.

Angela asked me for another and it was then that my mean, little self-hating brain hatched the scheme. I would do something so radical, so shocking, so stupid, that they would have to laugh even more; they would have to laugh a rolling, rollicking, wave of a laughter and applause, and I would feel loved.

Now a word of warning for anyone planning on singing ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice. You will have to find a fortress of solitude in which to practice. ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice has to be done loud to work. Maybe I should clarify what I mean by squeeky. Remember Mr. Haney from Green Acres and remember that sort of feigned involuntary yodeling voice he talked with? The voice that kept breaking and changing octaves as he spoke? Well that’s the technique and you have to over-sing to pull it off. And you don’t need your guitar, that just gets in the way; you’ll need total concentration on your voice. My fortress of solitude is the inside of my car while I am driving on the interstate highway, making sure no one is parallel to me in the next lane, or even the next next lane. Then, and then only do I feel safe enough to caterwaul that loud and that stupid.

So, the day before the performance I got a plug from the director. She said, ‘Joe’s gonna sing a song tomorrow at entertainment time’.

And, of course I piped up, ‘I wouldn’t really call it a song, it’s gonna be more like … self-immolation’. And the reason I had to say that was to prove it by starting it right then—with that self-depracating joke. We self-depracators have a saying, ‘Always stay one step ahead.’ That way if your self-immolation is not up to snuff, at least you’ve got the self-depracating prelude joke to notch on your belt. Confused?

The next day, I kept thinking, ‘why am I doing this?’ But I did it anyway. I stood up on cue, opening with “Life Gets Teejus”, a humorous poem about the laziness of the urbanity-deprived country boy. Then I was ready for my pièce de resistance. I read a prepared introduction setting a serious mood for an exquisitely saaa-aad song and started in.

Now I gotta tell ya, I use expert timing on this; I don’t start the squeekiness on the first line, then I let just a little bit slip in on the second. Then more and more often and and more and more extreme on each line till it’s totally out of control on the last line. I gave it my all … no, sorry … not my best performance. My memory found little faults. Like I should have stuttered three times on this line, ‘… tonight I wed your br br brother …’ But I only did twice. I didn’t ‘stick it’. Sorrrryyy
But they did laugh. And they did clap.

But not enough to make me feel truly loved. Will I ever?

[Edit: (2 hours later) Just now as I was driving to the park to walk some laps I stuck it. Oh well .... ]

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Can Boys and Girls Be Friends?

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Can Boys and Girls Be Friends? Yes! And I’m ready to prove it, or die trying.

The place I work is a little like summer camp—it’s a fun place where we are free to make friends with men and women alike. Admittedly we don’t make friends with everyone, but some people we have an affinity for, or with. That is good.

And sometimes people get crushes on other people, but that’s … OK. We just remember what Stuart Smalley used to say on SNL, ‘people like me’. And it’s not just funny men who say that.

I have men friends too. I enjoy the company of men and, let’s face it, I feel a little more comfortable with men friends. Not because I like them more or favor them, but just because … well … they are kind of like old shoes. You just feel more comfortable.

With friends of the opposite sex there can certainly be twinges of anxiety. To me that is built in. It goes with the territory. It’s a function of eros—or quite simply, la difference. [just put a Maurice Chevalier accent on that phrase and you've got it]

But it is worth the trouble because each gender is only half the population of the earth and that’s a lot of people to not be friends with.

So let’s do, OK?

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The View from the PowerPoint Perch

Sunday, April 16, 2006

I am a PowerPoint volunteer at my church. It is a kind of invisible job, but it is far-reachng in scope. I do it about once a month, sitting behind a narrow desk on the front edge of the balcony. I sit below and in front of the sound desk so the people behind me cannot see me and the people downstairs cannot see me either, that is, unless they are sitting in the front row and take the trouble to turn and crane their necks, but they hardly ever do, so I am sort of personally invisible.

But the results of my work are very much visible. The people are dependent on the PowerPoint slides to be able to sing the words of the songs. If I make a mistake and punch the wrong slide everyone sees it and I feel horrible. I promise you, I am nervous every time my turn comes up.

Now, all that being said … this morning was Easter morning and I got to do PP for both early and late service. Easter at Belmont is always good. For one thing it is resurrection day. For another thing the whole church is a pool of love, for me it is anyway. And for another thing we have choir, drum line and bagpipes. Choir at Belmont is not an every Sunday thing so it is always nice when we do have it. As for the drum line, you are saying, ‘you’re kidding, a drum line in church?‘ Yes, a drum line in church. They have been doing this for quite a few years. The first time I experienced the Belmont Easter drums I wept all the way through it—the kind of weeping that hurts behind the eyes and down the jaw line. I guess the pain comes of holding it back. Somehow we have to hold it back in public, don’t we? Then I wept all the way home plus every time I thought of it, no matter where I was, for about three weeks. Would you believe a bunch of guys skillfully beating on field snares and bass drums can remind one that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ was raised from the dead. Well, it can and very effectively.

Now for the bagpipes. There’s a man in our town named Jay Dawson who has given himself to the pipes. I say given himself because I know he would have had to so to master such an esoteric musical instrument. Jay used to do such things as conducting symphony orchestras and such. I don’t know how much he does that anymore but I do know I am really glad he took up the pipes. He plays to the glory of God. And God is glorified by his playing.

And so this morning after the pastor pronounced benediction, in Hebrew no less, our director, McLauren Foster, raised her hand towards the back of the auditorium and signalled our piper. If you have never heard “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” on the bagpipes, well you simply must resolve to hear it next year. So come. You will laugh, you will cry, you will want to fight somebody.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

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Love on the Afghan/Italian Border

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

I have been listening with much trepidation concerning Abdul Rahman, the Afghan man put on trial for his faith. I heard Sunday, first on the radio then in church, that he was found mentally incompetent to stand trial and released. Thank God and thank you wise Afghan judge. Good call, I pray God’s protection and provision on you.

Now Mr. Rahman has gone to Italy for asylum. Again thank God and thank you Italy. Tears welled up into my eyes when I heard. The moral, spiritual and poetic ramifications are far-reaching.

Italy, you have done well. Any country could have, and would have, but you got there first and here’s the great thing: it is more a blessing for you than it is for him. He might have died (blessed) at the hands of the Afghan government. Or, upon being released, he might have gone to his house and been murdered and still would have been counted blessed for his courage and faithfulness. But now you, Rome, can be counted blessed. You have the blessing of this courageous man resting on you. I hope you will bear it well and humbly.

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Music Night on Elliston Place

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

On the spur of the moment I tagged along with my friend Steve to a music listening room in “almost downtown”, Elliston Place in Nashville. I didn’t even know where we were going till we got there. Steve had passes to see and hear John Davis. He’s a music journalist so he does a lot of music listening.
(Photos below)

There were two opening acts for Davis … I thought, gee we are going to have to sit through these other guys too. Turned out I was glad to sit through their music. Justin Earle started. He was pretty loose and comfortable on the stage. He told us about his plans to go into the studio to make a new album this summer. His manner was so easy and familiar he sounded like a tradesman letting us know he had a dry-wall job next month. Justin was a little rough around the edges but that’s the way he means to be. He is good that way. One song, he introduced by saying it was supposed to be a gospel song but didn’t turn out gospel, then he went on to say he had written a new album and the songs were of a “confessional” nature. That is they were confessions but not his confessions. He would never tell whatever it is he really did. Ok, Justin, whose confessions will they be then? Oh well, whosever they are I’m sure people will love it.

Now the next group was The Violet Burning from Long Beach, California. They were loud, they were good and they were serious. Their music was perfect, lots of white noise at the right places. Lead singer Michael Pritzl made a good impression. Everybody liked them. After they played I spoke to Michael and let him know how much I appreciated what they are doing. Also we had a nice conversation with one of their biggest fans in Nashville. He had noticed Randi with his professional camera and so he came over to let him know the band could use some good press. I thought I might could help by writing about them in my blog, so I said I would and here I am doing it.

[edited] Oh, I forgot something I was going to mention. During a couple of non-vocal spaces on one of their songs these guys did this thing where they would mill around the stage leaning over with the instruments hanging way down almost to the floor. It was very … well, fetching, if you take my drift. To me it bespoke humilty, servanthood. It was very effective. [end edit]

Now for the headliner, John Davis. I’m sure I will write more about John after I have exposed myself to some more of his recorded music. Meanwhile, I must say emphatically I enjoyed his band, his songs and his attitude. He is very personable and very human. He’s a natural talent and a diligent servant. He gave credit to our Lord and Savior who, he said, saved his life.

Saved my life too John. Thanks for the music and thanks for being there.

{again with the edit} Randi Anglin graciously allowed me to use some pictures he took that night. See his web site. Randi’s got real nice photographs of some rock and blues legends, as well as some other interesting subjects.
Justin Earle.
© 2006 Randi Anglin

The Violet Burning.
© 2006 Randi Anglin

John Davis.
© 2006 Randi Anglin

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Beautiful Foundations

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I was in downtown Franklin today to pay our water bill at the City of Franklin complex. (We don’t live in the city limits [yet] but we do get our water from Franklin.) Anyway, they have a multilevel parking garage so I started up looking for a space. There were some narrow ones but I didn’t want to squeeze so I kept going up. Up up up. Finally I was almost to the open rooftop part when I found one to park in. I went in to the water office, paid my “spot cash money” and climbed the stairs again to the third level. As I found my car I looked out the opening in the wall and saw something that made the climb worthwhile.

I could see down into the foundations and basements in the construction site across the street. So, having my digital camera in the car where I always try to keep it when I go anywhere, I took some pictures. It’s not often I see building foundations as notable as these. If I had only seen them from street level I wouldn’t have taken notice.

One of these days I would like to build a good house on  a good foundation like one of these. And basements as nice and as deep as the ones enclosed by these foundations, I would love that.

Here is a view, a closer view and an even closer view:

Foundations - Wide View Foundations 2 Foundations 3

These are just about the prettiest basements I have ever seen.

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God is Never a Third Party

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I have had a bookmark on a particular page in Kierkegaard for a couple weeks because I didn’t want to lose that page until I had made a note on it. Today I am making that note, then reading on. I’m not sure I’ve got everything out of it yet, probably not, but at least I am writing this post about it and so there will be a record of the quote and my thoughts and response to it.

The page in question is in Søren Kierkegaard’s Concluding Unscientific Postscript as translated by Donald F. Swenson and Walter Lowrie, very bottom line of page 61 and top of 62. Here’s what I read there:

As for God, he is never a third party when he is present in the religious consciousness; this is precisely the secret of the religious consciousness.

First of all, I’m going to encourage you not to be put off by the phrase “religious consciousness”. Religious consciousness is not a special kind of consciousness or even a special interest; it is normal human consciousness. Everyone’s consciousness is religious because everyone wants to love and be loved and God is the source of love.

My interest is piqued and excited by this passage because it reminds me of God’s closeness. “He is closer to me than I am to myself.” (An essay here) He is not third party in my consciousness, which is my relationship with myself. And He is not third party in community, which is my relationship with other people.

Years ago there was a popular tune, “From a Distance,” by Bette Midler. It’s a beautiful anthem and I could enjoy the truth it points up … until the point in the song where it said, “God is watching us from a distance.” That made no sense to me whatsever. A god who watches from a distance is a third-party god, an arms-length god, a distant god.

God is with us. Jesus Christ, His Son, showed us He is close, not far. Ramifications? There are lots of them, and one of them is that we need never be alone because we are never alone. But how to be sure? and how to live it out? The same way we have always known. We relate to God by faith. And we relate to others and ourselves by faith.

God is with us—why do we act as if He were not? Because we would rather not believe it. Why?

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Women of Gee’s Bend

Sunday, February 12, 2006

We saw a documentary on Nashville WNPT channel 8 about the women of Gee’s Bend, Alabama and about the quilts they have been making for generations. The program was very interesting and informative, but the biggest thing about the thing was the love and faith that was communicated by the women.

I am filing this post under the category Work but it’s about love too. These women worked skillfully and creatively on these quilts but they didn’t really think so highly of their work until, through a sequence of events beyond their power, they and their quilts became famous.

There is a major museum show of their work, a major book and now the documentary. It is remarkable. It’s also more than remarkable how the love and thankfulness shines through. As I was watching I felt these women could be my mothers and sisters. Every woman interviewed displayed an inclusive relational attitude. It is also very apparent that the Christianity they espouse is deeply held and lived out.

I am posting this under my Work category but it is really just as much about love.

Here are some sites with information:
Quilts of Gee’s Bend
Auburn University Gee’s Bend Page

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Resurrection Lilies

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Some of my favorite flowers are resurrection lilies. We also can call them surprise lilies. This is not the first I have posted about them. See this story.

Anyway, this morning, much to my surprise, I saw them beginning to pop up in the yard. It is still early February after all. They are so little yet that I wouldn’t have noticed them except for the fact that Leslie had marked the places with rabbit things on metal stakes.

Here are some pictures:

liliespeeping2.jpg  Lilies Peeping Up
I will keep you posted on their progress.

Here are more resurrection lilies from past years.

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Love is First

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Love is first, last and everywhere in between. Love is our business, our pleasure, our arts and sciences, our dream and reality. If we do not have enough love we usually look for more. If we think we have less love now than we did before we go looking for where we lost it.

Sometimes we get bitter and disillusioned. But disillusionment is not really about love; it is about our illusions of love. The bitterness is always about the illusions. But love is not an illusion; love is the reality. Illusions are images which draw on parts and pieces of reality but are put together in a distorted way. Love without illusions is always there but we don’t always see it.

God is love but we don’t always see Him.

What does it means to say that God is love? I don’t know exactly. Does it mean God is equal to love or love is equal to God? Does it mean God is full of love or love is full of God? I don’t know exactly.

I do know that love is more than we think it is, as God is more than we think He is.

Love is more important than we think it is. I think love is all-important. I think it is infinitely important. Once I heard Mark Gershmel sing a song called “Love is Everything.” It touched me deeply. I don’t even remember any of the words but that one phrase—that’s enough.

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