Monday, July 30, 2012
Two weddings in one week. Made me think about this oldie. So, here's a thought for all you new husbands about the good ideas your new wives will be coming up with over the years.--- My wife thought it would be a good idea to put a new light fixture in the dining room. My wife has a lot of good ideas. Yep...really good ideas. Should be an easy little job...right? Take about an hour or so and voila...let there be new light. Unless you’re like me and feel that everything on the back side of a switch should be left to highly trained professionals. But c’mon...it’s a little light fixture. How hard can it be? So, I stared at it for about an hour trying to answer that very question. Then I put in a call to the Governor to see about shutting down the power on this side of the state or at least the city. No luck. Out of excuses, I shut off every circuit breaker in the house and went to work by flashlight. OK...connect black to black...white to white...ground to ground...and for God’s sake don’t let anything touch anything! I turned the breakers back on, evacuated the area, said a quick prayer to the patron saint of light fixtures...and flicked the switch via broom handle from the next room. Thank God nothing blew up. Now my wife is talking about replacing a faucet. My wife has a lot of good ideas. Yep...really good ideas.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
You can hear his voice can’t you? “I’m here. It’s all right. I’m waiting for you.” In late night dreams you can see him. Sometimes he’s that dashing young man in his uniform from the Great War. Sometimes he’s there, in the rocking chair, with the latest little angel asleep on his shoulder. Or he’s up north, fishing hat on and coffee cup in hand. These days he’s not far away…is he? “I’m here. It’s all right. I’m waiting for you.” Sometimes you can feel his hand taking yours. Sometimes you can feel his arms wrapped around you. Sometimes you can smell his Old Spice. He’s still in love with you. And always will be. He’s there…just beyond. He’s waiting…just ahead. But not yet. You are still needed here. There are friends who still need your laughter. There are babies who still need your touch. There are cookies that still need…no wait…there are people who still need your cookies. There is this world that still needs your presence. And there are my brothers and sisters and I who still need at least some adult supervision. She’ll be there Dad…but not yet.
Friday, July 20, 2012
She’s a good egg. He was in a pickle. One bad apple. I’m toast. Sounds fishy. He’s the big cheese. Bring home the bacon. Better butter ‘em up. She’s as cool as a cucumber. Don’t be a couch potato. It’s the cream of the crop. Don’t cry over spilt milk. Did you ever have to eat crow? Or egg someone on? Were they full of beans? Ever been on the gravy train? The idea was half-baked, but it was handed to them on a silver platter. It was a hard nut to crack. In a nutshell, it was a piece of cake. It took a while, but we finally got him to spill the beans. It made him stew in his own juices. Take it with a grain of salt. He made a lot of bread. I had egg on my face. Duck!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
A well loved member of our church passed away this week. Being fairly new to this church I didn’t know Mike personally. He’d been ill for quite awhile. His funeral was a great tribute though I’m told. The church was filled to the rafters with friends, song, prayer, tears, laughter and memories for Mike. That night for some reason a thought burned its way into my brain. He’s there. If there is an afterlife…if there is a heaven…he’s there…right now. As I sit here at this computer, he’s there. And he knows. If it’s all true, right now he knows it’s all true. If the soul lives on, his is living on right now. At this very minute he could be having a beer and talking letters with Paul. He could be having a cup of coffee with Jesus and taking notes on all the becauses to all those whys. I don’t mean to be flippant, but if it is true why not? Lord knows I’d be looking for some answers. No pun intended. I don’t know why it struck me like this…this time. I’ve lost many friends and loved ones over the years and never lingered with a thought like this for this long. If there is an afterlife…if there is a heaven…he’s there…right now. No more having faith, no more trusting beliefs…he knows.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
The late Dan Fogelberg wrote this incredible lyric. “The higher I climb, The more that I see, The more that I see, The less that I know, The less that I know, The more that I yearn, The more that I yearn, The farther I reach, The farther I reach, The higher I climb.” I think when you stop climbing, stop seeing, stop wanting to know more, stop yearning to know more, stop reaching farther…your spirit begins to die. Merely existing and not experiencing becomes your daily bread. Opportunities are lost, roads are never traveled and the colors of your imagination fade to pale. Good enough becomes…good enough.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Did you ever think about the differences in how wilderness wildlife and suburban, I guess not so wild…life…live their lives? Probably not, but I just spent some time in the Michigan North Country and I made a few observations. Here are just a few differences that seemed worth noting. Wilderness deer fear the Winchester. Suburban deer fear the Goodyear. Wilderness raccoons forage the forest floor for food. Suburban raccoons waddle over to the next garbage can. Wilderness possums play dead to foil predators. Suburban possums get dead trying to cross the street. Wilderness field mice fear the night flight of the owl. Suburban field mice fear the unnatural blue of the D-Con. Wilderness coyote hunt rabbits and squirrels. Suburban coyote hunt rabbits, squirrels and poodles. And wilderness weeds have achieved true freedom. They grow, spread, choke out other plants and reseed themselves virtually unchecked. Suburban weeds on the other hand, live in a world where Round-Up rules and death is just a squirt away.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
On vacation this week with my kids and grandkids. Now, being a Grandpa is one pretty cool job. And when I hear a little voice calling "Grandpa....Grandpa", it's a title I hold very dear and hope to continue to earn. I often find myself reminded of my own Grandpa...and something I wrote about him some years ago.----I was thinking about my Grandfather the other night. My Dad’s Dad. He passed away long ago, but I think of him often. I remember one Christmas when I was about 16 or so...Grandpa stood at the end of the dinner table and gave a toast about getting through another year...family and such. And just when I thought he was finished...he went on. In fluent French. Now, I knew our family ancestry was French, but I never knew Grandpa spoke the language. And as I listened to those beautiful words I didn’t understand...I watched his eyes fill with tears. It was at that moment that I realized this was a man recalling someone or something from somewhere in a life I knew nothing of. Filled with celebration and disappointment... Love lost and found...a young man’s dreams...some coming true and some never realized. Now, I’ll never know why the tears fell or what the beautiful French words said...but ever since then, when I pass on old man on the street...I often wonder...if a young man’s dreams ever came true...and if he speaks French.