My friend Andy and I are having an email face off. Andy loves the creeds of the church, I don't care a whit for them.
Andy wants to convince me the creeds are 'liberating' when we meet on Tuesday. I really don't care if they are 'liberating' or 'constrictive'--I simply don't buy into 'belief' as having any importance at all.
Remember the song from "My Fair Lady" that says "show me". That's what matters to me. Show me compassion, mercy, forgiveness, love, inclusion, acceptance--show me that and I don't care at all what you "believe" about anything. Live into your faith, that's all that matters. The details of your 'belief' matters not.
I know lots of folks who claim no religious belief who live lives that demonstrate they understand Jesus' teachings more than people who proclaim they are 'Christians' and hate people different from them.
Give me a break, the Nicene Creed was created to 'cleanse' the church of 'heretics', not create a purified church.
Many Christians in the 4th century, CE, couldn't get by the first sentence of the creed without being read out of the church.
"I believe in the Father Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth."
I've read into early Christian texts, like those discovered in the 1940's in Nag Hammadi, Egypt, that tell us lots of early Christians didn't believe the God of the Hebrew Scripture was Jesus' 'Father'.
So, the first sentence of the creed made them heretical and driven out of the church.
I, myself, have difficulty equating Jesus' "Father" with the vengeful, wrathful God of Hebrew Scripture. Jesus' 'Father was full of grace, mercy, love and forgiveness. That doesn't match up to the Yahweh of the Old Testament in my mind.
So, I whisper the Creed, if I say it at all.
Not important to my faith and trust in God.
I'll let you know about Tuesday's conversation with Andy. I really love him, I just can't agree with him.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Populism
I believe both Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders are 'populists' rather than politicians.
Both men appeal to something below the surface of ordinary people, but in different ways.
So, I googled 'populism' and found something interesting. The Random House Dictionary had three definitions of 'populism': they were;
1. any of various, often antiestablishment or anti-intellectual political movements or philosophies that offer unorthodox solutions or policies and appeal to the common person rather than according with traditional or partisan ideologies.
(Both Trump and Sanders would fit into that, I think.)
2. grass-roots democracy; working class activism; egalitarianism
3. representation or extolling of the common person, the working class, the underdog, etc.
(I think those two fit Sanders more than Trump. Trump's 'populist' appeal is spelled out in the Collins Dictionary's only definition of the word.)
1. A political strategy based on a calculated appeal to the interests or prejudices of ordinary people.
The Collins Dictionary obviously isn't very 'populist'. But it nailed what kind of 'populism' Trump is appealing to--the interests and prejudices or ordinary people.
Bernie is calling folks to something 'beyond themselves' while Donald is appealing to our baser natures, our fears and prejudices. Both are 'populists' in their own way.
And that's why they're doing so well in this very early stage of what will be a drawn-out and painful and full of clowns political cycle.
Both men appeal to something below the surface of ordinary people, but in different ways.
So, I googled 'populism' and found something interesting. The Random House Dictionary had three definitions of 'populism': they were;
1. any of various, often antiestablishment or anti-intellectual political movements or philosophies that offer unorthodox solutions or policies and appeal to the common person rather than according with traditional or partisan ideologies.
(Both Trump and Sanders would fit into that, I think.)
2. grass-roots democracy; working class activism; egalitarianism
3. representation or extolling of the common person, the working class, the underdog, etc.
(I think those two fit Sanders more than Trump. Trump's 'populist' appeal is spelled out in the Collins Dictionary's only definition of the word.)
1. A political strategy based on a calculated appeal to the interests or prejudices of ordinary people.
The Collins Dictionary obviously isn't very 'populist'. But it nailed what kind of 'populism' Trump is appealing to--the interests and prejudices or ordinary people.
Bernie is calling folks to something 'beyond themselves' while Donald is appealing to our baser natures, our fears and prejudices. Both are 'populists' in their own way.
And that's why they're doing so well in this very early stage of what will be a drawn-out and painful and full of clowns political cycle.
Monday, September 14, 2015
How to have a great vacation
1. Only go on Vacation with people you know really well. Bern and I've known John Anderson since 1973 or so, at WVU, when Bern was completing her degree and John was in his Ph.D. program in psychology. We've known Sherrie Ellis since 1980. And both Sherrie and John have known Mimi from when she was three and Tim for 14 years.
2. Only go on vacation with people who read. I read 9 books on Oak Island and part of another. I'm not sure I was the biggest reader since we didn't share how many books we'd read. But when you see a person on vacation reading, you leave them be. And when you're reading, they leave you be. Reading is what it's about, vacation, I mean. Someone who didn't read would make vacation crazy.
3. Only go on vacation with people who love to eat. Besides reading, eating is the main thing about vacation. We had a country dinner Sherrie cooked--tomatoes, corn, beans, cucumbers--one night and Bern cooked two roast chickens with the trimmings one night, and I cooked shrimp, scallops, cod one night, and Sherry did a Greek shrimp salad and tuna one night, and Tim and Mimi cooked burgers and salad one night, and John, who doesn't cook--at least nothing you'd want to eat--bought take out pork barbecue and all the accoutrement's one night, and Bern made fish cakes and crab cakes one night. You have to love to eat and sit at the dinner table for over an hour and do you're own breakfast and lunch to be on vacation with us.
4. Everyone has to let everyone else do what they do. Bern goes for a walk on the beach every morning. Sherrie and Tim and Mimi sometimes go in the water. I walk on the beach from time to time. John never walks the beach or goes in the water. Somebody goes for food for dinner every day. People use their devises except for me, who doesn't have one. John takes a daily nap. No one cares what anyone else does. They just do it. No one wants or pursues any 'group' activity. Everyone is on their own, except for dinner.
From time to time all six of us would be reading--on screens or with books--and time would pass without words.
That's what a vacation should be.
2. Only go on vacation with people who read. I read 9 books on Oak Island and part of another. I'm not sure I was the biggest reader since we didn't share how many books we'd read. But when you see a person on vacation reading, you leave them be. And when you're reading, they leave you be. Reading is what it's about, vacation, I mean. Someone who didn't read would make vacation crazy.
3. Only go on vacation with people who love to eat. Besides reading, eating is the main thing about vacation. We had a country dinner Sherrie cooked--tomatoes, corn, beans, cucumbers--one night and Bern cooked two roast chickens with the trimmings one night, and I cooked shrimp, scallops, cod one night, and Sherry did a Greek shrimp salad and tuna one night, and Tim and Mimi cooked burgers and salad one night, and John, who doesn't cook--at least nothing you'd want to eat--bought take out pork barbecue and all the accoutrement's one night, and Bern made fish cakes and crab cakes one night. You have to love to eat and sit at the dinner table for over an hour and do you're own breakfast and lunch to be on vacation with us.
4. Everyone has to let everyone else do what they do. Bern goes for a walk on the beach every morning. Sherrie and Tim and Mimi sometimes go in the water. I walk on the beach from time to time. John never walks the beach or goes in the water. Somebody goes for food for dinner every day. People use their devises except for me, who doesn't have one. John takes a daily nap. No one cares what anyone else does. They just do it. No one wants or pursues any 'group' activity. Everyone is on their own, except for dinner.
From time to time all six of us would be reading--on screens or with books--and time would pass without words.
That's what a vacation should be.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
The Kite
THE KITE
When we arrived at our house
on the beach
on Oak Island
in the state of North Carolina,
the first thing I noticed
wasn't the ocean,
vast and calm,
or the sky, wide and blue,
or the sand, expansive at low tide,
or the breeze from the south.
It was a kite held captive
on the house beside of ours.
Where we were, the beach faced south,
so the sun rose each day to the left, brilliantly,
and set, glowing and painting the sky,
to the right.
And it was to the right,
west of us,
where the kite was captive
on the roof of the house.
A small kite--smaller than most beach kites--
with the colors of the rainbow.
It's edge was caught under the cap
of the roof. String went in both directions.
It was there as long as we were--
blowing in the southern wind,
flapping enough, I thought,
to break free.
But it never did.
Caught and held, it flapped
the whole time we were there.
I longed for it to break free and soar,
one last time,
to the inlet to the north.
A kite deserves to fly.
Just as we deserve to live.
And how many of us are wedged in somewhere,
unable to escape,
flapping helplessly in the winds of life,
unable to soar?
Had I had a ladder long enough
and courage great enough,
I would have climbed up and
freed that kite.
But I didn't.
And how often, for lack of a ladder and courage,
do we not rescue others of our kind,
not kites but humans,
from the stuck-ness of their lives?
It flutters still, I suppose,
that kite on the beach,
stuck and unable to soar.
And what of us?
What of us?
When we arrived at our house
on the beach
on Oak Island
in the state of North Carolina,
the first thing I noticed
wasn't the ocean,
vast and calm,
or the sky, wide and blue,
or the sand, expansive at low tide,
or the breeze from the south.
It was a kite held captive
on the house beside of ours.
Where we were, the beach faced south,
so the sun rose each day to the left, brilliantly,
and set, glowing and painting the sky,
to the right.
And it was to the right,
west of us,
where the kite was captive
on the roof of the house.
A small kite--smaller than most beach kites--
with the colors of the rainbow.
It's edge was caught under the cap
of the roof. String went in both directions.
It was there as long as we were--
blowing in the southern wind,
flapping enough, I thought,
to break free.
But it never did.
Caught and held, it flapped
the whole time we were there.
I longed for it to break free and soar,
one last time,
to the inlet to the north.
A kite deserves to fly.
Just as we deserve to live.
And how many of us are wedged in somewhere,
unable to escape,
flapping helplessly in the winds of life,
unable to soar?
Had I had a ladder long enough
and courage great enough,
I would have climbed up and
freed that kite.
But I didn't.
And how often, for lack of a ladder and courage,
do we not rescue others of our kind,
not kites but humans,
from the stuck-ness of their lives?
It flutters still, I suppose,
that kite on the beach,
stuck and unable to soar.
And what of us?
What of us?
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Sea Turtles on Vacation
So, I now know more about sea turtles than I ever thought I would--and much more than I need to know.
When we moved into our ocean front house--way down near the end of Oak Island, within walking distance of 'the Point', there was this crazy arrangement on the sand between us and the house just west of us. It was that green garden liners that comes in rolls forming a little runway down to the ocean and a wooden construction about two feet by two feet and 4 inches tall with four pegs with twine between them in a square about a foot by a foot.
We had know idea what it was. I thought it might be one of the games people devise at the beach involving a ball you knocked uphill with a mallet to see who could knock over the most pegs in the fewest strokes--which seemed lamer than the ball roll and sand bag toss games people bring to the beach.
But there was a sign next to it and the first one of us who walked that way on the beach discovered it was a sea turtle egg lay (inside the twine) and a fenced in way to the sea once the eggs hatched.
Last year there were 30 some sea turtle egg nests on Oak Island. This year, there were 110! Sea turtles, like salmon, return to where they were born in lay their eggs. A lot more of the giant creatures came home to Oak Island this year than last. Last year was the first time the Sea Turtle Patrol (a purely volunteer group who watch over the nests) was active. They have a two seat beach vehicle that says "Sea Turtle Patrol" on the side and they have a variety of Sea Turtle Patrol tee shirts. Really kinda cool and fun, but also serious about sea turtle nests.
There are between 80 and 110 eggs in each nest. They find them because the sea turtle mom's make tracks on the beach bigger than your uncle Ed's 1980 Buick would. The Patrol knows when the egg laying season begins and patrols the beaches each morning to find the nests. Then they set up the contraption to make getting to the ocean almost unavoidable for the babies and put up a sign with the laws of North Carolina that levy a $30,000 fine and a year in jail for disturbing a sea turtle nest. God bless the North Carolina legislature for that!
Once the eggs are in the nest it is 55-65 days before the little boogers hatch. The Sea Turtle folks (God bless them too) keeps track and when 55 days has passed, they sit vigil at night at the nests. Bringing beach chairs and their cell phones and tablets, they sit and wait and wait and wait. If they are there when the nest starts exploding, they have a red light to lead the babies down the runway toward the sea and a white light to pretend to be a full moon to get them into the ocean.
They have to swim three days (the turtles, not the Patrol) to hit the Gulf Stream and begin to feed and grow. And 25 years later, those who survive will return to Oak Island to spawn. One woman I talked to from the STP (Sea Turtle Patrol) told me about one in a thousand babies would reach a quarter of century of age and return to lay eggs where they were born. So, of the 22,000 or so sea turtles born this year on Oak Island, about 22 from this year's breeding would return in 2040 to lay eggs. They lay eggs every year after that until they are too old. So the disparity between 30 in 2014 and 110 nests this year means at some point around 1990 a lot more of that batch survived.
The Sea Turtle Patrol is doing all they can to make sure every baby has a fighting chance. For every year before last year, it was much more random how many of them had a chance to survive--some wandered off away from the ocean and died, nests were disturbed by dogs and people, gulls ate them.
They're shells are about the size of a quarter though the legs are disproportionately large. Sherry saw one that hatched ahead of its brood and made it to the ocean.
OK, talking to Sea Turtle Patrol folks all week, I must say I admire them greatly. They could use their time doing something much less noble and good. And I'm rooting for the babies soon to set off from what I've come to think of as 'our nest' and wish them well to the Gulf Stream and for the next quarter century. Just wish I thought I'd bee around in 2040 and be able to welcome them back....who knows...who ever knows about stuff like that?
(Last thought about sea turtles: apparently it depends on the heat of the sand how many females are born. Hotter the sand, more girls. A fear of the STP is that climate change and global warning will make more and more females each year, meaning there will be fewer and fewer males to mate with and that would be the end of the race--the lack of breeding males.
On the human level, I'd just say that females are smarter and more balanced and superior to us men on most every level besides size and strength. If global warming started reducing the breeding males of humans, things would be more stable and sensible for a generation or two--but not good in the long run....)
When we moved into our ocean front house--way down near the end of Oak Island, within walking distance of 'the Point', there was this crazy arrangement on the sand between us and the house just west of us. It was that green garden liners that comes in rolls forming a little runway down to the ocean and a wooden construction about two feet by two feet and 4 inches tall with four pegs with twine between them in a square about a foot by a foot.
We had know idea what it was. I thought it might be one of the games people devise at the beach involving a ball you knocked uphill with a mallet to see who could knock over the most pegs in the fewest strokes--which seemed lamer than the ball roll and sand bag toss games people bring to the beach.
But there was a sign next to it and the first one of us who walked that way on the beach discovered it was a sea turtle egg lay (inside the twine) and a fenced in way to the sea once the eggs hatched.
Last year there were 30 some sea turtle egg nests on Oak Island. This year, there were 110! Sea turtles, like salmon, return to where they were born in lay their eggs. A lot more of the giant creatures came home to Oak Island this year than last. Last year was the first time the Sea Turtle Patrol (a purely volunteer group who watch over the nests) was active. They have a two seat beach vehicle that says "Sea Turtle Patrol" on the side and they have a variety of Sea Turtle Patrol tee shirts. Really kinda cool and fun, but also serious about sea turtle nests.
There are between 80 and 110 eggs in each nest. They find them because the sea turtle mom's make tracks on the beach bigger than your uncle Ed's 1980 Buick would. The Patrol knows when the egg laying season begins and patrols the beaches each morning to find the nests. Then they set up the contraption to make getting to the ocean almost unavoidable for the babies and put up a sign with the laws of North Carolina that levy a $30,000 fine and a year in jail for disturbing a sea turtle nest. God bless the North Carolina legislature for that!
Once the eggs are in the nest it is 55-65 days before the little boogers hatch. The Sea Turtle folks (God bless them too) keeps track and when 55 days has passed, they sit vigil at night at the nests. Bringing beach chairs and their cell phones and tablets, they sit and wait and wait and wait. If they are there when the nest starts exploding, they have a red light to lead the babies down the runway toward the sea and a white light to pretend to be a full moon to get them into the ocean.
They have to swim three days (the turtles, not the Patrol) to hit the Gulf Stream and begin to feed and grow. And 25 years later, those who survive will return to Oak Island to spawn. One woman I talked to from the STP (Sea Turtle Patrol) told me about one in a thousand babies would reach a quarter of century of age and return to lay eggs where they were born. So, of the 22,000 or so sea turtles born this year on Oak Island, about 22 from this year's breeding would return in 2040 to lay eggs. They lay eggs every year after that until they are too old. So the disparity between 30 in 2014 and 110 nests this year means at some point around 1990 a lot more of that batch survived.
The Sea Turtle Patrol is doing all they can to make sure every baby has a fighting chance. For every year before last year, it was much more random how many of them had a chance to survive--some wandered off away from the ocean and died, nests were disturbed by dogs and people, gulls ate them.
They're shells are about the size of a quarter though the legs are disproportionately large. Sherry saw one that hatched ahead of its brood and made it to the ocean.
OK, talking to Sea Turtle Patrol folks all week, I must say I admire them greatly. They could use their time doing something much less noble and good. And I'm rooting for the babies soon to set off from what I've come to think of as 'our nest' and wish them well to the Gulf Stream and for the next quarter century. Just wish I thought I'd bee around in 2040 and be able to welcome them back....who knows...who ever knows about stuff like that?
(Last thought about sea turtles: apparently it depends on the heat of the sand how many females are born. Hotter the sand, more girls. A fear of the STP is that climate change and global warning will make more and more females each year, meaning there will be fewer and fewer males to mate with and that would be the end of the race--the lack of breeding males.
On the human level, I'd just say that females are smarter and more balanced and superior to us men on most every level besides size and strength. If global warming started reducing the breeding males of humans, things would be more stable and sensible for a generation or two--but not good in the long run....)
Home again, home again...
We (John and Sherry and Bern and I) got up before 5 a.m. today to drive to Myrtle Beach, turn in the car and fly to New York. We had a limo driven by Tom that got us to New Haven at 1 p.m. I'd arranged with the kennel to come pick up our dog even though they close at noon on Saturday. So, we did that and were home by 2:30. That's two Saturdays in a row I've gotten up at 5--we had a 9 a.m. flight down to the South last week. Since I'll children were infants, I've never gotten up that early twice in 8 days!
Bern got a text from Mimi and Tim, who closed up the house and flew out of Raleigh--that their plane had been delayed 3 hours and they were looking for an earlier flight. Still don't know if they're home in Brooklyn yet and it's 5 pm.
So, I'll be writing blogs about vacation for a few days now. Lots of great stuff being with five of the people I love most in the world. And the turtle eggs...more on that to come.
(Rick Perry pulled out, drat! Take one of the clowns out of the car. Won't be as much fun with the Rickster and his propensity to have three things to say and only remember two...)
People still read without anything new. Thanks for your patience. I thought I knew how to get to my blog from someone else's computer. But I needed a Google password, which I was told I changed only 11 months ago and I have no idea what it might be. Everyone at the beach had at least two devises and I had none. Just living in a time I haven't caught up to....
More later.
Bern got a text from Mimi and Tim, who closed up the house and flew out of Raleigh--that their plane had been delayed 3 hours and they were looking for an earlier flight. Still don't know if they're home in Brooklyn yet and it's 5 pm.
So, I'll be writing blogs about vacation for a few days now. Lots of great stuff being with five of the people I love most in the world. And the turtle eggs...more on that to come.
(Rick Perry pulled out, drat! Take one of the clowns out of the car. Won't be as much fun with the Rickster and his propensity to have three things to say and only remember two...)
People still read without anything new. Thanks for your patience. I thought I knew how to get to my blog from someone else's computer. But I needed a Google password, which I was told I changed only 11 months ago and I have no idea what it might be. Everyone at the beach had at least two devises and I had none. Just living in a time I haven't caught up to....
More later.
Friday, September 4, 2015
Going away
Tomorrow John and Sherry and Bern and I fly to Myrtle Beach and drive to Oak Island. Tim and Mimi will fly to Raleigh and meet us at the beach.
I won't take a computer, but someone will. And using my sign on "https//www.blogger.come/blogger.g?blogID=213513006486328170&pli-1#editor/target=post;postID=8350558451557932234 I'll try to blog from the beach.
Is that a ridiculous address or what?
We'll see.
Sun and sand and salt water and seafood for me!
I won't take a computer, but someone will. And using my sign on "https//www.blogger.come/blogger.g?blogID=213513006486328170&pli-1#editor/target=post;postID=8350558451557932234 I'll try to blog from the beach.
Is that a ridiculous address or what?
We'll see.
Sun and sand and salt water and seafood for me!
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