I read an article on-line by a climate scientist who said that if climate change continues at it's present pace, New England will lose Autumn 'in our lifetime'.
In the southern states, there is no 'Autumn' like we know it here in Connecticut. Most trees stay green year round. And we too will lose the wondrous color of leaves 'in our lifetime'.
I hope not mine.
I drove to Higganum today and then to Killingworth and back to Higganum and then to Middletown and back home. The landscape is awash in gold and yellow and red. It is remarkable. No wonder people drive hundreds of miles to see Autumn in New England. Glorious!
And to think most Republicans and nearly 50% of all Americans don't yet believe humans are causing climate change. Astonishing.
I've believed from the first hint of 'global warning' a decade or two ago. And I've noticed the weird weather, even here and more so in California and the southwest and midwest, all that time. But the thought of losing Autumn is the worst news ever.
Not in my life-time, please.
My heart breaks to imagine it.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
A lot like work
I love my little job with the Middlesex Area Cluster Ministry and the three churches in that Cluster--gems all. I really do. It's great fun.
But the last few days--and tomorrow--it has felt a lot more like 'work' than 'fun'.
Friday night: wedding rehearsal in Higganum.
Saturday night: Harvest Dinner in Northford.
Sunday: 9 am service in Higganum; 11 a.m. talk to wedding couple in Killingworth; 2:30 wedding in Higganum and glass of wine at reception; 4 p.m. Wake in Middletown.,
Tomorrow: 10:30 am and 1:30 pm graveside services.
I'm not complaining and I'm honored and humbled to do all these things. But the last few days haven't felt like a 12 hour a week job in my retirement!
Just me talkin'. I'm not used to some much activity. I haven't read a single book since Friday. Puts me behind....
But I do love the Cluster and the people there....
I'm not complaining.
Just, please, not every week.
But the last few days--and tomorrow--it has felt a lot more like 'work' than 'fun'.
Friday night: wedding rehearsal in Higganum.
Saturday night: Harvest Dinner in Northford.
Sunday: 9 am service in Higganum; 11 a.m. talk to wedding couple in Killingworth; 2:30 wedding in Higganum and glass of wine at reception; 4 p.m. Wake in Middletown.,
Tomorrow: 10:30 am and 1:30 pm graveside services.
I'm not complaining and I'm honored and humbled to do all these things. But the last few days haven't felt like a 12 hour a week job in my retirement!
Just me talkin'. I'm not used to some much activity. I haven't read a single book since Friday. Puts me behind....
But I do love the Cluster and the people there....
I'm not complaining.
Just, please, not every week.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
The 'collar' and 'cross' thing
Since I brought it up in my post about Aunt Elise, I might as well deal with it tonight.
I'm lost in linear time, so I can't tell you accurately when I stopped wearing clerical collars and crosses. But it's been a decade or more.
I wore a cross for decades, under my clothes. I didn't want it to be a public thing--it was between me and God. And for a good while, I wore a cross on Sundays with my 'priest' outfit.
I stopped wearing a collar first. Still a cross under my shirt, out of sight. I never liked collars because I have a short neck and the wrap-around Anglican collars were uncomfortable. Much of the time I would wear a black shirt without a collar. People pointed that out to me. "You don't have on a collar," they would say. And I would point out I had on a black shirt.
It was most likely around 2000 that I stopped wearing even a black shirt.
One thing about a clerical collar--in public places, it causes unnatural silence. Walk into a bar with a clerical collar on and all life pauses, ceases and falls into silence.
It's a conversation stopper in most places outside of church.
I stopped because I didn't like a collar and I was tired of wearing black shirts.
Nothing more, nothing less.
And several years after I stopped wearing a collar, I met a parishioner in a grocery store and she said, "I've never seen you without a collar." Then I knew that people who needed to see one would see one whether I had one on or not. Amen.
The cross thing is more theological. At some point, after I stopped wearing a collar, I asked myself why I still had a cross under my clothes.
And I had no answer. I didn't need a 'secrete cross' to be connected to God and I didn't want a 'public cross' to proclaim the un-proclaimable.
So the cross came off and I stopped wearing one over my robe on Sundays.
I simply didn't need it. I've always been against 'uniforms'. So, I took mine off.
I'm a Priest without a collar. I'm a Christian without a cross.
Extraneous is the word I'd use. I'm just shedding the extraneous stuff of my faith. And I've shed a lot of the nonsense the church 'made up' in the form of doctrine and dogma as well. I've got this 'following Jesus" down to a handful of beliefs. It hurts my heart to say the Nicene Creed these days because so much of the is extraneous...like a collar and a cross. Two of the three churches have picked up on this and we say a canticle or psalm instead of the Creed most of the time.
The older I get, the less I need to 'believe'.
I believe God loves me.
I believe I am created in the image and likeness of God.
I believe we must welcome the stranger.
I believe we must love one another as God loves us.
I believe we must serve those in need.
Beyond that, I have nothing else I need to believe. Just as I don't need a collar or a cross to be a priest of God.
Just that. Nothing else. I have no argument with those who wear collars or crosses. God bless them.
I just stand where I stand. Nothing more.
I'm lost in linear time, so I can't tell you accurately when I stopped wearing clerical collars and crosses. But it's been a decade or more.
I wore a cross for decades, under my clothes. I didn't want it to be a public thing--it was between me and God. And for a good while, I wore a cross on Sundays with my 'priest' outfit.
I stopped wearing a collar first. Still a cross under my shirt, out of sight. I never liked collars because I have a short neck and the wrap-around Anglican collars were uncomfortable. Much of the time I would wear a black shirt without a collar. People pointed that out to me. "You don't have on a collar," they would say. And I would point out I had on a black shirt.
It was most likely around 2000 that I stopped wearing even a black shirt.
One thing about a clerical collar--in public places, it causes unnatural silence. Walk into a bar with a clerical collar on and all life pauses, ceases and falls into silence.
It's a conversation stopper in most places outside of church.
I stopped because I didn't like a collar and I was tired of wearing black shirts.
Nothing more, nothing less.
And several years after I stopped wearing a collar, I met a parishioner in a grocery store and she said, "I've never seen you without a collar." Then I knew that people who needed to see one would see one whether I had one on or not. Amen.
The cross thing is more theological. At some point, after I stopped wearing a collar, I asked myself why I still had a cross under my clothes.
And I had no answer. I didn't need a 'secrete cross' to be connected to God and I didn't want a 'public cross' to proclaim the un-proclaimable.
So the cross came off and I stopped wearing one over my robe on Sundays.
I simply didn't need it. I've always been against 'uniforms'. So, I took mine off.
I'm a Priest without a collar. I'm a Christian without a cross.
Extraneous is the word I'd use. I'm just shedding the extraneous stuff of my faith. And I've shed a lot of the nonsense the church 'made up' in the form of doctrine and dogma as well. I've got this 'following Jesus" down to a handful of beliefs. It hurts my heart to say the Nicene Creed these days because so much of the is extraneous...like a collar and a cross. Two of the three churches have picked up on this and we say a canticle or psalm instead of the Creed most of the time.
The older I get, the less I need to 'believe'.
I believe God loves me.
I believe I am created in the image and likeness of God.
I believe we must welcome the stranger.
I believe we must love one another as God loves us.
I believe we must serve those in need.
Beyond that, I have nothing else I need to believe. Just as I don't need a collar or a cross to be a priest of God.
Just that. Nothing else. I have no argument with those who wear collars or crosses. God bless them.
I just stand where I stand. Nothing more.
My Aunt Elsie
My Aunt Elsie turned 90 this month. Ann, one of my cousins, gave her a party at Ann's house in Virginia. It would have been a nine hour drive and was on a Saturday, so I couldn't go down and back and be in church on Sunday.
Elsie is my only living Aunt or Uncle and I had quite a few. My mother was one of seven (though 2 died in childhood) and my father one of five--so I had 8 sets of Aunts and Uncles at some point. All are dead except Elsie. Family was vital in my childhood, so I spent a lot of time with Aunts and Uncles and my 20 older first cousins. I was the youngest until Aunt Elsie and Uncle Harvey adopted Denise who was 8 or so when I was 14. Being the youngest for 14 years in a dual family of 16 Aunts and Uncles and 20 first cousins (all of whom lived within 20 miles of each other--except for Elsie and Harvey) was quite an experience, let me tell you. Spoiled? You don't know the meaning of the word unless you are me...which you aren't!
For years, I would go and spend a week in the summer with Aunt Elsie and Uncle Harvey. Harvey was a Nazarene minister, so that week was full of church and prayers on our knees in the living room before bed. But I loved the visits in spite of that. They lived in Dunbar, WV, a suburb of the Capitol, Charleston. Considering I grew up in a town of 500, spending a week in a metropolitan area of about 100,000 was a serious 'trip'.
When Uncle Harvey found out I was going to Harvard Divinity School, he sat me down and said, "It's bad enough you're an Episcopalian, don't let those folks at Harvard make you a Unitarian!" Sage advice....
To illustrate the 'family-ness' of our family, I was the one of only 3 Jones cousins (my mother's maiden name) who didn't get there for the party--and there are 17 of us! I migrated to New England and get left out of most 'cousin' stuff since they're all in Virginia or NC.
I did send Aunt Elsie (who has a Ph.d. in Education, by the way) a cross I often wore over my years as a priest. (I don't wear crosses or collars any more--but that's the subject of another blog.) I told her to hang it somewhere and think of me when she saw it.
A couple of days after the party, Aunt Elsie called me. She told me "Jimmie" (yes, that's what they always called me and with an 'ie' instead of an "y") "you couldn't have given me anything that meant more to me than that."
I got a little misty in the conversation. She is so well educated and well spoken and a tad reserved that I was deeply moved by her emotion.
Elsie is all that stands between me and being the "terminal generation". Long may she live. She is dear to me in many ways.
(Elsie and Harvey once had a dog that wouldn't eat well. She hand fed him twice a day. That tells you more about her than all my words could....)
Elsie is my only living Aunt or Uncle and I had quite a few. My mother was one of seven (though 2 died in childhood) and my father one of five--so I had 8 sets of Aunts and Uncles at some point. All are dead except Elsie. Family was vital in my childhood, so I spent a lot of time with Aunts and Uncles and my 20 older first cousins. I was the youngest until Aunt Elsie and Uncle Harvey adopted Denise who was 8 or so when I was 14. Being the youngest for 14 years in a dual family of 16 Aunts and Uncles and 20 first cousins (all of whom lived within 20 miles of each other--except for Elsie and Harvey) was quite an experience, let me tell you. Spoiled? You don't know the meaning of the word unless you are me...which you aren't!
For years, I would go and spend a week in the summer with Aunt Elsie and Uncle Harvey. Harvey was a Nazarene minister, so that week was full of church and prayers on our knees in the living room before bed. But I loved the visits in spite of that. They lived in Dunbar, WV, a suburb of the Capitol, Charleston. Considering I grew up in a town of 500, spending a week in a metropolitan area of about 100,000 was a serious 'trip'.
When Uncle Harvey found out I was going to Harvard Divinity School, he sat me down and said, "It's bad enough you're an Episcopalian, don't let those folks at Harvard make you a Unitarian!" Sage advice....
To illustrate the 'family-ness' of our family, I was the one of only 3 Jones cousins (my mother's maiden name) who didn't get there for the party--and there are 17 of us! I migrated to New England and get left out of most 'cousin' stuff since they're all in Virginia or NC.
I did send Aunt Elsie (who has a Ph.d. in Education, by the way) a cross I often wore over my years as a priest. (I don't wear crosses or collars any more--but that's the subject of another blog.) I told her to hang it somewhere and think of me when she saw it.
A couple of days after the party, Aunt Elsie called me. She told me "Jimmie" (yes, that's what they always called me and with an 'ie' instead of an "y") "you couldn't have given me anything that meant more to me than that."
I got a little misty in the conversation. She is so well educated and well spoken and a tad reserved that I was deeply moved by her emotion.
Elsie is all that stands between me and being the "terminal generation". Long may she live. She is dear to me in many ways.
(Elsie and Harvey once had a dog that wouldn't eat well. She hand fed him twice a day. That tells you more about her than all my words could....)
Friday, October 23, 2015
Mary died
Mary Suchanek died this week. She was 93 and ready to go, but I wasn't ready to let her go.
The last time I visited her she was bedridden in her home and asked me if I would pray for her to die. I told her I couldn't do that, just couldn't but did pray with her that God take her into God's heart.
I visited her several times over my years at the Middelsex Cluster Ministry. She was so delightful and full of joy though her life had not been easy. Now she has what she prayed for--she is at rest in the Heart of God.
Nancy Thompson, a journalist, who is also a member of St. James in Higganum, wrote a story about Mary and her husband, Joe, 20 years ago. She sent it to me and gave me permission to put it here.
This is the story. Listen....
The last time I visited her she was bedridden in her home and asked me if I would pray for her to die. I told her I couldn't do that, just couldn't but did pray with her that God take her into God's heart.
I visited her several times over my years at the Middelsex Cluster Ministry. She was so delightful and full of joy though her life had not been easy. Now she has what she prayed for--she is at rest in the Heart of God.
Nancy Thompson, a journalist, who is also a member of St. James in Higganum, wrote a story about Mary and her husband, Joe, 20 years ago. She sent it to me and gave me permission to put it here.
This is the story. Listen....
LOVE
LEAVES ITS LASTING MARK ON A BEECH TREE IN DURHAM: [1N GREATER
MIDDLETOWN Edition]
The
majestic beech rises straight and true in the dense Durham woods.
Nearby, deer tracks run close to a crystal-clear brook. There are no
sounds except those of the forest.
For
Joseph and Mary Suchanek of
the Higganum section of Haddam, the century-old beech is more than a
pretty spot in the woods -- it is a living family tree.
Its
bark tells the story of two generations of Suchaneks, from the early
years of this century to a 55th anniversary celebration today.
Joe Suchanek's
grandparents ran a boarding house at their Foothills Road farm in
Durham, catering mostly to fellow Czechs from New York City, and it
was there that his parents, Mary Hanus and Joseph Suchanek,
met in the first decade of this century.
One
day in 1911 the young lovers carved their initials and the date in a
beech tree on the farm. They married soon after, and young Joe was
born in 1915 after the couple returned to New York City, where his
father was a policeman.
The
couple, with their young son, soon returned to the 400-acre farm to
raise turkeys, cows, tobacco and wheat. It wasn't easy to go from
police work to farming, but Joseph Suchanek Sr.
was willing to try.
"He
really was no farmer, but he got to it," his son recalled.
The
younger Joe first noticed the tree with his parents' initials when he
was a child. He loved to fish in nearby Miller's Pond Brook and often
passed the tree as he roamed his family's woods.
As
a young man, he courted Mary Cernan, a young woman who had lived in
Higganum nearly all her life. "She was kind of the girl next
door," Joe said.
They
soon fell in love.
Because
he had visited the tree often, it seemed natural -- a family
tradition, almost -- to take his girlfriend into the woods and add
their initials to the smooth bark.
Using
his pen knife -- Joe says he has never left home without it -- he
carved their initials in a heart and added the date: 9-25-38.
They
were married Aug. 12, 1939, and moved to a house on Main Street in
Durham, where they lived for 40 years.
The
year after their wedding, Joe's family sold the property to a family
from New York who wanted it for a summer place.
For
more than 50 years, through wars and storms and ordinary, everyday
events, the tree grew and its bark stretched, expanding and
distorting the initials. Nobody gave much thought to the carvings,
and if hunters or hikers noticed the marks, they probably didn't know
who the lovers were.
Earlier
this year Higganum resident Art Wiknik noticed the tree and its
initials while walking through the property that his brother, Jerry,
had bought. His family and the Suchaneks had been friends for many
years, and when he saw the tree he realized the initials were those
of Mary and Joe, and Joe's parents.
Wiknik
took photographs of the tree and sent them to the Suchaneks, who were
surprised that anyone would be interested in the carvings.
Illustration
PHOTO
1: COLOR, Corey Lowenstein / Special to The Courant PHOTO 2: COLOR,
Paula Bronstein / The Hartford Courant; Caption: PHOTO 1: *
Mary Suchanek,
71, and Joseph Suchanek,
79, of Higganum, carved their initials in a beech tree in Durham in
1938 before they were married. It was the same tree where
Joseph Suchanek's
parents had carved their initials in 1911. PHOTO 2: * Earlier this
year Art Wiknik noticed the tree and its initials while walking
through the property his brother had bought, and got in touch with
the Suchaneks.
Word
count: 613
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Bye, Joe...We knew you well....
So, the vice-President isn't running. Sorry about that. My top three choices were this:
1. Bernie Sanders against Donald Trump--socialism at last!
2. Joe Biden and Elizabeth Warren against anyone.
3. Hillary and whoever against anyone but Jeb.
Too bad for me that my third choice is the logical one. And I will vote for her multiple times if I could.
I'd rather the Democratic/Socialist or Elizabeth Warren as VP.
But I'll support Hillary since that seems to be the default truth. First woman president--I'd prefer Elizabeth Warren, but that's not happening.
Third choice is better than any of the other options from the clown car that is the Republicans.
And, can they even elect a speaker of the house???
1. Bernie Sanders against Donald Trump--socialism at last!
2. Joe Biden and Elizabeth Warren against anyone.
3. Hillary and whoever against anyone but Jeb.
Too bad for me that my third choice is the logical one. And I will vote for her multiple times if I could.
I'd rather the Democratic/Socialist or Elizabeth Warren as VP.
But I'll support Hillary since that seems to be the default truth. First woman president--I'd prefer Elizabeth Warren, but that's not happening.
Third choice is better than any of the other options from the clown car that is the Republicans.
And, can they even elect a speaker of the house???
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
What I don't understand
Well, there's lot of stuff I don't understand, if I'm truthful. But the most viewed post in the last few days has been a post from September 2012 about redoing our kitchen.
Why are people looking at that? It is good to know about when we redid our kitchen since I have this issue with linear time. Had you asked me when we 'redid' I kitchen I would have looked at you with a blank stare and wondered.
So, sometime after September 2012. I've got it narrowed down now.
My whole thing with linear time is a problem, I know. Today, Bill, one of the guys who comes to our Tuesday morning group, talked about when he was in Turkey in 19-something. I don't remember when he said, but he was sure it was true. And he talked about a rug he bought and having lunch with the guy who sold it to him.
Amazing to me that he knew exactly what year that happened.
Here's what I know: whether it happened before or after Bern and I got married or before or after Josh was born (1970 and 1975) or before or after Mimi was born (1979) or before or after our twin granddaughters were born (2006) or before or after Tegan was born (2009). That's the best I can do with linear time--before or after when something wondrous happened.
Did you ever read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut? A character in the book, Billy Pilgrim, is 'unstuck in time'. That means he goes back and forth to things in the past.
I don't do that, but I am 'unstuck in time'. I went to Israel after my children were born and before my granddaughters (any of them) were born. Beyond that I can't tell you when. Or the first time I went to Ireland. Or how many years since I've gone. Or when I had prostate surgery. (I know when my appendix was removed only because it was the millennium and it made me miss a huge party at St. John's in Waterbury.)
I know when I graduated from high school and college and Harvard Divinity School and Virginia Seminary and when I was ordained. But of course I can remember those dates. But beyond that, not much. Odd it is, to be so disassociated with time.
Not bad...I don't mind it...just odd.
And I don't understand why that's the way I am.
Why are people looking at that? It is good to know about when we redid our kitchen since I have this issue with linear time. Had you asked me when we 'redid' I kitchen I would have looked at you with a blank stare and wondered.
So, sometime after September 2012. I've got it narrowed down now.
My whole thing with linear time is a problem, I know. Today, Bill, one of the guys who comes to our Tuesday morning group, talked about when he was in Turkey in 19-something. I don't remember when he said, but he was sure it was true. And he talked about a rug he bought and having lunch with the guy who sold it to him.
Amazing to me that he knew exactly what year that happened.
Here's what I know: whether it happened before or after Bern and I got married or before or after Josh was born (1970 and 1975) or before or after Mimi was born (1979) or before or after our twin granddaughters were born (2006) or before or after Tegan was born (2009). That's the best I can do with linear time--before or after when something wondrous happened.
Did you ever read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut? A character in the book, Billy Pilgrim, is 'unstuck in time'. That means he goes back and forth to things in the past.
I don't do that, but I am 'unstuck in time'. I went to Israel after my children were born and before my granddaughters (any of them) were born. Beyond that I can't tell you when. Or the first time I went to Ireland. Or how many years since I've gone. Or when I had prostate surgery. (I know when my appendix was removed only because it was the millennium and it made me miss a huge party at St. John's in Waterbury.)
I know when I graduated from high school and college and Harvard Divinity School and Virginia Seminary and when I was ordained. But of course I can remember those dates. But beyond that, not much. Odd it is, to be so disassociated with time.
Not bad...I don't mind it...just odd.
And I don't understand why that's the way I am.
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