OK, the games. I had Hearts on my old computer and I won about 51% of the time--which is crazy enough. But Hearts on my new computer, I'm winning 66% of the time! Ridiculous.
The computer players obviously don't know anything about hearts. They don't try to smoke out the Queen of Spades. In fact, I hold onto the Queen even if I only have a couple of Spades since I know they'll play diamonds and clubs and I can drop the Queen on the. Also, if they're the 4th to play and the high card is a seven, they'll take it with an eight and then lead the Queen of the same suite. Any Hearts player knows if you can take a non-hearts hand you throw your highest card. And they sometimes throw the Queen of Spades when they have other spades to play--just take 13 points for no reason and then lead a 4 of diamonds or something. Really awful. I'm planning on downloading the Hearts I had on the old computer. I love to win--but not 67% of the time.
Also, I click almost anything and a whole bunch of options show up in a box. I click to get rid of the box and they just move. Annoying at best.
When I'm deleting emails from people in Nigeria or some diet plan I don't want, I can only delete one at a time because when I click on the second, a box pops up with options I don't want and erases the check in the box of the junk email before.
Maybe I'll figure it out some day. But right now, it's just uber-annoying....
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Aunt Elsie II
I was Aunt Elsie and Uncle Harvey's 'substitute child' for many years. They were childless and I was the youngest of 15 Jones family kids. So I would go each summer to spend a week with them--which, for me, was wonderful--coming from a southern West Virginia town of 500 to a suburb of Charleston, the state Capitol and a small city of 70,000, was an adventure.
The only weird thing was how, each night, before bed, we had to kneel down on our knees and say prayers. Uncle Harvey and Aunt Elsie were very devout. He was a Nazarene minister and she was his partner in running the church--musician, Sunday school teacher, accompanying him on pastoral visits. So we knelt down to pray before bed. Her prayers were short and sweet. His were loud and long. Mine were whispered and almost non-existent.
No TV in their house and the radio tuned to a Christian station. My parents were devout, but nothing like Elsie and Harvey.
When I was in high school, they adopted Denise, who was 6 or 7 at the time. She shook up their world. A TV appeared in their house. Lots of things changed. A child, at their age, made life different than it ever was.
When I was 11 or 12, during my summer visit, Aunt Elsie tried to teach me to play piano. I was an awful student but did learn a short song I can still play today. My father and mother came to pick me up and Elsie told me to go play my song. My father said, "Jimmy, we're trying to talk, can you stop that racket?"
Aunt Elsie explained to him that it was a song I had learned. He asked me to play it for him and I refused. Fathers and sons stuff. We hurt each other whenever we could.
Much later, when I was going off to Harvard Divinity School, my Uncle Harvey told me: "it's bad enough you're an Episcopalian. Don't go up there and become a Unitarian."
I think I answered something like this: "Episcopalians are really Unitarians with pageantry..." Something like that.
He was never comfortable with my Anglican leanings. Elsie didn't mind--was even interested, just glad I was a part of the Christian world....
The only weird thing was how, each night, before bed, we had to kneel down on our knees and say prayers. Uncle Harvey and Aunt Elsie were very devout. He was a Nazarene minister and she was his partner in running the church--musician, Sunday school teacher, accompanying him on pastoral visits. So we knelt down to pray before bed. Her prayers were short and sweet. His were loud and long. Mine were whispered and almost non-existent.
No TV in their house and the radio tuned to a Christian station. My parents were devout, but nothing like Elsie and Harvey.
When I was in high school, they adopted Denise, who was 6 or 7 at the time. She shook up their world. A TV appeared in their house. Lots of things changed. A child, at their age, made life different than it ever was.
When I was 11 or 12, during my summer visit, Aunt Elsie tried to teach me to play piano. I was an awful student but did learn a short song I can still play today. My father and mother came to pick me up and Elsie told me to go play my song. My father said, "Jimmy, we're trying to talk, can you stop that racket?"
Aunt Elsie explained to him that it was a song I had learned. He asked me to play it for him and I refused. Fathers and sons stuff. We hurt each other whenever we could.
Much later, when I was going off to Harvard Divinity School, my Uncle Harvey told me: "it's bad enough you're an Episcopalian. Don't go up there and become a Unitarian."
I think I answered something like this: "Episcopalians are really Unitarians with pageantry..." Something like that.
He was never comfortable with my Anglican leanings. Elsie didn't mind--was even interested, just glad I was a part of the Christian world....
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Aunt Elsie
My last aunt died last week. On my mother's side I had: Aunts--Georgie, Juanette, Elsie and Elsie Mae (two Elsie's, can you beat that!) Uncles--Lee, Harvey, Jim and Graham. And two uncles--Leon and Edward, who died before I was born.
On my father's side, I had Uncle Russell and Aunt Gladys, Uncle Sid and Aunt Callie (who was also the daughter of my maternal grandmother's brother--making her my second cousin as well as aunt--hey, this was Appalachia, ok? Sid and Callie's children, Greg and Sarita, called me their 'double first cousin', though that wasn't accurate exactly) Uncle Del and Aunt Ola, Uncle Les and Aunt Louise.
18 aunts and uncles--and Elise, my mother's younger sister was the last to die. My cousin Mejol and I talked about how we no have no generational buffer--we are next in line for 'that good night'....
Elsie was 90 just a few months before her death. I didn't go to her party at my cousin Jan's house, though 8 of my living first cousins did. Four are dead, so only 3 of the living ones weren't there. I sent a present--a cross I wore on years of Sundays and Aunt Elsie wrote to tell me she valued that gift more than any. And now she's dead.
She had a Ph.d in Theology from a Nazarene seminary and taught seminarians and was eventually head of the branch seminary in South Charleston, West Virginia. She also taught public school for 35 years or more.
She was the first member of my mother's family to go to college. But my Aunt Georgie (Mejol's mother) and my mother eventually got Master's degrees in Education and taught school for decades. All of them were from a dirt-poor Jones family that valued education. Bless them all.
So, I drove to Baltimore last Thursday and spent the night with Mejol and the two of us drove to Charleston--6 hours--the next day. We went to the wake at the Charleston Nazarene church (open coffin,which I could have done without) and the funeral the next day.
Nazarene's talk about their 'Wesleyan' heritage. The Methodist broke from the Anglican church (though both Wesley brothers were buried as Anglicans) because Anglicans weren't strict enough. Then the Wesleyan Church broke from the Methodists because they weren't strict enough. Then the Nazarene Church broke from the Wesleyan Church because they weren't strict enough. I wanted to tell the minister at the funeral that I was a priest in his 'home church' but didn't.
The funeral (closed coffin, thank God) was actually called, in the bulletin, "A Celebration of the Life of Elsie Jones Ours". I appreciated that.
And the only thing in the service that offended me--and I expected to be much more offended--was that the preacher recounted several pastoral conversations he had with Aunt Elsie in here last days. In the Episcopal Church, such conversations are sacrosanct--'seal of the confessional' private. Not to be replayed ever, not ever. And the thing that was worst about him doing that was that it was obvious he told the stories to show what a good pastor he was.
My Aunt Elsie was, besides my maternal grandmother--Lina Manona Sadler Jones--the most devout and godly woman I've ever known. Nothing that man could have said to her would have improved her godliness. That offended me greatly.
I saw five first cousins I haven't seen for at least a decade or more: John Michael, Richard and Jan (all my Uncle Graham Jones and Elsie Mae Taylor Jones' children) and Joel and Gayle (children of Juanette Jones and Lee Pugh). They all looked exactly how I imagined they would look all these years later. Reason enough to drive 10 hours back and forth.
More about all this and other things later. Be well and stay well....
On my father's side, I had Uncle Russell and Aunt Gladys, Uncle Sid and Aunt Callie (who was also the daughter of my maternal grandmother's brother--making her my second cousin as well as aunt--hey, this was Appalachia, ok? Sid and Callie's children, Greg and Sarita, called me their 'double first cousin', though that wasn't accurate exactly) Uncle Del and Aunt Ola, Uncle Les and Aunt Louise.
18 aunts and uncles--and Elise, my mother's younger sister was the last to die. My cousin Mejol and I talked about how we no have no generational buffer--we are next in line for 'that good night'....
Elsie was 90 just a few months before her death. I didn't go to her party at my cousin Jan's house, though 8 of my living first cousins did. Four are dead, so only 3 of the living ones weren't there. I sent a present--a cross I wore on years of Sundays and Aunt Elsie wrote to tell me she valued that gift more than any. And now she's dead.
She had a Ph.d in Theology from a Nazarene seminary and taught seminarians and was eventually head of the branch seminary in South Charleston, West Virginia. She also taught public school for 35 years or more.
She was the first member of my mother's family to go to college. But my Aunt Georgie (Mejol's mother) and my mother eventually got Master's degrees in Education and taught school for decades. All of them were from a dirt-poor Jones family that valued education. Bless them all.
So, I drove to Baltimore last Thursday and spent the night with Mejol and the two of us drove to Charleston--6 hours--the next day. We went to the wake at the Charleston Nazarene church (open coffin,which I could have done without) and the funeral the next day.
Nazarene's talk about their 'Wesleyan' heritage. The Methodist broke from the Anglican church (though both Wesley brothers were buried as Anglicans) because Anglicans weren't strict enough. Then the Wesleyan Church broke from the Methodists because they weren't strict enough. Then the Nazarene Church broke from the Wesleyan Church because they weren't strict enough. I wanted to tell the minister at the funeral that I was a priest in his 'home church' but didn't.
The funeral (closed coffin, thank God) was actually called, in the bulletin, "A Celebration of the Life of Elsie Jones Ours". I appreciated that.
And the only thing in the service that offended me--and I expected to be much more offended--was that the preacher recounted several pastoral conversations he had with Aunt Elsie in here last days. In the Episcopal Church, such conversations are sacrosanct--'seal of the confessional' private. Not to be replayed ever, not ever. And the thing that was worst about him doing that was that it was obvious he told the stories to show what a good pastor he was.
My Aunt Elsie was, besides my maternal grandmother--Lina Manona Sadler Jones--the most devout and godly woman I've ever known. Nothing that man could have said to her would have improved her godliness. That offended me greatly.
I saw five first cousins I haven't seen for at least a decade or more: John Michael, Richard and Jan (all my Uncle Graham Jones and Elsie Mae Taylor Jones' children) and Joel and Gayle (children of Juanette Jones and Lee Pugh). They all looked exactly how I imagined they would look all these years later. Reason enough to drive 10 hours back and forth.
More about all this and other things later. Be well and stay well....
At last...
It took my friend, John Anderson, nearly 2 hours but he finally got me to the Castor Oil Tree on my new computer! I have tried to do it every day since I first got the computer. I could have never, in a thousand years have done it.
The problem was, I was trying to get to it through my email, having forgotten that when a woman at St. John's sat it up, she did it on a g-mail account....
At long last, I'm back!
Lots to write about later. For now just wanted to let you know I'm here....
The problem was, I was trying to get to it through my email, having forgotten that when a woman at St. John's sat it up, she did it on a g-mail account....
At long last, I'm back!
Lots to write about later. For now just wanted to let you know I'm here....
Monday, November 23, 2015
Paris--2
I don't know about you, but I have been horrified at the rhetoric in this country since the Paris massacre. Closing our boarders, boots on the ground, military actions beyond the already daily bombings, distrust of Muslim-Americans, closing mosques, special lists for Muslim-Americans to keep check on them...on and on it goes, driven by fear, shaking the foundations of our country.
Western military involvement in the Middle East arguably created Isis. More Westerners on the ground would just give Isis more power to recruit new members. And all the suggestions in the first paragraph mean Isis has already won but turning us into a nation of fear and terror. They've already won if we stop being Americans of all shades and start being Islamiphobes.
Yes, there needs to be a military victory against Isis. But it must come from military in the region. Saudi Arabia and Iran have significant and modern armies and air forces. And something I haven't heard anyone suggest: the 4th most powerful military in the world (after the US, China and Russia) is Israel. What an opportunity to engage Muslim and Jewish military power to defeat a common enemy--all are threatened by Isis. What a remarkable way to finally bring Peace to the Middle East!
What's that old saying? "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
American military presence in the region created the fertile ground from which Isis grew. Our presence there again would only strengthen the radicals.
What about that: Iran, the Saudis and Israel driving Isis into oblivion?
Times like ours have complicated problems that require equally complicated solutions.
Why not?
Western military involvement in the Middle East arguably created Isis. More Westerners on the ground would just give Isis more power to recruit new members. And all the suggestions in the first paragraph mean Isis has already won but turning us into a nation of fear and terror. They've already won if we stop being Americans of all shades and start being Islamiphobes.
Yes, there needs to be a military victory against Isis. But it must come from military in the region. Saudi Arabia and Iran have significant and modern armies and air forces. And something I haven't heard anyone suggest: the 4th most powerful military in the world (after the US, China and Russia) is Israel. What an opportunity to engage Muslim and Jewish military power to defeat a common enemy--all are threatened by Isis. What a remarkable way to finally bring Peace to the Middle East!
What's that old saying? "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
American military presence in the region created the fertile ground from which Isis grew. Our presence there again would only strengthen the radicals.
What about that: Iran, the Saudis and Israel driving Isis into oblivion?
Times like ours have complicated problems that require equally complicated solutions.
Why not?
Now it begins...
This morning I went out and bought a new computer--a HP loaded with windows 10 and a touch screen (which I only vaguely comprehend). Now it begins days and weeks of feeling stupid and not knowing how to do things. But the computer is really pretty! It will look nice on my desk not being used....
I really, really am the diametric opposite of a nerd. I still have a flip phone for goodness sake!
So, the computer is downstairs, still in the box and I'm up here with my old, old friend for probably the last night.
My computer is in pieces. I can't watch any videos (they just won't load) and when I come to my blog it takes at least a minute to load. Emails as well. Lots of waiting with a little blue circle not turning and unable to scroll down very well to read news articles.
This computer has taught me many lessons in patience--not a bad thing. But it is really time to move on.
Our kids will be here for Thanksgiving so they can help me get things going.
Hope to post tomorrow on the new computer--but who knows....
I really, really am the diametric opposite of a nerd. I still have a flip phone for goodness sake!
So, the computer is downstairs, still in the box and I'm up here with my old, old friend for probably the last night.
My computer is in pieces. I can't watch any videos (they just won't load) and when I come to my blog it takes at least a minute to load. Emails as well. Lots of waiting with a little blue circle not turning and unable to scroll down very well to read news articles.
This computer has taught me many lessons in patience--not a bad thing. But it is really time to move on.
Our kids will be here for Thanksgiving so they can help me get things going.
Hope to post tomorrow on the new computer--but who knows....
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Paris
I haven't written about the attacks in Paris over a week ago now. I simply needed time to get my head around it a bit and to ponder my thoughts on it.
Nathan Ives preached today on the Feast of Christ the King about 'power'. What is really power and what is false power. Or, as we in the Mastery Foundation would put it--there is a distinction between 'power' and 'force'. Force is something you 'do' as the terrorists did in Paris. Power is something you have, something you be in the world. Nathan did a good job.
"Knee jerk reaction" is a term the President and many others have used about the reaction of 30 governors and most of the Republican Presidential Candidates have had to the Paris tragedy as they call for a 'pause' (interesting word) in the assimilation of Syrian refugees into the United States.
When I go for my annual physical, Dr. Olsen takes a tiny metal hammer and hits me on the knee and my leg jerks. 'Force' makes knee's jerk. A hammer causes a reaction. Hence, "knee-jerk-reaction". That's what 'force' causes--a sudden, automatic response to the application of 'force'.
And that's just what all those people who now oppose Syrian immigrants have done--had a sudden, automatic response to 'force'.
Power is different. Power isn't something you do: it is something you possess, something you 'be' in the world. Here's what has power: love, compassion, reasonableness, welcome and discretion.
Paris 'happened'. Force overcame rationality and safety and freedom. People were killed for no reason except to kill people. Some of the attackers blew themselves up just to kill people--and their selves, by the way. There is no way to reason with people willing to kill themselves simply to kill others. Innocent people had their blood mingled with the blood of a suicide bomber.
That amount of 'force' against the knee of our mind causes a huge jerk. I get that. But mindless murder is an 'act', not a way of 'being'.
Paris, and what happened there, has nothing to do with the other victims of terror--those fleeing Syria and other places because of war, murder, force and brutality.
What we as individuals and as a nation need to seek is the power of love, compassion, reasonableness, welcome and discretion.
What some (maybe a majority of Americans) are saying about those seeking liberty and hope by coming to Western Europe and North America (risking their lives to do so), should make the Statue of Liberty lay down her light and sink into New York harbor.
What we need to find is our Power--our compassion and love and welcome and reasonableness--instead of being overwhelmed by our fear of 'force'. Force, in the end, can and will take life--but only Power can 'give' life and give it in abundance.
Be powerful, not forceful. It makes all the difference. It transforms us from death dealers to life givers.
And that's what we're called to, even in the face of the force of hatred and violence, to 'give life'
That's authentic 'power'.
Seek it. Be it. Live it.
Nathan Ives preached today on the Feast of Christ the King about 'power'. What is really power and what is false power. Or, as we in the Mastery Foundation would put it--there is a distinction between 'power' and 'force'. Force is something you 'do' as the terrorists did in Paris. Power is something you have, something you be in the world. Nathan did a good job.
"Knee jerk reaction" is a term the President and many others have used about the reaction of 30 governors and most of the Republican Presidential Candidates have had to the Paris tragedy as they call for a 'pause' (interesting word) in the assimilation of Syrian refugees into the United States.
When I go for my annual physical, Dr. Olsen takes a tiny metal hammer and hits me on the knee and my leg jerks. 'Force' makes knee's jerk. A hammer causes a reaction. Hence, "knee-jerk-reaction". That's what 'force' causes--a sudden, automatic response to the application of 'force'.
And that's just what all those people who now oppose Syrian immigrants have done--had a sudden, automatic response to 'force'.
Power is different. Power isn't something you do: it is something you possess, something you 'be' in the world. Here's what has power: love, compassion, reasonableness, welcome and discretion.
Paris 'happened'. Force overcame rationality and safety and freedom. People were killed for no reason except to kill people. Some of the attackers blew themselves up just to kill people--and their selves, by the way. There is no way to reason with people willing to kill themselves simply to kill others. Innocent people had their blood mingled with the blood of a suicide bomber.
That amount of 'force' against the knee of our mind causes a huge jerk. I get that. But mindless murder is an 'act', not a way of 'being'.
Paris, and what happened there, has nothing to do with the other victims of terror--those fleeing Syria and other places because of war, murder, force and brutality.
What we as individuals and as a nation need to seek is the power of love, compassion, reasonableness, welcome and discretion.
What some (maybe a majority of Americans) are saying about those seeking liberty and hope by coming to Western Europe and North America (risking their lives to do so), should make the Statue of Liberty lay down her light and sink into New York harbor.
What we need to find is our Power--our compassion and love and welcome and reasonableness--instead of being overwhelmed by our fear of 'force'. Force, in the end, can and will take life--but only Power can 'give' life and give it in abundance.
Be powerful, not forceful. It makes all the difference. It transforms us from death dealers to life givers.
And that's what we're called to, even in the face of the force of hatred and violence, to 'give life'
That's authentic 'power'.
Seek it. Be it. Live it.
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