weather

Last night I grilled Sockeye Salmon and yellow squash and sweet peppers to add to the salad I made.

It was December 11 and I was out on the deck grilling!

The low temperature for the last few and next few days is what the high temperature usually is in December here in southern New England.

Amazing!

And don't tell me this isn't part of 'climate change'. Last year 2014-15 was one of the snowiest winters for CT ever. This year we could grill for Christmas.

Minor seasonal changes are one thing--this kind of divergence is significant and worth noticing.

Come on Republicans--go outside once in a while and tell me things aren't changing.

Just go outside and see.

Aunt Elsie III

Aunt Elsie had a dog once she had to hand feed. I'm not kidding, this dog would only eat things from Aunt Elsie's hand. It would take her half an hour or so to feed him his breakfast and then his dinner.

Lots to ponder about that. First of all, which creature was this about--Aunt Elsie or the dog? I pretty much believe a dog would eventually eat all on his own if Aunt Elsie hadn't hand fed him. Let him starve for a while (I don't remember his name but can see him in my mind eating piece after piece of dry dog food Aunt Elsie hand fed him) and he'd gladly eat on his own. But she worried because he wasn't eating when they first got him and figured out he would eat if she fed him by hand.

Isn't that called something like a symbiotic relationship--where one organism and another are in a mutually dependent relationship? Like us and our gut bacteria--all in it together and dependent on each other.

On the one hand, I thought Aunt Elsie liked having the dog dependent on her. On the other hand, I thought she believed she was keeping him alive by hand feeding him. The former is a bit distressing. The latter is noble.

It was the only thing about my mother's much younger sister that ever gave me pause--besides the hyper-religiosity, of course.

Elsie was dear. She was rigid but able to learn to be less rigid. She was more loving than judgmental, more compassionate than strict. I always admired her inner compass--how she looked at people and saw their faults, but also and more so, saw their value as more important than their faults.

But hand feeding a dog for over a decade. I never quite figured that out....

And I loved her for doing it.

I miss her. Even though I hardly thought of her for years at a time, I miss her now that she is dead.

It's getting darker...

Every day these days dawn comes a little later and dusk a little sooner. Darkness falls, literally.

But not for too many more days--just before Christmas the Light expands--little by little, each day--until the Summer Solstice in far away June.

Light and Darkness are remarkable symbols as well as a reality. That Advent, in the Northern Hemisphere, comes at a time of gathering Darkness makes leaning toward the Light more powerful. And that Easter comes when Spring arrives is also a wondrous symbol. (I'm sure Christians in the Southern Hemisphere get it done--more of us there than in the north these days--but the symbolism is skewed.)

But this year the gathering Darkness is a metaphor for the political situation as well.

Fear is controlling a great number of people--fear of violence, fear of terrorism, fear of the unknown--seems to be driving the national conversation.

Here's what I think (even if you didn't ask me!) the opposite of Fear is not Courage...it's Hope.

Courage can confront Fear, but usually violently and with loss of dignity and humanity and possibility.

Hope, on the other hand, obliterates Fear and Darkness by looking beyond them to something better, something more noble, something that gives dignity to human life.

Living in Hope looks like this: remaining rational in the face of nonsense; remaining resolute in the face of un-knowing; remaining calm in the face of hysteria; remaining compassionate in the face of anger; remaining welcoming in the face of division; remaining loving in the face of hate.

I choose to live in Hope, even in these dark days. I choose to live in hope in spite of the hopelessness around me. I choose to live in Hope and even Joy as the Darkness gathers. I simply choose to live in Hope.

That's the remarkable thing about facing Darkness--we still have a 'choice'. We are not dis-armed. We can 'choose' Hope and Joy.

Hope and Joy aren't things that 'happen', they are things we 'choose'.

Imagine the power and possibility in being able to 'choose'.

It is the thing that shows us our 'better selves'--this ability to 'choose' the Light in a time of Darkness, to choose Hope in a time of Fear.

Choose well, my friends. Choose well....

Shalom, jim

pain in the butt

Any time I click on anything on my new Widows 10 computer, a box shows up that gives me every option besides the one I want--just keep doing what I'm trying to do. It is so frustrating I'm almost ready to try to put together my old computer so I can blog without all the interruptions. And when I hit backspace to erase something, the cursor jumps back to the beginning of the typing.

Maddening is what it is and and I have no idea how to fix it. (for example, I just hit 'x' in 'fix' one more time than I meant to and it took me a minute or so to 'fix' fix. How crazy is that?) And I wanted to add the ) and had to work to do that.

When your computer is smarter than you are, you're in trouble.

And it's a pain in the butt.

Just to let you know, I realized I'd written 'it' a pain' rather than 'it's a pain' and it took me about a minute and a half because boxes kept popping up when all I wanted to do was write a 's'.

How stupid is that--or how stupid am I? Same result.

Moving to Canada

I got a voice message from a friend today telling me we should have lunch before she moves to Canada. She went on to explain that if Donald Trump is elected President, she's gone!

What once seemed and impossibility, Trump being nominated, is becoming, each day, less impossible and veering toward 'possible', if not 'probable'. And, if not the Donald, most experts say, the next in line is Ted Cruz, who is to me even more frightening since Cruz has no comic relief factor.

But something that happened this week that makes me feel 'northern bound' more than Trump and Cruz is the advice given to students at Liberty University by Liberty's President, Jerry Falwell, Jr. Falwell advised students of the school to get gun permits and guns to 'shoot Muslims' if they came to campus to attack.

I was having lunch on Wednesday with three ministers from the Higganum area--we did an ecumenical Thanksgiving service together at St. James. The Congregationalist minister brought up Falwell's statement and another minister from a non-denominational sort of Mega-church said, "I'm not defending him, but we should hear it in context...."

What context, I wanted to know. He didn't say to have guns to shoot white people who walk into a Black Church and murder people or to shoot people who walk into a Planned Parenthood office to murder people or a white man who walked into a school in Newtown to murder innocent children and their teachers. Falwell said 'Muslims'. And even that pales in light of having a college campus armed to the teeth!

I'll probably never go to that clergy meeting again, though that's part of the problem too. I should go back to engage that minister in a conversation about guns and college students and Muslims. He's otherwise a kind, good man. I shouldn't avoid him but engage him.

Part of the problem is that we seldom engage and have conversation with people we disagree with. We are so polarized and divided into 'sides' that there's no interchange across the gaps. I'm not sure Trump or Cruz can be reasoned with, but maybe this minister could be. Maybe. Perhaps I should try at least that before leaving for Canada--a country with more guns per capita than the US and almost no history of mass shootings.

But Canada is so cold....

A couple of things about my new computer

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....

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....