The Revolutionary soldiers had airports!

I've learned that our president (who will not be named here) stated in his rain splattered address yesterday, that the revolutionary troops 'took over the airports'.

That was in 1776 and the Wright brothers were in 1913. Odd, don't you think.

He, of course, blamed the rain and the teleprompter that went off for that egregious remark.

Airports in the 18th century.

Most normal people wouldn't assume their were airports in the 18th century whether or not they had a teleprompter.

But he isn't a 'normal person'.

Has there ever been a president who you couldn't believe anything out of their mouth before?

I think not.

This is a totally new experience for those of us who celebrated the birth of our nation yesterday.

Uncharted and dangerous waters.

By the way, are you a citizen (Yes/No)?

Seems to really matter to him. Not so much to me. Do you live in this country? is my question.

Best wishes. Sleep well if you can....

Happy Birthday, USA!

We had a great day--a tad hot, but not that bad.

We went to our friends Andrew and Jane's in New Haven. There only child is a late teen. Come to think of it, both Robbie, only son of our friend's Jack and Sherry, and I are also only children.

I get on swimmingly with Priscilla and Robbie and every other only child I've ever met.

We gravitate toward each other.

My usual line (oh, so true!) is whenever I feel sad at not having siblings I just have to someone who does....That works.

Our friend John was there--he lives in an apartment in Andrew and Jane's house. And two older women--even older than me--who I've met before. Plus Maureen who is in Bern and Sherry's women's group.

A good four hours, then back to Bridget and life in Cheshire--a few degrees warmer than New Haven by Long Island Sound.

Hope you had a good 4th and like me watched none of the president's nonsense in DC.

It felt so good to ignore all that.

OK, it's coming back

I had 152 views yesterday, so, in spite of my absence from the blog universe, people are finding me again.

I'm happy about that.

Though truth is, if no one read this, I'd keep writing.

It is a way I remain sane in an insane time and calm is a time of chaos.

Blogging is a form of prayer for me.

I just realized that.

You are reading my prayers.

Welcome to my spiritual life.

Glad to have  you here.

Pray with me.

We need it.

Are you a citizen?

When the Supreme Count says something it's like when you mother said something--that's it, it's over, do what she said. No more questions.

Apparently, our President (He Who Will Not Be Named in this blog) doesn't understand this.

When the Supreme Court speaks, there is no 'next move'.

Yet the President still thinks he can have his citizenship question on the census.

Being in an alternative universe is hard to deal with.

He wants to be 'the Supreme Leader', not the President subject to the Congress and the Court and the Constitution.

Please help me here. Are we losing out collective minds are is our President a mad--man?

Let me take a deep breath and return to sanity. If that's possible....

fourth time

Sunday, May 28, 2017

fourth time....I've seen fireflies the last few nights....

Third time: lightening bugs, fireflies, all that

This is the third time I've posted most of what is below. It's no longer the 4th most viewed post, but the 9th.

And the bugs aren't here yet--it's 48 degrees on our back porch--much too cool. But I've been thinking of them. Waiting for them. Anxious to welcome them.  

 

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Yes, Virginia, there are lightening bugs in Connecticut

I've just been watching Lightening Bugs--fire flies--in our neighbor's yard. So I decided to reprise the fourth most viewed post of mine ever.

They are blinking, blinking, blinking.





They're out there tonight--the fireflies--in the mulberry tree just beyond our fence where the groundhogs come in the late summer to eat mulberries that have fermented and make them drunk. A drunk groundhog is a wonder to behold!

And the lightening bugs are in our yard as well. I sat and watched them blink for 20 minutes tonight.

My dear friend, Harriet, wrote me an email about lightening bugs after my blog about them. If I'm more adroit at technology than I think I am, I'm going to put that email here.

Jim, I just read your blog and have my own firefly story. Before we   went to Maine,
before 6/20, one of those nights of powerful   thunderstorms, I was awakened at 10PM
and then again at 2AM by flashes   of lightning followed by cracks of thunder - the
 kind that make me   shoot out of bed - and pounding rain. And then at 4:30AM there
was   just lightning, silent. The silence and light was profound. I kept   waiting
for sound. I couldn't quite believe in heat lightning in June,   so I got out of bed
and looked out the window. There I could see the   sky, filled with silent lightning
 bursts. And under it, our meadow,   filled with lightning bugs (as we call them) or
 fireflies, flashing in   response. I've never seen anything like it. I can't remember
 the last   time I saw a lightning bug. And then your blog. Is this, too, part of
 global warming? Are you and   I being transported back to the warmer climes of
 our youth, West   Virginia and Texas? Well, if it means lightning bugs, the future
 won't   be all bad.
I did do it, by gum....

So the lightening bugs are blinking, as we are, you and I.

Blinking and flashing and living. You and I.

Here's the thing, I've been thinking about a poem I wrote 4 years
ago or so. I used to leave St. John's and go visit folks in the hospital or nursing home or their own home
on my way to my home. Somehow the blinking of the fireflies has reminded me of that. So, I'll try, once more
to be more media savvy than I think I am and share it with you.
 

I DRIVE HOME

I drive home through pain, through suffering,

through death itself.

I drive home through Cat-scans and blood tests

and X-rays and Pet-scans (whatever they are)

and through consultations of surgeons and oncologists

and even more exotic flora with medical degrees.

I drive home through hospitals and houses

and the wondrous work of hospice nurses

and the confusion of dozens more educated than me.

Dressed in green scrubs and Transfiguration white coats,

they discuss the life or death of people I love.

And they hate, more than anything, to lose the hand

to the greatest Poker Player ever, the one with all the chips.

And, here’s the joke, they always lose in the end—

the River Card turns it all bad and Death wins.

So, while they consult and add artificial poison

to the Poison of Death—shots and pills and IV’s

of poison—I drive home and stop in vacant rooms

and wondrous houses full of memories

and dispense my meager, medieval medicine

of bread and wine and oil.

Sometimes I think…sometimes I think…

I should not drive home at all

since I stop in hospitals and houses to bring my pitiful offering

to those one step, one banana peel beneath their foot,

from meeting the Lover of Souls.

I do not hate Death. I hate dying, but not Death.

But it is often too much for me, stopping on the way home

to press the wafer into their quaking hands;

to lift the tiny, pewter cup of bad port wine to their trembling lips;

and to smear their foreheads with fragrant oil

while mumbling much rehearsed words and wishing them

whole and well and eternal.

I believe in God only around the edges.

But when I drive home, visiting the dying,

I’m the best they’ll get of all that.

And when they hold my hand with tears in their eyes

and thank me so profoundly, so solemnly, with such sweet terror

in their voices, then I know.

Driving home and stopping there is what I’m meant to do.

A little bread, a little wine and some sweet smelling oil

may be—if not enough—just what was missing.

I’m driving home, driving home, stopping to touch the hand of Death.

Perhaps that is all I can do.

I tell myself that, driving home, blinded by pain and tears,

having been with Holy Ones.

8/2007 jgb

Someone once told me, "We're all dying, you know. It's just a matter of timing...."

Fireflies, more the pity, live only a fraction of a second to the time that we humans live. They will be gone from the mulberry tree and my back yard in a few weeks, never to be seen again. But the years and years we live are, in a profound way, only a few blinks, a few flares, a few flashes in the economy of the universe. We should live them well and appreciate each moment. Really.

One of the unexpected blessings of having been a priest for so long is the moments, the flashes, I've gotten to spend with 'the holy ones', those about to pass on from this life.

Hey, if you woke up this morning you're ahead of a lot of folks. Don't waste the moment.

(I told Harriet and she agreed, that we would have been blessed beyond measure to have walked down in that meadow while the silent lightening lit the sky to be with the fire-flies, to have them hover around us, light on our arms, in our hair, on our clothes, be one with them....flashing, blinking, sharing their flares of light. Magic.)

Oh, my Lord!

I hope you've seen the reports from the members of Congress who visited the ICE 'prisons' along the southern boarder.

I will agree with the President Who Will Not Be Named--there is a crisis...CRISIS!...at the boarder, but it is of his own making.

People packed in cages with no fresh water, no toothbrushes, no soap, no diapers for babies, no feminine hygiene products, too little food.

The Statue of Liberty must be hanging her head and burning herself with her torch.

Congress passed a nearly $5 billion dollar bill for relieving the crisis of mistreated detained immigrants, but some Democrats did not vote for it because it was not specific enough about what the money was for--the detainees--and they feared the administration would mis-use it.

Help us Lord, make the this land of the free and the home of the brave again.

Thousands, millions are not free at the boarder, from poverty and homelessness, from too low wages, from eviction, from racism.

And few Republicans are 'brave' enough to stand up to the tyrant in the White House and do what is true and right and just.

Oh, my Lord, how did we come to this?

Being away

Being away has hurt my readership big time. A three week gap takes a toll. My 150+ readers a day is down under 50.

Short attention span, I suppose.

But I miss those folks, though I don't know who most of them are.

I would write only for myself, I really would, but to have people reading is gratifying. It really is.

So, I'll keep writing. I'm getting back into the groove.

And, if people read, it will make me happy.

(Today was another perfect Connecticut early summer day--warm, but low humidity and lots and lots of birds. Brigit was outside a lot, enjoying rolling in the yard and laying in the sun. She tried to catch a bunny in the yard and luckily didn't!)