Wednesday, June 23, 2021

Caro Ramsay

Bern and I have been reading the novels of the Scottish author, Caro Ramsay.

She writes police dramas and her two main characters (male and female) are Anderson and Costello.

Reminds me of Abbot and Costello, but I don't know if she knew about them--people younger than me might not.

There's lots of Scots stuff--some of which I have to look up on line--but also lots of wondrous detective drama.

We haven't read them in order but when we get them all (9, I think) I may read them again, beginning at the beginning.

If you like mysteries and Scotland, you should read Caro--she's a gem.

 

Monday, June 21, 2021

Good News for a change!

 I got my car back today. It was the serpentine belts, whatever those are, both had broken. Less than $300.

He had told me the worse case would be repairs would cost more than the car is worth.

Thank goodness for blessings.

But I still may look for a new car--a small SUV so we won't have to rent one to go to the beach in August.

But on the bad news side, why are Senate Republicans united against the Voting Rights bill that would open the polls to all who are qualified?

Oh, I know.

Stopping minorities from voting would help them and the states who are passing voter restriction bills would be easier for them to win.

Jesus, how divided is this country???

Very.....

Pray for unity in some way, shape or form.


Sunday, June 20, 2021

West Virginia Day

Today is West Virginia Day.

I've written about my birth state lately--some not so good.

But June 20 in 1863, West Virginia divided with Virginia to be a free state and stay with the union.

Something to celebrate!

Bless them for doing that.

 

I feel like homemade s***!

When I got to Trinity, Milton today, my car was running a little hot and the battery light was on.

After the service, Mark, who lives in a different part of Cheshire from me, offered to follow me home.

My car died and I pulled over and told him I would have to wait for a tow truck and since he had an event to attend, he should go on.

I got back in the car. It started and made it another 4 miles or so before dying again.

I put some coolant I had in it, waited 15 minutes and it went another 4 miles before dying again.

I was outside Watertown and called AAA.

They said someone would be there in 30 or 35 minutes, so I set out to find someone to come and get me. Three misses--even Bern wasn't home and doesn't usually travel with her cell.

Triple A gave the driver the wrong directions so it was almost an hour before he got there.

Route 8 is a pretty busy road, so an hour of cars whizzing by at 80 or so was disconcerting and concerning.

In all that time only one person pulled over to see if he could help. He gave me a bottle of water and wished me well. His name was Brian--I always like people named Brian! 

It reminded me I should stop when I see people in trouble on the road--like Brian.

I wasn't supposed to ride with the tow truck driver but he wasn't going to leave me on a busy highway, so he took me to the shop. As I was with him I finally got Bern on the phone and asked her to come to Watertown and get me. She put the address in her phone and came to a McDonald's next to the shop.

I hadn't eaten anything all day and it was 1:40 when she got there.

A few weeks ago, I decided I'd give up my cell phone and Bern talked me out of it.

Praise God for her doing that. I don't know what I would have done today without it.

When we got home I got 'Father's Day' calls from Mimi and Josh that lifted my spirits.

But I still feel beat up and like what I mentioned in the title to this blog. That was a saying where I came from, don't know about CT.

Happy Father's day....

 

Saturday, June 19, 2021

If I ever eat McDonald''s again...

 ...it will be too soon.

    I took some really bulky items to the laundry mat for Bern the other day--things she didn't want to put in our washer. It was just after noon when the wash cycle started so I went up the road to McDonald's--though I hadn't for years--and got a cheese burger and a milk shake. The cheese burger made me feel a little queasy though I only ate half of it.

    I came home and told Bern. She said she hadn't eaten anything from McDonald's in 20 years.

    I don't blame her.

    So, why was it so popular in my youth?

    Going to McDonald's was like going to church--something good for you and to raise your spirits.

    Has it gotten worse or has my taste changed that much?

    I'm glad I didn't get a fish sandwich because I love fish so much (fixing Cod loin for dinner tonight) and would hate to be put off fish.

    I may not ever have a hamburger that Bern or I didn't fix again--although I had a Wayback Burger not long ago and it was wonderful.

    What where and what you eat.


Friday, June 18, 2021

I'm still a Mountaineer

 As upset as I am with the politics of West Virginia--I'm still a West Virginian.

After over 40 years of living outside the Mountain State, I can still do my West Virginia accent if you ask me.

Accents in the wrong places and every sentence ending at an upbeat--like a question. I can do it. It will make you crazy.

My life in West Virginia was full of wonder.

I met Bern in high school. I wandered the mountains alone. I loved the people I knew. I was kept safe there.

I went to college at W.V.U. and loved every moment of being in Morgantown. Both our children were born in Charleston.

So, in spite of the Republican take over of my once Democratic state and in spite of my home county going from 100,000 in my youth to 24,000 today, in spite of the poverty and right-wingness of it all--I'm still a Mountaineer.

I miss the West Virginia of my youth and young adulthood. 

It will never be back.

Alas and alack.

But I'm still a Mountaineer!!!


Thursday, June 17, 2021

Sunday's Sermon

(if you go to Trinity, Milton, DON'T READ THIS!!!)

 

WHO WAS JESUS?

Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads here.

          I’m thinking today of my son and son-in-law who are the fathers of my wondrous four grand-daughters.

          And I’ve been thinking all week about my father, Virgil Hoyt Bradley, who grew up on a turkey farm in Monroe County, West Virginia.

          When he moved to McDowell County, West Virginia to be a coal miner, he told the cook at the boarding house for miners that she had given him the best chicken he had ever eaten, she told him it was turkey. He wouldn’t believe her until she took him in the kitchen and showed him the carcass.

          He had never tasted turkey—you don’t eat the cash crop.

          He had an eighth-grade education, but was one of wisest men I’ve ever known.

          He was a life-long Republican in what was then a deep Blue state. How things change as time passes.

          He enrolled in the army and was a corporal in the engineering battalion of General Patten’s troops. He spent the war building bridges for Patten to drive his tanks across rivers and then blowing the bridges up.

          He once told me, when I asked why they blew the bridges up: “General Patton told us we weren’t coming back!”

          There’s lots more I could tell you about him, but we need to get to the Sea of Galilee.

 

          The Sea of Galilee was not a ‘sea’, it was a lake and not a big one. 46 square miles of water very susceptible to sudden storms.

          Imagine being on a first century boat on a lake when a tropical storm came up.

          Imagine waking up the only passenger who was asleep and telling him they were all going to drown.

          Imagine that person calling out to the elements of nature and calming the storm.

          Wouldn’t you, like the disciples, wonder “who that guy was that the forces of nature obey him”?

          Who is this? Who was Jesus?

          That, by the way, is the name of this sermon—Who Was Jesus?

          I typed, “Who Was Jesus?” into Google and got—are you ready for this?—266 million responses!

          I only read one of them—about eight pages—but it had 566 footnotes!

          People have been wrestling with Who Jesus Was? Since the 2nd century.

          Scholars and theologians have struggled for centuries to distinguish between “the Biblical Jesus” and the “historic Jesus”, without much success.

          The Jesus we know from the New Testament and from the early Christian writing that are called ‘the Sacred Gnostic writings” that didn’t make it into the canon of scripture established by the Council of Nicea in 325 a.d.

          I brought a copy of the Gnostic writings to show you how much we know about the Biblical Jesus.

          The ‘historic Jesus’—we don’t know much about him.

          There’s a joke about how the archaeologists of Pope John 23rd came to him with bad news—they had found Jesus’ body.

          “This terrible,” the good Pope said, “we must tell the world, but first I’ll call the Protestant Theologian, Paul Tillich in Chicago and tell him.”

          The Pope and Paul (who called God ‘the Ground of Being’) were on the phone, “Bad news, my brother,” the Pope said, “we’ve found Jesus’ body.”

          There was a long pause and then Paul Tillich said, with a sigh of relief, “My God, he really lived!”

          So, “Who Jesus Is?” cannot be answered with any certainty. It all comes down to ‘belief’.

          In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus asks his disciple ‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they answer that some people say, John the Baptist, but others say Elijah and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.

          Then Jesus says, “But who do you say that I am?” And Peter answers, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God”—and Peter becomes the Rock the church is built on.

          It all comes down to ‘believing’.

          “Believe”, literally translated, means “to live as if…”

          So, in the end, “who Jesus is” depends on who we ‘believe’ he is—who we ‘live as if’ he is.

          That puts a lot of pressure on you and me.

          “Who do WE say that he is?” What do we believe about him? How does he help us to live our lives?

          That is what we must always be asking ourselves, “Who do I believe Jesus is?”

          And how do I live ‘as if’ he was my brother, my friend, my savior, my Lord and my God?

          That’s the question we must always be asking.

          Always asking.

          Always believing.

          It’s up to us.    

 

 

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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.