Explaining Your Sprinkled or Soaked Pants-Urinal Grief

So here's another dilemma - you sashay into the men's room and use the urinal - doesn't matter which one, any of them will do. . .you flush when finished and much to your surprised there's an air back up in the pipes which douses your pants and shoes with water as it flushes - now, here's the dilemma - you walk out of the restroom to meet your wife and family and friends and you have this more-than-conspicuous drench mark all over the front of your pants - how do you explain that????

Shall We Cry?

I don't know about anyone else, but from time to time I indulge myself in a good crying session; you know, after things build up and you just can't look up to see bottom and it seems like there's nothing you can really do? Or am I the only one that feels that way? I'd like to hear from someone. . .

The Balcony Vs. The Basement

This Sunday, today, the Pastor hit me with it - the balcony vs. the basement. I guess it's a place I've toggled between for many years, too many in fact.

At times I want to be a balcony person, that individual who is there to encourage, to help, to cheer on, to comfort; to be the person that no one else in that person's life is or is capable of being. Today I have had to admit I could care less. In reality, I do care, I care very much indeed. It's just that every once in a while I get this wild hair that screams at me to back down, relent, avoid people, leave them alone because they really don't care at all for me. The amazing thing is I find myself actually believing this is true, acting on it, relinquishing my emotional holds to people, and fleeing them as I would a man running for his life out of a burning building. I've done it years ago, decided that I was (and continue to be) my world's worst enemy, and that it had to stop. No one loves inconsistency in others.

I screw myself; there's no one lying in wait to do it for me. At various times I have enjoyed this here-we-go-round-the-mulberry bush routine, but most of the time I remind myself that this is the most foolishishness. So why do I do it? Why does anyone do it? What makes me or anyone else run from the very people who need us, want us in their lives, and look to us as the other half of a significant friendship, even if they don't call as often as I'd like, to seem always to be busy, or just simply get neglectful? Furnish a few answers to that one, why don't you?

I don't want to be a basement person. That's someone who drags not only themselves but everyone else down with them as well. They're a bane to our existence, and no one wants to be around them. How would you like to be thought of as someone who's more of a pain than a pal?

Pastor hit me with the right message for the right time - could be God is trying to get my attention.

The Phonograph Record - The Dilemma

I found it at last!

It was an old phonograph record that had a song with a real catchy beat (people these days call it a "hook") that I discovered on an online auction site. To my delight, it wasn't just in good or passable shape, it had never been opened since the date of its manufacure. How lucky can anyone get?

Of course, that depends on your definition of luck and how excited you can get about an ancient, ultra lounge LP that's good for nothing but setting a mood. It might be a mood for dancing, romancing, or just listening to after the rest of the house has gone to bed and you can't sleep.

Since the record was sealed, it wouldn't do me a whole lot of good unless I opened it. And therein lay the dilemma: to open or not to open. I thought about it a day or two, giving my actions careful consideration and looking at all options.

1. Don't open it. So I've invested thirty dollars (six times what it was originally worth in 1966) and have a record occupying a bin. If all I am going to do is look at it, why buy it?

2. Open it. There goes the value of the record (to collectors) who will now get a cut on the price since the seal is broken, if in fact I decide to sell it. But, I'm not going to sell it, I bought it to enjoy, and the only way I'm going to do that is to break the seal.

3. Buy it on CD. Can't do it. It was never released on CD, with the exception of two tracks on a larger boxed compilation. Reissue activities over the past few years have ensured that more obscure recordings are finding their way to sellers' shelves and colectors' libraries, but the minute the recording is brought out on CD, the worth of the original issue is diminished. Again, I'm not selling it ever, so why worry about it? True, I could have a $50 for the record sealed, but then all I have is money which is probably going to be spent on something stupid or a dinner out that is loaded with trans fat, cholesterol, and carbs, which will eventually kill me. Then I never will hear the record and my wife will tote it to a thrift shop. Someone will buy it and use it for a clay pigeon (vinyl records can really fly if thrown correctly). What to do, what to do.

4. Buy another copy of the album - there were several online. But why tie up more money in another copy, have two, play one, while I show off my sealed copy to someone who really isn't a fan of that music or the singer?

5. Enough of this already. I'm going to bravely break the seal, carefully play it, transfer it to CD, throw the disc on the changer some rainy afternoon, and sit down with a cup of coffee and enjoy both.

Who says I can't make decisions?

Note: "Ultra Lounge" used in one of the preceding paragraphs is a marketing term for cheesy music heard mostly in bachelor pads. Guys heavy intro retro will furnish their homes ala Late American Garage Sale with Veg-O-Matics in plain view on the kitchen counter, melmac dinnerware, nine different patterns of silverware (nothing matches), have lamps on with much too big a shade on them, and have a Hi-Fi (record player) in the living room. Think I'm kidding?

Another note: The album at front and center of the above mentioned drama is "Do I Hear A Waltz" by torch singer Jo Stafford who was also a great interpreter of the American Ballad. This was her first release on the Dot label. Kinda classy and colorful logo, no? The album now reposes in a bin (opened) between a limited edition white vinyl pressing of The Beatles' "White Album," and "Shaved Fish" by John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band. There's no method to this madness. . .

Grace Blooms Beneath the Cross

The blooming roses around our church here in northern Illinois remind me again that not only do the most beautiful flowers thrive beneath well tended soil but that grace, the capacity to love and be loved as only Christ can, also blooms under the well tended soil and shadow of a cross.

Sharing Hurts

I wish I could do something about the hurts that others experience.

I'd love to take a person's frustrations, worries, and anger and do something about it, but I can't. There's no magic formula that's going to make this stuff go away any more than a similar mystical aura or potion can take away mine. It took a lot of years for me to get this way and chances are it's going to take that many and a lot more to get it all resolved. We're all in the same corner.

I can share in the pain that my friends go through, though. It happened just a while ago.

I was reading over a friend's blog and picked up on the sense of emptiness and frustration he's experienced over the past few years; actually his whole life. I'll call this person Mark.

It's been a rough go for Mark. He's been tossed to the dogs on issues that none of us should have to face, but those choices weren't his and were the consequence of decisions that other people made. Okay, such is life, I know, and it seems to be more and more what our culture is about - someone suffering for the mistakes others make. I could get on a soapbox about this one for quite some time, but I'm going to spare you the irony. I just plain hurt for Mark and want to tell him a few things:

1. The stuff located on either side of the road you're on is not your fault - please don't blame yourself. God created you for a reason and He loves you just the way you are (sorry, Billy Joel, the words just sort of fit in here).

2. Lots of folks love you and see something special in you. I see a person who is sensitive to his feelings, the feelings of others. You express emotions in line and verse and share your heart freely. You make yourself an open book. I like that kind of transparency.

3. Things are going to turn around for you, believe that. Don't convince yourself that because your portion in some ways so far hasn't been all that affirming that it's always going to stay that way. I see God turning your situation around. Put the timetable away and let the train run down the track, and be ready to board when it stops.

4. Go somewhere and tell God how you feel - yes, He cares. Cry awhile. The tears wash not only your eyes, but your understanding as well.

I can't change your life, but God already has. I want to be there for the rebound. For now, let me share your hurt.

A Great American Hero: Johnny Cash

The soundtrack album of the 20th Fox Johnny Cash biopic "Walk The Line," (Sony/WindUp Records) is great! If you're a Cash fan (I am!) you've seen the movie and probably thought a lot about this true American Legend. His music is timeless, his originality and genuineness the stuff of real Americana, and he's even rubbed musical noses with Bono (U2). I guess that should come as no surprise.

Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon (and others) do a marvelous job with 16 Cash and Carter songs. I'd never listen to anyone else even attempt to do a cover of my favorite "Get Rhythm" from a late 1950s Sun Session (see my previous blog) but this is one magnificent waxing of an old standby. The rest of the disc works equally well and it's worth your money. See the movie if you haven't already and pick up the Authorized Biography by Steve Turner ("The Man Called Cash: The Life, love, and Faith of an American Legend") foreword by Kris Kristofferson. This is one great American Hero. In these recordings and Turner's book you'll see why!

Thanks, Steve H., for putting the bug in my ear about this CD!

What Are Kids Coming to These Days?

Mood: Optimistic (I try to stay this way)

My generation's parents said it, too: what are kids coming to these days?

One of my classmates, a mother of several children, recently quoted the same line. That's OK, but her credibility was in questions since she partied hearty in her day. Oops, I forgot to remember to forget about that.

My guess is that Generation Y is doing pretty good. If you ask me, they're a lot of more focused, have a deeper appreciation for family, since many come from broken homes and are learning that when push comes to shove, the most important element is the family unit, as dysfunctional and nuts as that unit can be at times.

Generation Y sees the mistakes my generation made, but they have this intrinsic knowledge that says not all the wrongs are going to be made right in the single sweep of social reform. They're focused on long term solutions, working at short term goals to make the bigger picture work. Okay, so Y-er's don't have the luxury of opulent album cover art like it was back in the Day ("Led Zeppelin," "Morrison Hotel," "Sgt. Pepper's") but they're savvy enough to appreciate digitally remastered classic albums with bonus tracks and have thousands of them crammed into the plastic confines of an MP3 player or IPod.

I like this group of young people. They're on a long road, have a tremendous journey in front of them and for the most part know where they're going. It's good they know where they've come from, too.

Thought for the day:

"Get Rhythm, when you get the blues,
come on, get rhythm,
When you get the blues. . . .
"Get a rock and roll feelin' in your bones,
get tapes on your toes and get goin'. . . .
"Get Rhythm, when you get the blues"

Johnny Cash, 1956, B-side of Sun Records single, "I Walk The Line"
Okay, not a very spiritual thought I guess, but it beats the heck out of simmering over past hurts and how frustrated you are over the price of $3.00 a gallon gasoline

Quote from A.W. Tozer

I have two books from the pen of A.W. Tozer in my library, way down on the bottom shelf with all the heady, high minded stuff (I borrowed those words, "heady," and "high minded" from the King James Version of the Bible; just so you know, we're not supposed to be that way).

Powerful stuff. In one of them is a quote I can't find, but it's been used again and again until its uselfulness has just about run out, but it says a lot if you stop to think about it.

"Refuse To Be Average."

My inspiration to write about this state of being came from my good friend Mat, who sent me a blog that he wrote about Misconceptions. I find that the people who act, talk, and behave in a certain way are much too predictable and represent what I call "average" Christian people. Nothing wrong with being average, but it seems that people who are average tend to be predictable and banal. We need to start thinking outside the hymnal and church bulletin. For those innundated with commercial media, this is the same concept as thinking outside the bun.

I want to step out of the frame of averages and be unexceptional.

I want my attitudes and actions to reflect what Christ would do, not what the average (there's that word again) believer does. That means being open and honest with Christ follower friends, being genuine, loving, compassionate, and grace motivated with people who don't believe, loving them not for whether they agree with me on everything or not, just letting them be who they are, yet trying to bring Christ into their existence to make Him part of their daily reality and walk. I've a lot of work to do to make that happen.

I think I'll start with myself. . . .



Blessings to the following un-average people:

Our Pastors, John and Jim, who love with compassion beyond the necessity of job description

Steve, studying in Germany, who has taught me a lot about grace and challenging accepted notions; he's faithfully emailed me for the last three and a half years from wherever he's been in school. We occupy the same place at the same sandwich place here in town and usually order the same thing each time. Only the topics of conversation change. He's the guy most unlikely to love Harley's, but he does.

Mat - we've done some rail fanning in Indiana and caught a circus train highballing through Napanee. I was able to get some awesome photos from a camera I had never used before. Although his life has not been easy at times, his faith has remainded steadfast.

My wife - she constantly reminds me that if it were not for grace, I would be in as much trouble as the people I tend to get on a soap box about.

Kevin, our son - he tends to be like me in many ways (is that scary or what??) but he's a best friend. We share with each other, he offers a new and interesting perspective and is way out of the "average" box. God's got His hand on him, and there's no telling where he'll be blessing the next person through his gift of grace and musical ability.

Melissa, our daughter - mother of the best and the cutest granddaughter anyone could have. Melissa is like the rest of us, moving more and more toward Christ. She inspires me with her determination.

Van, our son-in-law - why did he ever sell that beautiful Buick Grand Natiional??

Studies In Porcelain

You might not believe this, but there are guys who keep track of the urinals they use in the various buildings they find themselves in at any given time.

People doing this have too much time on their hands.

I suspect these folks keep track of the source of their junk mail in a college ruled ledger. When the snow flies next winter, they gather their spiral notebooks, pour a cup of coffee and head for the recliner or reading chair to tally up the results. Doubtless they're impressed. If you travel a lot, find yourself in out of the way places (or not so out of the way) this list could be considerable. Take for instance the photo with this blog. Someone snapped it at the Ford Oriental Theatre in downtown Chicago.

I don't keep track of urinal usage since I hate these things from the word go (no pun intended). But, they have become a necessary part of the male existence. If I found myself at the Ford Theatre, I would go for the corner one, about ten minutes after the second act has begun. At least it offers a tad more privacy than the one smack dab in the middle of the room.

Thank Heavens for dividing partitions. At least management has the sense to know that a partition free environments are invitations for guys to try to converse over the sound of incessant flushing and the hand dryers blowing nonstop that sound like an Airbus A320 barreling down a runway for takeoff. And what men's room hasn't been invaded by the sound of some kid screaming in the stall with his dad that he can't get his pants buttoned? Yes, all of these sounds and more could be your portion during your next visit to the men's room.

For most of us, it's quick in, quick out; do what has to be done and bolt.

And there is something to be said about urinals in trains - there aren't any! Finally - a place to go that offers a little home comfort. Wasn't always this way, though.

Some of the old coaches of the Chicago and North Western railroad had no flush plumbing; gravity just sort of did its thing and it all went down to the tracks. It was something of a rush to watch steel ribbons beneath you as you relieved yourself, but you had to brace yourself against one side or other of the restroom or you could find yourself banging your head against the wall in front of you. Other coaches had flush systems and signs warned you not to hit the foot flush pedal while the train was standing in the station. I don't know what Amtrak has, but it might be worth the price of a ticket to and from Chicago just to find out. For a cheaper trip, try the Metra System west line that uses the Union Pacific trackage from Elburn, Illinois, to Chicago. And best of all, if you're eastbound the restroom is in the west end of the car where no one can see where you're going, not that anyone really cares. Check out the hand soap on these commuter trains. It smells good and you should wash your hands after being in there, anyway.

For the guys who encounter someone wanting to be chatty at the urinal, just smile and nod. Make some comment about the Cubs and how you hope they'll do better this season or maybe take their crosstown ball game issues with the White Sox to Jerry Springer. Speculate that you don't think Brett Favre will ever retire from football and that gas is way too expensive.

I was going to say something else, but I've got to go to the bathroom. . .

Walls

Why do people live behind walls?

God designed us to be people of RELATIONSHIPS. That means we should interact with each other - caring enough to pick up a phone just to visit for a few minutes or maybe leave a message on the machine that says, "Hey, I care about you. We haven't seen each other in quite awhile, we need to do coffee, lunch, something. Let's get together."

How many times have you stared at someone's casket and wished you could have some time to tell that person how much you care about them? When did you last call someone just for the heck of it?

Walls keep us from doing that. We may have spent a long time building them, but they come down a lot easier if we have a desire to step out of the rubble and into the place of relationship God wants us to live in. I'm continually working on tearing mine down. How about you?

Cool Blue Contentment

Color me content today - visited with my son yesterday on the phone and also did some soul sharing with my friend Mat.

Mat noted that his mood was "Peaceful." I know a lot of people that would love to be able to say the same thing, to know even a few minutes of contentment. Real joy isn't found in having everything go your way, it's based on your relationship with Christ. Know Christ - know peace. No Christ - no peace.

Think about it.

The Da Vinci Code - Just a Thought

Okay, Dan Brown's book about Jesus being married to Mary Magdalene and having a blood line that extends to today is the proverbial runaway bestseller and the movie's coming out May 19. The plot's not too likely, but some people are eating this thing up. Boycotts of the movie are planned by a lot of well intentioned Christian groups and other over the top detractors are having a fit about it. What they're going to do is anyone's guess, but we've heard from some of them in endless and sometimes mindless Letters To The Editor, rages in chat rooms, blog posts, and chain letter emails (make ten copies, pass them on and be blessed with abundant health for the next ten years). There are books about the Code, explanations for it, and a few unoriginal spinoff themed-tomes on sellers' shelves. Pulp media has tapped into the craze as well.

I look at it this way: it's causing some consternation, but hopefully it provides Christ followers with the opportunity to share their faith and the true essence of who Jesus is.

Read it for the entertainment it is and leave it at that. It's a NOVEL! Like everything else, the new will rub off and the popularity will fade. Jesus is going to be around long after the controversy goes away, so why sweat it?

Speaking of kids, that's Jesus in the photo above, doing what He did best: relating to people. Yes, these were kids, children, those beings that society has told us are better seen and not heard. Jesus didn't feel that way and bid them to come to him. He took the time to love them and invited naysayers who wanted to shoo them away home to back off. "Let them come, and don't keep them from me," he said. Matter of fact, He added that we should have the life approach and faith of children. They don't do a lot of deep thinking; they take what's told them on faith and run with it. Wouldn't it be nice to have a faith like that? I know we have to bring practical realities to the table, but have we tried to deep think ourselves out of the kingdom completely?

Recommended Music - Roy Orbison

Don't miss this - "The Essential Roy Orbison" - two discs full of Orbisoniana, all the hits; no filler material (Monument/Columbia Legacy). Includes a great duet with Emmylou Harris ("That Loving You Feeling Again") and the great early stuff including my favorite, "Ride Away," from Roy's MGM Records years. I found it at Target for $19.99, five bucks cheaper than a book and music place. Can't pass up a sale! (What do you mean, "Who Is Roy Orbison??")

Religion and Relationship

The Associate Pastor really dropped a bomb this morning. Well, two of them, actually.

First, he almost toppled off the podium doing the kids' message.

Second, during the sermon, he let all of us have it both barrels, and I think if you would ask him whether or not he intended it that way, he'd say yes.

Out of complacency, into reality is what I call it.

"My religion," he said, "is against my relationship."

Now, think about that one.

Religion - dead, dull, dry, business as usual nothingness that reeks of formality and regimen with not a speck of life in it.

Relationship - that one on one with Christ that takes us out of the abyss of religion and puts us nose to nose (or heart to heart) with Jesus. Oh yes, him. For some of you reading this blog, you're likely thinking that I've lost it; that I'm the original fanatic, that I'm one of those people who vote Republican because certain spokespersons claim that God is conservative. I don't happen to think so, and I have voted Democratic in at least two elections, and that without shame. I'm one of those people that feel more comfortable having a latte at Starbuck's with someone unchurched than sitting in the Fellowship Hall surrounded by my Christian friends. I don't think that God has a problem with me being a Doors fan or a Democrat either, since music and politics aren't what God's about in the first place, but you might have a hard time finding very many people in church pews who share that view.

Relationship with Christ is what I want to develop. I'm not interested in super-spiruality, dancing in the aisles at church, extreme displays of emotion, visions of Armageddon, ad infinium. I just want that relationship with Christ to overshadow each and everything I do and to bring some glory to His Name. Teach me how to live for Christ and leave all the rest of the religious circus out of it.

That's What Friends Are For

I know - unoriginal title, that's for sure, but it's the end of the day and I'm tired. What might otherwise be inspired isn't right now. Mat is my rail fan friend who inspired and shared some lines about spirituality and the desire to be closer to Christ and with each other, on his blog. He's a real pal and doesn't mind letting me know when things are good or bad. Some people try to make you think that all is well, that frustrations and people never have a way of getting under your skin. Mat doesn't, and that causes me to be more real with myself and others. I'm thankful that people can cause me to grow as a Christ follower, the key word here being genuine.

Thanks, Mat

I Love A Train

Union Pacific businss train headed out of Clinton, Iowa (Photo by Eric Salter)

Jazz For the End Of The Day

Good music doesn't go away, it lays low for awhile.

No Count Sarah is a case in point - a magnificent album recorded in 1959. Released on CD in February of 1991. A few printings and then, it was gone. Hard to find, collectors that have one know what it's worth and don't let it slip out of their hands at garage sales, though I'm sure some unsuspecting soul let one get out of the house to find its way to a used CD store. If you can find a copy (even a scratchy vinyl original release) buy it. It's music for the end of the day.

Marina City, Chicago, 1967

This is Bertrand Goldberg's Marina City (or Towers as some people call it) photographed in 1967. My apologies to whoever took this photo. I would have asked permission to use it, but couldn't find a link to that person.

Marina City was designed to be a self-contained residence with all the amenities, up to and including a laundromat, parking facilities, and a bowling alley. I guess it's still all of that. Pretty trendy place, too - the laundromats now accept the equivalent of an ATM/debit card which beats searching through the pockets of your laundry for quarters to feed the suds beast. You'll notice two big antennas on the west tower - they were put there by WLS-TV Channel 7 and the "7" logo lit up day and night idntifying the antennas' owners. The other mast pulsed like a giant red thermometer in response to atmospheric temperatures. The warmer the temp, the higher the red pulse went. Cool stuff, especially viewed at night. I never got enough of them. When you're a kid, the sense of wonderment is there. Get older, things like that don't make a lot of difference. I'll mature, but I'll be dog-goned if I give up wonderment.

Memories From The 61st Floor

So where the dickens does time go? I've heard it goes by pretty fast when you're having a good time. . .is life a good time? Considering the alternative, I'm inclined to say Yes.

Go back with me a few years - well, more than a few maybe, but I'll hit the start button on the Way-Back Machine and stop it at, let's see, there it is - 1969. I always called it the Summer of Love and even wrote a magazine article calling it that, but to some, it was 1968. Still others, 1967. Take your pick - find the year you found the most love in it and that's it.

I'm standing on the rooftop of Chicago's Marina City, 61 floors up. It's a warm day; my mom and I are with family friends enjoying a day of sightseeing. The Loop and its architectural icons are spread out in front of me - nothing can mar the pleasantness of the day. The sun is vibrant; you can almost taste the rays. Winds off the lake remind me to hang on to the guard railing around the edge of the roof as I look southward across the city. Many of the buildings taken for granted these days weren't even thought about in 1969; Sears may have had that big old tower at Jackson and Wacker on the drawing board, but they hadn't yet decided where to park the gift shop yet.

It was good to not have to worry about stuff. And I suppose what I encountered in later years would have scared the daylights out of me had I known about it then, but I didn't. Ignorance, it is said, is bliss.

I never dreamed that ten years from that summer afternoon that I would have a three year old running around, riding my back, and playing out in the backyard. That three year old is now a wife and mother with a toddler of her own, soon to be two in August.

Grandparenting, yes, I can deal with that.

By 1981, we had a son. The kid that played with trucks in the sand at the park is within a week of acheiving a Master's Degree in Music Performance. What a blessing both of them have been, each bringing to life their individuality and gifts.

In 1969, looking out over a troubled Chicago (there were no Good Old Days in Chicago*), I'm far removed from even considering the parenting possibility. It just isn't in my vocabulary, but almost three decades later, I'm good with it. Our children have turned out to have full, rich, lives of their own. They're studious and focused, which is more than I ever was at their ages. I might add that a public recognition of my son-in-law is appropriate at this time. So, with all due fanfare, I include accolades to Van - he's a good husband and provider for our daughter and granddaughter and we love him.

There are times I wish I could go back to the Summer of 1969. I've often thought I would have spent more time on the rooftop gazing into the electric blue sky and enjoying the summer haze that settled down on the city like a new, colorful comforter on a bed. I would have listened for the sounds of traffic from the streets, maybe took a few (a FEW?) more photos from the roof and included shots of those big WLS Channel 7 television antennas that lit up day and night and could be seen from just about everywhere in the Loop.

But, I didn't.

Okay, there are a few regrets from that time, but not enough to make a big issue out of. Life viewed from the 60th floor is OK, but sooner or later the elevator takes you back down to street level where live is lived. I share a commonality with others who are raising or have raised their kids and are moving on to the next phase of life, whatever that may be. Life wasn't simpler back then at all - it just seemed that way. And why not enjoy the times - Dex Card, Ron Riley, and Clark Webber were eating up the airwaves on WLS AM 890 with 50,000 watts of sound and a 45 RPM single cost a buck. I'm all for digitally remastering the vintage recordings, but vinyl is still pretty cool and pretty cheap.

It's a good life. My wife, my kids, my granddaughter are all around! It's the place to be. I just wonder what's going on up on that roof, 61 floors above reality, these days.

*- Chicago author and radio personality Studs Terkel authored a series of oral histories titled "Division Street: America" (1967). He talked to all kinds of people about Chicago, life (in and out of the city), war, rumors of the Bomb, high prices, education, working; actually he just let people ramble from one thing to another. A real bit of Americana. Great reading; I have a signed copy. Never once, though, did anyone talk about how peaceful Chicago was in the late-1960s. If you put out of the mind the west side race riots, Chicago '68 and the Democratic National Convention, well, maybe it was peaceful, but the coldness of reality has a way of sneaking up behind you.

The Holt Hotline

I found out this morning this blog is part of the Holt Hotline, a family website that I've contributed to a time or two - looks like the contributing frequency might be a little more often now that I have discovered an audience willing to sit in front of a computer screen to read these ramblings and rumblings.

To begin with, my wife's mother's maiden name was Holt, so I guess I came by the association honestly. Lonnie "Papa" Holt was like a grandfather I never really experienced, and Grandma ("Aunt Sally" to many) was a full fledged grandmother to me, period. I never knew either of my grandmothers, one had passed away decades before I came along and my paternal grandmother had died many years ago, too. So, when the chance to have grandparents of any kind came along, I jumped into it with both feet. Papa and Grandma were pretty open minded and with it. I'll not forget the time I loaned her a book by atheist Madalyn Murray O'Hair. She sat up almost the entire night reading it and had opinions on everything she read. Papa and Grandma invited us over on Thursday nights to watch "The Waltons," and Papa enjoyed watching Donahue weekday mornings at 11:00 A.M. When I got hooked watching the controversial talk show host, so did they. It was neat to see them with a mental vitality and spirit for life as well as being models of what Christ followers are all about.

Family is family and you never really lose the family dynamic, even when some of the older folks pass from the scene. Somewhere they're waiting for us to join them. Families don't break up - they just relocate for a while.

Friends

HM is one of my best friends - he invited me over for coffee (see "Introductions") and we spent a while talking about our lives, God, my wife and his ex-wife. Conversation was great and the coffee wasn't too bad either. . .

A Lesson from the Bricks

My wife's cousin built a decorative wall out of bricks from our old high school that was razed last year. He wanted not only two or three bricks for keepsakes but a whole load to build the rock garden and bordering wall along the front and sides of his property. What someone might have hauled away to the dumpster he made into something beautiful and imaginative. Sort of the thing God does with us - when others are ready to toss us on the scrap heap of uselessness and rejection he takes us, rebuilds and rebirths us in His image.

I'm glad God's creative. . . aren't you?

A Walk In the Greening Neighborhood

Time for a walk in the greening neighborhood - I'm going to take along the discman and listen to my Horst Jankowski LPs that I transferred from vinyl to CD two years ago. His big instrumental hit of the 1960s was "A Walk in The Black Forest." He never had a hit after that, but made a half dozen or more albums, anyway. Nothing like trying, is there?

Assorted Thoughts and Introduction

I feel trendy and one with the world of technology and communication today. I have created a blog.

The newspaper gig I was doing for a number of years appears to be over and I'm moving on to other things. That could include this blog where I share with cyberspace the accumulation of what's occupying my gray matter at a given point in time. It typically changes often and I can be moderately peaceful one day and on a soapbox the next. True to my form, however, the paper will call and want me to pursue some project. If that happens, I will let you know. The silence from their end of the computer is deafening. A jangle of the telephone from them would be welcome. As Barbara Streisand sang in 1970, "I Don't Know Where I Stand."

Life is good at this point. I've accumulated the recorded output of the Doors on CD (all of their stuff!) on those retro looking reissues that have the original cover art, label face likenesses on the discs, and even the inner sleeve that came with the vinyl, analog recording. I can now die happy.

The Beatles have released their eight (and likely more to come) original Capitol LPs on CD, in both mono (or high fidelity as we used to call it) and stereo. The accompanying booklets with both reissues contains "rare photos," (I'm getting sick and tired of that term) and some unvital statistics to create needless filler. But, it's all part of the package and I'm not complaining at all.

I'm a music person, like to watch trains pass by (and I photograph them), and I love to meet people. Having stuff around is OK, private ownership is part of the blessing of a good job, but having someone over for coffee is even better. You can share moments of music with them, offer them some flavored creamer for their coffee, or let them see your "rare photos" from the Beatles reissues.

Trains, good music, coffee with friends. . . doesn't get much better than that.

Hmmmm. . . .one complaint/observation. . .why is it I can buy a latte and Krispy Kreme original glazed from a convenience store for $2.00 yet have to pay almost twice that at the airport for just the latte????