Who is she? Well, I thought I knew her. "But" more importantly, in the words of the old Don Williams song: "she never knew me, no she never knew me….she never knew me at all." Simply, she wasn't The G.G. in the G.
But she is still out there. The Safaris' "Image of A Girl" tells the timeless tale. This more than half century old recording of the rock'n roll ballad of inchoate longing for young love is really but a greener shoot of an older, wandering vine yet seeking to enclasp its tendrills with those of another living, twining and perhaps pining essence. Corny? Yeah, well life is corny, even cornier than Kansas in August. To belabor a metaphor, seems all my kernels have popped and even some generals have been busted. A "butt" private was explained to me once as such a lowly soldier that his chief duty was to clean up a barracks by picking up and discarding cigarette butts. Humility can be a good thing. There is dignity in all work. If clock watching becomes irresistible, whether for the sake of learning how imminent a soldier's hour of "off duty" may be or 2013's birth has become, or even as the rhythmic reminder (like the Safaris' very sad, insistent metronome) of a perhaps now forlorn hope of meeting The Gal, then do not flinch from your inclination. The future is coming; it's neither friend nor foe, but our fate: that of one and all. Remember, her smile never fails: fear not that, at the very least. It is by definition, beaming and bright like the stars who call her mistress. Whether I find her or not, she is waiting. Her kindness and beauty, irrespective of my destiny, are worth all the travails and all the misunderstandings of this pilgrimage. She is bejeweled in a diaphanous gown, zephyrs coaxing persistently, causing ripples of the fabric to begin their dance and unseen choruses to chant lovely melodies in loving salute to The Gal. Love the Gal: relinquish all your goals, those quests and grails you imagined as holy. She knows you, in time or out of time. Do not presume, yet do not despair. It is a gentle universe after all (or so I have convinced myself). Why would such a locality as our Galaxy be not also a soother of the injured and have for its queen a healer par excellence?
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Taking It "Light"
The strain of life in the last few months has had some effect on the preparations for the Christmas season for this blogger as well as for more than a few of his relatives and friends. The imminent approach last week of the evening before the anniversary of "our dear Saviour's birth" did however, spur activity that surprised and delighted with the expenditure of some energy and the accomplishment of some simple but gladdening tasks and activities: holiday decorations placed in and about the house and ancient family traditions observed. The decision to join new acquaintances for Christmas caroling in the neighborhood was fun and very heartening: singing for the sake of the season and His glory, while seeking to impress no one (couldn't have if we tried). Sharing good fellowship and creating new memories were joyous bonuses.
The jolliness includes a silliness to the season, a way of being that children love and that one can happily share with anyone: the young at heart as well as sprouts of varying stages of development and precocity. A seven year old, for example, is old enough to delight to an ancient send-up of an even more ancient carol. It's "We Three Kings of Orient Are" written at about the time of the Civil War. The waggish version is as follows:
"We three kings of Orient are
Tried to light a rubber cigar.
It was loaded and exploded. (pause)
"We two kings of Orient are
Tried to light a rubber cigar.
It was loaded and exploded. (longer pause)
"I, a king of Orient am
One more time lit that stogie and 'blam'!
'course, 'twas loaded and exploded! (no pause)
"God rest ye merry gentlemen!"
A slight brain teaser for one and all: why are there only twenty five letters in the Christmas alphabet? Because there's NOEL.
And don't forget the yuletide riddle: where does Santa Claus stay when he travels for his well earned post-Christmas vacation? Why, in a HO-HO-hotel, of course!
For rather bigger "tiny tots with their eyes all aglow" there's the tale of the passionate, and not necessarily winter melons. Seems a young female melon, her fear getting the better of her ardor for her beloved and his impulsive scheme exclaimed: "Cantaloupe!" Crestfallen and then more determined than ever, her handsome beau/gourd cried: "Oh, honeydew!!" They were reportedly last seen in a sylvan setting hands enclasped and with a certain Rev. Crenshaw extending his arm over them in a prayerful blessing. Rumor has it that they will be honeymooning (or honeydewing) before long in beautiful, exotic Casaba.
Epiphany is celebrated on January 6th in the Roman rite of the Catholic Church. "Little Christmas" is another name for this special day marking the visit of the Magi bearing their gifts for baby Jesus. In the Eastern or Byzantine rite (Orthodox), January 7th marks the baptism of Jesus and is generally the more significant day for the peoples of this branch of Christianity (the occasion is commonly referred to in the U.S. as Russian or Greek Christmas). With this slender segue, there is the whimsical tale of the tailor in ancient Greece and his customer who converse at the former's shop on a routine business matter. Inspecting rather badly torn trousers presented to him, Nicholas, the tailor, exclaims: "Euripides?" Rather sheepishly Gus, the patron, confesses that "yes, I was playing ball, hit a Homer and fell while rounding the bases. I sure hope Eumenides." "Don't you worry young fellow. I'll fix 'em right now with my sewing machine and I'll then have those wrinkles smoothed out in a jiffy with this Electra iron. That'll be XII drachmas." "Hey, you've got some Minerva!" cried Gus. Resigned but still annoyed he urged "Okay, but hurry up or I'll need a dime for Demeter. Old Nick reassuringly replied "Priam on, pal. You see, Medusa good job! Now you're a fashion Plato." Gus started to leave and Nick protested "Euclid at least give me a tip."
With groans aplenty ringing in this blogger's ears, he must confess "Odysseus ridiculous." But Santa, ever kind, said "Nutty's not naughty SO JUST TAKE IT LIGHT and 'A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!'"
(Greek mischief courtesy of Miss Quotidian 7, my own "Mrs. Calabash")
The jolliness includes a silliness to the season, a way of being that children love and that one can happily share with anyone: the young at heart as well as sprouts of varying stages of development and precocity. A seven year old, for example, is old enough to delight to an ancient send-up of an even more ancient carol. It's "We Three Kings of Orient Are" written at about the time of the Civil War. The waggish version is as follows:
"We three kings of Orient are
Tried to light a rubber cigar.
It was loaded and exploded. (pause)
"We two kings of Orient are
Tried to light a rubber cigar.
It was loaded and exploded. (longer pause)
"I, a king of Orient am
One more time lit that stogie and 'blam'!
'course, 'twas loaded and exploded! (no pause)
"God rest ye merry gentlemen!"
A slight brain teaser for one and all: why are there only twenty five letters in the Christmas alphabet? Because there's NOEL.
And don't forget the yuletide riddle: where does Santa Claus stay when he travels for his well earned post-Christmas vacation? Why, in a HO-HO-hotel, of course!
For rather bigger "tiny tots with their eyes all aglow" there's the tale of the passionate, and not necessarily winter melons. Seems a young female melon, her fear getting the better of her ardor for her beloved and his impulsive scheme exclaimed: "Cantaloupe!" Crestfallen and then more determined than ever, her handsome beau/gourd cried: "Oh, honeydew!!" They were reportedly last seen in a sylvan setting hands enclasped and with a certain Rev. Crenshaw extending his arm over them in a prayerful blessing. Rumor has it that they will be honeymooning (or honeydewing) before long in beautiful, exotic Casaba.
Epiphany is celebrated on January 6th in the Roman rite of the Catholic Church. "Little Christmas" is another name for this special day marking the visit of the Magi bearing their gifts for baby Jesus. In the Eastern or Byzantine rite (Orthodox), January 7th marks the baptism of Jesus and is generally the more significant day for the peoples of this branch of Christianity (the occasion is commonly referred to in the U.S. as Russian or Greek Christmas). With this slender segue, there is the whimsical tale of the tailor in ancient Greece and his customer who converse at the former's shop on a routine business matter. Inspecting rather badly torn trousers presented to him, Nicholas, the tailor, exclaims: "Euripides?" Rather sheepishly Gus, the patron, confesses that "yes, I was playing ball, hit a Homer and fell while rounding the bases. I sure hope Eumenides." "Don't you worry young fellow. I'll fix 'em right now with my sewing machine and I'll then have those wrinkles smoothed out in a jiffy with this Electra iron. That'll be XII drachmas." "Hey, you've got some Minerva!" cried Gus. Resigned but still annoyed he urged "Okay, but hurry up or I'll need a dime for Demeter. Old Nick reassuringly replied "Priam on, pal. You see, Medusa good job! Now you're a fashion Plato." Gus started to leave and Nick protested "Euclid at least give me a tip."
With groans aplenty ringing in this blogger's ears, he must confess "Odysseus ridiculous." But Santa, ever kind, said "Nutty's not naughty SO JUST TAKE IT LIGHT and 'A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!'"
(Greek mischief courtesy of Miss Quotidian 7, my own "Mrs. Calabash")
Sons and Daughters of The Old Line (Part 2)
How to proceed: with our heroines and heroes, though covered in glory, still covered by shrouds, our hearts eviscerated, theirs perhaps literally so, our hopes seemingly smashed, our babies stolen by serpents from hell? First, there are basic truths to never lose sight of. One, there are certain weapons we NEVER have reason, yes REASON, to EVER relinquish.
We never fight the forces of darkness with darkness. We use God's own Light. This is not a call for pacifism. Oh no, secondly, we proceed armed, not only with His "terrible swift sword" but with all the technological hardware we can amass against the bad guys, including yes, assault weapons and any other firearm our law enforcement organizations require. We arm ourselves with these objects but especially, we arm ourselves with Truth. Another reminder: guns do not kill people. People kill people. That's not a slogan on a bumper sticker. It's a simple truth and such a simple one, but those obsessed with the mechanics and physics of mass murder and not the spiritual cancer behind such abominations have great difficulty processing the crystal clear and manifest reality of this fact. Without understanding these simple verities no progress shall be forthcoming.
Mental illness as well as moral clarity are primary issues that we must deal with: the former's challenge and our task to courageously effect treatment of those suffering from it, is primary in our advancement towards a solution. The latter is equally important and is to be valued unequivocally as our chief tool/weapon against cursed forces of darkness. This means no parsing of truth, no enabling, no politically correct euphemisms for bad behavior and weird silences when red flags of improper acts and "acting out" appear and/or are excused, rationalized in the name of "civil rights", diversity, art or so-called self-expression. "Advancement" yes, we must seek it, but arriving at an earthly, final victory? It'll never happen. Evil will always be with us and the constant drama and exquisite tension between Goodness and its antithesis must be understood as a given. Liberalism, Progressivism, Marxism, Socialism, Obamaism, all these systems are thoroughly worthless and some even consciously ally themselves with Satanic forces. Want to scoff at such an assertion? Go ahead, pretend that relativism works and that man is a perfectible being if only controlled by "wiser" men. Forget the lessons of history: nationalism early in the 20th century, Fascism in the '30s, the monsters of mid century and up to the present (Stalin, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Jihadists, etc.) and continue this willful amnesia. And do so at your great peril. But do not include good people and those who will have no truck with evil in your sociological agenda. Get the hell out of our churches, synagogues, our legislatures and executive seats of power and especially, out of our courts. We know how to bind up our own wounds and we don't need bloated government and its irresistible inclination to diminish our liberties whenever we become irrationally fearful of the diabolical scum that imagines itself for brief moments masters of our civilization. The terrorists, cockroaches, beaureaucrats and all other sub species of the Family of Man are those who need to be fearful, kept cowering in the dark and crushed as the serpent under the Virgin Mary's feet. Prideful? No, we know we cannot wage this war alone. We need Mary, her Son, Michael The Archangel and God the Father as well in order to route the maggots from hell. And we need each other to continue to love each other while ever struggling (our fate as mortals) to thusly solve the problem of human existence. END
We never fight the forces of darkness with darkness. We use God's own Light. This is not a call for pacifism. Oh no, secondly, we proceed armed, not only with His "terrible swift sword" but with all the technological hardware we can amass against the bad guys, including yes, assault weapons and any other firearm our law enforcement organizations require. We arm ourselves with these objects but especially, we arm ourselves with Truth. Another reminder: guns do not kill people. People kill people. That's not a slogan on a bumper sticker. It's a simple truth and such a simple one, but those obsessed with the mechanics and physics of mass murder and not the spiritual cancer behind such abominations have great difficulty processing the crystal clear and manifest reality of this fact. Without understanding these simple verities no progress shall be forthcoming.
Mental illness as well as moral clarity are primary issues that we must deal with: the former's challenge and our task to courageously effect treatment of those suffering from it, is primary in our advancement towards a solution. The latter is equally important and is to be valued unequivocally as our chief tool/weapon against cursed forces of darkness. This means no parsing of truth, no enabling, no politically correct euphemisms for bad behavior and weird silences when red flags of improper acts and "acting out" appear and/or are excused, rationalized in the name of "civil rights", diversity, art or so-called self-expression. "Advancement" yes, we must seek it, but arriving at an earthly, final victory? It'll never happen. Evil will always be with us and the constant drama and exquisite tension between Goodness and its antithesis must be understood as a given. Liberalism, Progressivism, Marxism, Socialism, Obamaism, all these systems are thoroughly worthless and some even consciously ally themselves with Satanic forces. Want to scoff at such an assertion? Go ahead, pretend that relativism works and that man is a perfectible being if only controlled by "wiser" men. Forget the lessons of history: nationalism early in the 20th century, Fascism in the '30s, the monsters of mid century and up to the present (Stalin, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Jihadists, etc.) and continue this willful amnesia. And do so at your great peril. But do not include good people and those who will have no truck with evil in your sociological agenda. Get the hell out of our churches, synagogues, our legislatures and executive seats of power and especially, out of our courts. We know how to bind up our own wounds and we don't need bloated government and its irresistible inclination to diminish our liberties whenever we become irrationally fearful of the diabolical scum that imagines itself for brief moments masters of our civilization. The terrorists, cockroaches, beaureaucrats and all other sub species of the Family of Man are those who need to be fearful, kept cowering in the dark and crushed as the serpent under the Virgin Mary's feet. Prideful? No, we know we cannot wage this war alone. We need Mary, her Son, Michael The Archangel and God the Father as well in order to route the maggots from hell. And we need each other to continue to love each other while ever struggling (our fate as mortals) to thusly solve the problem of human existence. END
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Sons and Daughters of The Old Line
Is there something more precious than the life of a child? Nascent little ones are living prayers and hopes for tomorrow. Renewal and reviviscence of our own lives, scarred or broken though they may be and grizzled and weary though perhaps we may be, are the glad results of the joyous milestone that is a human birth, even for individuals who seemingly only vicariously bask in the sunshine of another's newly minted motherhood. Fathers too, distributing cigars while beaming radiantly, are in turn showered with our love and good wishes on the occasion of the great "yes" to life that the arrival of a brand new member of our human family expresses.
An abiding hope is the only human way to embrace the future, hand in hand with our best efforts through work, wariness and love. We may on occasion be convinced that the sought after end of our journey is somehow promised to us, but we all must know better. We don't merely wish for an outcome. We prepare every day in a sense for the worst by striving to do our best through our diligence, our forethought and our mature judgment of probabilities, the consideration of and predictability of our friends, family and of course, of our enemies. And we still hope for the best: it is perhaps the only way to "put out into the deep" as a local clergyman advises. Life is, come to think of it, not unlike a deep sea fishing trip; this one being an arduous journey that we do not return to port from until our time on this earth is over.
The atrocities last week in Newtown, Connecticut were nothing less than the war cries of the Father of All Lies, screaming while wickedly smiling his "I told you so's" for any of us (in truth, all of us) who for a second did not calculate into our daily strategies the guardianship required to put the malevolent wolf that is the Evil Intelligence of this universe howling in retreat from our doors. Of course, as humans we will inevitably fail at some point to stay at our posts as unsleeping sentries, vigilance unending. But we are not alone in the struggle. A changing of the guard is normal and a helping hand from angels, saints and the mortals who love us and even from those strangers who stand ready and willing to love and be loved, given the chance, are all part of the invisible and visible army of God, the realization of whose presence crushes despair every time.
Like the deeds of Maryland's "Old Line" (see blog entry of January 2011), love and sacrifice has been repeated through the centuries of our republic's history. The supreme sacrifice of these very young men of our Continental army in the Battle of Brooklyn in August 1776, at the very birth of our nation was not only gloriously reprised by military heroes of our subsequent wars, but also by men and women from all walks of life in unsung sagas forgotten by all yet remembered by God. Their heroism made even the angels cry as well as St. Michael and his meta-stalwart allies of the Heavenly Host. Now add to this long and luminous honor roll, the women of Sandy Hook Elementary School. "Greater love hath no man or woman than to lay down his/her life for his friends." Protection of the innocents with their bodies (these were not merely instinctual protective acts): at least one fallen teacher was found still caressing the murdered child in her care, and unceasing love and unselfishness in many other noble ways were the rule when these marvelous women of Light and unswerving rocks of the decency of our civilization fought, however seemingly futilely, against Evil and its cowardly assault. The humanity, compassion and empathy displayed by an elderly man who was approached at the entrance to his home by a small traumatized band of some of the children who escaped the carnage at the school was truly heroic as well. He had no weapon to fight any other black hearted foe who might have appeared on this blackest of days in Connecticut history, but his understanding of the anguish of a human heart and especially of that of a child's was more than worthy of the eternal embrace of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. "Love is the answer to the problem of human existence" wrote Erich Fromm. There is little doubt that other paths may attract those enraptured by their senses and the physical delights and riches that the worldly realm offers. But time and the longing within each of us are both relentless. We want a place of refreshment, a home where we may rest and yet never become bored (the strangely true condition of the so called "exciting" life of worldly pleasures, narcissism and of the self-hating authors of our wounded land's recent and too frequent mass annihilations). END OF PART 1.
Like the deeds of Maryland's "Old Line" (see blog entry of January 2011), love and sacrifice has been repeated through the centuries of our republic's history. The supreme sacrifice of these very young men of our Continental army in the Battle of Brooklyn in August 1776, at the very birth of our nation was not only gloriously reprised by military heroes of our subsequent wars, but also by men and women from all walks of life in unsung sagas forgotten by all yet remembered by God. Their heroism made even the angels cry as well as St. Michael and his meta-stalwart allies of the Heavenly Host. Now add to this long and luminous honor roll, the women of Sandy Hook Elementary School. "Greater love hath no man or woman than to lay down his/her life for his friends." Protection of the innocents with their bodies (these were not merely instinctual protective acts): at least one fallen teacher was found still caressing the murdered child in her care, and unceasing love and unselfishness in many other noble ways were the rule when these marvelous women of Light and unswerving rocks of the decency of our civilization fought, however seemingly futilely, against Evil and its cowardly assault. The humanity, compassion and empathy displayed by an elderly man who was approached at the entrance to his home by a small traumatized band of some of the children who escaped the carnage at the school was truly heroic as well. He had no weapon to fight any other black hearted foe who might have appeared on this blackest of days in Connecticut history, but his understanding of the anguish of a human heart and especially of that of a child's was more than worthy of the eternal embrace of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. "Love is the answer to the problem of human existence" wrote Erich Fromm. There is little doubt that other paths may attract those enraptured by their senses and the physical delights and riches that the worldly realm offers. But time and the longing within each of us are both relentless. We want a place of refreshment, a home where we may rest and yet never become bored (the strangely true condition of the so called "exciting" life of worldly pleasures, narcissism and of the self-hating authors of our wounded land's recent and too frequent mass annihilations). END OF PART 1.
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