GETTING THE QUESTIONS RIGHT

        Whether from exasperation or for encouragement, Dad used to say to his eldest, "Son, you ask more questions than a Philadelphia lawyer."  I never understood the allusion to the Philadelphia lawyer but I sensed the appropriateness of seeking more information and knowledge.  Knowledge for its own sake can be , well, informative and also satisfying.  'Knowledge seeking understanding' takes the enterprise to another plane.

     So,  "I don't know" perhaps becomes one of the most difficult acknowledgements we can own.  Ambiguity, uncertainty, ambivalence, open-mindedness, and other such postures which indicate tentativeness of knowledge and understanding do not come readily nor easily. Nor are they often popular. Especially is this the case when circumstances and persons (sometimes literally) cry out for "ANSWERS' and "CERTAINTY".

    Tonight in casually surfing assorted blogs, I came across one which assigned to a literal flaming HELL anyone with a scriptural interpretation at variance with the author's. What CERTAINTY of having all the ANSWERS!  In the 1950's a comedian named Brother Dave Gardner had a routine that included this line: "Don't tell me your doubts. I have enough doubts of my own.  Tell me something you believe in !"  And, in the face of BIG QUESTIONS, his sentiment finds a lot of "Amen's".

   By contrast, this morning in my re-reading of Parker Palmer's Let Your Life Speak, I met anew his account of friends who came to "comfort" him when he was in the depths of a major clinical depression.  While his visitors meant to be helpful and kind, their 'answers' failed.
After his return to health, he wrote: "One of the hardest things we must do sometimes is to be present to another person's pain without trying to 'fix' it, to simply stand respectfully at the edge of that person's mystery and misery." (page 63) As a therapist, I am still learning that speaking as if I fully understand my client's concern can be grandiose and downright insulting. . . much like Job's 'friends' in that Biblical book.  

    Life is full of questions, some trivial, some important: "Think it'll rain?", "Who won the game?", "Will you forgive me?". It is a great achievement to ask the right questions, especially those that have to do with  life's meaning. We can live without a lot of things but not about meaning and its sibling, purpose.

    My academic and spiritual mentor, the late Reverend Doctor Harrell Beck of Boston University School of Theology,
often urged  that , "The questions of God are infinitely more satisfying that the answers of [humans]."  Questions are healthy; they mean that we are paying attention to life.  And it is important to frame the questions well which is not always easy nor pleasant.  An anonymous author wrote,  "The answers are important only if you ask the right questions."

   Ultimately, the questions are not solely intellectual. Rather they call for living, even with partial answers, partial understandings, ambiguities.  There sometimes seems to be an abundance of "Answer People." The late Dag Hammerskjold scornfully noted of an unidentified person, "Not knowing the questions, it was easy for him to give the answers."  To some of the questions, "answers" will come in time; for others, it is okay to say, "We don't know."  Our knowledge is tentative and provisional.

   Esther de Waal, an Anglian woman steeped in the Rule of St. Benedict, wrote in Living with Contradiction that God's promise "is not that we shall escape the hard things but that we shall be given grace to face them, to enter into them, and to come through them. The promise is not that we shall not be afraid. It is that we need not fear fear." (p. 116)

     What that 'looks like' and how one grows into that kind of groundedness are, I believe, life long questions that defy cliches and easy answers.  Emmanuel --- heard often during the recent Advent and Christmas season --- can provide a solid place: "God With Us".
   
     Satchel

UGLY CAKE

                                                Angels in Heaven eat  Ugly Cake !
                                                           

                                                             (a 2006 edition)

       Several years ago, my sister-in-law, Shirley, became the 'keeper of a family tradition' . . .   making Aunt Louise's Devil's Food Cake with the 'cholesterol city' icing !

    Louise was dad's foster sister and although they shared no biological kinship, she was always "Sister".  Her death was one of the few times that I saw dad overcome with grief.  She and Uncle Frank lived in the mill village where many of our relatives still remain, though the mill is long since gone.  In time he became Superintendent of the mill and she was an operative or 'mill hand' until her retirement.  But cooking was her craft and not unlike many women of her generation, she worked her magic on a wood-fired 'cook stove'. . .  even in Southern U.S. Summers !  Sometime in the late 1940's or early '50's, an electric stove replaced the old inferno.

Louise on left in her kitchen with my  mom around 1952

    As with many cooks, Louise (we came to wonder) perhaps kept some component of the recipe as her secret.  We knew that she always used fresh milk from a neighbor's herd.  She told us that "Mrs. Hatley keeps her cows out of the(wild) onions".  (If you have ever experienced fresh milk tainted with wild onion taste, then you will understand the importance of her admonition.)    Until her death in 1979, Louise crowned many family feasts and special occasions with her specialite de la maison.    For his ninth birthday son Chris received his requested special cake.  After the candles were blown out and everyone served, the sizable remainder was covered and stored.  Later that day, someone suggested 'Round Two'.  When we went to the storage area, all the cake was gone.  'Birthday Boy' had eaten it all !

Chris and His Birthday Cake 1968

   Like Aunt Rachel's Lemon Pie and Chicken Dumplings (other stories of family lore), such delicacies and delights are treasures not to be lost.  (I'm unsure whether Rachel has yet entrusted her recipes to progeny.)  In the years after Louise's death, Shirley began experimenting with the recipe.  By her acknowledgement, the first few did not look like the Louise's.  She even gave them the unflattering designation "Ugly Cake".  I assured her that a sightless person served a slice of her creation would think appearance irrelevant.  While subsequent editions are more visually aesthetic, the taste has been consistently 'Yum'.  The name, however, has stuck.

    What makes it soooooo good?  Probably the icing (which we think Louise called 'the filling').  Is it calorie laden?  Is New York City a 'big town'?  It tells the truth . . . just not the magnitude.  Each cake's icing contains :  1/2 pound butter; 2 1/2 cups sugar [sifted]; and 3/4 cups of whole milk.  Shirley said it is like  'white fudge'.  That mixture is boiled for 3-4 minutes while being stirred with a wooden spoon.  Then it is allowed to cool, beaten with a mixer and spread on cool cake. From 40+ years experience, Shirley recommends making the icing and allowing it to set prior making the cake.

     When family gathers on holidays and celebratory occasions, 
there is great 'moaning and groaning' if Ugly cake is not on the dessert menu.  Last week, my wife and I missed the Birthday gathering for my Great-Nephew, Jackson.  When I called to offer our regrets, my niece conveyed his message, "Tell him we're having ugly cake."  Ah, what a taunt !

    When 'ugly cake' is being served, the only correct question is "When do we eat?"
    Thanks, Louise; and , Thanks, Shirley !

My brothers and I survey the remnants of Ugly Cake,  Thanksgiving  2013

          Satchel












    
      

"IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD"

     Last Saturday, when entering a nearby restaurant, I asked for a quieter section because too much ambient noise becomes a roar with my hearing aids.  The  host made a joke about the infirmities attendant with his nearly 65 years; being just shy of 78, I congratulated him on his youth.  Then he uttered the well-worn cliche about old age just being in our head.  At that point, I had a revelation: "Well, not in our head alone but the head seems to be a significant focal  point of the aging process."

    "All in your head": Let's see . . . there is the TOP : 'some Hair turns gray, some turns loose and some does both'. (And some is colored and often with vibrant colors !)  Our dad was somewhere in between the 'gray' and 'loose'.  He resourcefully managed to maximize covering his pate with the limited  hair he had.  But since hair endowment comes from the mother's genes, my brothers and I have been able to retain ample covering. The beard that I recently began has, however, a different hue than those of a few years ago. The color on top and of our beards has changed significantly for two of us brothers.  How the youngest has managed to stay with original issue is a mystery.

    "All in your head":  THE EARS:  the little computers that I wear in my ears certainly help but there are limits, especially in crowded spaces, like restaurants.  After dinner with 5 of our friends last week, I told my wife that I heard perhaps 10% of the conversations.  That could cause some "communication problems" . . . perhaps similar to a cartoon going around: Wife: "You need a hearing test !" 
Husband: "Why the heck do I need a hairy chest?" To compensate, there are conversations within my head plus the added benefit of knowledgeable nodding and smiling. And the costs of the hardware?  Just say that I could have provided laptop computers for several family members for what those tiny aural enhancers inflicted on my resources.

    "All in your head": There are the INSIDE THE HEAD factors.  Alzheimers and other forms of dementia are not funny at all.  But for those of us not so afflicted, there are nonetheless Challenges.  Among those is the so-called 'hereafter' affliction.  You know, you enter a room, take a breath and mutter, "What am I here after?" The "I can't find my . . . keys, wallet, glasses, pen, etc." refrain also seems to be sung more frequently.

    "All in your head":  VISION problems are no respecter of age. I have worn glasses for many years.  A few  years ago, I added a new word to my health  repertoire : Cataracts.  Alas, since the procedure, I am still uncertain about which eye received the laser.  And now, I am told that the other eye (which? ) is 'ripe' for laser surgery.  

  "All in your head":  THE NOSE: My brother barely 'old' at 67 has been sneezing LOUDLY for years.  Allergies, he rightly claims. . . Compromised genes from our mother.  But, is there a reason that our sinuses, not always dormant along the chronological journey, nonetheless take advancing years as license to activate?

   "All in your head": TEETH:  I remember a silly ditty from youth: "Some men smile in the evening; some men smile at dawn. But the man worthwhile is the man who can smile when all his teeth are gone."  (I warned you: it's silly.)  Somewhere around age 40, I had all my upper teeth crowned at the then-handsome fee of $200 per tooth.  The cost now is a tad more.  And, implants?  Don't want to put an automobile inside my mouth because the price for the full treatment would equal the cost for a new ride for the dentist.  So, when new challenges recently arose, I  opted for a partial denture.  It's an adjustment.

   To confirm that it's not all ' in the head', my brothers began their orthopedic "challenges" many years ago.  And, my daughter, thirty years younger than I , has had hip and knee issues.  Now that an  X-ray and cortisone injection have confirmed osteoarthritis in my hip, finally I can lay claim to being an 'old hippie' .

     It really isn't for Sissies even when much of it is "in our head".

         Satchel

BIRD (HOUSE) MAN

Donnie at a recent competitive show in Chapel Hill, N.C.

           First things where they belong . . .
  This  is  not  an advertisement ...paid or otherwise.
As a  matter of fact, when our friend Donnie sees this, it will be his first awareness that this little tribute is being made to one of his many unique talents ---building birdhouses.  But not just those of unimaginative joining together of pieces of lumber.  

     Donnie's edifices are works of art.  Whimsical, creative, imaginative, beautiful . . . these are the first adjectives that occur.  In his 9-5 life, he works in a nearby high tech corporation.  But before leaving for that world and after returning home, his creativity in another realm emerges.  Initially conceived as a way to generate tuition income for his college-age son, Old South Birdhouses Company's recognition and success have surpassed his modest original goals.

  At dinner with several friends this week, someone asked where he got his ideas.  He modestly said something to the effect, "Well,I have a drawer full of junk that I try to put to use."  He gathers that 'drawer full of junk' by frequent forays through antique venues, old tobacco barns, yard sales, and salvage yards. Where others see 'junk', he sees components of pieces of art.  He has created birdhouses of fish, roosters, old automobile logo, man-cave themes,. . .  No two pieces are identical.
For a larger sampling of the diversity of his art, see the Facebook page for Old South Birdhouse Company.

   In the few years since beginning this hobby/avocation, Donnie has exhibited his work in numerous venues and won several "Best in Show" accolades.  Additionally, he has had a retail booth in some of the most prestigious craft shows in the area.  My daughter and family have a couple of his houses, given as Christmas gifts, in their Alabama yard.

Placed in memory of one of our Family members

     

DeLuxe Birdie Apartment
(Full view below right)

This Rooster is one of three of Donnie's
birdhouses in our yard.

High Rise Apartment at show at Carolina Inn, Chapel Hill, N.C.


Donnie combines his considerable intellect with an engineer-like 'hands on' talent honed from an early age. A promo piece noted that "being the third generation in a construction family, he has always been involved in building, but his birdhouses allow him to be creative on a much smaller scale."  He indicated that "all my birdhouses are designed to receive a seal of approval from the North American Bluebird Society."

As someone who has never been able to hammer a nail nor saw a straight line, I marvel at his creations.  But comparisons have limited benefit.  Creativity and fulfillment manifest differently and,  it seems to me, there is greater importance in finding and expressing one's  unique skills.  When someone asked if his son enjoyed the building projects as much as he, Donnie noted that Dolan ,while  competent in the workshop, is a writer.  At an early age, the son was already writing books.  Dad recognized and encouraged his son's special talents and today, Dolan is enrolled at a nearby university, honing his own creative skills. I have read some of  his lucid reviews of movies. He writes very well. 

We each have abilities for building our particular kinds of "bird houses".
What is yours?

Satchel