" I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY . . . "

       "I heard the bells on Christmas Day, their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat of Peace on Earth, Good Will to men [all]."  

     No, I am not attempting to 'rush the season'.  That is already  being done rather universally in American commerce.  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem written in the depths of anguish of the Civil War was greatly on my mind yesterday . . .  because in a subsequent verse, he lamented : "And in despair I bowed my head. 'There is no  peace on earth' I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of 'Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.'

    Longfellow had lost his wife in a tragic fire and was seriously injured when attempting to save her.  Then a year later, his older son was gravely wounded by a Confederate bullet. In time the son recuperated but the accumulated personal sorrow  against the backdrop of a national tragedy
took its toll on his spirit, as the words of his song reflect.

   Yesterday's horrific violence at a synagogue in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, followed the most recent rapid succession of hate-filled Terrorism and insults to human dignity and life: the spate of pipe bombs sent to critics of the current political administration; then the cold-blooded murder of persons of color at a Kroger store in Kentucky.  And, now, this . . . at least eleven (11 ! )  persons dead at a house of worship !  Within the past few years there have been deadly shootings at places of worship across the spectrum of faiths. This particular gunman, however, apparently had a history of hatred of Jews.  Anti-Semitism has a long, ugly past . . . and present.

      In an earlier post, I cited Mark Erelli's song, Passing Through:  "Injustice and indifference are the only things I see. But I refuse to let my Hope become the latest casualty."  And, Longfellow in a subsequent verse wrote "Then pealed the bells more loud and deep, God is not dead, nor doth he sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail. With peace on earth, good will to men."  Today, to both of those sentiments, one inquiry is   WHEN ? Other appropriate questions: "Am I contributing to the poisoning of society ?";  "What can I do to live 'good will to all'? " 

    "How long, O Lord, how long? "
        
        Satchel

CAPTION THIS . . .

SEEN  NEAR  HILTON HEAD, S.C.

Recently I posted this picture on Instagram with the invitation to create a caption.  Seemed to me like an excellent  Rorschach test of one's imagination and projections.  Alas, no accepted the opportunity.Now it's your turn.

       And, while you are casting about for the right title, ghoulish or otherwise, add this dimension . . . in a few days it will be that controversial occasion known as  'Halloween'.  Four years ago (!) I published a blog post that I called "Boo!" about the day.  Theories abound about its origins and its suitability in a 'Christian' context.

   I took this photograph near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, earlier this year.  Each time I see it, I conjure all sorts of questions:
  .Whose grave is this?  The inscription is illegible .
  .When did they live?
  .What was their life like?
   .When did the person die?
   .Are there descendants still living?
   .How long have the tree and marker been growing together?
   .Surely someone must have noted the growth early on. What prompted the decision to let it grow?
   .And, a subject that has interested me of late ---What was this person's legacy; what 'difference' did their having lived make?

    No, this latter is not morbid.  It is a common and (I would insist) necessary question that holds interest for many people, particularly those who have passed the 'three score and ten' mark.   The eminent psychotherapist, Dr. Irvin Yalom, wrote that there are essentially but four meta-issues that enter into a person's therapy: Fear of death, freedom, loneliness and meaning and purpose in one's life.  
  
     Since reading Yalom, I have noticed how one or more of those topics are often intertwined within the immediate issue(s).  A large percentage of my therapy clients are sixty years old and over. Two are well into their mid-80's.  It does not take a 'trained ear' to hear 
them address these matters.

    Having reached my own four-score years, I intend to give more focused attention to such inquiries.  Amazing what you can see when you see a tree growing into a tombstone.

   Satchel