AGGRESSIVE IGNORANCE

BE  ADVISED !!
    This is not a 'muttering'; it is a full-throated RANT  !!


    "Contrary to popular belief, it is not a sin to be ignorant,"
Dr. Stuart Henry of Duke Divinity School faculty told us. "God did not distribute an equal apportionment of brains.
What is inexcusable," he added, "is the aggressive display of one's lack of mental endowment."  

    Those long-ago words came to mind this morning.  My wife and I have been conscientiously practicing "Social Distancing", venturing out only for her post-operative visit last week.  Friends and family who have offered to bring necessary grocery items have deposited them at a distance, retrieving our payment after we had gone back inside.  I have been fortunate to continue my therapy practice via a secure, HIPPA approved platform.  And we have located churches who stream their worship services thereby helping to mitigate the loneliness. We recognize the heroic work being done by the 'front line' people.

    The 'front lines' are not where many of us can contribute.  All the credible information we have received says that our main tool to curb the spread of this plague is 'flattening the curve" and even that will require time to demonstrate efficacy.  'Keep your distance', 'self-isolate', 'avoid even casual contact with friends', 'don't be a carrier and infect someone else just because you may be asymptomatic' ... these seem to be 'common-sense' actions.

    In the face of the drastic toll this virus is exacting on a world-wide level and now that the US 'leads' the world in number of cases, nay-sayers avow that all this is an 'over reaction' and a politicization of the situation.

   Earlier today, an acquaintance who drops by occasionally rang our doorbell.  My wife with Lysol spray in hand stopped him at the door and demanded six-feet-plus distance which he grudgingly accepted.  Then he proceeded to recite several  pieces of 'disinformation' and to 'tease' by coughing several times, although it seemed that a couple of those were not faked.  While we thought that we were well into our 14 day zone of safety, now the count has restarted.

    In a few minutes, I am going to post "NO VISITORS' signs at our doors, indicating that we are observing social distance.  I hope that no one will be offended; but if they are, c'est dommage (that's too bad) as the French would say.

   Be safe and  be well !

       Satchel

PALLETS , COMIC BOOKS AND QUARANTINES

         'The Reverend' Charlie Gray pronounced it "Polo", like the equestrian sport.  Charlie was a self-appointed evangelist in our area in the late 1940's and 50' and prone to overbearing self-importance, at least to my adolescent reckoning.  But those are perhaps stories for another time.

    He was referring to poliomyelitis usually modified to polio or,  more rarely, infantile paralysis, though adults were also afflicted.  Probably the most notable adult to be stricken and partially paralyzed was the later-to-be President of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt.  FDR was thereafter unable to walk with out assistance and wore leg braces.

    The villainous virus had been a recurrent terror for several centuries.  According to one source, the United States first case occurred in 1894 and the last in 1979.  Between those dates, summertime outbreaks terrorized many parents of young children. Most infected persons survived ; yet many experienced either temporary  or permanent paralysis and death was not uncommon. A common visual at the time were children in  'Iron Lungs' , respiratory machines.

    My own childhood and adolescence occurred during horrendous epidemics of this illness of unknown origins and causes.  According to Wikipedia, with 58,000 + cases and 3,145 reported deaths and 21,000 + paralytics, the outbreak of 1952 was the single worst year in  U.S. history.

    In North Carolina, 1944 strained the medical world's ability to provide extensive effective response for the 861 reported cases.  Then came the disruptions of 1948:  2516 reported cases.  Not knowing how to combat an illness of unknown causes, parents and other 'experts' relied upon         common sense prevention . . . rest, unnecessary exertion and good nutrition.

    While my friends and I experienced no formal quarantine,  social contact was reduced and  afternoon leisure was mandated.  My wife recalled that she and her family had to lie down in the afternoon to rest.  For my younger brother and me, there  were long afternoons on a pallet that mom put down for us on the screened in back porch.  And there were stacks of comic books and lots of soda and iced tea.  'Baby brother' , having just been born at the end of May, was kept inside the house.

    A Raleigh radio station,WNAO, (later WKIX) did its part to keep us entertained with programs of music, contests, etc.  A favorite was a kind of 'name that tune' wherein the host would choose a random number from our submitted postcards and call us to identify the just-played selection.   One day the host said  'we're calling 4501' (yep, just four digits) in my hometown. If we answered correctly, the prize was a $2 starter for a $25 government savings bond.  Consolation prize was $1 in cash. Well, i didn't know the song and asked my mom who was sitting nearby.
"The Yankees are Coming", she guessed (incorrectly). Instead it was the Scottish tune, "The Campbells are Coming". So I took my prize to the local post office and began my investment in a savings bond.

   In1955,  my high school Junior year, Principal C. H. McGregor called the student body into the auditorium to announce that Dr. Jonas Salk's research had  produced an effective inoculation against polio. Too late for at least two students at our school. Both thereafter walked only with a cane or crutches   Again, based on online 'research', I read that the last case in the US occurred in 1979, though  it remains in other parts of the world.

     Currently, health authorities predict that we are on the cusp of a public health crisis of epic proportions. Among the many challenges facing humankind is how to be attentive to our own well-being without being callous to others.  There will be times to 'lie on our pallets and read comics' and other times to find ways to be kind and humane to others.

  If I had those classic 10 cent comic books now, I could likely subsidize a lot of Coronavirus research and treatment.

    Satchel

    

                                    

MISSING IN ACTION or PRISONERS OF WAR or KILLED IN ACTION

SOME  DEFINITIONS  FROM  ON-LINE  DICTIONARIES:

;

MISSING  IN  ACTION :    DESIGNATION FOR MEMBER OF AN ORGANIZATION WITH WHOM CONTACT IS LOST  AND  WHOSE  WHEREABOUTS  ARE NOT KNOWN  BUT WHOSE DEATH IS NOT CONFIRMED   or   NOT  PRESENT  WHEN  ONE  IS  EXPECTED TO BE.

PRISONER  OF  WAR  :  A  NON-COMBATANT . . . WHO IS HELD CAPTIVE BY  A BELLIGERENT POWER DURING OR   AFTER AN ARMED  CONFLICT.

KILLED  IN  ACTION;  A CASUALTY CLASSIFICATION  GENERALLY USED GY  MILITARIES  TO DESCRIBE  THE DEATHS  OF  THEIR  OWN  COMBATANTS  AT  THE  HANDS  OF  HOSTILE  FORCES.


     These  terms  originated within conditions of military warfare but there are other kinds of "warfare", many of which currently are in the midst of pitched battles. Conflicts rage within cultural, religious, ethnic, political, educational, medical, and environmental arenas (to name just a few of those more potentially lethal for human as well as societal survival ).

 And these ''wars" have other types of MIA's, POW's, and KIA's.  A nominee for the greatest casualty is "VIRTUE', defined as "behavior showing high moral standards".  Virtue has historically had several manifestations but  currently many are casualties of pecksniffery:  very hypocritical people whose traits include (among others) rudeness, crudeness, injustice, 'mean-ness', and corruption.

   The vault where society has preserved its words signifying magnanimous behaviors and traits  has  been breached and the words and behaviors taken captive.  Just today, someone posted a 'Calvin and Hobbes' cartoon where young Calvin says to his  dad: "The meaning of words isn't a fixed thing and can mean anything.... By giving words new meanings, ordinary English can become an exclusionary code! . . . To that end, I'll be inventing new definitions for common words, so we'll be unable to communicate."

   So, if you see any of the following virtuous words that currently are mia's, pow's or even kia's, please bring your dictionary of correct definitions to the  rescue:
    courage,
        dignity,   
           honesty,
             honor,
                incorruptibility
                   integrity,
                     justice,
                      kindness,
                        politeness,
                          respect,
                             TRUTH

Our survival is on the 'front line'.
   Satchel
                           

"YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN A BLOG RECENTLY . . ."

       . . .  So said a colleague recently. And a friend from college years commented the same just today, wondering if I had 'writer's block'.   And for reasons not entirely clear to me, I have not written.  This much I do know:  There is a 'mood' that I seem to be encountering from many sources . . . clients, the news, social media, politicians, public discourse (often coarse discourse), deaths impacting friends, etc.  . . . that weighs heavily upon the human spirit, or at least my own. 
   Among the 'causes' and 'casualties': 
       ..human lives (after how many mass shootings, including two  at a funeral today);  Just saw a survey claiming that a full 50% of the American populace fear being present at  a mass shooting.
         ..tolerance for views differing from one's own, an attitude someone labeled "Why should I change my mind if I know that I am right ?";
    ...Minimal regard for our common humanity: 'commonwealth' it was once called;
        .. basic manners, kindness, dignity and respect; optimism about the future.

  In, the face of all this, Disengagement  from any  awareness, involvement, information, 'news' offers some folks a means of coping.  Diversions such as athletics and other entertainments serve the same function. Denial works for others. Some become Depressed.  (Just realized that I have a string of 'D' words.)

    Levity, nostalgia, hope, gratitude . . . among the ideals that I have wanted to convey in these musings and meanderings . . . have seemed somewhat out of place, irrelevant, and even trite against the backdrop of the recent social and political landscape. 

    For those who profess to be adherents of faith in a Being, a Higher Power, God, or other such designations , how in the Name of what is Holy and Good can kindness and compassion, love even, be expressed in realistic ways that make a difference? Especially when there are  'believers' who turn their 'religion' into instruments of divisiveness, self-righteousness, hatred, rancor.  Mark Erelli sang, "I refuse to let my hope become the latest casualty."  I like the sentiment; how to live it, protect it are my daily challenges.  

    Re-reading the preceding paragraph, I focused on "realistic ways that make a difference". For me,  Difference needs more clarity of definition.  Erelli again: "If I can't change the world, I'll change the world within my reach."  

    Occasionally, a client will inquire as to whether I am a "Christian".  To my understanding, I am. But before responding, I ask for clarification of what that means to them. I am not attempting to be coy or disingenuous; I simply do not want to say 'yes' or 'no' to their subjective definition which may not comport with my own.  Whatever else Christianity and other religions are,   cognitive dogmas that have no influence on how we live and treat  others seem inadequate for 'making a difference'.  

    How are you 'making a difference' these days ?

           Satchel
    
     

ONLY 366 TO GO . . .

   Or, is it  365 days ?  Not certain since 2020 is a Leap Year.
That is . .x. . days until next Christmas Day.  (Note: Christmas Day).  Christmas season began yesterday and continues for the next 12 days for those who are influenced by the liturgical calendar.  The often-sung Twelve Days of Christmas gets little air time after the 25th.

   Aside from the 'religious' significance of the Season, I now remember rather the . . . what to call it ?  . . . the cultural, the commercial, the nostalgic experiences associated with  CHRISTMAS.  And, of course, there is the collective impact of the music, the emphasis on home and family, the gifts under the TREE, the venerated family recipes , and other such memories.

   As a youth, I thought dusk on Christmas Day ranked at the top of the SAD list.  Another year  to wait !! Seemed like an eternity. Not that the current year's toys were broken or even worse for the wear nor that  all the nuts and candies had been eaten. Perhaps it indicated the end or at least the suspension of the magic and the 'visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads', even long after  we were 'wise' about some of the gifting origins.

   Now as those 365 days come and go in a flash and 'Christmases Past' have greatly increased in number, I often wish that time's pace would slow down a bit to give more opportunities for reflection.  Whatever your opinion may be of retired journalist, Dan Rather, his Facebook post on Christmas Eve seems to me to offer Hope in the midst of our challenging  times.  He wrote in part: "I sometimes   wonder how many Christmases I have left. The truth is none of us have any way of really knowing.  This is a time to . . . try to take stock of one's relationships, with family, friends, and with one's self."  He went on to note that while reflecting on Christmases past, he also feels "the warmth of the blessings of the present.  I breathe deep a hope, always hope, for the future."

    HOPE , not 'wishful thinking', not even magical thinking, coupled with a greatly misunderstood word ...LOVE*... seem to offer spiritual sustenance for making our way through the upcoming 366 days.
  (*not the same as sentimentalism or 'liking' but the conscious choice to seek  others' well  being as well as our own)
     Satchel

"We will have chicken and dumplings . . ."

         How often we sang the little ditty, She'll be coming 'round the Mountain . . ." with the promise of "We will have chicken and dumplings when she comes . . ."  The blue-ribbon champion of chicken and dumplings in this region is my 92 year old aunt Rachel. 

    She has excelled with this 'delicacy' for years.  When her son had a local restaurant, it was  common knowledge that on the day that her c&d was the 'specialite de jour', late arrival would mean "all gone".

     For the past few years, she, her 'children' and spouses have invited my brothers and our families to her  house on the day after Thanksgiving for an evening of food, fun and fellowship. When we gathered this year, like a magnet I was drawn towards the kitchen stove to see this year's production.  This is what I found:

While she maintains that this is not her favorite food, others of us tell her not to lose the recipe ; that is unlikely to happen.  She could probably cook them in her sleep.

    At 92, she continues to be a marvel and the family 'jewel'.  Since 1996, she has travelled in all 50 states and in 12 foreign countries, continuing a tradition that she and her late husband Wade had enjoyed.

      I cannot lie.  The chicken and dumplings are delicious; but just being with her is a big adventure. Last night we demonstrated again our gratitude for her culinary skills.

You continue to cook them and we will eat them.  Thanks !

           Satchel

"T" TIME

    

                                               T

     The calendar indicates that it's time to "T up"; not as in golf.  Rather,  in the "T" words that accompany this season:  turkey, tummies, time, touchdowns, t.v., together-ness, travel, traffic, tempers,  toys, tots, therapy, trees (as in 'when can we put up the Christmas tree?'), tradition, thanks, and, oh, yea, Thanksgiving. Likely, you have additional "t" words to add.

    At the risk of being "thanktamonious" (please forgive),  I nominate 'Thankful' as the most  desirable attribute for the season as well as for living.  Thankful for what ? the  cynic and the wounded could ask.  Well, for some, there is the old guilt-inducing Count your blessings, name them one by one . . .".   Nor do I find  winsome the attitudes of  entitlement and  exclusivity,  as in "We are special and we deserve..."  Instead, gratitude  cultivates kindness, 'play it forward', sharing whatever bounty one has, and magnanimous actions and attitudes, to mention a few conditions of the heart. For sure, I am hardly fully  there yet but I believe that   THANKFULNESS   is one of life's  Main Things.
     Satchel

"Sattidy is Coming"

    

An appealing sentiment

  Or so the 'old-timers' around whom I grew up sometimes pronounced it. In the small-town/rural oriented  milieu of my youth and adolescence, Saturday was kick-back and ease up day.  Even for those of us with 'jobs', there was something different.  Don't believe it could be called 'festive' and certainly not 'celebratory'.  

    Much of the local economy was driven by agriculture.  Before the advent of so called 'farm to market roads' in the late 1940's , the distance to 'town' was longer and not as often travelled.  Saturday was the exception --- especially Saturday afternoon.  That's when we would see our rural friends as they came for their weekly grocery store run or having their prescriptions refilled or just plain ole socializing with folks that they had not seen since last Saturday.

    In my freshman and sophomore years in high school, I worked in one of the two local drug stores.  At that time we had an added feature that today's CVS, Walgreens, etc. do not provide their customers ... we had a 'soda fountain', complete with soft drinks, milk shakes, banana splits, sundaes, ice cream cones, and various concoctions limited only by the 'soda jerk's' (as we were called) imaginations.  Pay was not so great but access to all the treats of he fountain helped ease the strain.

    Two women invariably came in around 8:30 pm, thirty minutes before closing time.  Their order was always the same :  "a small coke and a pack of nabs". When the outside lights were turned off and I began sweeping the floor, they continued their conversation.  I do not remember how Mrs. Pegram, the proprietor, eventually diplomatically had them to leave.

    Having previously worked in a local 'branch' of a regional 'supermarket' chain, I had already had a front-row view of the Saturday phenomenon.  On one particular Saturday evening, two of the most beautiful girls my 14 year old eyes thought they had ever seen continuously walked up and down the sidewalk in front of our store, making eye contact in a flirty (or so I thought) manner. Only when school began that fall and I knew their identities, their beauty (as well as any they had perceived in me) faded.

    Prior to my junior year,  our family moved to another small town about 15 miles away.  Soon I was back working in the same chain's local grocery.  Most people still did their weekly shopping on Saturday. Twenty-five dollars was a large weekly grocery order and 'carry out service' was usually provided by the high schooler who bagged the order.  And that usually meant carry arms full of bags great distances ... and tips were  forbidden.

     Then one day Dan, a local pharmacy owner, sent a note asking me to come by and discuss coming to work at his establishment where I received compensation above the 40 cents per hour that my earlier parsimonious employer paid.  Invariably, Saturday was the busiest day with Friday nights a precursor.

    The Statler Brothers had many songs that evoked nostalgia for an 
idyllic past.  One of their recordings asked "do the stores still stay open on Friday nights downtown ?" and "do the kids still spend Saturday nights riding  'round Hamburger Dan's ?"

    In time, the advent of 'Shopping Centers' and malls, extensive highway pavings, and several other social and economic changes made Saturday into 'just another day' and changed many small downtowns into rows of empty buildings. 

    A former colleague noted his transition to retirement as "every day is Saturday."  I have the birthdays to qualify for retirement but, gratefully, find satisfaction in my profession and my dislike of  the 180* different time ---Monday morning --- is minimal.   And every day as a "Saturday" sounds alluring . . .  but without the 40 cents per hour salary.

     Satchel

"Priming the Pump" or "Wisdom from the Wells of Others"

         Priming the Pump... what that originally meant likely is lost on many today.  A New York Times article not long ago noted that it is now arguably " ' a dead metaphor', or a metaphor in which the original evocative meaning is largely lost" since few now have a home water pump that needs to be primed to function.  Probably it is most often used for a stimulus to jolt an economy into recovery.

     My writing has been going through a 'dry spell' so I decided to jolt my muse by being attentive to the observations of others.  Recently, I found a notebook that  I once kept of pithy quotes that I had read.  What follows are some that I found to be 'spot on', especially those that focused on attitudes about aging, since I'm now closing in on my 82nd year:

  .from May Sarton, The House by the Sea:
   .."There as many ways of growing old as of being young, and one often forgets that."
  .."Tidying things up clears the mind..." (a favorite of my wife's)
  .."One of the good elements in old age is that we no longer have to prove anything, to ourselves or to anyone else. We are what we are."

  . Doris Grumbach, Fifty Days of Solitude:
   .."There is something almost holy about the silence of early morning."
   .Grumbach, Coming Into the End Zone:
    .."Everything is different since it changed.."
    .."Progress, an illusion that persons living only in the present , ignorant of history, possess."
  .."Sadly, places pass out of one's life the way people do."
  .." Graffiti at the University of Michigan: 'It often  shows a fine command of the English language to say nothing."
  .."Each age of life is new to us;; no matter how old, we are still troubled by inexperience."
  .."Letters are history. They are the savored and saved past, the instigators of memory. Telephone calls [emails and texts also] are the ephemeral present and play a part only in the immediate future."

  .Donald Hall, Lifework
    .."Contentment is work so engrossing that you do not know that you are working ."

  .Linda D. Jenkins, Journey of a Returning Christian
     ."But I think questions are healthy.They mean we are still paying  attention."

  .George Sheehan, Going the Distance: One Man's Journey to the End of His Life
   .."Wisdom is a product of a process. This process begins with information, proceeds through knowledge, and through what a less gifted poet, Edgar Guest, called 'a heap of living', ends in wisdom."
   . "The step from knowledge to wisdoms the longest one in a person's life"

   .Kaye Gibbons, A Virtuous Woman 
    .."Sometime we could all use a lesson in saying quiet."
    .."You can't ever just throw words out. They have to land somewhere."

  Now, I hope that these 'borrowed words' land somewhere that 'prime the pump' for the 'living of these days.

    Satchel

UNCLE FRANK AND THE ORIGINAL CHATHAM RABBITS

  Uncle Frank and me around  1940

  As a child, one of my favorite people in the world was my Uncle Frank Durham.  Actually, he was not 'blood kin' ; he was married to dad's foster sister, Louise.  Living their entire lives in the mill village of Bynum , North Carolina, at the time
of his retirement, he had  risen to Superintendent of the mill.
He kept my brothers and me supplied with dimes and Juicy Fruit chewing gum.

   The archives of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's Southern Oral History contains an interview with "Unk" that I treasure. His and other interviews in time became Like a Family, a study of Southern  cotton mill villages, published by UNC Press.

    A hallmark of many of these villages was their "string bands", as they were usually called.  Bynum in the 1920's and '30's also had several   musicians that attained some regional acclaim.  One such group was "The Chatham Rabbits", for which Uncle Frank was one of the guitarists.  In recent years, a husband and wife duo calling themselves the  Chatham Rabbits is achieving wide recognition. (Check their web page.)

    So, what's with the 'Rabbit' ?  There is even a great coffee shop here in our town with the name "Chatham Rabbit".

And, this mural on another  downtown business pays further tribute to the past importance of the rabbit.

   In the late 19th and early 20th century, the furry rabbit was prolific in Chatham County (NC) and was valued for its fur and its meat. Huge quantities were shipped by rail along the  Eastern US seaboard.  Between 1910 and 1914 , according to an  article in a local newspaper, 94,342 rabbits were shipped from Siler City alone. (If this interest you, put your search engine on 'origin of the Chatham Rabbit.)  According to Unk, an illness of some type virtually decimated the rabbit population, probably in the early 1930'.

   When he was around 20 years old, Uncle Frank became part of  the 'Rabbits'.  By the late 1920's there were several string musicians in the village.  The chief influence for this was a string virtuoso named McKinley McDaniel.  'Unk' credited McDaniel with his own early training and decision to purchase a guitar from a pawn shop.

   Uncle Frank identified the original members as "two good fiddle players" (Walter Farrell and his son, Frank), a "banjo player" (David Baker), "a harp blower" (harmonica) (Talt Riggsbee), "a mandolin" player (Briggs Atwater)and himself and Bob Clapp as guitarist and vocalists.  The band  quickly gained local recognition and soon was performing on radio station WPTF in the capital city of Raleigh. He remembered that "we got a lot of telegrams, including one from Alabama".
The radio gigs apparently ended when spouses complained about the amount of time the men were away.

    Walter "Corkey" Harris , 'unofficial' historian of Bynum. remembered that  his grandfather (Frank Farrell)  told  him stories about the band. "They played for a lot of  dances in the area and had a pretty good reputation. Pa played the fiddle as did his daddy. . . . They would travel to Raleigh and play on WPTF radio station."  He further recalled his grandfather's telling him that "they had to walk down a long hallway to the studio where they were to play.  At the end of the hallway was a large wall mirror.  As his daddy, I.W. Farrell (Walt) came to the turn, he tipped his hat to the man he saw coming toward him. That fellow tipped his hat at the same time to Mr. Walt who never realized who it was that was so polite."

  Unfortunately, no recordings by the original Chatham Rabbits have been located.  Uncle Frank continued to play with other groups as this photo indicates:

   Front row left, McKinley McDaniel; Right, Morris Ellis
   Back: Uncle Frank and Cecil Ellis.

     In researching for this post, I came across the names of other Bynum musicians, including Raymond Gerringher and Archie Ross.  The new Chatham Rabbits who also live in Bynum wrote of having learned that a former occupant of their  house, Randolph 'Suzie' Riddle, had played guitar with the original 'Rabbits'.

    Thanks to the new "Rabbits" for honoring and keeping the music alive.

     Satchel
   
     

"TO HELL WITH POSTERITY . . ."

. . . was  the title of an audio lecture that I heard several years ago.  The essence of the message was that there exists within society an attitude of  'get yours while the getting is good and let those who come later get whatever may be leftl'.
There seems to be a lot of that sentiment in the 'air' these days. (Pun intended !)

    During a drought, a tourist asked a farmer, "Think it'll rain?"
The response: "Always has."  In some places in this world, the  more accurate questions are "When" and "If"; and in other parts of the U.S. the question is more like "when will these floods stop?"

    Mark Erelli sang "We are passing this world on to our kids from the moment they step out of their cribs . . . "  If the current pace of consumption, pollution, and pillage continues, what are we 'passing on'?

Planet  Earth as seen from outer space

Wendell Berry, the Kentucky farmer, novelist, poet, environmental activist  wrote that  "to cherish what remains of the Earth and to further its renewal is our only legitimate hope of  survival."  And another of his poems that I recently saw was even more poignant :   

           

If you believe that 'climate change' or 'global warming' are either hoaxes or much ado about nothing, the purpose of this post is not  to convince you otherwise.  Today I saw three separate items that reenforce my conviction that 'the times, they are a-changing'.  One was from an anonymous  source : "No amount of money, oil, or gold is worth more than the bees, trees, and clean water."  The other was a news release from NOAA noting that July 2019 was the hottest month on record and that 9 of the 10 hottest Julys on record have occurred since 2005.  Furthermore, "the record-warmth shrank Arctic and Antarctic sea ice to historic lows."

Dr. Rachel Cleetus, an economist and policy director at the Union of Concerned Scientists, in a New York Times article on August 15, 2019,  said that "this is not a challenge we can overcome as individuals [but only] by pooling collective resources, whether it's time or dollars or political action, that we will get to solutions."

And, while I believe her assessment to be 'spot on', I do not think that it absolves us from our  individual efforts to 'save the planet'.  There is still truth in the admonition that we should plant a tree in whose shade we will never sit.

Years ago I heard Dr. Fred Craddock say that those who cannot see beyond the time of their own birth and death are "orphans in the universe".  Posterity matters !!

Satchel

"SOMEBODY'S DARLING"

          SOMEBODY'S DARLING  was a song from the American Civil War that lamented the deaths of so many young men.  The strong message was that they were not simply an impersonal statistic or collateral damage accompanying the violence and horrors of war.  These were REAL PEOPLE with dreams, hopes, kinships, futures...
And, then, GONE !

     Unfortunately, 'somebody's darlings'  continue to die in combat  that seems universal.  A poignant line in Reuben James  (about an American vessel sunk early in World War II):  "Many years have passed since those brave men  have gone, many years have passed and still I wonder why  the worst of men must fight and the best of men must die ! "

    Warfare while horrific hardly accounts for the deaths of 
Somebody's darling.  TWICE yesterday (August 3, 2019) innocent 'darlings' going about the normal routines of life, minding their own business, wishing no one harm  did not return home.  The latest body count that I have seen indicates  20 deaths in El Paso and 9 in Dayton, Ohio.
Before that, how many ?  If, as is often claimed, 'violence is as American as apple pie', then the time has come for another kind of  pie. 

    ANGUISH  follows this violence.  An online dictionary defines anguish like this: 'severe mental or physical pain or suffering'; 'sorrow, grief, heartache, heartbreak, woe, despair'.  And, while 'thoughts and prayers' has become almost a benign cliche, there is little meaningful effort to address the complicated  matter of guns.

   Another Civil War song, Just Before the Battle, Mother,
indicated that those about to engage in battle knew that "on tomorrow, some may sleep beneath the sod'.  But if you go to the mall to buy school supplies, or go to your holy place to worship, or to a musical concert, or to school to learn, or to . . ., you don't expect such to be your  last ever activity.``

     An anguished Psalmist implored, "How long, O Lord, how long ?" (Psalm 13)  How long will 'somebody's darling' become a statistic ?
   
        Satchel  

     

"FLOWERS MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER "

     

Deer ....  stay away !

       The monsoon season here has passed.  Now, it's just hot and dry.  If the flowers are to survive, they need water . . . daily.  While giving them their morning 'drink' today, I listened to a podcast by Sean Dietrich (aka "Sean of the South") from July 4, 2018.  In that program, he frequently spoke the words that are the title of this post.

     Our yard has been a riot of colors since last February 
when the little purple crocus emerged.  There has been a progression (not necessarily in this order) of jonquils (buttercups), azaleas, iris, dogwoods, roses, day lilies,  camelias,  hydrangia, gardenias, canna lilies, calla lilies, hibiscus, mandavila, petunia, hosta, coleus, ferns and one volunteer sunflower (courtesy of a bird who enjoyed the suet feeder)

Spot the butterfly 

Looking down from the balcony

  

My wife has a 'green thumb'. I think she could make flowers grow in cement. I ? Well, I cheer her on.

  We have collected day lilies of numerous colors on our vacations.  We love them . . . so do the deer.  It is a contest from late May to now as to how many buds become full flowers.   A friend who is a professional landscaper called them
'deer candy'.  For many years, my wife was renowned for her many varieties of roses.  Ultimately, the deer won that struggle.

Today whenever I catch a whiff of a fragrant Sweet Betsy bush, I am transported through  the years to the sidewalk at my adolescent home where mom had planted that treasure.
Like my wife, she excelled in making miracles in the soil.
In our home she had a small plaque that expressed well her
philosophy of horticulture: One is nearer to God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth.

The Promise of Spring

    Apropos Sean Dietrich's comment, flowers complement most every occasion and situation: births, weddings, funerals, graduations, on the church altar or communion table almost every Sunday, at dance recitals,  birthdays, anniversaries, Mother's Day, apologies, parties of many descriptions, and you likely can add to that list.  Beauty may indeed be in the eye of the beholder, and, if so, the tenacity of this volunteer by our trash can gets my vote.

      

Flowers make everything better !

Satchel