There's Always Something...

Books...

I'm a life-long bibliophile. Love books. It started with my mother who belonged to the Book of the Month Club. I got to read almost all of them, often before she did. In college, I became an English major. Couldn't get enough of literature in its many forms.

In my profession, I always felt it vitally important to buy and read books - both classics and modern. Every new interest that fell to me along the way headed me for the bookstore. A new collection of relevant books. You get the picture.

I ended up with a library of thousands of books. Each time we moved, I worked up courage to divest myself of a few hundred books. Of course, these were soon replaced as we went along. I was addicted - of course in a highly practical sense.

When I retired, I donated hundreds of religious books to churches and seminaries. This was painful. It also was revealing. The books I kept probably told more about me than the ones I gave away. Some books were so much part of my soul that I simply could not give them away.

When we moved into this smaller home, I really had to give away cartons of books. We were in a rush, so it wasn't as traumatic as it had often been before. When the smoke cleared, I still found myself with three large bookshelves full of good books - plus several cartons of unpacked literary treasures.

A few weeks ago I gave away a couple of boxes of books to the new Colonnade library. Then I sat down and went through the remaining library and pruned some more. Only the closest to my heart remained.

Now I am launching out on a slow, but wonderfully fulfilling project. One by one, author by author, I am rereading the sacred remnant. Maybe 500 books. When I finish a book, I give it away; unless! Unless I can't! Then it goes back on the shelf, to be treasured and loved a bit longer.

It is a life-long love I have. Books. Yes, books.

Responding to People...

Have you noticed the increased degree of disrespect that seems to come with communicating with friends and family on the internet?

I noticed several months ago that really young children and teenyboppers would simply disappear in the midst of chat or instant messaging sessions. Gone! Then the same thing began to happen with older kids and even adults. No "bye" or "got to go" or whatever. Just a quick vanish in the midst of a seemingly nice conversation. Leaves one feeling like a doddering ass.

I confess that after two or three of these, I removed them from my buddy list.

But it goes further than that. One of my sons recently discontinued his blog and then went on to cutting every name from his FaceBook page that had never responded to him in any way. He sees communication as a two-way relationship. That makes some sense to me. Unanswered emails, phone messages, are just accepted practices with some people. Eventually, they do pay a price. Receiving personal stuff without offering any response at all over a period of time eventually communicates the same thing. Disrespect. I'm with Pete all the way.

Blogs are different. Some of us read up into hundreds of them regularly. They are written and received as common offerings. Comments aren't really expected or generally received. It is good when it happens!

Pete's made me think.

When we are face to face with one another - or even to lesser degree - on the other end of a telephone line, it is harder to disappear and consequently more open to civility and real communication. Being with each other over the internet is much quicker, less demanding and prone to thoughtless impersonal discourtesies.

Remember the movie of a decade ago where a character kept going to his window, leaning out and shouting something like: "I'm damned sick and tired of all this and I'm not going to take it any more!" I loved that, but was not sure why. I'm beginning to see the light.

That's what Pete was trying to say - and I line up right behind him and shout in old fashioned Methodist style; "Amen, Brother! Amen..."

Life With The Swat Team...

In the event that you get in the mood for some action and decide to sign up for the local swat team, just remember that there are downsides. Here, for instance:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/no_one_on_swat_team_wants_to_wait?utm_source=onion_rss_daily

Responsibility is Good...

Baseball's Painful Irony...

I played a lot of baseball and we live and die (mostly die) with our Arizona Diamondbacks on a regular basis. It was, therefore, with great joy and bittersweet pleasure that I opened Garrison Keillor's blog this morning and discovered a poem by John Updike that hits the ball right out of the park.

Here 'tis:

Baseball

by John Updike

It looks easy from a distance,
easy and lazy, even,
until you stand up to the plate
and see the fastball sailing inside,
an inch from your chin,
or circle in the outfield
straining to get a bead
on a small black dot
a city block or more high,
a dark star that could fall
on your head like a leaden meteor.

The grass, the dirt, the deadly hops
between your feet and overeager glove:
football can be learned,
and basketball finessed, but
there is no hiding from baseball
the fact that some are chosen
and some are not—those whose mitts
feel too left-handed,
who are scared at third base
of the pulled line drive,
and at first base are scared
of the shortstop's wild throw
that stretches you out like a gutted deer.

There is nowhere to hide when the ball's
spotlight swivels your way,
and the chatter around you falls still,
and the mothers on the sidelines,
your own among them, hold their breaths,
and you whiff on a terrible pitch
or in the infield achieve
something with the ball so
ridiculous you blush for years.
It's easy to do. Baseball was
invented in America, where beneath
the good cheer and sly jazz the chance
of failure is everybody's right,
beginning with baseball.

"Baseball" by John Updike, from Endpoint and Other Poems. © Alfred A. Knopf, 2009. Reprinted with permission

Surgery, Anyone?

One of my delights in life is listening to fine lectures every day, thanks to TED, an internet lecture hall. This one is the best I've heard - got a standing ovation and dealt with the history of surgery, the vision of surgery and the practice on modern surgery using robots. Wow!

Can't tell you how exciting, how relevant this lecture is.

A Sentimental Old Fool - Me...

Call me that, if you will. And, of course, You would be right. I listen with quiet, sentimental attention to The Sound of Music's lovely "Edelweiss" with The Caption, Maria,The children. It gets to me every time.

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch...

Good friend Nikki, expatriate in Sweden, shared this marvelous, lively musical bitch with me. Love it!


Helsinki Complaints Choir

From Above...

This is one of my favorite shots from the deserted goldmine way west of here.

Thanks to Nebraska Wesleyan University...

Several decades ago, Nebraska Wesleyan University bestowed upon me the honorary "Doctor of Humane Letters" degree.

Across the years I have tried to balance the use of that honor between being genuinely being proud of the title and, hopefully, unobtrusive in its use. It certainly was a boost to me personally - the "Dr." preceding my name! I liked that - treasured it! I have no doubt that it boosted my ego, my reputation, maybe my church's pride in their pastor and possibly even my career. I took it seriously - but hopefully not too seriously.

One must constantly be on guard against becoming pompous and unbearably self-indulgent when folks do nice things. "Dr. Bourland"? Really, come on. No one is fooled.

It did gave me a lasting affection for that noble institution of higher learning in Lincoln, Nebraska. Three of our kids graduated there and all of us agree that it was a tremendous education. A portion of our estate will one day go Wesleyan's way, though they never asked for or expected any such response from us.

But as I was thinking about Wesleyan today, the thought occurred to me that I had never really thanked them for making a difference in my life - for telling me and those around me that there was something worthy of honor in my life and ministry. But making a difference in people's lives is a long-standing tradition with them.What a nice thing to do.

I served on their Board of Trustees several years after receiving the honor. The more I came to know about the inner workings of the University, the more I respected and admired it.

There are fine Colleges and Universities like Wesleyan all across this nation. They take on one of the most difficult and important tasks of all - the helping of our youth to grow up, to learn to love to learn, and to make a significant transition from being youngsters to being independent, growing, mature adults in a world full of challenges.

So thank you to Wesleyan and all the other fine schools we call our own. We need you as never before.