There's Always Something...

What Kids' Photos Reveal...

With the advent of cell phones that take pretty good photos, every youngster becomes a photographer.

For whatever reason, so many of these photos turn out to be pictures of kids acting dumb - sticking out their tongues, smiling through glaring teeth, hoisting beer bottles, hugging each other, etc.

Every once in a while one will come up with something genuinely interesting that they have observed and want to share their impressions of. Almost art, in other words. Something beyond themselves; more than self-absorbtion. 

When I see something like this, coming from the lens of one of their cameras, I must admit that I pause for a moment and experience a moment of thanksgiving and renewed hope in a generation that seems more wrapped up in themselves than in anything else. 

More than that, I look at that particular youngster with a new respect. There's more to him/her than I had thought. "Wow!", I think, "I want to know him/her better..."

Every generation of teens is quite naturally self-centered. Mine was. Yours was. Something of a painful necessity, I suppose. Still, when I see just a few separating themselves from the pack and seeing something good, true and beautiful beyond themselves, I am surprised and inspired.

Terlingua, Texas

Cowtown Patti got me to thinking. Might just move to Terlingua, Texas.

Thing is, I'd fit right in on the Chile thing, though my style is a bit more New Mexico. Beats gated communities all hollow.

What to Call the Females?

I've been confused for decades about the question of political correctness and female designation. Now, I really don't worry much about political correctness in any of its many aspects. Confused is my word. No more. No less.

Anyway, certain terms come to mind.

Ladies is supposed to be a tribute, but some are offended by it. I respect ladies.

Girls has been a neat little endearing term for years and years, but some find it degrading. It goes with boys, a word which I also like. Oddly, I notice that senior women seem to love to be called girls and the word is very popular in these retiree areas.

Women seems OK with everyone, as far as I can tell.

Dames and broads - so Sinatraish. Haven't heard that in years.

But, and here is the reason I bring it up. This generation of college age females seem to get a kick out of referring to themselves and their chums as "ho's" and "bitches". That seems strange to me, but "to each her own, said the old lady as she kissed the cow." (That from my mother.)

I'll never understand.

Males don't seem to care much what we're called - men, gentlemen, guys, boys, dudes, studs - on and on. As long as we have some of the sisters around, who cares? Life is so short, isn't it?

Guns, Guns, Guns...

The gun folks are really whooping it up these days. I thought it went a bit far when they insisted on packing AK47s along on their adventures into the woods to bring down wild animals in a burst of lead, but these days they are filling the legislatures with demands that their inalienable rights should include the privilege of packing in churches, bars and restaurants.

Wow!

In my heartier days, I confess that I preached a few sermons that probably would have resulted in my poor, bullet-ridden, Bible-toting body being removed horizontally from church in much the same condition as a deer, freshly torn apart by friendly fire; if such a law or custom was in effect. It is a sobering thought.

All I can say is that if I glance at the adjoining pew or table next week and happen to see a parishioner/customer fondling a 45, I may just excuse myself and find some friendlier place to hang out. If he/she happens to get offended over something said, done, or undone, I'd just as soon not be around.

Activities, Communities and Meaning...

We belong to a modest number of real life communities. In addition, of course, there are those amorphous internet communities. Each of them is unique. All of them are the same.

Each feels a deep responsibility to keep us organized, active, on board, interested, entertained, committed, busy, involved. They deserve and subtly demand a chunk of time, talent and material possession. They get a bit paranoid if we drift off into our own world - or show signs of boredom.

The gracious ones accept the fact that it isn't all about them. Life is full of interesting possibilities. One possibility that has always beckoned me is that of finding meaning and fulfillment in exploring the siren calls of mysteries that surround us, call us quietly and by name = but only permit one or two spirits at a time.

A Tale of Two Paper People...

We had a change in the persons who deliver our morning papers about a month ago. It was a seamless and unemotional transition as we have never laid eyes on either the first or second delivery person. We don't know the names, the sex - well, anything about either. You see, they deliver before the sun comes up and all we get is a glimpse in the morning darkness of their vehicles as they drive by.

But there's a difference.

The first one delivered at 4:45 AM. The second at 5:15. (give or take a bit).

The first drove carefully. The second goes past so quickly that one wonders how he (she) gets the paper through the car (or truck?) window.

The first tossed the papers close together almost to our front door. The second usually lands one on the sidewalk and the other in a shrub.

The first somehow gave our early morning ritual of getting up and fetching the newspapers a tad of dignity and thoughtfulness. The second starts the day with something vaguely less than pleasant. They both accomplished their tasks. We have done nothing to entitle ourselves to either thoughtful or unthoughtful treatment. It's a simple enough give and take transaction.

But there's a difference.

I feel that I know a lot about the two individuals though I have no idea who they are. The way someone does his or her job reveals something about them.

If You're Gay and Married...

I get confused with the plethora of titles used by the politically correct among us.

Our eldest son, who is gay, recently got married to his pardner of many years and started  refering to him as his "husband". I had no problem with this, but wondered where that left our son. Was he "wife" or another "husband"?

So I asked him.

Here's his answer:

"Yesterday, after referring to Daniel as “my husband”, my father asked me “does that mean you are the wife” to which I assured them that I was also a husband, not a wife.

He then said that he was confused when he referred to a (female) friend and her friends as “girls” because she vigorously insisted she was “a woman” not a "girl".

I explained: “Girls" are either ages 0-12, or 75-100. All the rest are "women.”

He replied: “Yeah, but she is 76".

” Without losing a beat I explained: “…and she is a lesbian: ALL lesbians are "women", but only lesbians can call each other “girls”.

He now understood feminine appellation."

Well, I do. But what about the "ladies."  Oh, never mind.

The Coming Year...

This holiday has never had meaning for me.

Resolutions don't enter in because, for whatever reason, decisions, lots of them, constantly being made, are so much a part of our every day lives.

New Years Eve parties? Can't remember attending one. Ever. The fairly universal acceptance of more than usual drinking and kissing people other than your own fail to make the grade with me. Sobriety and being conservative in handing out meaningless tokens of intimacy are basic in my book. I don't like kissing other people's wives and don't like others kissing mine. Kisses are too important to be trivialized. We usually head for bed about 9:30 or so.

That doesn't mean that certain hopes and fears aren't a part of this day for us. The coming of a new administration for our nation is full of such great possibilities for all of us that one would have to be pretty callous not to be full of hope.

This past year both of us turned 80. We sold our home of 22 years and moved into a new home. We celebrated our 58th wedding anniversary. Many good things happened. I doubt that any year will be able to compete with 2008 for us. But who knows?

So tonight, while we are peacefully sleeping, 2009 will wend its way into our lives. We greet it with a smile and a nod of the head. Let the good times roll. But in a gentle way.

Should Guys Remove Their Hats?

Should they? When they go into a restaurant, someone's home, even church? When everyone is in a patriotic or religious mode?

The common etiquette says, "of course". My mother taught me with great vigor (!) that gentlemen remove their hats in the proper times and places.

But women don"t. How come? Isn't this sexism?

The reason for my raising this question is a tirade a friend threw recently in a small group of people. She had gone to a restaurant with her husband the night before and wasn't amused that about half the men and boys were wearing baseball caps, some of them on backwards. The interesting thing was that I tended to agree with her. I certainly wasn't brought up that way. Seemed oafish to me to do so.

On second thought I wondered why this was important to anyone. I would have to say that times have changed and in certain sections of the country, the American west included, guys wearing hats in public places is popular. In these parts, especially rural districts, cowboy hats are hardly ever removed. As a western song has it: "You can have my wife and my dog, but leave my hat alone."

Baseball caps are just about as popular elsewhere.

OK. I couldn't bring myself to join the crowd on this one, but I'm not sure why. Maybe I could hear Mother's voice from the grave: "Roger, take that damned hat off!"

I have no problem with that. Always did pretty much what Mom said.

If she were still around, she would snort and say: "The hell you did!"

Suddenly the Future...

I shook my head twice and all of a sudden Thanksgiving was over and Advent came sneaking in.

Advent, as you know, is a church time that tries to get us into a proper spirit for the coming of Christ - or more like it in our society - the coming of Christmas. Two totally different things.

The weird thing about Advent is that there is no way in the world the church can stifle the sounds, the smells, the commerciality, the traditions, the fun of Christmas until December 25 (when Christmas time actually begins.) Church members get grumpy because they're not feeling penitent at all (which is what Advent is all about) and besides that, they miss the good-old Christmas music in church as it is in department stores. Who wants long faces going into Christmas? Wait until after Christmas for that.

Clergy go nuts trying to work out some suitable compromises that will allow them to keep clear liturgical consciences while keeping their flock at least modestly happy.

Can't be done.

I never liked Christmas much. Worked myself half to death doing the church stuff while my family wondered if they would ever see their husband/father again. With 3 or 4 services on Christmas Eve I would stagger in after midnight in hopes of catching a few hours sleep before the kids were pounding on our door to get us involved in the glories of seeing what Santa had brought. And no one, except Jo Ann, really understood why Dad was a bit grumpy on such a happy day.

Oh dear.

One of my most vivid memories is of one Christmas Eve in Omaha when I was driving wearily home after church - through a lovely new snow. It was about 12:45 and I was just a block away from home when I noted a fellow in a red suit walking slowly down the sidewalk. He was apparently a neighbor dressed up as Santa, He had taken off his beard and Santa hat and, head down, was as defeated as anyone I had ever seen. The picture of absolute despair and exhaustion. What was wrong? Who was he? Where was he going? Where had he been?

I hadn't the faintest idea.

Somehow his secular celebrations and my sacred ones had touched unexpectedly in the darkness. And there wasn't more to be said than just that.