by Greg | Dec 14, 2010 | Blog Posts
Recently on NPR I listened to a report of a billboard advertisement near the Lincoln Tunnel in New York. It depicted a nativity scene, a star and three wise men with the message: “You know it’s a myth,” courtesy of a group called American Atheists. Not to be outdone there is now another billboard sponsored by a religious organization with the same scene but with the message: “You know it’s real.” I am not sure what these competing billboards cost, but I am certain the money could have been put to better use. What is it about this season that leads many believers and unbelievers into an unofficial war on Christmas? There is more than a little debate concerning what we should call Christmas in the public. Do you own a Christmas tree or a Holiday tree? Do you wish your friends, even those that are not even Christian, merry Christmas or Seasons Greetings? When you think about it, this is really not new. In the days of the Second World War Americans were scribbling on cards, and scrawling on storefronts the words “Merry X-Mas.” It has sort of fallen out of vogue to use that abbreviation because it sounds as though we are dropping the Christ out of Christmas. But maybe what we are seeing today is different. After all, it seems far more intentional, more contrived to rename our trees, our customs so that Christmas is dropped in favor of more sanitized names. So children in the public school are out on Winter holidays instead of Christmas holidays; soldiers are depicted in the media wishing “Seasons Greetings”...
by Greg | Dec 8, 2010 | Blog Posts
…there were radios. Sitting on a shelf of our bookcase at home is an old Philco Transitone radio. I remember it sitting on top of the kitchen counter alongside the coffee pot and beside the wooden rocking chair where Papa would sit after the evening chores at the barn. Eventually, I am not sure when, it stopped working and was tucked away in a closet, forgotten but thankfully not discarded. I salvaged it years later and now keep it as a nostalgic and sentimental reminder of a simple farmhouse and two hardworking grandparents. My grandmother told me that they purchased the radio right after electricity, thanks in large part to Franklin D. Roosevelt, was made available in rural Putnam County. The year was 1941 and the radio was their first major purchase of an electrical appliance. According to my research the purchase price was $12.95 – about $198.34 today, which for dairy farmers was an extravagant price. This luxury allowed my family to listen at nights to the Atlanta Crackers baseball team. (If you have never heard of the Atlanta Crackers baseball team then you are probably not from Georgia or you are under 40 years old). I am sure they also listened to morning farm reports, daily news, and social events happening around the state. Maybe they even listened to a little music, although I do not have a memory of hearing music come out of its Bakelite shell. I am writing this particular article on December 7, so I am wondering if they learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor by way of that radio. I have...
by Greg | Nov 30, 2010 | Blog Posts
Once again I am proud to tout in this esteemed article that we have a beautiful Christmas tree in our Living/Family/Herding room. It is a Frazier Fir, ten feet tall and full all around. In keeping with tradition we purchased the tree a few days after Thanksgiving and soon filled it with endless strands of lights and Christmas ornaments that are kooky but special. We have enjoyed the tree ever since. Once again we have the same small problem that nags us every year: the tree is leaning. I have tried everything to remedy the problem. I have readjusted the stand; trimmed limbs; prayed over it and now I am just trying to ignore the tilt altogether. Our evening dialogue goes something like this: “Honey, the tree is leaning,” says Amy. “No it is not,” I reply, “your eyes are just tilted. The tree looks fine.” And then to add a final statement assuring authority on the subject I say, “Besides, it looks more natural leaning like it is.” Eventually I start brooding. I cannot blame it on the tree and the stand seems to be working fine. Our house is not leaning. This is just one more thing that goes along with Christmas: even the best Christmas plans fall short of perfection. Is your Christmas perfect? I am sure it is not. Not only do trees lean and strands of light fizzle out, but people disappoint, illness sets in, and the unexpected and unplanned lands at the doorstep. When we try to pretend that we can pull off the “perfect” Christmas, watch out – not only will the...
by Greg | Nov 17, 2010 | Blog Posts
A week ago Amy and I visited the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. For months I have wanted to see the special exhibit of Salvador Dali’s paintings, so I was excited when the opportunity finally arrived. Amy has devotedly indulged me over the years. She attended her first (and last) opera with me; backpacked (again, her first and last time) with me in the mountains; and traipsed with me through many, many museums. On this particular sojourn she went primarily to give me company. “Dali,” she confidently exclaims, “is just too weird for me.” Dali is many things: eccentric, ostentatious, showy, and, I will give Amy this one, weird. Yet his paintings are technically good and a marvel to view. Some of them are layered with meanings and others, I am convinced, are just…odd. Dali’s work is often classified as surrealism. In Dali’s case, his paintings were an expression of philosophical, religious, and scientific beliefs juxtaposing striking images. I suppose one of the reasons I like Dali is that he helps me look at the world differently and things are not always what they seem to be. There is more than meets they eye. When we finished walking through the many galleries, carefully reading along the way the explanations of certain paintings as well as background material on Dali, I asked Amy with a grin, “What did you think?” She gave a one word reply, “Weird.” The things we do for love. Love underlines all our gratitudes: Love for family, neighbors and friends Love for church, members, and mission Love for this country’s freedoms and those who serve...
by Greg | Nov 10, 2010 | Blog Posts
A month or so ago we had a “small” construction project at our house. We replaced our front wooden steps with brick ones. The wooden ones had a distinct slant southward, with narrow steps. Structurally and aesthetically they needed to go. Now that all the bricks have been placed we have in our possession about a ton or so of leftover sand. My boys are too old for a sandbox and Amy finds it unbecoming when I play in the large pile with my Tonka trucks so I am in the midst of relocating the sand pile from the front yard to the back. I do not own a backhoe, a trailer, or a tractor. I do, however, own a wheelbarrow. A couple of weekends ago I decided to take on the pile, one wheelbarrow load at a time. Twenty-six loads later, the pile looks pretty much the same as when I started. I am not sure when I will reach the bottom of the sandbox, but all I can do is focus on this one wheelbarrow load at a time. Do you ever face anything in your life that is, at least at first glance, overwhelming? There will always be the sink full of dirty dishes or the basket overflowing with laundry, but there are also bigger “chores” before us that are far more ominous. It is the drip of an IV delivering a cocktail of chemotherapy; it is the mounting anxiety of a diminished paycheck and escalating expenses; it is caring for an aging parent or raising a rebellious child. There are many days I just do...
by Greg | Oct 6, 2010 | Blog Posts
Since the end of summer I have waited and watched for the telling signs of fall. For me it comes not on a calendar or from the turning of leaves, but the steady drop in temperatures. The morning air is now far less humid and definitely chillier. Now is the time to lug down the backpack from the attic and clean out last spring’s debris. I have restocked it with appropriate food, gear, and the like. Tomorrow I am heading up to the north Georgia Mountains and meet a friend to hike and camp for a few days along a short section of the Appalachian Trail. Sometimes when I backpack I blaze along clicking off miles and making good “progress” but failing to really see what is around me. There are other times, however, when I am more obedient to the pleasures of faithful watching. Faithful watching comes by staring hard at something until your neck aches. We see sacredness when we faithfully watch and abide. Many of the beautiful displays in this universe are only rewarded by our vigilant watching. Some years ago I was out backpacking with a few other friends and we ended up one evening on the top of Mt. Laconte in North Carolina. The temperatures had dropped once the sun set but the skies were crystal clear. Someone mentioned among the four of us that there was suppose to be a meteor shower that night, so all four of us sprawled on our backs on the top of an open rock face and stared deep into the night sky. Only through faithful gazing did...
Recent Comments