Just a little more than usual
Babies laughing, a good joke, a fart in church, the mostly unintended hilarity of an out-of-left-field comment from one of the grandchildren, the banter on certain TV shows, funny baseball videos, funny pet videos, occasional comments from my wife.
As far as derisive laughter goes, Donald Trump has a corner on that market.
By that time, I might have been reading about Clyde Tombaugh and how he discovered Pluto. I’m not sure I ever wanted to be a fireman or a police officer, but the story about Mr. Tombaugh grabbed my interest and I periodically thought about studying astronomy.
Maybe that was a bit later. My distant past is getting kind of fuzzy. It was around that time, though, that I got the bug for stargazing and looking up.
Quantum physics, String Theory, algebra, religious faith, why we’re here and how we got here, why we can’t just get along, how computers work, how the brain works, how people can still be enamored of Donald Trump, along with three or four (million) other things.
I’ve been retired for almost five years, and I consider technology my friend. Even at my somewhat advanced age, I use my laptop every day. I find myself drawn to my iPad and, to a lesser extent, my smartphone, especially the camera.
During the years of being a parish pastor, there was an increasing dependence on technology, between updated desktop computers, printers, copiers, digital cameras, and audio/video options– especially during Covid. The software for newsletters and bulletins was always improving, becoming more versatile and useful. Bookkeeping programs, spreadsheets, etc. tailored to the annual statistical reports we had to submit made that tedious job a bit less of a chore.
I’d say technology smoothed out certain rough edges, but we always needed to find a person or persons who were well-versed in the tech and were willing to learn along the way.
I don’t think I’ve ever had bona fide, lofty goals, other than the macro, cliched things like graduating high school, graduating college, finding work that provided a paycheck. There have been unstated hopes and desires, like finding a woman who could love me, being a good parent, and making enough money so we wouldn’t have to worry about money, which hasn’t really happened.
Anymore, seeing that my goal most days since retiring is to tend to whatever I feel like tending to, I say “no” or turn up my nose on occasion to a sudden change of plans, and I do that probably more often than I should. This isn’t a quirk of my personality. It’s something I need to work on, even at this late date, and it’s not easy.
So, it’s happening. I’m getting set in my ways. Or maybe I’ve always been that way.
Saying “no” to things that interfere with your goals has always struck me as being a bit selfish, its own form of going through life with blinders on. But anyone who’s ever achieved anything of note has had to do just that.
Kind of confusing to me.
I wish I had the ability to write words that were succinct, that penetrated the soul and cut to the chase and were so convincing that despots would be convicted and evil would disappear and wars would stop and the human race could get on with the work of tending the garden.
Since that is unlikely to happen anytime soon, I’d settle for being able to sit at the piano and sight read any piece of music.
Sometimes it’s a rainy day, other times it’s an early Spring day when we get a taste of mild temperatures and bright sun. I used to be petrified of thunderstorms, but now I love them– except when they get really out of hand and we have to head to the basement.
Snowstorms don’t hold the same magic they once did. I guess my favorite type of weather is more aligned with the mood I’m in, though a day with a bit of a breeze, temps in the low 70s, sun and blue sky will usually hit the spot.
Mr. McGregor, my high school Spanish teacher was, in a lot of ways, my most influential teacher. I’ve written about him in a couple of these prompts, so this time around I’ll give a nod to Dr. Thulin, a Homiletics professor at Gettysburg Seminary who would go on to be President of the institution for a bit.
In an introductory class on preaching, he used an example of the power of words, saying that spoken words can be like arrows shot from a bow– once they are released, there is no getting them back. They’ll land where they may, and in turn inspire, convict, wound, or miss their mark entirely.
The imagery and poignancy will stay with me for as long as I live.
Be less of a buzzkill and more of an optimist.
I have no desire to put a tattoo anywhere on my body.
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