Iron Mountain ski jump

Iron Mountain ski jump

Friday, May 31, 2013

HELEN'S SONG

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a place of winter For the Years of Winter…
 
HELEN’S SONG
 
{TODAY IS OUR 54TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY…ONE LINE FOR EACH YEAR…}

 
Every creature has a calling, to each there comes a shout

Of what we are supposed to do, of what life’s all about

Dogs named Ernie love to bark, and meadow larks know how to hark

Wolves are keen to yap and howl, coyotes know to wail and growl,

 But loving you is what I do.

 

Wildebeests migrating, evangelists berating

Lawyers are intent to sue and kittens cuddle up and mew

Long-armed trombonists slippery sliding, icy skaters slickly sliding

A paleontologist names dinosaurs while Boy Scouts prepare to eat s’mores

But loving you is what I do.

 

Rhinos charge wildly while therapists speak mildly

Outfielders catch flies and entomologists do likewise

Soldiers march all longly and sinners act all wrongly

Kinsey’s wasps are galling, Linus is a Pauling [1]

But loving you is what I do.

 

Ghosts have to boo and cows have to moo

There’s an old woman who lives in a shoe

Mourning doves do their cooing and woodland choppers do their hewing

Detectives look for clues, and even cowgirls get the blues

But loving you is what I do.

 

Seismologists predict earthquakes and martyrs laugh at fiery stakes

Meteorologists prognosticate and soothy sayers tell your fate

Sailors sail upon the sea, garden pickers take a pea,

Old men on couches take a nap, birds in trees take a flap

But loving you is what I do.

 

Chimney sweeps look down the flue, a virus likes to give the flu

The birds from out the trees done flew, and boozers like to chug a few

Quarks go outside when protons collide, in a backwards school they seek and hide

Teens use their thumbs 2 txt 2 their chums, math professors add up sums

But loving you is what I do.

 

Johnny sang about a boy named Sue, Jack planted a stalk that really grew

Lizzie gave it 40 whacks, Jehovah’s Witness hands out tracts

Kenny G sort of plays the sax and politicians spurn the facts

Hester had to wear an A while Ahab whaled away all day

But loving you is what I do.

 

Pandas like to munch bamboo and witches love that old voodoo

Cows chew cud and say moo-moo, just like they do upon The View

Kangaroos like to hop, pigs love to eat that slop

Maltida comes a waltzing, Germans wurst are salzing

But loving you is what I do.

 

Presbyterians are predetermined, the March to the Sea was led by Sherman

Real estate agents host open house, fire fighters a blaze will always douse

Spring lambs like to take a gambol, Nat Cole’s rose just takes a ramble

Charley Brown kicked and missed which made him genuinely… unhappy

But loving you is what I do.

 

The snake got Eve to eat an apple and stayed around to invent Snapple

Noah took animals two by two and used the ocean for a loo

Samson used an ass jawbone and politicians are likewise prone

Jesus healed and did no wrong and Chuck Wesley wrote it in a real long song

But loving you is what I do.

 

Dentists make you brush and floss, some Rolling Stones do gather moss

Artists paint and draw and chisel, barkeeps stir with a stick called swizzle

Dr. Biggs dispenses pills to cure all and sundry kinds of ills [2]

Bassoonists toot the bedpost musical and the Chad Mitchell Trio sings quite cruisical [3]

But loving you is what I do.

 

Catchers squat behind home plate and pirates say “Aarrg” to the mate

Koalas on eucalyptus munch and church ladies eat Jell-O at lunch

A mando commando plucks on strings until the fat lady finally sings

Fifty-four years is not so long, I never really could go wrong

For loving you is what I do…

 

JRMcF
 
Okay, so it’s more than 54 lines, but I’m hoping for more years.

***

1] Alfred Kinsey was famous for his studies of gall wasps before deciding sex was more interesting.
 
2] For those who did not see my FB post yesterday: At coffee hour after worship on my first Sunday as pastor in Arcola, IL, a four-year-old came up to me, announced that he was wobbiebigs, and held out his arms. I took them. He waited. I got the idea that I was supposed to twirl him. I learned later that my predecessor, Glen Bocox, had started that tradition, which wobbiebigs and I continued until I got cancer and he got big. I’m sure it was all that twirling that got his head on straight so that today Dr. Robert Biggs passed his family medicine boards. Congratulations, dr. wobbiebigs.
 
3] We went on our one and only cruise with The Chad Mitchell Trio.
 
The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer!
 
You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much. It is okay to refer the link to folks you know or to print it in a church newsletter or bulletin, or make it into a movie or TV series or Broadway musical.
 
{I also write the fictional “Periwinkle Chronicles” blog. One needs a rather strange sense of humor to enjoy it, but occasionally it is slightly funny. It is at http://periwinklechronicles.blogspot.com/}
 
I tweet, occasionally, as yooper1721.
 
I have nothing to do with those double under-linings Google puts into the body of these posts on Blogger, randomly, it seems, to lead you to advertisements, and I wish they would stop that.
 
I have noticed, when folks reply, the mail programs of some of you leave out much of my punctuation, especially quote marks, apostrophes, and ellipses. I want you to know that I DO know how to punctuate, mostly…
 
 
 

Thursday, May 9, 2013

HOSTS OF THE WORLD


CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a place of winter For the Years of WINTER
 
 
Some time back, Helen and I attended an event that involved a large number of people from her past. As we talked about who might be there, and how we would recognize them, she named a certain woman and said, “Now Gayle’s been in love with you for a long time, so you need to pay some attention to her.” [1] 
 
This was disturbing on several levels, including the fact that Helen knew Gayle had been in love with me for a long time, and I didn’t. 
 
The rule of our thumbs is that I notice people and Helen notices wall colors and window treatments.
 
Rules of thumb are useful, but they are not scientific, so they are not always accurate. In this instance Helen noticed the person, and I didn’t. And occasionally I notice walls and window treatments. One thing I have noticed about window treatments is that no matter how recently a window was cured, it gets sick again very soon and needs another treatment.
 
Gayle wasn’t there, so it was an exhausting day for me. I had to talk to EVERY woman present, just in case someone else had been in love with me but ignored all those years.
 
It’s not remarkable that some random woman was in love with me; I’m used to that. [2] It IS remarkable that Helen wasn’t jealous or resentful of Gayle; she was concerned about her. She didn’t want her to feel left out.
 
We old people have been around long enough that we are now the hosts of the world, not the guests. We’re responsible for seeing that everyone is included at the party. Pay attention to those younger people. Help them to feel at home. One of them may be in love with you.
 
John Robert McFarland
 
1] Gayle is not her real name, of course.
 
2] Bazinga!
 
The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer!
 
You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much. It is okay to refer the link to folks you know or to print it in a church newsletter or bulletin, or make it into a movie or TV series or Broadway musical.
 
{I also write the fictional “Periwinkle Chronicles” blog. One needs a rather strange sense of humor to enjoy it, but occasionally it is slightly funny. It is at http://periwinklechronicles.blogspot.com/}
 
I tweet, occasionally, @yooper1721.
 
I have nothing to do with those double under-linings Blogger puts into the body of these posts, randomly, it seems, to lead you to advertisements, and I wish they would stop that.