True Blue

It was the Presidential Election of 1968, my second year in Western Theological Seminary, that D and I registered for the first time to vote.

We came from GOP families, I mean, GOP families, most of whom are still GOP.

We registered as Dems.

A few years later, after a stint in the coal fields of West Virginia, D and I were in Altoona, and I had prayer for the local Democratic group and said to them, before the prayer, that "I am a Democrat, because the Democratic Party has a clear and consistent record on behalf of people - and that all of this is consistent with my Christian Faith."

D and I have never looked back, but only forward. D's score is perfect; mine?

In 1980, in some fit of bi-partisan foolishness, I cast my vote for Reagan, something that has shamed me ever since.

With that exception, I'm Blue ... True Blue, all the way, because I believe in helping people, in doing everything, anything, to make life better.

And I believe in people ... people want a shot at life, a chance; people want to love and be loved; to have families and rear their children in peace; to eat pizza and have a vacation now and then; they want good schools and good jobs, and then come to retirement with confidence that there'll be enough to make it.

I believe in people, and I believe in God, and those two beliefs are pretty much the same ...

And I'm Blue to the core ...

A Morning Funeral

A funeral this morning for an unusually gifted man.
Who rode freight trains,
And invented new toys for his kids.
And reinvented and improved just about everything.


A video of stills and music ... from his parents to him as a babe in arms.


And then a kid ... and then the adolescent ... and then a young man.


And then a husband, and then a father, and then a grandfather and then a man getting up in years ... and then just shy of 90 turns around the sun, time to tuck things away and say goodbye.


Others now, to take up the tasks.
The fun, the work, the play and the love.


He managed to be more than a father, a husband and an uncle ... more than a friend and a co-worker ... what it was that he was, best summed up, I suppose in his:


Never-going-away kind of smile.


I saw his life unfold in all of those delightful pics.
Like a flower - from seed to bud to unfolding.
And then wilting in the heat of time.
Petals dropping away.
Life getting lived ... lived quite well ... and then ...


A Mighty Fortress Is Our God was a favorite.
So was Amazing Grace.
And lots of other music.


So, I wonder ... about this thing called life.
We're so unconscious of it when we're in the throes of it.
And, then, one day, it hits us.
We hear the clock ticking.
Incessantly.


It's okay.
Though I don't like it.
Times, I hate time.
And not a dern thing to do about it.


And so it goes.
Live while we can.
If we can.
As best we can.


Know nothing but love.
And love covers a multitude of sins.


What is love?
Oh, I don't know.
But I know it when I see it.


And I suppose you do, too.

A Morning Funeral

A funeral this morning for an unusually gifted man.
Who rode freight trains,
And invented new toys for his kids.
And reinvented and improved just about everything.

A video of stills and music ... from his parents to him as a babe in arms.
And then a kid ... and then the adolescent ... and then a young man.
And then a husband, and then a father, and then a grandfather and then a man getting up in years ... and then just shy of 90 turns around the sun, time to tuck things away and say goodbye.

Others now, to take up the tasks.
The fun, the work, the play and the love.

He managed to be more than a father, a husband and an uncle ... more than a friend and a co-worker ... what it was that he was, best summed up, I suppose in his:
Never-going-away kind of smile.

I saw his life unfold in all of those delightful pics.
Like a flower - from seed to bud to unfolding.
And then wilting in the heat of time.
Petals dropping away.

Life getting lived ... lived quite well ... and then ...

A Mighty Fortress Is Our God was a favorite.
So was Amazing Grace.
And lots of other music.

So, I wonder ... about this thing called life.
We're so unconscious of it when we're in the throes of it.
And, then, one day, it hits us.
We hear the clock ticking.

Incessantly.

It's okay.
Though I don't like it.
Times I hate time.

And not a dern thing to do about it.

And so it goes.
Live while we can.
If we can.
As best we can.

Know nothing but love.
And love covers a multitude of sins.

What is love?
Oh, I don't know.
But I know it when I see it.
And I suppose you do, too.

Cancer of the Soul

Cancer, a serious business requiring hard measures.
Surgery ...
Chemo ...
Radiation ...
And then some ...


Hard to treat.
Hard to defeat.
Hard to remove.


We all know this ...
From personal experience ...
Or that of loved ones.


Cancer's a serious business requiring hard measures.


But what of cancer of the soul?
Cancer of the spirit?
Cancer of our values and attitudes?


A serious business requiring hard measures.


As for the cancer of racism.
Most whites choose to pretend.
It's not there.


Or it's not their's ... but someone else's.


"It's not so bad."
"I'm okay."


At first instance, we all deny.
We all pretend.
When it comes to cancer.


But sooner or later, the reality
Is upon us.


And demands treatment.
Surgery ...
Chemo ...
Radiation ...
And then some ...


Racism is our social cancer.
And no sense pretending.
No sense hiding.
It hasn't gone away, has it?


Eating away at our vital organs.
Until little is left.
Soulless and weary.
We slog on in our denial.


Social cancer.
Cancer of the soul.
The mind and heart.
Attitudes and fears.


A serious business.
Requiring hard measures.