Monday, December 25, 2023

Good Christian Men, REJOICE!

 

Good Morning! Merry Christmas!

                Good Christian men Rejoice! With heart and soul and voice! Give ye heed of what we say: Jesus Christ is born today! Ox and ass before him bow and he is in the manger now! Christ is born today, Christ is born to day!

                I’m going to start with something not typically thought of as a Christmas activity: Holy Communion.

                I’m not a stickler for wafer and wine, so if you have even a stray Cherrio and some breakfast juice that will be fine. The references will be from Matthew’s Gospel, chapter twenty-six

‘While they were eating, Jesus took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat, this is my body given for you.”

‘Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “All of you drink from this; this is my blood of the promise poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin.”’

                And there you have it, the thumbnail of God’s gift to us. All of you know what happened next, Jesus was arrested, tried, then crucified. Three days later he arose fulfilling the promise of life.

                Merry Christmas!

 

Friday, December 15, 2023

Santa Claus

             This fell into my email in-box about twenty years ago, and I trot it out for inspection every now and then. Since I haven’t done so recently, this year I’ll abuse you with this.


                              A CHRISTMAS STORY

                   I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.  I was just a kid.  I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her. On the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.  "Even dummies know that!"

                   My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me.  I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns.  I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.  It had to be true.

                   Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything.  She was ready for me.  "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous!  Don't believe it.  That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!!  Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

                   "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked.  I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

                   "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.  As we walked through it's doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days.  "Take this money," she said, "And buy something for someone who needs it.  I'll wait for you in the car."  Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

                   I was only eight years old.  I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

                   For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.  I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.  I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker.  He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat.  I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter.  His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he had no good coat.  I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.  I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

                   I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.  "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.  "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly.  "It's for Bobby."  The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.  I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

                   That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.  Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

                   Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge.  "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."  I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.  Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.  Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.  Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.

                   That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous.  Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

                   I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95  

 Author Unknown

@@@@@@@@

            If anyone knows this author, please let me know as well.

            I would normally draw something up in the Critters of Habit style to go with; not this year. Later maybe.

            Melanie, you may remember sending this out back in 2004, or not. In any case this chicken has come home to roost.

Dana “Madman” Hansen

Tuesday, December 5, 2023

“Honk If You WORSHIP the DEVIL”

    Bumper stickers.

The rolling Burma Shave signs of our existence.

 To those who’ve never heard of Burma Shave, they predate me, even. Burma Shave was something like Barbasol, Gillette and Schick, shaving soap. Their idea of advertising was to put a series of signs along the roadside, just big enough to contain a line of doggerel, like, “Does your husband / Misbehave / Grunt and grumble / Rant and rave? /Shoot the brute some / Burma-Shave

You get the idea.

 As long as it can fit into something roughly twelve to eighteen inches long, and about five inches tall, you can say something meaningful (or not) and display it to the world. Everything from voter preference to food affiliation to (harking back aways) “Native” on a Colorado license plate background.

 A recent prank I saw on the doomscroll: the bumper sticker read: “Honk if you WORSHIP THE DEVIL”, and when someone did, the trunk would open up and reveal someone dressed as Jesus.

     Guerrilla Theater at its finest.

Click the link above for a sample.

In other news, …

In other news I’ve been watching old movies starring some of my favorites. I say ‘old movies’, but I’d never seen them before. Peter Sellers in ‘The Mouse That Roared’. Well, I’d seen that one a long, long time ago. George Martin’s ‘In My Life’, which included a pairing of Robin Williams and Bobby McFerrin on the song ‘Come Together’. ‘From Time to Time’, starring Maggie Smith (think Professor McGonigal or what’s-her-name’ from ‘Downton Abbey’), Robert Redford and Morgan Freeman in ‘An Unfinished Life’, and again Redford in ‘Lions for Lambs’, … And Paul Newman in ‘Fat Man and Little Boy’. I’ve not yet finished watching this film.

Unintentionally, many of these films have dealings with end-of-life, which is somewhat top-of-mind just now. I think I’m being overly concerned. What happens, happens.

The other things these films have in common is the taking our imperfect selves and rendering, not perfection necessarily, but the good, the best we are capable of. Of taking our good points, and even our flaws, and turning them into good results, of being a force for good, resisting evil, making the world a better place. Sometimes, even rendering minor miracles.

The overriding theme of this little stab in the dark, is ‘Yes, You Can!’

It is a lot of me taking what I have, or, in this case, what I have left, and stabbing at the world with the bludgeon of encouragement, the sword of love, the shield of faith (Paul had that right) to ward off the discouragements that are out there. I do not have a lot of strength left; all I can do is encourage, will my strength into those who follow.

Occasionally, like now, I take a break to eat a can of soup.

And listen to the Bear Cub dance and sing her heart and her joy. I love that kid!

 It’s the small things that keep us going.

 Good night.

 

Friday, December 1, 2023

Fiday funnys: Typos

 That should be: “Friday Funnies”, but typos are the name of the game today. 

With that in mind I’m recalling something from a book by Norton Mockridge[1], who was City Editor of the New York World Telegram and Sun. The book’s title is: A Funny Thing Happened …, and (Mr. Mockridge) recounts a story where a new restaurant had sent to the printer an order for menus, advertising matter, and other whatnot with its name, The Pink Pantry. This was about the time of that Blake Edwards film, “The Pink Panther”, and they were perhaps trying to capitalize on the name similarity.

When the material came back from the printer, however, instead of The Pink Pantry, it was The Pink Panty!

My Kingdom for a proofreader!

One hopes their Grand Opening was a great success, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the printer error.

J

Allong (oops) along similar lines is this example from Thoughtco.com[2] (12-feb-2020). As above, this is an atomic typo (a single letter difference, leaving behind a correct, though inappropriate, word):

"The Typo of the Year award went to Reuters for this in 2005: 'Quaker Maid Meats Inc. on Tuesday said it would voluntarily recall 94,400 pounds of frozen ground beef panties [emphasis mine] that may be contaminated with E.coli.' (Read 'patties,' presumably.)"

 Another ‘ooops’; the 11PM alarm has just sounded, and I need to be in bed if I expect to get up in a timely fashion tomorrow. So I need to finish this up quickly.

“Tomorrow” gives me a clue. There’s a song by the Kingston Trio called “To Morrow”[3], and it revolves around the town of Morrow, and the confusion between a traveler and a ticket agent about ‘tomorrow’ and how to get ‘to Morrow’ and back.

I’ll let you chase down the song: To Morrow

Good Night, Folks!

@@@

Oh, and anything you've a mind to tackle, 

Yes, You Can!



[1] Along the way I discovered much I never knew about Norton Mockridge, including his being part of an interview/discussion on Richard Heffner’s  “Open Mind”, discussing a free press in relation to trial by jury, and how the rights of the accused might be abused thereby.

In my opinion, of late much has been going on to sway the courts for this person or against that person, letting the court of public opinion effect jury nullification. The television program was: “The Courts and a Free Press” aired on NBC Television, Sunday, May 4, 1958, on the program THE OPEN MIND https://www.thirteen.org/openmind-archive/government/the-courts-and-a-free-press-part-i/

[2] Nordquist, Richard. "Typo: Examples of Typographical Errors." ThoughtCo, Jan. 17, 2021, thoughtco.com/typo-definition-1692479.

[3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qp88oumRQvs

Rancor

This should have been posted yesterday. Sorry about that.


This’ll be short. This Thanksgiving our ‘Lustrous Potentate said that we needed to tone down the, and I quote: “Rancor.”

As I recall, I’m not the one who called half of the voting population ‘Terrorists’. So I say:

“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

‘Nuff said.

Have a great day, folks.

Friday, November 24, 2023

Be Thankful For Seventeen-Seventy-six (1776)

 This is for Wednesday, November 22, 2023. But actually, it’s Thursday, Thanksgiving, and I’m down in the man cave.

 The really did start yesterday, though. On the movie rotation came “1776”, which is a musical rendering of the events culminating in the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and was produced a few years ahead of the Bicentennial of 1976. Last summer we celebrated the 247th anniversary.

I admit to having discombobulated thoughts - I've been dealing with Social Security and Medicare and that's enough to drive a saner man than I straight out of his skull. Come six a.m. this morning, or ten minutes 'til, I finally gave  up and gave in to the need for sleep and went back to bed. Then I woke, and we did stuff, and now I'm finishing my thoughts of the day and the season.

Some people who think they can perfect Socialism want to convert a republic into a commune of three-hundred-thirty-odd million people, and all will work for the common good with only such reward as their new government may see fit to provide.

 Hogwash!

 So, find the movie (1776), it’s on Tubi, and also on YouTube movies. Watch it. Some of you of a certain age will see a familiar face or two.

Yeah, it’s long, not quite three hours, full of silly songs (and I like songs). But ignore all that seems silly, and hear the STORY!

It takes liberties with history, as all dramatizations do, but it sticks as close to the truth as it can without making it too dry.

 Make a bowl of popcorn, take a seventh inning stretch and make another bowl of popcorn, refill the Sprite and Fanta, and settle back to watch some history.

Pay special attention to the song sung by South Carolina’s representative regarding slavery (2:05:00), and see how close we came to failing to win a consensus to make the grand attempt. For if the Carolinas had not joined, the consensus would have been lost, and with no consensus, then our bold statement would not have been made, and without that bold statement of us taking our rightful place among the nations, …

 We wouldn’t have.

 What would we have had instead?

 A collection of colonies, subjects to the British crown.

Not free citizens.

And these people tempting us with ‘free stuff’ think they can buy their way into power and control using money stolen from the rich. Margaret Thatcher was correct: the only problem with Socialism is, eventually you run out of other people’s money.

 Good Heavens, people! Think of all that has been done to wrest this nation from careless hands to be held in our own careful hands. With freedom under the rule of law, with checks and balances arranged under the Constitution, with ..

 Did I say ‘our careful hands’?

 I daresay we have become as careless our parent nation ever was.

We spend money we do not have to gift to people who care little for us apart from what they can take from us. We have a segment of our populace who think that work is a four-letter word, who would rather be given bread and circuses than opportunity, and our rulers, eager for voters in their pockets, provide the same. We have a minority segment who would rather do away with free speech lest someone is offended by an improper pronoun.

 So-called ‘Hate’ speech is merely speech you do not like, and to certain people the paragraph above simply reeks of it.

Yet, I have not written a single hateful thing; I have merely stated obvious facts.

 We are a nation of laws, not of prior restraints. Or we were, once. 

We should be free to say what we mean, and mean what we say. If we say the wrong thing, let the right thing be said and have it argued out in the arena of ideas. We should be free to do all that we are able, to use what we can to bless our nation, and our culture, showing our willingness to be ‘E Pluribus Unum’, Of Many, One Unity.

That, our motto, is marked on our coinage and currency, lest we forget it. We are many people, of many ancestries, forming one unified whole. Despite our problems this whole, this body, this nation can be the best nation on earth again.

 Or we can settle, stare at our screens, eat another slice of microwave pizza.

Do we really want to settle?

 On this Thanksgiving we should respect and honor those who planted the seeds of a new nation, thank the peoples of this land who welcomed and supported us, as well as the spirit of the Divine that watched over our young sprout and sapling of a … well, what can we call it but a new community struggling to stand, making use of the resources provided by Providence itself, to form itself a new nation to stand among so many other powers of the globe.

 And this is what some of us in our nation wish to swap for ‘free stuff’?

 Remember those fifty-odd signers of our Declaration, men, no more, no less, who pledged, and I quote: “Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor.” Remember them, and thank them, on this Thanksgiving Day November 23rd, 2023.

Remember their gift two-hundred and forty-seven years ago of a nation of freedom and opportunity, where you can start from nothing and end up among the stars.

 With the help of Divine Providence (damn, I cannot help tearing up when that bell is rung),

 Yes, You CAN!

Tuesday, June 27, 2023

Coming Out Party/Homecoming Party Manifesto

I’m outing myself. 

I am a Christian.

This is ‘Old News’ to a lot of you.

Some of you now automatically hate me, thinking that I am a hateful person. Those who know me from work, please remember how I interacted with you. I am flawed. But am I hateful?

 I believe that Christ died for my (and your) sin, and conferred to each of us (who are willing to accept it) His righteousness.

As a Christian, I do my best to show you the love you deserve as a person. However, I cannot say that all choices are good choices and I may advise changes. You, of course, are allowed (in fact, expected) to give me feedback as well.

If you do choose Jesus’ salvation, He will start a conversation with you, personally, about what needs to change for you to become a healthier person, spiritually and physically.

As it is written: “There is now no condemnation for those who follow Christ.” If you are a follower, you know you are a sinner, but not condemned. You are free to heal and grow.

The above is the first Bible reference that I’ve used here; most people have been beaten about the head with other Bible verses, and I want to avoid that.

God loves you.

That, in a nutshell, is my manifesto.

As best as I can, as an imperfect person, I love you, too.

God hates sin. God will ask you to give up sin.

That doesn’t mean you have to toe the mark, first, to be accepted, because He already loves you. What it does mean is, if you accept this love, you are also allowing yourself to accept His help in getting you clean. He wants the best for you.

The best comparison I can come up with is this: say you have a friend or family member who is hooked on heroin or meth, and this addiction has seriously messed up their life. You, with the help of others, want to do an intervention. Your friend can still walk away and let themselves continue to spiral downward, even to the point of death. Or they can accept the assistance, and then get on with the program of getting clean and healthy.

That is what coming to Jesus is all about: being welcomed into the family, then getting healthy. He gives us the choice; He does not force us to choose the way He thinks is best. After all, a choice coerced is not a choice.

Another story: this from Jesus, paraphrased by yours truly:

A man had two sons. The older did everything right (you might know an older brother or sister like this), and stood to inherit his share. The younger had stars in his eyes and asked to have his share of his father’s inheritance now, so he could live life on his own terms.

You get the picture? Dad, know-it-all perfect Big Brother, and Little Brother who wants to be out from under Big Brother’s disapproving eye.

Well, Little Brother converts his cattle to cash, spends like a sailor on shore leave, buying drinks for his bar buddies, and such. Predictably, he runs out of cash, and since he has not properly learned a high-paying trade, he has to take the lowest of the low poor-paying jobs out there in order to get even a bit of something to eat (all of his bar-buddy friends having dropped him, since he’s not buying drinks for them anymore, y’see).

One day, while throwing out the trash and picking through it to find something remotely edible, he has a thought: “My dad’s hired hands live far better than this. I’ll go home and ask to be a hired hand. At least I’ll have three hots and a cot. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Little Brother hitches a ride with a trucker headed the right way (Eddie Rabbit’s “Drivin’ My Life Away!” pouring out of the truck’s radio), and gets dropped off in town. He starts the long walk toward home, and says to himself, “I’ll tell my dad that I’ve sinned against him and God both, and I’ll throw myself on his mercy and ask to be allowed to be, not a son, but a hired hand.”

But when he turns in at the lane to the ranch, his dad, who has been watching in the evenings for his son’s return, jumps out of the rocker and hoofs it down to where his second son is walking, and grabs him in a big daddy hug.

Younger Son kind of pushes him away and says his bit: “Dad, I’ve sinned against you and God. I don’t deserve to be your son, but can I, may I, be a hired hand?”

“None of that talk! Let’s get you cleaned up!" replies Dad, "Looks like you have more road on you that anything else! What you been doin', sloppin' hogs?” And his father walks him up to the house and the cook (who used to dote on him when he was a boy) exclaims, “You’re back! But, my goodness! Let’s clean you up! I want to see your handsome face without all that dirt on it! When you’re done I’m gonna make you your favorite meal!”

And Dad says, “Think bigger than that, Gertie! We’re gonna have us a barbecue! Have Lonnie find us a prime beeve to kill and prep for ribs and steaks and such, and get that pit hot for the roastin’! Can you make up a gallon or so of that sauce I like?” “Goodness, yes!" Gertie replies, "I’ll have it ready before that pit is hot and Lonnie is done with that beeve!”

So Little Brother gets a steaming hot bath (the first in many weeks), and when he’s toweled down a bit and shaved and other whatnot, his dad takes him into his own room, and pulls out HIS best shirt, HIS best suit, HIS best bolo tie, HIS best watch on a chain with the family signet on the other end, and the finest set of boots He has in HIS closet.

The Little Brother looks into the mirror, and sees a changed man, and doesn’t quite believe that it’s himself.

Dad asks, “Feeling better now, Son?”

The young man stands there speechless, but with a puzzled smile on his face.

“Is this how you see me, Dad?”

“This is how I’ve always seen you, Son.”

Side by side they leave the Father’s rooms and head back to the kitchen, and out to the back yard to a trestle table full of good things, including tea, lemonade, coleslaw, Texas potato salad, and sourdough bread, with space left over for the hot food take up station when it’s ready. Those not directly helping with setting up the party are saying things to the Little Brother like, “We’ve missed you! We’re so glad you’re back!”

About sundown the Dutch oven full of baked beans, a platter of short ribs, another of steaks, and another of shredded brisket (and of course Gert’s barbecue sauce) are brought out to the table. Father says the blessing and people line up to load up their plates. Somewhere there’s a fiddler playing ‘Saturday Waltz’ from Copeland’s ‘Rodeo’.

Just as the party is hitting its stride, Big Brother comes in, dusty from working the back forty.

“What’s all this?” he asks. Father answers, “Your brother’s back! We’re celebrating! Get yourself cleaned up and join us!”

“What do you mean, ‘my brother’s back!’? The son that took his inheritance and spent it on a riotous life? YOUR money?! And you’re throwing a party for HIM?! I’ve done EVERYTHING you’ve asked of me. You’ve never even let me take a goat from the herd so I could party with MY friends! This makes NO sense!”

His father replied, “My Son, you have been good and faithful, it’s true. Everything I have will be yours when you inherit. But your Little Brother! He was lost to the world, but now he is back home! Join me, join us, in the celebration of the fact your Little Brother was lost, but now has been found!”

But Big Brother, dignity insulted, would not join in.

The fiddler moved on to “Hoedown!” and those who’d finished their strawberry-rhubarb pie moved to the dancing area and started polka-ing and two-stepping.

And a great time was had by (almost!) all.

There’s the story.

So many of us are the Little Brother in the story above, and so many ‘Proper Christians’ are the Big Brother, missing the point of love and forgiveness that the Father extended to his lost son. Remember, please, the Lost Son didn’t get cleaned up before he went back home; that happened afterward. Remember, also, that when the Father saw him coming home, he met his son half-way, and they walked in together.

Doubtless we Younger Brothers have faults and habits that need to be fixed. They will be fixed in time. The big thing, the important thing, is that our homecoming happened. And there was MUCH rejoicing!

And doubtless the unforgiving self-righteous Older Brother will continue to self-righteously proclaim their view from their moral high-ground. They will cut off their nose to spite their face, and stand in the path to block those who see the need to come home by saying: “You’re not clean enough!” forgetting that NO ONE is clean enough.

We all have sin in our lives, sin that makes us sick, sin that insists the best way to care for ourselves is to act a certain way, do certain things, live a certain life in order to be accepted by someone. Let me personalize this: I have sin in my life; I act in a certain way to be accepted, do some things, avoid other things, all to be able to fit into my community, my workplace, or even my church. Ultimately, instead of getting the help I need to be better, I cover up my sin in order to fit in.

Or, I cover up my affiliation with an institution that has gotten (some of it well-deserved, but not all of it) criticism as being unfriendly at best, hateful at worst.

For better or worse, I am uncovering that affiliation.

If you wish to unfriend me, I understand. For as long as I am alive, I’ll still be here. My door will always be open.

In any case have a good life.

God has done all the truly hard stuff, all we need to do, all I needed to do, is decide to walk through the door He has opened into a richer life.

Come home, be forgiven, and get cleaned up. The party is starting soon! :)

 

Yes, You CAN!

Monday, May 15, 2023

Remember The Things You Did Right!

 There will be days where everything goes to hell in a hand-basket. And it will either because you did something wrong, or despite you correctly doing everything you can control.

Look at what happened. Be honest with yourself. See what needs to be fixed, certainly. But be sure to see what you did right, because you likely did a lot of things right.

Keeping your eyes on your goals, and working your plan will get you there. But life has a way of upsetting the best plans, and the world is changing day by day, hour by hour, even minute by minute. You will need to adjust your plan to match an ever changing environment.

 And sometimes that environment changes incredibly quickly. You will get it wrong sometimes. Remember the lessons and hit it again.

I feel like I'm repeating myself. So, enough of that. 

Now, this is a steal from Dean Ing’s book, Systemic Shock, where a drill instructor is having a voluntold recruit try to disarm him (the DI) in a combat situation in order to get some badly needed gear. The recruit was tricky, and almost ‘died’ in the exercise, but –But in the after action analysis, the DI summed up the exercise by saying:

“Never mind all the things he did wrong, remember everything he did RIGHT!

Yes, You Can!

Friday, May 5, 2023

"My Son" a song to live by

 

I’ve become addicted to the ‘shorts’ that come over the smart phone.

I’ve got to do something about that. Not today, though.

Fortunately, I try to feed the algorithm information for its selection of good stuff. And it works. Occasionally I get something good.

Yesterday, I heard a song with the title of, I think, ‘The Other WayAround’; the guy was singing to his son about how much the boy looks up to him, that the (the dad) is his whole world, and the dad tells him, ‘it’s the other way around’. The boy is saying, “Don’t say that. It makes me cry. I’m crying ‘Happy Tears’. I know what he means. I hate crying, even 'happy tears'.

I can’t find the song on YouTube anywhere; I find a lot of 'other way around's, just not the right one. So if you find it, please send me the link. It'll have the lyric: "He thinks I hung the moon somehow ..." Thanks.

It did remind me of another song I’d added to one of my many playlists, and I spent much of last night trying to find it (the reason for ‘many playlists’ is to categorize and keep each individual list short. Well, shorter. It doesn’t work, and I have a long list of playlists. But I digress …). The list it was in was ‘Crazy Country’, and I found a lot of other things along the way: stuff by Home Free (a great a cappella group, btw), Cotton Pickin’ Kids, Homer & Jethro.

And Elvie Shane.

This is the long way ‘round to get to my point. The song: ‘My Son’ kinda says everything about what foster/adoption is all about. It’s not just about helping the children. It’s about filling a hole in your (my) own soul.

How do I explain this without sounding selfish? I can’t, I guess. But the making of one small person’s life as whole as you can has the benefit of making one’s own life whole as well. It’s unavoidable.

Explaining this to people can difficult.

Questions: “Which one is your real child?” They are all my real children. “Well, you know what I mean.” Yes I do. And your question is impertinent. They are all my children. You are only looking for gossip material. “Bless you for the good work you do.” Depending on the source, this one perplexes me. My wife and I are not doing this for ‘stars in our crowns’. We see a need we can meet and we are meeting it. Though people on the outside see this as charity work, it’s not. Or the statement: “I don’t understand how you can love someone who is not your blood kin.” Well, I love my wife, and she’s not my blood kin. “But that’s different!” It is, and it isn’t. But how do I help people understand this?

I think the most hurtful are the statements made by family.

After the funeral for my father-in-law another family member sat with his wife and started listing the grandkids. And left our adopted kids off the list. (I don’t think the person realized I was sitting there.)

That hurt.

I didn’t call attention to it at the time; like I said, this was the day of the funeral for my father-in-law. Nothing would have been served by my mentioning this person's omission at the time, no matter how low-key I voiced it. Mom-in-law knew the truth in any case, as one of my daughter’s children had been living in the home as sort of supercargo while my wife had been helping dad-in-law take care of mom-in-law. It’s all water under the bridge at this point.

However, that child, my grandchild, is now eighteen  and will graduate High School in thirteen days. Scary. She makes me proud.

Yeah, we fight, but we make up. I scold her, encourage her to do better. Take her to task. She takes me to task sometimes.

 Later today I’ll most likely be helping her with one last Physics assignment, and the teacher that I am, I won’t be letting her slide through it. I’ll be helping her understand how this relates to the real world around her.

And, like the arrows in the hand of a mighty man, I will help launch one more child into the world.

World, you have been warned, here comes another Hansen!

And you, child-now-grown, fly straight and true. Know that I love you, and you have added as much and more to our lives as we have given to you.

That’s the nature of generosity: as you help someone else, you build strength in yourself.

I don’t understand it; I only can state from experience that it is true.

Be Generous. Take a kid under your wing.  

Yes, You Can!

Thursday, April 20, 2023

No Excuses!

New books, new ideas:

I recently found an audiobook, No Excuses; by Brian Tracy, and it spurred me to finish the update, proofreading, editing, and cover artwork for my own book. 

This is pretty much done; I still need to run the whole thing past other eyes to catch glaring and not so glaring errors. 

And add this essay.

First off, and credit where it is due, The above mentioned book by Mr. Tracy reminded me of this basic essential: I need to do the work. I am responsible. So are you.

The whole point of my book, of course is to affirm your ability. But, even more importantly, to get you off the dime and moving. So.

For on example, if you are in the artillery, you get your orders from your commander, and your sighting information from your forward observer. Then you aim, fire, evaluate, adjust your aim, fire again, repeat as necessary until the target is hit & destroyed.

Achieving your own aims is just like that: choose the goal, make the plan, work the plan, focus on the objective or outcome. Correct as needed, evaluate the progress, re-evaluate the goal. Ready, Aim, Fire! Evaluate, Make ready again, Aim, Fire! Repeat as necessary to achieve your goal.

No matter what, you are responsible. No matter if the cause of failure was at someone else’s hands, no matter if it was a (so-called) Act of God, you are responsible. If nothing else, you are responsible for your reaction to the circumstance. No excuses!

That said, I AM a good one for excuses. Even if I have ‘good’ excuses, they only get in my way. Too bad, so sad. I should pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again!

I lost my job some months ago, and ultimately deserved to. Never mind the reason; I was not performing to specifications. Anyone from the old shop who reads this, please understand, I do not blame my former work place. They did their best to keep me on, as the things I was doing right and well, I was doing very well indeed. However, I couldn’t keep my call times short.

I am slowing down, and that contributed to the loss of my former position. Again, not their fault. I was unable to find a strategy that allowed me to complete my call tasks on average in the time limit required of me.

I am responsible for that.

So, when I found Mr. Tracy’s book, and listened to it, it resonated. Maybe I didn’t like to hear the message, but the message was important, and I was open to it.

And here we are. 

I will give you a glimpse of my most recent vision:

In my immediate area we have a food desert. A thrift grocery that had been the source of food for the  area closed, and the building razed (as well as the buildings around it). Now, someone is setting to build a McDonald’s in a corner of the block. Considering the location, it should be a success. However …

What I wanted to do, and still want to do, is create a destination business, something that people not from the immediate area would want to visit. A business that, in and of itself, draws people (and their dollars) to it. Tentative project name: Nate’s Bistro and Dinner Theater.

Nearby, there would be a grocery store that would provide foodstuffs a notch above what the dollar store carries, but not so expensive as to be a hardship for the folks around to purchase. It would be good for it to have a specialty of some sort, like (for instance) a specialty bakery. This would be one more draw to bring people from outside the immediate area to our corner of the world.

And just for the fun of it, a bookstore and newsstand.

The bistro could have open mike ‘sing for your supper’ event, the theater would provide real world opportunities for the school of music and school of theater of the local university. The theater would also provide future sound and light designers opportunities to get real-world experience, and the back-stage scene shop would give makers of all sorts opportunities to make something big, as well as craft ‘show-specific’ mementos as one-of-a-kind keepsakes for whatever show being presented; these items  could be sold at Nate’s or as point-of-sale items at the bookstore.

The theater would become the primary destination, providing traffic to the bistro, and vice versa, giving exposure to the nifty little grocery, as well as an interesting brick-and-mortar bookstore for things you cannot get at the A-to-Z store online.

The nearby motels would benefit from the extra traffic, as would as the other businesses in the immediate area. As visualized, the convenience store would generally keep their clientele for the kinds of things the dollar store does best, the Gas & Go place would be the same. The in-coming Mickey Dee would not see the restaurant cut into the fast-food flow, or perhaps a little, as some would just want to sit down and take a load off their feet and dine comfortably instead of being in a rush.

All in all, making a destination dinner theater/bistro (with associated businesses) would be a good thing.

But, to achieve this, I need to have some financial resources to build on.

Hence, I need to get off the dime and be responsible. No Excuses!

Yes I Can!

So Can You!