Note to self

...Self: never tell great-nephew that the movie you are recommending is PG because it has "a few bad words" because then he will want to know what those words are. (We are in the middle of a lively email exchange these days.) I'm too far removed from inquisitive six year olds to remember this reality. Sigh. Sorry, #1's mom and dad, for getting you and me into this fix. I didn't tell and told him I wouldn't, but that won't stop his curiosity.

We Are Marshall

We went to see this feel-good movie tonight and enjoyed it thoroughly. One of the funny moments of the film was when the Marshall U president is trying to hire a new coach after having been persuaded to keep the football program and has been turned down by everyone. His secretary tells him that someone from "Wooo-ster" has called to apply. "Where's Wooo-ster?" he asks. You see, the coach, Jack Lengyel, who accomplished the impossible, quit his job at the College of "Wuh-ster" to come to Marshall. What we didn't know until after the film came out is that he was also the lacrosse coach and, the team having been left in the lerch the spring of 1971, our good friend Dave Elwell coached it that season. How many degrees of separation to the famous? :)

Redeeming Childhood

That's the title of a two-decades' old mss I submitted to IVP at its request but which never saw the light of day. Doesn't mean it wasn't relevant, and in fact, it is all the more so today as evidenced by last night's Celebration of the 60th anniversary of the COW's nursery school, which J, E and K all attended. Its philosophy is to let kids be kids, not to use pre-school time to prepare them for later education but to let them pet animals, grow plants, look at books, paint masterpieces, hang on the climber, ride the trikes, sing songs and resolve small disputes. Their name for it is "Green Grow the Children" and I have always been grateful for the school and its wonderful teachers (one now 92 years old and still advocating for kids). The speaker last night claimed that parents' obsession with the FUTURE (ultimately, in his NYC world, getting your kid into Harvard, which means getting them into the right nursery prep. school) is what is denying children a PRESENT in which to exhibit their gifts. If allowed to explore their strengths now, strengths that exhibit themselves in art, in play, in language and something (I didn't take notes and it was late and warm and he spoke in a soft monotone despite his interesting topic), their future would be just fine. I agree. How about you?

"What a Wonderful World"

I've only had two experiences with Hospice, the first with my mother who was already in a (terrific) nursing home and just got a bit different kind of care. Nothing that was was discernible to the inexperienced eye. I have just returned from my second experience. After enduring Denver's first blizzard just before Christmas while under home hospice care, My Aunt R moved into a hospice center, and a lovely one it is. The staff, the room, everything. Each private room has a window to the well-tended outdoors, complete with bird feeder. But what topped all that for me was while my brother and I were sitting and visiting with my aunt and all of a sudden, her eyes lit up even as she was waving the person at her door away. When we learned that this young woman was there to sing to her any song she wanted, we said, "No, come in. Come in." And she did. She sang my aunt's favorite song, Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" in a clear sweet soprano, accompanying herself on her guitar. She is a music therapist who comes twice a week to serve the patients in this way. She also pulls with her a suitcase full of sheet music (all genres) in case she doesn't know what someone might request. As music often does, her singing stirred my emotions and loosened my tears. We got to talking with her and learned that she is also in an MDiv program at a seminary in Denver. I am going to send a copy of Stuart Townend's "The Lord's My Shepherd" (Ps. 23), a relatively new arrangement of this favorite psalm in hopes that she can add it to her repertoire and sing it to my Aunt R as well. Even as I give thanks for Hospice.

A New Year, A New Autograph

I know it's been a long time since I posted, but, having served some portion of a meal to 85 different people in December, followed by a trip to G.R. with Karen, I have had to recover a bit. I'd have each of those persons back again in a heartbeat, but I am a bit tired. For me, most of "break" is not a break. However, this is my quiet recouperative week in between trips; I leave for Denver to visit Aunt R, who is in hospice, safe and snug away from repeated snowstorms, for four days next week. This week I am putting together two of my Abraham S.S. lessons, outlining my talk for the Clergy Academy in March, reading some books!!!! even starting a novel, and doing some counted cross-stitch. While I was in G.R. I was able to have a frontrow (TV) seat to the Ford funeral on a stunningly beautiful, clear winter day. One of the aspects of Karen's new home that is so special became apparent in that regard. Their caregiver, D, took five of the girls (minus K who was still home with us) down to the Ford Museum before the crowds started to gather to have them sign the condolence books. They were thrilled beyond the telling, though tell us about it they certainly did. The whole city later turned out to pay its deep respects. It was very moving. And while I was in my old hometown, I gathered another autograph for my collection, this time of N.T. Wright, who spoke on Simply Christian (his new book that attempts for the postmodern audience what C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity did for the "high modernity" folk of the late 40s. I arrived at the Fine Arts Center 45 minutes early and got one of the last non-reserved seats. I understand that every classroom in the building was overflowing with others. His talk was fascinating and since I have that book (though I have not yet read much of it), that's the one I brought for him to sign. Rushdie and Wright, now there's a combination of autographs!