And if you don’t, the full statement is that the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.
I’m sure I do not understand all the ramifications of that statement of Jesus Christ’s, but it has special meaning for me because -- full disclosure here -- I was always first in my class academically but on the athletic fields of my youth I was always chosen last. And when I say always, in both cases I mean ALWAYS.
Don’t get me wrong. Over the years, I’ve learned that I am not nearly as bright as I once thought I was. There is obviously a great deal about which I haven’t a clue (British: klew) . I’m no Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein. I’m not even Malcolm Muggeridge. Far from it. I did manage to earn a decent living working for both IBM and AT&T, but so did thousands of others. Smarter replacements arrive all the time. I am well down the list in the brains department. My athletic abilities have not improved one whit. The fulfillment of that particular prophecy/wish of last becoming first is apparently still in the future.
Life is funny (not funny ha-ha, funny peculiar) and things often have a way of working out. Hopes and dreams have a way of coming to pass. For example, Mrs. Janet Baines Brockett, my high-school math teacher, neighbor, and friend, thought I should go to Duke University. I didn’t, but one of my grandsons is a student there now. Miss Sally Pearce, my first band director, wanted me to spend a summer at the famous music camp in Interlochen, Michigan. I didn’t, but that same grandson did. I always loved baseball and longed to be able to play better. So far it hasn’t happened, but another of my grandsons was recruited to play on his college’s baseball team. Two grandsons have excelled at basketball. One actually played three different sports. All of the grandchildren are excellent students; there’s not a ringer in the bunch. One is an excellent trumpet player. One is an excellent French Horn player. Two are excellent dancers. And since these young people are extensions of me and have my blood coursing through their veins, I participate vicariously in their successes and revel in their accomplishments. It’s almost as though I’m right there too.
Please don’t try to disabuse me of this odd notion or tell me that’s not what Jesus meant. Some days it’s all I have.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Friday, October 30, 2015
Just yesterday it was 1958
Where does the time go? How can it be the end of the month already? Didn’t October just begin? Why does life move at such breakneck speed as we get older?
Margaret Mitchell called her book Gone With the Wind. Maybe that is where the time went.
At the end of The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Au contraire, F. Scott, I find that I’m being borne forward ceaselessly into the future.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. But my vehicle seems to be moving faster than ever before. The telephone poles fly past my window with ever-increasing speed and the trip is nearly over. The destination is just around the next bend. It will be here before I know it.
I want to stay a little longer. I want to enjoy the autumn leaves, the smell of the sea, the grandeur of the mountains, the laughter of children, the embrace of a lover.
I don’t want it to end. But it must. It will.
Today I am beating against the current. Tomorrow is Halloween. Tomorrow night Daylight Saving Time ends in the United States. In what is a total illusion, we will all turn our clocks back and “gain and hour.”
No, we won’t.
November 1st is All Saints Day. Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. Easter. 2025.
Time marches on. I wish I could too.
I am a Christian. I do believe that a better life awaits. So what am I trying to say exactly?
Maybe just this: “To life! To life! L’chaim!”
I don’t think this post makes any sense, but I’m going to publish it anyway.
Maybe one of you can explain it to me.
Margaret Mitchell called her book Gone With the Wind. Maybe that is where the time went.
At the end of The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Au contraire, F. Scott, I find that I’m being borne forward ceaselessly into the future.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. But my vehicle seems to be moving faster than ever before. The telephone poles fly past my window with ever-increasing speed and the trip is nearly over. The destination is just around the next bend. It will be here before I know it.
I want to stay a little longer. I want to enjoy the autumn leaves, the smell of the sea, the grandeur of the mountains, the laughter of children, the embrace of a lover.
I don’t want it to end. But it must. It will.
Today I am beating against the current. Tomorrow is Halloween. Tomorrow night Daylight Saving Time ends in the United States. In what is a total illusion, we will all turn our clocks back and “gain and hour.”
No, we won’t.
November 1st is All Saints Day. Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. Easter. 2025.
Time marches on. I wish I could too.
I am a Christian. I do believe that a better life awaits. So what am I trying to say exactly?
Maybe just this: “To life! To life! L’chaim!”
I don’t think this post makes any sense, but I’m going to publish it anyway.
Maybe one of you can explain it to me.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
October! That means it must be...
...wait for it...
PUMPKIN TIME!
Long time no post.
A few weeks ago we drove to southeastern North Carolina for the funeral of Mrs. RWP’s brother at the same time that Hurricane Joaquin and a second unnamed storm inundated that part of America’s coast with mucho agua. Agua is the Spanish word for water and mucho in this case means between seven and ten inches of the wet stuff. If you are not of a scientific bent, let me just tell you that that is a lot of rain. The trip was, to put it mildly, a trip. On the way back to Georgia, the car containing my two sons hydroplaned on Interstate 95 in South Carolina, but they managed to get home unharmed.
We recently returned home from another trip. We spent a few days in a beautiful cabin in the mountains of western North Carolina. The leaves were just beginning to turn. The temperature got down to 39 degrees Fahrenheit one morning but the days were clear, brisk, and fabulous. We were about the same distance from the coastal deluge experience as Sheffield, England, U.K. is from Antwerp, Belgium, but we were still in North Carolina. (Yes, Virginia, America is a big country.) I didn’t do any posting. I just stood on the deck and gazed at this:
and this:
and this:
and this:
We left refreshed, renewed, reinvigorated, and ready to return to whatever the future holds.
I knew you would understand.
PUMPKIN TIME!
Long time no post.
A few weeks ago we drove to southeastern North Carolina for the funeral of Mrs. RWP’s brother at the same time that Hurricane Joaquin and a second unnamed storm inundated that part of America’s coast with mucho agua. Agua is the Spanish word for water and mucho in this case means between seven and ten inches of the wet stuff. If you are not of a scientific bent, let me just tell you that that is a lot of rain. The trip was, to put it mildly, a trip. On the way back to Georgia, the car containing my two sons hydroplaned on Interstate 95 in South Carolina, but they managed to get home unharmed.
We recently returned home from another trip. We spent a few days in a beautiful cabin in the mountains of western North Carolina. The leaves were just beginning to turn. The temperature got down to 39 degrees Fahrenheit one morning but the days were clear, brisk, and fabulous. We were about the same distance from the coastal deluge experience as Sheffield, England, U.K. is from Antwerp, Belgium, but we were still in North Carolina. (Yes, Virginia, America is a big country.) I didn’t do any posting. I just stood on the deck and gazed at this:
and this:
and this:
and this:
We left refreshed, renewed, reinvigorated, and ready to return to whatever the future holds.
I knew you would understand.
Friday, October 9, 2015
As Oscar Hammerstein II said back in 1945...
It might as well be spring.
Of course, it is spring in the Southern Hemisphere now (waves to Sue, Helsie, Carol, and Katherine) but here in the good old hémisphère nord it is definitely l’automne. Autumn. Fall. Clear blue skies. Cool days and even cooler nights.
But you would never know it by looking at our yard. I took this photograph yesterday afternoon with my cell phone:
Our front yard is adorned with several Encore Azaleas -- they bloom in both spring and fall, hence “encore” -- and a lovely Sasanqua Camellia bush that bursts forth faithfully every October.
The pot of yellow chrysanthemums on the wrought-iron table in the entranceway? That was my own addition.
Of course, it is spring in the Southern Hemisphere now (waves to Sue, Helsie, Carol, and Katherine) but here in the good old hémisphère nord it is definitely l’automne. Autumn. Fall. Clear blue skies. Cool days and even cooler nights.
But you would never know it by looking at our yard. I took this photograph yesterday afternoon with my cell phone:
Our front yard is adorned with several Encore Azaleas -- they bloom in both spring and fall, hence “encore” -- and a lovely Sasanqua Camellia bush that bursts forth faithfully every October.
The pot of yellow chrysanthemums on the wrought-iron table in the entranceway? That was my own addition.
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get me
So there I was, blogging somewhat less than in days of yore, tootling along with around 100 views per day, some days fewer, some days more, when suddenly on October 3rd a spike occurred.
Here’s how it appeared on Blogger’s chart of this week:
...and here’s a slightly longer view showing the past month:
There have been spikes before but never of this magnitude.
Specifically, this blog had 87 views on October 2nd and 108 views on October 4th, but on October 3rd it had 2,987 views. About 90% of these originated within the United States. What I want to know is:
Why?
Who?
What does it portend?
Let the speculation begin.
P.S. to Hilltophomesteader: I am going to send you a proper thank you by snail mail shortly, but I wanted to report that we found your package by our front door Monday morning after we returned home from North Carolina late on Sunday night.
Here’s how it appeared on Blogger’s chart of this week:
...and here’s a slightly longer view showing the past month:
There have been spikes before but never of this magnitude.
Specifically, this blog had 87 views on October 2nd and 108 views on October 4th, but on October 3rd it had 2,987 views. About 90% of these originated within the United States. What I want to know is:
Why?
Who?
What does it portend?
Let the speculation begin.
P.S. to Hilltophomesteader: I am going to send you a proper thank you by snail mail shortly, but I wanted to report that we found your package by our front door Monday morning after we returned home from North Carolina late on Sunday night.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Today
Today is:
(a) the day after the fourth blood moon of 2014-2015;
(b) the day after the astronomical trifecta of the harvest moon, the super-moon (when the moon is at perigee and appears 14% larger than when it is at apogee), and a spectacular total lunar eclipse;
(c) the day after Pope Francis completed his three-day whirlwind tour of the United States -- well, the cities of Washington (where he addressed a joint session of the U.S. Congress), New York (where he addressed the 70th session of the U.N. General Assembly and visited Ground Zero), and Philadelphia (where he celebrated his umpteenth mass since arriving);
(d) five days after the autumnal equinox in the northern hemisphere, which is the vernal equinox in the southern hemisphere;
(e) five days after Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement in year 5776 of the Hebrew calendar; and
(f) two days after the death of my 84-year-old brother-in-law, now free from pain and the ravaging effects of Parkinson’s disease, whose funeral we will be attending later this week.
It has been a busy week.
Today is also the eighth anniversary of the day this blog began.
Happy anniversary to me.
(a) the day after the fourth blood moon of 2014-2015;
(b) the day after the astronomical trifecta of the harvest moon, the super-moon (when the moon is at perigee and appears 14% larger than when it is at apogee), and a spectacular total lunar eclipse;
(c) the day after Pope Francis completed his three-day whirlwind tour of the United States -- well, the cities of Washington (where he addressed a joint session of the U.S. Congress), New York (where he addressed the 70th session of the U.N. General Assembly and visited Ground Zero), and Philadelphia (where he celebrated his umpteenth mass since arriving);
(d) five days after the autumnal equinox in the northern hemisphere, which is the vernal equinox in the southern hemisphere;
(e) five days after Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement in year 5776 of the Hebrew calendar; and
(f) two days after the death of my 84-year-old brother-in-law, now free from pain and the ravaging effects of Parkinson’s disease, whose funeral we will be attending later this week.
It has been a busy week.
Today is also the eighth anniversary of the day this blog began.
Happy anniversary to me.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Two, Two, Two Posts In One, or One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others Department / There's Something About Adjectives
A. Ovine - like a sheep
B. Bovine - like a cow
C. Equine - like a horse
D. Porcine - like a pig
E. Lupine - like a wolf
F. Vulpine - like a fox
G. Canine - like a dog
H. Feline - like a cat
I. Ursine - like a bear
J. Serpentine - like a snake
K. Asinine - like a donkey
L. Feminine - like a female
M. Masculine - like a male
N. Divine - like a god, like God
O. Pristine - like a virgin (Madonna Louise Ciccone, take note.)
P. Tatooine - Luke Skywalker’s home planet
My answer is Tatooine because it is a noun and all the rest are adjectives. Perhaps you have another answer for another reason. I’d like to hear it.
Even more words end in -ine -- elephantine, byzantine, morphine, nicotine -- but not all of them are adjectives.
Funny things, adjectives. They have different endings. Let me count the ways (my apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning):
1. -ine: (see list above)
2. -ic: (gigantic, rustic, pedantic, pediatric, geometric, alphabetic, moronic, idiotic, tectonic, bubonic, Teutonic, demonic, fantastic)
3. -ous: (bulbous, monstrous, miraculous, marvelous, multitudinous, disastrous, mountainous, bodacious, wondrous)
4. -al: (vernal, maternal, paternal, fraternal, arboreal, dual, verbal, adjectival, pastoral)
5. -ant: (verdant, dormant)
6. -an: (gargantuan, Machiavellian)
7. -ian: (Christian, pedestrian)
8. -ful: (wonderful, beautiful, masterful, plentiful, delightful)
9. -ar: (peninsular, jocular, popular)
10. -ile: (mercantile, fragile, docile, juvenile, mobile)
11. -ish: (Jewish, outlandish)
12. -ial: (partial, marsupial, adverbial)
So there are at least a dozen. Maybe even more.
But I do wonder why adjective endings developed the way they did. [Editor’s note. It probably has something to do with declensions in Latin. --RWP] Why do we say “a prepositional phrase”and not “a prepositionic phrase? Why do we say “gargantuan”? Why not “gargantuous”? And why did the Sherman brothers write “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” for the Mary Poppins movie instead of, say, “Supercalifragilociousexpialidistic”?
Adjectives are indeed funny -- not “funny Ha ha” but “funny peculiar” -- and don’t even get me started on the differences in British punctuation and American punctuation.
B. Bovine - like a cow
C. Equine - like a horse
D. Porcine - like a pig
E. Lupine - like a wolf
F. Vulpine - like a fox
G. Canine - like a dog
H. Feline - like a cat
I. Ursine - like a bear
J. Serpentine - like a snake
K. Asinine - like a donkey
L. Feminine - like a female
M. Masculine - like a male
N. Divine - like a god, like God
O. Pristine - like a virgin (Madonna Louise Ciccone, take note.)
P. Tatooine - Luke Skywalker’s home planet
My answer is Tatooine because it is a noun and all the rest are adjectives. Perhaps you have another answer for another reason. I’d like to hear it.
Even more words end in -ine -- elephantine, byzantine, morphine, nicotine -- but not all of them are adjectives.
Funny things, adjectives. They have different endings. Let me count the ways (my apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning):
1. -ine: (see list above)
2. -ic: (gigantic, rustic, pedantic, pediatric, geometric, alphabetic, moronic, idiotic, tectonic, bubonic, Teutonic, demonic, fantastic)
3. -ous: (bulbous, monstrous, miraculous, marvelous, multitudinous, disastrous, mountainous, bodacious, wondrous)
4. -al: (vernal, maternal, paternal, fraternal, arboreal, dual, verbal, adjectival, pastoral)
5. -ant: (verdant, dormant)
6. -an: (gargantuan, Machiavellian)
7. -ian: (Christian, pedestrian)
8. -ful: (wonderful, beautiful, masterful, plentiful, delightful)
9. -ar: (peninsular, jocular, popular)
10. -ile: (mercantile, fragile, docile, juvenile, mobile)
11. -ish: (Jewish, outlandish)
12. -ial: (partial, marsupial, adverbial)
So there are at least a dozen. Maybe even more.
But I do wonder why adjective endings developed the way they did. [Editor’s note. It probably has something to do with declensions in Latin. --RWP] Why do we say “a prepositional phrase”and not “a prepositionic phrase? Why do we say “gargantuan”? Why not “gargantuous”? And why did the Sherman brothers write “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” for the Mary Poppins movie instead of, say, “Supercalifragilociousexpialidistic”?
Adjectives are indeed funny -- not “funny Ha ha” but “funny peculiar” -- and don’t even get me started on the differences in British punctuation and American punctuation.
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