You start dying slowly ; if you do not travel, if you do not read, If you do not listen to the sounds of life, If you do not appreciate yourself. You start dying slowly : When you kill your self-esteem, When you do not let others help you. You start dying slowly ; If you become a slave of your habits, Walking everyday on the same paths… If you do not change your routine, If you do not wear different colours Or you do not speak to those you don’t know. You start dying slowly : If you avoid to feel passion And their turbulent emotions; Those which make your eyes glisten And your heart beat fast. You start dying slowly : If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain If you do not go after a dream If you do not allow yourself At least once in your lifetime To run away from sensible advice Don’t let yourself die slowly Do not forget to be happy! ~ Pablo Neruda♡ Chilean poet who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971 Via Rumi
For 35 years we lived about 3/4 of a mile from Martino’s. It’s a hot dog shack. Well, not really a “shack”, it’s a proper business that’s had a loyal following for 45 year now. Since 1977, as their sign says.
When our daughter Kathryn was old enough to get an after-school job working there was one of her first paid gigs. Oddly enough I’m not sure we ever went to eat there, but we have been there a great many times before, during and after.
There’s this thing about Chicago Style hot dogs — or often known as Chicago Style Red Hots. If you’re from the Windy City you know all about the controversy between Kosher and non-kosher dogs (the absence or presence of pork meat in the sausage respectively). But aside from that major sticking point among Chicago Style afficianados a dog needs specific ingredients to pass muster ( or maybe pass “mustard” as a Chicago Style product.
The dogs are grilled, not boiled, and not rippers. They are served on a soft spongy poppy seed bun. They are topped with a squirt of mustard (only, no ketchup), onions, 2 sport peppers, 2 slices of tomato (or wedges) and one dill pickle spear. But between the squirt of mustard and the onions comes a tablespoon of electric green pickle relish. All of that is wrapped in paper, along with a modest portion of fresh french fries. You end up with a little bundle that makes a mess of poppy seeds all over the table when you unwrap it, and it couldn’t be any better, tastier, or satisfying.
I have no idea what it is in the green pickle relish that makes it so electric green but any imitation just isn’t acceptable. It probably isn’t good for us, but there is some mystique about that electric color that the Chicago Style Dog demands. Go figure.
Our new digs are a lot closer to Martino’s than were we formerly lived. I guess it was fitting that just a week or two into our new digs we had to stop and imbibe on the taste of so many years and such happy memories.
Like a lot of hot dog joints they also serve a terrific Italian Beef and all sorts of variations on the menu, along with shakes and malts and desserts — carrot cake, chocolate cake, rice krispy bars, etc.. It’s definitely a taste of the 70’s and it’s worth it.
You never see a long line of cars at their drive up — because there is none. You come inside, and stand in line and order like real human beings. You are greeted with a smile, service is fast, and I’ve never had a botched order. They are about hospitality, not food service.
I bet we’ll stop by more often now that they are almost on our doorstep. I hope so. They deserve to survive well into the mid-21st Century!
Hooray for hot dogs! No my favorite food, but among my favorite food memories.
I hope you’re well, take care of yourself and I’ll talk with you tomorrow.
Retirement has a lot of advantages, among them the time to actually think about things, instead of merely reacting to a steady stream of work/life/family deadlines. Given, that “thinking” can get a person into trouble: too much time to wallow in too many failures or to obsess with too many problems, or whatever it is that your unstable minds often find to trouble us — but still, thinking does a person a lot of good.
If you have followed me for any time you’ll know that at 76, almost 77 years I have been a believer in Jesus for well over 50 years. I am not a card-carrying anything anymore. Never been Catholic, Roman or Orthodox. Have been “protestant” in the sense that I’m among those who diverge from the Catholic church in ways consistent with Martin Luther, but not Protestant with a capital “P.” For well over a quarter century I was a bi-vocational pastor — as our group of followers did not believe in a paid ministry. And there came a time when, over idolatry, I stood away from the fellowship I had been part of and took a different path.
After leaving that fellowship I began looking at other groups of believers. I had a lot of conversations with a lot of pastors, priests, elders, deacons, and whatnot investigating the reasons they had given their lives, or devoted their lives to religion. Suffice it to say that after speaking, face-to-face, with a lot of church leaders I was saddened by how many — the vast majority with whom I spoke, admittedly at random without scientific selection of my sample group — of those now church leaders had joined the ministry because it was “a job” that they thought they might like. I literally found zero among those I spoke with who talked about any particular “conversion” experience. For all of them it was a rational decision. Some talked about feeling a calling — but those conversations were a bit iffy — undefined — vague — and I’ll never know whether they were the result of my questions and a sense that they needed to justify their role in the church.
The result of all those conversations has been that Peg and I have maintained our faith along a mostly quiet and private pathway. We remain as full of faith and as devoted as ever — just not among a great group of others.
Recently I was watching reruns of the TV series Lewis. There’s an episode called, I believe, “Born of Fire” in which one sentence comes up repeatedly:
“On the road from the Garden to Gethsemane I lost my way”
I suspect that a lot of folks lose their way on faith’s road. The signposts are sometimes difficult of understanding. The way is filled with obstacles — even Jesus and the Apostles warned us of that reality. And whatever God you believe in or worship — they are pretty quiet about their ways and their willingness to offer tangible interactions. That’s why it’s a walk of faith and not of sight. We BELIEVE in God, we don’t SEE Him/Her/It.
In my “group active” days — when I was pastoring a congregation I came to appreciate the way our seemingly faith activated decisions affect our ABILITY to actually exercise faith. Take the idea that a “church” needs a place to gather and worship together. That idea means that a place, a building, a building site needs to be acquired and plans made to erect/maintain it, pay for it, etc., etc., etc.. Suddenly the conduct of religion becomes incrementally less about faith, and sharing one’s faith with others and more about the mechanics of maintaining a physical “thing” — the Church — and suddenly the emphasis is less upon the work of believing and more upon the work of “churching”. Church leadership becomes about budgets and fund raising and committees to get things accomplished. Where the work of evangelizing, or the growth of individual members in their faith takes place has to be shared with the management of the Church.
All of this has nothing to do with what I have really been thinking about — it’s only background about WHY I may have been thinking along these lines.
We humans ARE gregarious and I guess we are also tribal. It’s not enough that we interact, we seem compelled to formalize our interactions into ethnicities, into communities, into special interests, into employer/employees, into a million different categories that we all have tucked away in our brain. Violations of some of those boundaries or groupings can give rise to wars, hatred, and persecutions. Every year there are ethnic disputes that have boiled over into armed conflict, death and destruction, and we take them all with a grain of salt as if they are inevitable and nothing to be thought very much about until terrible pictures are pasted all over the media and then for a few hours or days we are incensed by the violence before going back to our everyday lives.
In such a world we humans make rules about who God is, and what God wants. Sometimes we have historic reason for doing so — the existence of texts written long ago. Other time seers arise among us and claim to have messages from God. Still other times it’s in the stillness of a prison cell that we hear from God, a la Charles Colson who was converted whilst in prison, or Madame Guyon who’s dungeon writings spawned faith groups a couple hundred years earlier.
Faith is very individual. Faith is the willingness to step out on thin air not knowing if there is anything solid beneath our feet to catch us — the scene from Indiana Jones is an excellent example of human faith — when the search for the chalice of Christ pushes Indy to step into the unknown across a cavernous void. But the reality of that cinematic moment is real for believers the world over. Faith allows us, causes us, compels us to act. But to act upon WHAT? That is the question.
Earlier I mentioned being retired. For me, the blessing of retirement has been that I have had time to investigate the diversity of this world. From the number of stars to the appalling number of species of cockroaches we live in a universe that is more diverse than we can ever imagine. All our attempts to fathom why there need to be thousands of species of various creatures the likes of which we want nothing to do is more than we can ever guess. The abundance of different spiritual ideas — zen, buddhism, taoism, Christianity (regular and orthodox) various poly-theistic faiths — and many other that I know. nothing about about — all bind humans together in the search for something bigger than themselves — even if we cannot agree upon what that something might, perchance, be.
I happen to believe in Jesus, and a specific role that he played in how humans can, should and will function. Others hold differing ideas, even among those who say they believe in Jesus. Some would say my way of looking at things is heresy. In another century I might even have been tortured for my views. Fortunately in this century we aren’t doing those things openly. But the bottom line is that our insistence upon having groups of our own choosing and confining our world-view to the ideas held by that group has severely limited our ability to see the world around us. We observe without seeing. Things are right in front of our eyes and rather than being amazed and learning from them we categorize them, and prohibit them so that no one else should be aware.
I suspect that whatever might lie ahead of us after death, there will be a great many surprises.
I for one don’t blame God for anything. I accept that many things happen that appear horrendous and utterly “unfair” (if we even have any concept of what “fairness” really is). I need only look at the actions of humans to realize that the vast majority of tragic events are our own fault. Decisions have consequences. You can’t jump out of window and not expect to fall — we all know this — but we all make myriad decisions that temp the laws of the universe just as much as trying to walk on air — and these stupid choices are so easily blamed on God. And when “bad” people do “bad things” we fail to accept that people aren’t born bad they learn how to be bad from others and the fact that they are willing to injure or kills others is because they were never taught — at a time in their life when teaching was possible — that humans oughtn’t to do such things. There are precedents and antecedents to everything and re simply aren’t willing to look at them long enough to accept that there is no need to blame a distant God when very present humans are here to accept blame.
I guess for me the lesson behind hundreds of millions of stars, and multiple ways of faith, and the magic of why people fall in love, and the mystery of musical harmony is that in a big world we are very little people. We have an infinitesimal grasp of the big, wide world, and perhaps we need to be more understand and a bit slower to jump ahead and change things we don’t understand.
I hope you have a great day. It’s quiet here with a lovely layer of snow on the ground and the world looks so pure and peaceful. I know that’s an illusion. I know that this country has just intervened in another nation’s sovereignty and unspeakable acts of violence and corruption are happening as I write. But beyond my ability to sound an alarm, I have to leave the end all and be all of this world to a power greater than myself and I bow in prayer knowing — believing — trusting that there IS a final reckoning and I have nothing to fear.
Let me begin by saying that today I’m thinking about a great conundrum. Donald Trump is the least important part of my life but currently occupies way too much of it. Any media I look to — news related or not — it’s impossible to get away from his visage and the insanity that has been the last 11 years, where the nation has seemed obsessed with anything done by the least worthy candidate for our attention. But on the other hand he means absolutely nothing to my life at all.
Let me be clear. How I live my life isn’t determined by anything the man says or does. I must still breathe, eat, exercise (at least a little), care for those around me, etc., etc.. None of this is affected one way or the other by dRumpf. Furthermore, whatever he may do, or cause to be done is genuinely out of my control. I may post about him as a warning and reminder to others but I dare not think that my little blips on the sea of unrest are changing anything. I have to live in spite of him.
And there’s the rub. I am no different than millions upon millions of humans who have gone before me. For centuries there have been obscenely wealthy and powerful men (and women) who have pushed the faces of their fellows into the mud and laughed.
The difference is that in this century we cannot get away from hearing about them, from learning all their foibles and atrocities, and from thinking that we are the most oppressed humans on earth; while at the same time there are refugees and prisoners and homeless and mentally afflicted humans whose lives are far worst than the lives we who are able to troll the interWebs for news might be facing. Even having access to information makes us stand far and away from those who suffer the most in this world. And who, just like us, are doing the best they can to eek out a living in a very unfavorable world.
I remember 25 or 30 years ago on a trip to Europe that I found myself in the South of France viewing some castle or another — built on a high formation of rock. At the base of the rock formation was an interpretive plaque — written unfortunately for me in French (of which language my skills are very rudimentary) but the gist of the plaque was quite plain. While the rich lived in opulent splendor high on the rock, the ‘common man’ lived in caves beneath. I don’t think the term on that plaque so long ago would still be accurate, I suspect science has moved forward from their understanding in terms of timing in human history, but at the time those poor peasants were referred to as troglodytes. (a term we now generally apply to humans some 25,000 years ago) But the bottom line is that those farmers, laborers, and even skilled craftsmen lived lives a world away from that of their rulers some hundreds of feet above in the castle on the rock.
My point is simple. Humans have always lived with great disparity between themselves and their rulers. Today we get to KNOW about the difference. In fact, today we are inundated with their travels, their wealth, their lifestyle, their abuses, their foibles, their atrocities — to the point that it’s hard NOT to know about all the things that irritate and madden those of us who have far less and are incapable of doing anything about them.
And so, while we have information beyond belief, but little or no power, it falls to each of us to live whatever meager lives we have. And let’s be very clear, unless you are a millionaire or billionaire you are closer to poverty than you are to them. You are closer to catastrophe than to wealth. The numbers are just that huge. You can “want” to be like them, to go where they go, eat in the restaurants they eat at, or buy the clothing they buy — or are given, and you may want to copy all the accoutrements of wealth but the fact of the matter is that you are just pretending — living a temporary fantasy.
Years ago I saw a graphic I searched in vain for this morning. It was a clever cartoon of a person standing “beside themself”. And the concept is, I think, worthy of consideration. Sometimes we need to step outside of ourself and look at the context in which we find ourselves. In so many ways the 20th and 21st centuries are an aberration. For millennia humans have traveled no faster than the fastest horse and suddenly we think we can conquer the know and unknown universe just because we have been clever enough to make a few discoveries that have lead to a plundering of the planet heretofore unmatched. Suddenly we humans think we are gods and nothing can stop us — at at least that seems to be the mindset of the ultra-rich. But we who AREN’T ultra-rich need to take ourselves “in hand” as it were and slap ourselves across the face and say, “look here buddy — wake up, you’re living a fantasy but you have serious things to do and you’d best get on doing them.”
Serious things indeed.
Care for our family
Care for ourselves
Be kind to other humans, all creatures and the earth that provides for us,
Work together for the benefit of all — building society
Live honest lives without arrogance
All these things and more are more important than anything I think — or don’t think — about dRumpf. He is less than smallest flea, And in the annals of human history he will go down as an abomination. Why should I waste my life, my time on this earth obsessing about him?
Yeah — we SHOULD speak out against evil, and I think it’s also right to remind those who are responsible for that so many are suffering because of him that it is THEIR fault that the situation exists s it does. Because the history of the lion is written by the hunter and humans have a short memory when it comes to their complicity with evil. And if you doubt that, you can ask why is it that there are so many people trying to deny that the holocaust ever took place. We are uncomfortable with our own failures as a nation, as a race, as humans — and we need to be reminded that evil is but one step away.
But never can we let speaking out agains evil prevent us from doing good. Upholding ideals. Encouraging those who inspire us. Etc. It’s my job and your job to live the BEST life we are able and to let those who tear down, those who destroy, those who defame and foster hatred fall by the wayside. The scales of life incline towards justice and even if we have suffered our pleas are heard. Perhaps not in a timeframe I might choose. But who am I to decide the pace of fate?
Try it. Step outside yourself and look at what you’re doing. Is it the best that you can? Do you really have to worry about the things you are obsessing about? And is there someone out there who needs a hand, a help up, a pat of the shoulder?
Take care of yourself and I’ll talk to you again. I hope soon, but whenever.
I don’t know about anyone else but I have been in mourning lo these many months.
I find it almost incomprehensible that the Great Orange Failure has plunged an entire country into chaos, despair and hopelessness. There was a time when the news contained uplifting stories, successes, progress. Now all we hear is controversy, hatred, tales of petty revenge centering upon an aging, decrepit old man who is obsessed with himself and doesn’t seem to care for anyone or anything except self glorification.
I remember the old days. All the more sad for me. I remember the good that people did, the optimism that was shared around me, around my community, around the world for a better more peaceful world and that is no more.
I’m not sure whether I’ll start writing again. This blog has sat idle for a while now. But my heart hasn’t been in writing, and yet…. I cannot stop composing what I might have written in my brain day in and day out. And, age is making the composition of an intelligent sentence a bit harder. So, who knows.
But at this Christmas/Hanukkah season I wanted to wish everyone the best of the season and the hope for a better new year.
Be good to each other, and keep you eyes on the best, noblest, highest ideals you can — because if we don’t, who will?
You must be logged in to post a comment.