Gone fishing...

   Having been raised in Michigan, I am familiar with ice fishing. It is a lot more deliberate than the summertime form of the diversion. One does not spend several hours whiling away the time, maybe drinking a few beers, sitting in a shanty, with one's posterior growing numb from cold, not to mention one's face and extremities, just for the heck of it.

   Jesus said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch." Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." (Luke 5: 4-5)

   Sometimes I wonder if maybe this has been cleaned up; either by or for the church. Sure, Simon Peter respected Jesus, but maybe he thought to himself, "Hey, who's the fisherman here? I was fishing before you even knew where Lake Galilee was!" Or even, "Oh man...I've been up all night, I stink, I'm tired, I just want to go home, clean up, have something to eat and hit the sack."

   Do we ever do that? "Geez, Lord, I put in 60 hours this week; I don't want to get up at seven o'clock on my day off." Gotta love Peter; "If you say so, Lord." Simple, not necessarily easy.

   Giving his sermon, Rev. John Fritts, at one time the rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Brady, Texas, said fishing was a noble occupation. He went on to enumerate elements of the down side, saying it was dangerous and tiring, mentioning an episode of Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs.

   Speaking of Simon Peter's partners, Rev. Fritts mentioned "the esteemed firm of Zebedee & Co." Two millennia later, the company continues to thrive. They even have a weekly company party and everybody is welcome.*

*****

    I never did finish wherever I was going with that but maybe I can address that now and together we can flesh it out. For starters, I found a place where it was necessary to add a footnote. One would hope that love is first and foremost in your heart. It matters not nearly so much that one profess allegiance to any rite or prevailing deity as it does how one treats one's fellow planet, universe, or even neighborhood, dwellers. In recent years, and more so since 2016 United States' presidential election, nationalism has asserted its snide voice and raised its ugly head. Xenophobia is being desperately promoted as patriotism. But let's unpack this whole "Love one another" issue.

   Many church services end with the words, "Let us go forth to love and serve the Lord." But is it really meant; or does it have qualifiers? I will again refer the reader to the footnote I made. My personal point of view is that churches, or "The Church" should be like "Doctors Without Borders." The latter group focuses on healing unwell/damaged bodies; the former, on sick souls. There will always be a contingent advocating for strict[er] borders, maintaining that they are necessary to, in so many words, 'keep out the riff-raff.' Certainly xenophobes find nothing wrong with their mindset, nor do they comprehend people who find this rigid position undesirable. How many folks truly question their motives? Personal accountability proves even more difficult, definitely more abstract, when several world leaders hold nationalist opinions.
   What is to be done? Make kindness a minimum standard. Start locally, by loving and serving those around you. It will make the world a better place.

* Depending, of course, on who is throwing the party. Sadly, not all denominations recognize others as being in full communion.

January thaw

   Nodding off in front of my computer, after a satisfactory lunch with a high school friend, I perused my archives for something to amuse my devoted followers and came across the following.
Santé et bon appétit

***

(First published in January 2015)
Bonjour cher,
   Here I sit, having toasted some small homemade pretzels and brewed a pot of Mystery Tea: while working, had thrown a small baggie of various teas in a satchel, to have on break. Found them after retirement.
   Temperatures here are mild for this time of year, in this zone. Woke to *Anthem of the Hoover Queen:* somewhere above me, one of my neighbors persists in running vacuum at least once or twice a week. Thankfully, this does not commence until after 8AM, while the pacing/clomping about, ensues anytime after 0500 hours. Fortunately, am not a light sleeper; never would have survived childhood in a large family if I were.
   Last I heard from you, a passel of college students lived downstairs: you commented on savory but unfamiliar cooking aromas. Do they play much music? As long as it is melodic and not too loud, it doesn't bother me.
   Today's mail brought two beautiful postcards from a penpal in Argentina, as well as a couple letters with Carolina postmarks. All that mail shall brighten this overcast day. Had some snow accumulation earlier; looked like a feather pillow had been torn open.
   Attended auditions last night and read quite well. Have not been active in theater for decades. Now waiting for call from director. One of the monologues he had me read was about getting fitted for a new bra - a subject to which I can definitely relate. The other was about what a bother purses are. I really think my chances are pretty good.
   Guess after supper, will go visit Man Upstairs. One of my neighbors asked why I go up there so often. Told her, he's good company and makes me laugh. Then she wanted to know, "Well if all you want is company, why not get a dog?" Are you kidding me? Pet deposit is three hundred dollars and ya gotta clean up after them; Man Upstairs is house broken and free.
   It's a chilly Friday night here in Tecumseh, Michigan, as we head into the fourth weekend of 2015. It has been a reasonably productive and most enjoyable week, particularly in the Bingo department: Monday at senior center, made back my fifty cents; Wednesday at the library, netted four books; and last night, here at the apartment complex, made a grand haul - head of cabbage, bag of carrots, frozen dinner, tube of blueberry refrigerator biscuits, dish soap and small box of candy!
   My errands for this twenty-third day of January included lunch at senior center and purchase of six pounds boneless beef short ribs. Got home, put three pounds in freezer, other three in deep pot, topped with water, bit of salt, pepper, thyme and turned on burner. Rinsed two cups Basmati rice, adding to meat. Friend called, we went to dinner  and I got back in time for evening card game.
   Perusing collections of stories I had written, came across one I hope you will find amusing.

***

   After fifteen or sixteen years, I had begun to suspect maybe I had been too long in Texas, but the time came when something happened to confirm my suspicion as certainty. I was, as Poirot says, "Exercising zee little gray cells" by working a crossword puzzle, when I encountered the clue *Red Bordeaux.* This much information was available to me: _ _ A_E_. All that came to mind was, "Who is Red Bordeaux, and what team does he play for?" Obviously, I had been dazed by Friday night lights.
   Now I will have to join Oenophiles Anonymous, because the other wine lovers won't want to acknowledge me in public. What's next? Will I embarrass myself by requesting a sommelier to bring a bottle of Chateau Ripple, or a glass of vintage Boone's Farm? Don't get me wrong, I'm no snob - I love Boone's Farm but come ON! Really, I did one of those V-8 forehead slaps when I finally deduced the word I'd been seeking was "claret." Which reminds me, did you ever see that Bellagio commercial with the LL jumping out of the name, running after the grape, and stomping it?
   Am reminded of world history professor who regaled us with following anecdote; While traveling, he had stopped at a convenience store for something to eat. Going through the beverage selections, he encountered his first bottle of Ripple and asked clerk what it was, receiving this reply, "Ripple, my good man, is a fine 89-cent wine." [This was the 1960s.]
   Anyway, guess I should be thankful not to have misread Bordeaux as Boudreaux, but it is small comfort. I recalled an episode of Murphy Brown in which a truckload of potatoes was dumped on Veep's lawn, after Dan Quayle had put an "e" on the end of singular form of potato, and wondered if anybody would leave a bottle of wine on my porch. Because, that would be okay, you know.

Resolved: commit to an ideal

   I'm already seeing comic strip references to broken resolutions, so it seemed a good time to address the topic in a blog.

***

Mid-January
 Many individuals are reaching the point at which one's resolve to make changes and "be better" begin to weaken. While many aim at "self-improvement," it is largely within the physical realm that efforts are concentrated.

   On 1 January, the western world starts a new calendar year. New Year resolutions provide a way of
redefining ourselves. Perhaps we should consider a shift in focus from physical to: spiritual; intellectual; or even metaphysical (if, indeed, we even know what that is). Would that not be a step toward making our world a better place to live?

   If we took the time to consider how our everyday actions reflect on our ethics, would we still do most of the things we do? Of course, some would argue that "over-thinking every little thing" would bring life to a standstill. That is not my intent, but a little soul-searching could enhance one's prudence.

   Prudence and practicality dictate many of our everyday actions. But occasionally we encounter a situation that challenges us morally. How do we face the challenge? "Hemming and hawing" seems to be a time-honoured tradition, especially among those of us who tend to procrastinate. There are several "hot button" issues, some of global import, others more particular to certain countries or regions.
   There is a Facebook group called International Citizens United, (ICU) with the motto, "All for one and one for all." ("Tous pour un, un pour tous.") A phrase from the Statement of Purpose: The International Citizens United group page is a place for building unity and understanding between all people on the planet. Please check it out and, if you are so inclined, request membership.
   Climate change is affecting all of us, in one way, or another. Even the smallest everyday action has a consequence. The amount of rubbish one generates can have an impact on the increasing temperature of the planet. For instance, how often do any of us attend some group function and find food served on disposable plates, which will end up in a landfill? Not to mention, bottled water. If trash is incinerated, how many and what kinds of pollutants, go into the atmosphere? It may cause minor inconvenience and subject one to a certain amount of ridicule to take one's own place setting, cutlery, and reusable container for beverage but one then has the satisfaction of not contributing to waste which may well end up in a body of water; making said resource unusable for either consumption or recreation.
   Sometimes one can find a bargain, a two-for-one: maybe you could take public transportation, or even walk; that way you are responsible for fewer carbon emissions going into the atmosphere and you get exercise. Win-win.
   Make this a year of commitment: your future and the world's may depend on it. No pressure.

  Happy New Year.

Sleeping around

   I miss my trips to South Carolina and surrounding environs. Though in hopes of another sojourn this spring, it won't happen unless I can find a travel companion. Meanwhile, I shall attempt to amuse you, by recounting a previous adventure. Not all of the people I claim as family are blood kin and there are several I have not yet met in person. In many cases, geography decreases the probability of face to face encounters. Thankfully, the dear soul known to me as Brother is someone who has welcomed me into his life and has extended the hospitality of his home. My 2015 trip would have been nigh impossible, and not nearly so pleasurable, without him.

*****

December 2015
(Driving Miss Crazy)
Hi honey, did ya miss me?
   It has been over a month since my last letter to you: I've been away but now I shall bring you up to speed regarding recent adventures.
   On 22 November, 2015, Brother Eddie arrived in Michigan to whisk me away for Thanksgiving holiday, having spent previous day with other kinfolks along the way. I'm not altogether certain Eddie knew what he was in for when he opted to facilitate my adventure by uttering the words, "Road trip!" God bless him, he didn't bail on me; did not even falter. He arrived in Michigan to newly fallen snow, and was actually excited at the prospect of driving on it. Thankfully, roadways were clear and the only snow that Eddie's truck encountered was in Dad's driveway. Our original plan had been for him to come in Saturday evening and attend church with me on Sunday morning, as I was scheduled to read. Unfortunately, Whoever was in charge of clear travel conditions had apparently not gotten the memo. Reality: it snowed nearly all day Saturday, Eddie spent Saturday night in central Ohio and I did not go to church since A) road conditions were dodgy, and B) no one would have been around to let Eddie in if I had. So, he got here, we went to breakfast, made our goodbyes to Dad, and hit the road.
   Roadways had been cleared, giving us the luxury of enjoying glistening pristine beauty of snow-covered landscape. Daylight was eaten up as we made our blessedly uneventful way through Ohio and into West Virginia. What did surprise us was encountering three toll stations, at two dollars a pop. Fortunately, we had ready cash available, so the hurdle was not insurmountable. Got through Ohio and finally stopped for the night in Beckley, West Virginia. Had dinner in motel lounge. Back in the room, we plugged in our cellphones to charge, made our individual preparations for bed and took a little time to wind down. Shared a bit of free verse I had just written:

Cold town, warm beds

Children of the Great Brotherhood

walk their separate paths to Land of Dreams

This day they have covered a lot of ground

- and gone farther still in *miles* that cannot be measured

   Come morning, we realize clock on nightstand had not been reset to reflect time change, so we had another hour to wait for breakfast included in room rate. Brother used time to check in with social media but I was determined to abstain for the duration of my trip.
   Soon, staff could be observed making coffee and setting up dining area. Other travelers made their muzzy-headed way in to partake of the limited nourishment provided by processed foods. A goodly number of diners appeared to be college students, possibly an athletic team.
   After breakfast, we packed our bags, checked room for stray miscellany and checked out. Monday morning, having breakfasted before break of day, we found ourselves traveling in darkness, waiting for day to break over Blue Ridge Mountains. There was barely enough light to discern trees atop distant mountains. Of course, where there are mountains, there are also valleys. These were not just gentle slopes and dales, but veritable chasms. In the bottom of gorges were trees and it makes one's breath catch to realize how tall some of those trees must be.
   When driving an automobile without cruise control, it is important to find a pace car - which can also serve as decoy for highway patrol. We picked a presumably unsuspecting motorist with Quebec plates. Saw a sign which read, Speed enforced by air, which made me think of my "grammar nazi" friends who would no doubt insist - and rightly so - "Monitored, not enforced." Later in my trip, watched a news broadcast and heard, "*Be a cannibal* for your vehicle" which serves to demonstrate the importance of good diction, because what the speaker obviously said was, "Be accountable for your vehicle."
   At some point, one must cross the mountains, if one's destination lies beyond them. Our route took us through the East River and Big Walker Tunnels. Emerging, we noted Sun bathed top of trees, leaving three-fourths of the hillside in violet shadow; purple mountain majesty.
   Early sun highlighted glistening black rock, damp from seeping springs, which will dry as winter deepens. For now, icicles glint in daylight, delighting the eye. One glimpses red oak leaves, looking for all the world like stained glass.
   As one traverses mountain ranges, one notes grooves cut into Earth by gigantic mechanical maws which have left *teeth marks,* a testament to determination to get beyond obstacles. Different colors and textures indicate various mineral deposits. I was amused by a formation that resembled monstrous toes and thought of various "henge" monuments. As we proceeded southeastward, pinkness increased on eastern horizon and one lone star remained visible in western sky. People have an unfortunate habit of making their presence apparent by littering the landscape in greater and lesser ways. In two days of travel we saw at least three abandoned vehicles and I couldn't help thinking those orange stickers are like toe-tags for cars. A few states down the road, we stopped for lunch and I had to remember to specify unsweetened tea if I did not want to find myself trying to gag down a glass of treacle. Midday Monday brought us into central South Carolina, where I would make my home for most of the next three weeks.
   One of the household denizens was less than enthusiastic in her welcome: Lily, a Pug, groused at me every time I moved. I believe it was because I upset the balance of her world and she viewed me as an interloper. We maintained an *armed truce* for the duration of my stay.
   Saturday after Thanksgiving, Brother took me to Charlotte, North Carolina, where I was delivered into the safekeeping of a former classmate for a few days. Surrounded by Great Smoky Mountains, I slept well, nestled under handmade quilts.While on a brief sightseeing excursion, established contact with outside world. This excitement was eclipsed by awe at the heartiness of those who had long ago settled the region, and knowledge I would have proved unworthy - since I do well to cope even with modern conveniences. Wednesday after Thanksgiving, left scenic Smokies and returned to South Carolina; while being taken to rendezvous with Eddie, was surprised to hear cellphone buzz - it was registering several messages which had come in while I was out of range. My time in North Carolina was marred by incessant rain and, for most of my time there, an absence of cellphone reception but the scenery was nothing short of phenomenal. The company, both human and feline, was exceptional too. There is a chain of grocery stores called "ingles" which my mind perceived as inglés, which is Spanish for "English." What can I say? - I am easily amused.  
   Friday, 4 December, met people at bowling alley in Cayce, then I checked into Columbia, SC hotel.   Next driver was a Facebook friend, originally from Michigan, whom I met in Columbia, SC. We trusted modern technology to get us to Lake Manning, then to an address which I recalled from writing several letters. D and I celebrated our weekend by sharing a humongous burger called The Widow-maker: four quarter-pound beef patties, four slices of cheese, and four strips of bacon. This was accompanied by a large salad and red wine, which we hoped would minimize the threat posed by all that cholesterol. Next day, met another correspondent and we had a blast. After a leisurely lunch, we went for a drive and made an impromptu visit to a friend who climbed down from fixing the roof and welcomed us into his home - which, by the way, we found because I recalled his address from writing to him. Sunday, went to a potluck, where I was traded back to Eddie.
   It's a darn good thing I am not underage, because Eddie transported me across numerous state lines during the course of my visit. Anyway, planning to meet friends for dinner, we were instructed to rendezvous at Plum, on Bay Street. Arriving at that establishment, we found dark windows and a sign the place was closed that evening. I stayed in the truck, texting the other party, while Eddie asked a passerby to suggest a place for dinner. Walking to the suggested place, he learned they were closed to public that evening - for Plum's Christmas party. We gathered elsewhere and spent an enjoyable time together. As we went our separate ways, I informed the group the chronicle of my adventures would be titled, "Driving Miss Crazy," which seemed apt.
   Monday, the planets must have come into fortuitous alignment and I was able to meet a Calhoun County official, plus spend time with a friend whom it had begun to look like I would not get to see this trip. Tuesday night found me back in Columbia area, where I gladly spent remainder of the week.
   My time in the South was winding down and I had one more Facebook friend to meet for the very first time.    On 13 December, made notation that wine before 11 A.M. was probably not my most brilliant move ever, but consequences were apparently not dire, so presume neither was it my worst. Second Monday of December, made interim stop in Virginia. Here I met Susan, another Facebook friend, and lodged two nights. We attended a library Christmas party, then stopped at a winery on our way back to the house.
   Wednesday morning Susan made a hearty breakfast, before schlepping me to Charlottesville to catch a commuter train to Washington, D.C. My seatmate during the two-hour trip was a second-year college student whose major is environmental sciences. Good conversationalist. Got her address and shall write to her.Spent two nights in Virgina. Then, on a frosty Wednesday morning, hugged my friend and boarded a commuter train, which would take me to Union Station in District of Columbia.
   Got into the station and had a text message from someone I met in college. As I stepped through the door, four decades evaporated and we recognized each other in an instant. Spent a couple hours reminiscing and talking about what we had done during intervening years. Then it was time for her to return home so she could avoid District rush hour.
   Train 29, from Washington to Chicago departed from Track 15 at 4:05 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. At last, home stretch began and, amazingly, train got in on time, arriving in Toledo, Ohio 5:08 a.m. of 17 December - earlier than I had expected. Last year, had experienced significant delay on return trip, so had told driver not to come until 8:00 a.m. Why should he get up in the middle of the night if he didn't have to? Once I got into Toledo station, phoned him, notifying him of timely arrival. He showed up and had me home by 8:01a.m.(EST), Thursday, 17 December. As he was taking me home, I was glad we were headed westward and not into rising sun. My stomach growled and I thought longingly of the sausage and egg breakfast, consumed less than twenty-four hours previously but which seemed eons ago.
   Showered and dressed to attend Tecumseh Senior Center Christmas party: had already told friends I'd have to 'hit the ground running' upon my return. Just so you know, title for this piece came from the twenty-five nights I slept in a bed other than my own. Sorry to disappoint.

   If you ever decide to "go crazy" make sure you get a good driver and be sure to take the scenic route.