by jphilo | Nov 21, 2008 | Current Events
Gracie Allen, a comedianne from the 1920s through the 1950s, may be old news to you, but she’s a continual current event at our house. Her oddball humor always appealed to me, so in the early 1990s, I brought the movie Damsel in Distress, starring Gracie and her husband George Burns, for a good laugh with the fam.
By the end of the first musical number, our four-year-old daughter began a love affair with Gracie that endures to this day. In fact, Anne became a bit of a Gracie Allen expert when she studied the actress and dressed like her on the evening the fourth grade students shared their findings with the public. To this day, Anne drops Gracie tidbits, gleaned from Gracie and George’s autobiographies and memoirs, into conversation.
“George and Gracie adopted two children.”
“George says Gracie was the brains in comedy team.”
“Gracie was the love of George’s life.”
Right before the recent presidential election, NPR ran a story about Gracie Allen’s 1940 run for the White House as the Surprise Party’s candidate. The piece had barely begun when Hiram came in the room. “Shh…,” I said when he started to speak. “Listen to this.”
We couldn’t wipe the silly grins off our faces while we listened. The announcer explained how the campaign began as a publicity stunt on the Burns and Allen radio show, but took on a life of its own. Gracie even did a whistlestop campaign from California to Omaha, Nebraska where the Surprise Party Convention was held. The article included audio clips of some of G & G’s routines and Gracie’s campaign speeches. Pretty funny stuff.
As soon as the piece ended, I emailed Anne about the program. She’s pretty busy at college these days, so I don’t know if she’s had time to hear it yet. If you’d like to listen in, click on this link and prepare to chuckle. The story is guaranteed to alleviate any lingering post-election stress.
In light of today’s topic, there’s only one way to end this blog. “Say goodnight, Gracie.”
“Goodnight, Gracie.”
by jphilo | Nov 17, 2008 | Current Events
For the past few weeks, Hiram’s been on pins and needles preparing for a public forum about what Muslims really believe. The forum was arranged by Imran Dotani, one of the intervention cardiologists he works with in the cath lab. Dr. Dotani asked Hiram to attend as a Christian who has read the Koran.
Hiram read the Muslim holy book as a way to reach out to the doctor he works with every day. Then he challenged the doctor to read the Bible. I don’t know if Dr. Dotani has finished reading it, but the two of them have developed an interesting relationship thourh their discussions about their beliefs.
I don’t know if the doctor quite understood what he was asking my quiet, behind-the-scenes husband to do. Speaking in front of people is way, way out of Hiram’s comfort zone. But he did it because his relationship with his co-worker outweighed his personal comfort. So for the past few weeks, Hiram prayed for wisdom, looked up Bible verses, and rehearsed possible answers to unknown questions. Why? Because he wanted his words, actions and attitudes to convey love for people he doesn’t agree with, but cares for deeply.
Hiram didn’t sit with the panel, but with the audience of about 50 – 60 people. And during the two hourse, he said only one word – Hebrew – in answer to a question about the original language of the Old Testament.
Hiram was relieved to say only one word at yesterday’s forum. He didn’t believe me my assertion that he said much more than “Hebrew” during the afternoon. But I saw respect in the doctor’s eyes as he greeted my husband before the forum and chatted with him afterwards. And the doctor’s wife Nina, who I’ve visited with twice and parties and interviewed once for a magazine article, hugged me. We caught up on each other’s families. She asked about my book and said she plans to buy and read it. We decided the four of us need to get together for supper sometime.
Hiram said plenty yesterday afternoon. Enough to keep the doctor thinking for a long time. My husband is a very quiet man. When he speaks, people listen.
by jphilo | Nov 7, 2008 | Current Events
Monday, the sun was shining and the temperature was in the mid-seventies. Today, there’s a skiff of snow on the grass, and the temperature won’t get out of the thirties. The change in the weather is a real shock to the system. But I’m not going to complain. I’m just grateful the weather held on Monday, the day a dozen or so local farmers harvested grain for a fifty-year-old farmer, Lyle Babbitt, who was diagnosed with lung and liver cancer two weeks ago.
I drove to their farm Monday morning and took pictures of the big event so the Babbitts would have a constant reminder of their community’s support. Lyle’s wife Brenda babysat for Anne (from birth to age 3) and Allen (from age 6 to age 8) before her first son was born. She used to take our kids to the farm sometimes. Anne was too young to remember much about it, but Allen has fond memories of the farm, of calling Lyle and reading jokes to him from whatever joke book he’d bought from the monthly school book order.
Wednesday, I emailed Allen about Lyle. Our son was pretty shook and called later in the day. “Why Lyle?” he asked. That’s the question the whole town’s been asking. Why Lyle? He doesn’t drink or smoke, is a wonderful father and husband, a valued hospital employee, a wise farmer, a Christian who lives his faith every minute of the day.
The only people not asking that question are Lyle and Brenda. “We’re Christians so we know everything works out for good,” Brenda told the newspaper reporter who came out to cover the harvest story. “We just don’t know what that’s going to be and God’s timing is not our timing. We’re just taking a day at a time.”
“At least it’s a beautiful day and we’re making the most of every day we can. Praise the Lord,” Lyle added. “Every day is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.”
I read the article to Allen on the phone. He was quiet for a moment and said, “When I have a chance, I’m going to write to Lyle and and list every joke we told each other. I can remember a lot of them. And Mom,” he added, “tell them I love them, and I’m praying for them.”
I hung up the phone, thankful for a double harvest: Lyle’s grain is safely stored in the elevator, and the compassion his love reaped compassion in my children’s hearts. Will you join me in praying for his sons, Chuck (16) and Eddie (13)? Pray that Lyle’s love and the influence of men of character and faith who fill in the gap after their father is gone, will lead them to trust God as their parents do. Pray for people of compassion to surround them and comfort them in the hard days to come.
by jphilo | Nov 6, 2008 | Current Events
For your information, I am virtually popular. My virtual popularity includes seventy-seven friends on my Facebook account. So far, most of them are former students, a few friends my own age, several relatives, and one high school classmate.
My daughter pushed me into virtual society. Last year, during her first year of college, she wanted me nowhere near Facebook. But this summer she beggme me to join and promised to help me set up an account. But we never managed to get together, and I never got around to it, though Hiram did. I probably wouldn’t have done it this week except for an email invitation I received from a church friend.
Digital popularity has been enlightening. I’m not sure we’re a perfect fit since most of my virtual friends hang out from 9:00 PM until about 2:30 AM. Mind you, I’m not awake much of that time, but I catch up in the morning when they’re all asleep. This morning I discovered that my husband and daughter posted random things on one another’s walls last night. I’m feeling kinda left out. Why doesn’t she post on my wall? She likes him better than she likes me. Pout, pout, pout.
If I’m not careful, this hip, Facebook chick is going to devolve from virtually popular to cyberspace wallflower. I was a wallflower throughout real junior high. No way do I want to go back there on the internet. Instead, I’ll go to my daughter’s wall and write something on her “tell me your awkward story” thread. I’ve got plenty to chose from. Most of them deal with my junior high wallflower days.
So visit me on Facebook. I’ll introduce you to all my virtual friends. And you can read my awkward story. It’ll be a doozy.
by jphilo | Nov 4, 2008 | Current Events
I took this picture yesterday, to accurately record one week of fall’s relentless march toward winter. The change from a week ago Monday to yesterday is striking. But if I had fudged and taken the picture this morning, just one little day later, you wouldn’t have noticed much of a change. Usually, one day doesn’t make a huge difference.
Unless, of course, it’s a day like today. Election Day. No matter who wins this election,it will result in big changes. Either a person of color or a woman will play an important role in the Executive Branch of our government. For you it may not seem like a big deal. For kids, it’s huge.
Flash back about ten years to my fourth grade classroom. I’d read a book about the White House or the Constitution or some such matter to my students. The fly leaf had a picture gallery of past presidents, and the kids wanted to know their names. When I finished reading them, one girl raised her hand and asked, “Aren’t women allowed to be president?”
I closed the book and prayed for wise words. “Yes they are,” I answered. “It just hasn’t happened yet. But it will. Maybe you’ll be the first woman president.” She giggled. “When you get to the White House,” I told her, “invite your old fourth grade teacher to dinner, okay?” She giggled some more.
Though none of my minority students ever said it out loud, how many of them wondered whether an African-American or a Latino or disabled person was allowed to be president? Probably all of them. But by tomorrow morning, this election will answer one of their questions and usher in a new paradigm for future generations.
Every now and then, one day makes a irreversible difference. Today is one of those days.
by jphilo | Oct 27, 2008 | Current Events
This past week had more rainy days than sunny ones. In fact, from Wednesday through Friday, a look out the window was gloomy, grey and wet. Saturday the sun returned and cheered things up. Yesterday the wind in our neck of the woods was fierce and blew in a cold front, complete with cloudy skies, so we’re gloomy again.
Anne was home for the weekend. She brought two friends from college, and the weekend was a whirlwind of activity. I tried to have food ready whenever they blew in, which was no small feat since their plans changed by the hour. But from the looks of our empty refrigerator, I was fairly successful. They took off last night around 6:00, after the wind died down a little. No phone call to tell me she’s safely home, but no call from the Highway Patrol saying she isn’t, so they must have made it back okay.
The gloomy weather is a carbon copy of last week, and this Monday’s picture of our gravel road shows the damage the wind did to our fall foilage. If you look through the bare branches near the center, you can see our house peaking through – a sure sign of cold weather to come.
Normally I would moan and groan about these signs of approaching winter, but not this week. A few days ago, something happened that changed my attitude. A friend of our family, only fifty years old, was diagnosed with advanced liver and lung cancer after a lifetime of clean living. They’ve been married twenty-five years and have two teenaged sons. During the first three years of our daughter’s life, his wife came to our house and provided day care for Allen and Annie. For many years, we worshipped at the same church. I was their oldest son’s fourth grade teacher several years later. Two years ago, Hiram donated a kidney to his brother-in-law, and they send a card every September to thank him.
He started chemo last week, and we thought we’d let the hub-bub die down a bit before we go to visit them. But their family is constantly in my thoughts and prayers. When I bundled up for my walk this morning and saw more leaves on the ground than on the trees, all I could think of was how much they want to be together next fall on a cold, windy day that whips the leaves from the trees, together for another Thanksgiving, another Christmas, another New Year.
I can’t complain about the loss of warm weather when they may soon lose so much. This year, I look forward to the coming winter and pray for many more to come.
