Elijah and Mom’s iPhone

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Good morning, Elijah!

Morning, Bumpa!

Whatcha doin’ there?

Just playin’.

But we’re on FaceTime!

Yeah, we’re on the way to work and daycare.

Aha! You’re playing with Mom’s iPhone?

Yeah. Playin’ with Mom’s fone is fun. Mom doesn’t need it. She doesn’t need the GPS. We do this every day.

I see. How long’s the drive?

You k n o w, Bumpa! You’re playing’ with me! Forty-five minutes ’til Mom drops me off at day care. Depends on traffic.

That’s a long time to be alone in the back seat strapped in your car seat.

Yeah, but it’s fun! I get to play! Mom just drives. I have to bigger before I can drive, right, Bumbpa?

Right. You just turned two last Wednesday.

Yeah, I’m two! Two YEARS this time, not two months.

Yes, and we’re so proud of you!

Yeah, I get to do adult stuff like you and Mom.

I hope you won’t take this as an insult, Elijah, but how did you get me on FaceTime?

Don’t ya know, Bumbpa? I push the buttons on Mom’s iPhone. I love talking with people! It’s fun. They’re always surprised! Sometimes they come up on FaceTime. That’s really fun!

So. . . You’re just scrolling through Mom’s contact list?

We don’t use the stroller anymore! I’m two!

I’m sorry. I didn’t say ‘stroller‘. I said ‘scroller‘ with a ‘c’.

Yup. And I’m only through the ‘C’s! ABCDEFG, HIJKLMNOP. QRS TUV! Hold it, Bumpa. I got another call coming’ in. Can I put you on hold?

— Gordon C. Stewart (Bump) with Elijah, May 28, 2019.

what it isn’t.

Good Morning, Daylight Savings Time. Time is a funny thing!

I didn't have my glasses on....

“in the time it takes to say ‘now,’ now is already over.

it’s already ‘then.’ ‘then’ is the opposite of ‘now.’

so saying ‘now’ obliterates its meaning,

turning it into exactly what it isn’t.” 

-ruth ozeki, a tale for the time being

my life’s interpretation of the above passage from ruth’s beautiful book :

by the time i get my clocks reset,

the time will change back again to the time it was when i started

like it never happened

until it happens again.

 daylight saving time has arrived once again

image credit: pinterest, photographer unknown

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The Day the Ashes Were Turned into Water

We are drowning in a sea of lies, but the ocean has a way of caring for itself. Without exception, all life is part of the Ocean. If it seems strange to be talking about water on Ash Wednesday, perhaps a memory will bring water and ashes together for you, as it did for me.

The Ash Wednesday I’m remembering, I robed 20 minutes or so before the 7:00 PM Ash Wednesday. There was plenty of time. I went to fetch the the little ZipLock bag of ashes. I’d forgotten that the credenza where I’d always stored the ashes had been moved from my office to the church basement. I rushed to the basement to where the credenza had re-located. There was no credenza. Finally it dawned me that the credenza had been sold at for a couple of bucks at the annual festival-flea market last fall.

“Somebody has my ashes,” I thought, “and they’ll probably treat them like dirt! Or maybe they’ll freak out, thinking the ashes are somebody’s cremains!”

What to do? Burn some newspapers! Smoke a cigar! No time for that. There would be no imposition of ashes. No outward, visible sign that we are dust and we return to the dust — the thing we never want hear. It was then that the missing ashes were turned into water.

We filled the baptismal font with water and marked each worshiper with the waters of baptism. “[Carol, Bob, Judi, Clyde], you are a disciple of Jesus Christ. Live in his love and serve him. And never forget to be grateful.”

The last worshiper to leave that Ash Wednesday Service offered to do for me what had been done for her.

“Gordon,” she said, marking my forehead with water, “you are a disciple of Jesus Christ. Live in his love and serve him. And never forget to be grateful.”

Like the miracle at Cana where water was turned into wine at a wedding, the turning of ashes into water became an unexpected moment of joy in the communion of saints.

Today, when we feel overwhelmed by a sea of lies, remember that everything empties in the Ocean. I wish you an Ash Wednesday when your ashes are turned to water, and a few drops of the vast Ocean wash away what you’ve lost and welcome you home for a sacred communion.

— Gordon C. Stewart, Ash Wednesday, March 6, 2019, in Chaska, MN.

Photograph is the baptistery in the Church of the Sacred Heart in Monza, Italy, uploaded from Wikipedia.

Elijah stands up for democracy

Good morning, Bumpa!

Well, good morning to you, Elijah! It’s cold, but it looks like a great day.

Yeah, the sun’s out. I get to see the sunshine on the drive to daycare.

That’s a long drive.

Yeah, last Wednesday it took us two hours! But that wasn’t the worst thing, Bumpa.

What was the worst thing?

Television!

Didn’t the TV work?

No, it worked. It was on all day!

So what was the problem?

We’re a democracy, right, Bumpa?

Well, Sort of. Yes. What’s that have to do with the television?

Democracy’s where everybody votes and majority wins, right?

Pretty much. I’m not following. What’s majority rule have to do the television?

Marissa got the only vote last Wednesday! That’s not fair!

Well, it is her house. It’s Marissa’s television, and she’s the only adult in the house. Majority rule doesn’t apply. Daycare’s not a democracy.

Yeah, it’s authoritarian! She was a tyrant, Bumpa! We couldn’t watch Sesame Street and our other kids programs.

What did you watch instead of Sesame Street?

The Michael Cone Show. All day. In Congress. The people were mean, Bumpa!

You watched the whole hearing?

Well, not all of it. We kept protesting and Marissa was making a lot of noise shouting at the Show.

Was she mad at you?

No.

Was she mad at Michael Cone?

No.

So, who was she mad at, Elijah?

The Publicans! Every time one of the Publicans was mean to Michael, Marissa yelled, El que está sin pecado, tire la primera piedra!”*

— Grandpa (“Bumpa”) Gordon, Chaska, MN, March 4, 2019.

*In English for others of you who don’t speak Spanish: “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone!”


Elijah for President

Bumpa!!! Did you see that?

See what, Elijah?

Someone wants us to run in 2020!

Run for what?

President and Vice President!

Aha! Someones pulling your leg.

Uh-uh. Someone is serious, Bumpa.

Who’s Someone? Give me a name.

SomeoneIS the name.

I see. Where’d you hear Someone say that, Elijah?

On your blog!

Ah! So you saw Someone’s comment on the missing children post!

Yeah, Grandma showed it to me.

What do you mean “showed” it to you? You can’t read yet.

Yes I can. A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-3-4-5 . . .

I’m so proud of you, Elijah! You’re only 21 months old.

Yeah. When I turn 35 we can run as a ticket! We’ll make Someone happy!

Who’ll be at the top of the ticket?

Grandma said you got a ticket. You have a record.

No, this is a different kind of ticket. It’s not a speeding ticket.

Phew!!!

So, who does Someone think should be President?

You don’t pay attention to anyone, Bumpa.

That’s not true, Elijah. You hurt my feelings.

Just start by listening to Someone! One person at a time.

Okay, what did Someone say?

Someone said, “Elijah for President! Bumpa for Vice President! I vote for this team!!!”

And it all started with Someone.

Jimmy Durante, “Make Someone Happy”

— Grandpa (“Bumpa”) with Grandson Elijah, Chaska, MN, Feb. 22, 2019.

Elijah and Grumpy Old Bumpa

Bumpa, can I be president… or do I have to be a lawyer?

Yes, you can, and no, you don’t. Why would you ask that, Elijah?

‘Cause they’re the only people who count.

Oh, my, Elijah! You were born in a strange time!

Uh-uh! I was nine when I was born. Mom says it was past time. Mom was miserable before I got borned.

She was, Elijah. She sure was.

You’re miserable, Bumpa! Are you pregnant?

No, only young women get pregnant and miserable. Old men just get miserable and grumpy.

Yeah, we’re Minnesotans. When can we go ice fishing?

fish houses of ice fishermen in Minnesota

Grandpa doesn’t do ice fishing. Maybe Uncle Andrew will take you and Calvin together.

Does Uncle Andrew have a fish house?

No. You don’t have to have a fish house to go ice fishing.

But you have to have a big house if you want to be president or a lawyer, right?

Well, no. You don’t have to have a big house to be a lawyer. Some lawyers are street lawyers and public defenders. All lawyers take an oath to protect the constitution.

But some lawyers are bad, right? Like Michael Cohen and Rudy Giuliani. Grandma says they’re walkin on thin ice. It’s a national emergency!

Yes and no, Elijah. Mr. Cohen and Mr. Giuliani represented or represent the president. The president’s about to fall through the ice for making stuff up.

Yeah, the president’s a national emergency and his lawyers pretend he’s not!

Yes, that’s our opinion.

Right! I changed my mind. I don’t want to be president, Bumpa, and I’m glad I don’t have to be like Michael and Rudy.

Like I said, Elijah, you could be either president or a lawyer, but you don’t have to be. You can be anything you want.

OK! I wanna to be like Uncle Andrew! I can be a ice fisherman right here in Minnesota and grow up to be a grumpy old man. I wanna be like you, Bumpa.

— Grandpa (“Bumpa”) Stewart and Elijah (21 months old), Chaska, MN, February 17, 2019

She’s confused and he’s confusing!

She’s confused — and he’s confusing,” said my son, following lunch with an old married couple he’d met for the first time. Remove the gender specificity (‘he’ and ‘she’) peculiar to that lunch conversation, and it could describe many conversations across America in 2019. Our talk is confusing, and our hearing is confused.

Foot and Mouth Disease notice, Monmouthshire, Wales, 1872.

Daily conversations — real ones in real time at Starbucks or virtual ones like Twitter — often take me back me to that scene that in the restaurant, and Douglas’ Readers Digest condensed version of it. Which of us is confusing? Which of us is confused? Confusing and confusion are now epidemic in America. Like the old married couple who made no sense to each other, we seem resigned to living in separate stalls at opposite ends of the barn.

For people like my son who want to avoid the confused-confusion conundrum of their parents’ generation, The Guardian published a a spoof story announcing the roll-out of a new app promising to bring better match-ups for prospective partners. It’s called “Tudder”.

Click “Tinder-style app for cows tries to help the meat market” to open the link to BBC story. If Tudder succeeds in matching up bovines with compatible, un-confusing or un-confused stall mates, might Tudder work for us? Tudder’s Chief Executive Officer doesn’t think so. He offers the opinion that matching breeding livestock “should be even easier than matching people.”

But don’t you have to wonder whether human Match-Up apps might improve their effectiveness by adopting the template of Tudder, or would the patent theft only contribute further to the Foot-and-Mouth epidemic in the barn called America?

— Gordon C. Stewart, writing from a stall in Chaska, MN, Feb. 13, 2019.

10 Ways to Cheer Up in 2019

It’s gloomy out here. The snow. Temperatures to freeze a polar bear or roast a pig. Another government shutdown looming. Mistrust and hate hanging like storm clouds over family reunions, Washington, D.C, and your state capitol. Regardless of differing persuasions, we could use some rays of sunlight — things to cheer us up. Things to help us take ourselves a little less seriously.

If You’re BLUE . . .

#10 Before bed, sing along with Pete Seeger, “God’s Counting on Me

#9 Start the day by taking your rescue dog (or Portuguese Water Dog) for a walk

#8 Forget you live in a Red state.

#7 Imagine yourself in San Francisco

#6 When Uncle George comes for Thanksgiving, show him your Bernie sign

#5 Watch Ari on The Beat and Rachel on TRMS

#4 Attend a local meeting of The Climate Group or 350.org

#3 Write one more nasty e-mail to Sean Hannity 

#2 Bike over to Ben & Jerry’s to join The Resistance

#1 Move to Havana

If You’re RED . . .

10. When you call it a day, remember you won in 2016

9. Rising to meet the morning, forget you lost in 2018

8. Join the local MAGA 2020 committee

7. Spend the day watching FoxNews

6. Forget you live in a Blue state! Tune in to Rush.

5. When pro gun-control Aunt Gladys comes for Thanksgiving, make sure she faces the wall with your NRA poster

5. Send a letter and $10 to the Roger Stone Defense Committee

4. Write another nasty letter to CNN and Nancy Pelosi

3. Check www.whitehouse.gov for the latest news.

2. Have dinner at Chik-fil-A to support biblical principles

1. Move to Moscow

Whether you’re blue or red or purple, be positive. Cheer up. It could get worse. Do your civic duty.

Stay right where you are. Take deep breaths. Don’t drink or smoke too much . . . well, maybe just a little. Eat healthy meals. Take a nap every day. Listen deeply. Speak, as best you can, in ways that won’t send Uncle George or Aunt Gladys out the door in a huff. Be as patient with others as your dog is with you. And, when all else fails, remember the question put to those who were certain they were right. “How can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? Before you take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye, take the log out of your own” [Jesus of Nazareth; Gospel of Matthew 7:4-5 NRSV].

If you want to stop turning red as a beet and getting the blues, remember that logs — like eyes and skin — come in many colors. Be gentle with others. Be gentle with yourself. Thanks for coming by Views from the Edge.

— Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, Feb. 11, 2019.

You CAN go home again

Thomas Wolfe had it right. “You can’t go home again.” But he was only half right. Memory is the gauge of the deepest affections that feel like home. For 11 years Knox Church in Cincinnati was my spiritual home. That was 25 years ago (1983-1994), but by memory and affection, it was yesterday. Calendars and clocks mean nothing to the time of the heart.

Preparing for the visit, I recalled Charlie Chaplin‘s surprise when he reportedly entered a Charlie Chaplin Look-Alike Contest in Monte Carlo and came in third. Would I come in third in my own look-alike contest? Whose faces would I recognize after all these years? Would they recognize me? Would my slow pace and weathered face contradict memory’s sense of home-coming?

Back at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul Airport (MSP), a golf cart driver who assists less abled passengers had given me a ride to the farthest gate of Concourse E. “Where you headed?” he’d asked. “Gate so-and so, Terminal E,” I answered. “Hop on. You’d never been able to walk that far,” he said with a smile, and began to weave through the pedestrian passengers down the interminable corridor to the last gate of Concourse E.

Knox members Bob and Connie had been assigned to welcome home their old friend at baggage claim. At the Cincinnati Airport, there was not a golf cart in sight for passengers with a bad back or hips. Limping along the long concourse toward baggage claim, the story of Charlie in Monte Carlo lightened my load.

Tired and sore from the second long walk, I spotted a man on a balcony looking down at the arriving passengers. By the time I came into his view, the other passengers from Delta Flight 5277 had come and gone. The Bob I knew years ago was immaculately dressed — gray suit, white shirt and tie, and a well-polished pair of Allen Edmonds. The man on the balcony was casually dressed in a polo shirt and khakis. As I drew closer, I looked up; he looked down. I squinted. He squinted. After a closer look, visions of Simon and Garfunkel singing “Old Friends” danced in my head. I waved to Bob. Bob waved to me, two old retired friends together again after 25 years.

Walking to the car, I noticed something unusual. Bob was wearing my shoes! I’d had my mousy-looking Ecco walking shoes for five years. Never, never, never had I seen them on someone else’s feet. They’re ugly, and as far from Allen Edmonds as my Gate was from baggage claim! “Most comfortable shoe I’ve ever worn,” said Bob.


After all these years, Knox fit like an old shoe. Thomas Wolfe never had it so good. Thomas Wolfe never flew home to Cincinnati!

— Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, February 11, 2019.

Do we have to go outside?

The following conversation took place this morning with Barclay, the five year old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, in a warm living room in Chaska, Minnesota where it’s -33 degrees F outside.

temperature map, Jan. 30, 2019.

I’m not going!

You have to!

Why?

‘Cause you’re a dog.

But it’s 26 degrees BELOW ZERO out there! It’s only 10 above in Antarctica!

I know. We’ll make it quick. I promise.

Oh, sure! What you mean, “We’ll make it quick?”

We’ll go out and go real fast.

Easy for you to say. You have a big coat and boots!

But you’re a dog. You have a coat.

You’re makin’ stuff up. You’re prejudiced!

I’m not prejudiced!

Are too!

Am not!

Prove it!

There’s no way to prove I’m not.

Uh-huh! You go outside and I’ll go inside!

You can’t go inside and I can’t go outside.

Why?

‘Cause dogs go outside and humans go inside. I’d get arrested for indecent exposure.

See. I told you! You’re prejudiced. I’m not going out there!

Barclay, I’m sorry. There’s no alternative.

Uh-huh!!!! It’s warm in the basement.

But the basement’s part of the house. You’re a dog. You know the rule. You can’t go in the house!

I’m not going out there! You have paper towels. Take me to the basement! It’s warm down there.

How about I put on your winter coat and your booties?

Barclay in his winter coat..

Okay! Deal!!! You put on my winter coat and booties . . . then we go in the basement!

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, Minnesota, January 30, 2019.