A post-Thanksgiving Day dinner verse by Steve Shoemaker
Some say it’s small and made of rubber,
No, the disposable diaper,
Say some
But after big Thanksgiving dinner,
My vote goes to the clear winner–
It’s TUMS.
A post-Thanksgiving Day dinner verse by Steve Shoemaker
Some say it’s small and made of rubber,
No, the disposable diaper,
Say some
But after big Thanksgiving dinner,
My vote goes to the clear winner–
It’s TUMS.
Spencer Swanson, a 16 year-old student at the Integrated Arts Academy in Chaska, died tragically on October 15 when an errant arrow from his good friend’s bow ricocheted and hit Spencer
At 3:00 p.m. yesterday, November 20, Spencer’s schoolmates who study visual arts, cultinary arts and horticulture, gathered with Spencer’s family to dedicate a new 10′ tall red oak tree in his memory.
I never met Spencer, his friend, or their families. I attended yesterday’s dedication at the invitation of John Hopkins, a member of Shepherd of the Hill who teaches horticulture at the school. “The kids have put this program together,” said John. “If you’re not doing anything at 3:00, swing by.”
Spencer’s death had hit everyone at the school hard. I went to show support from the wider Chaska community for the students who had put this program together, as the program said,
“To comfort and help restore the hearts affected by the hurt of Spencer’s death.”
The printed program featured not only a carefully selected poem of Pakistani poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz, “When Autumn Came” but art created from closer to home by the students of the Arts Academy.
Brieann’s drawing depicts her fallen schoolmate as a tree growing taller with the caption “Grow till Tall”; Dominika, another of Spencer’s schoolmates, wrote and read aloud her poem “I can see a lot of life in you”:
Hold on to the memories of
the ones we love and lost.
Take time to say what’s right.
Take time to forgive and not
fight. Each day’s a gift and
not a given right. You have to
wonder and find out what’s
your light. Is it the One to
come?
Each day is new and full of life.
Listen through the whistling wind.
Your time is here
be content don’t linger.”
There were words there on the hill… but not many. There was quiet…. No cell phones ringing. No one texting. No one looking around in boredom. Just all of us, young and old, at home, for a moment, in the sacred silence of the community standing together to celebrate life in Spencer’s honor.
“To plant a tree is to give body and life to one’s dreams of a better world,” wrote Russell Page.
The red oak will grow over the years to great height and girth, spreading its branches for the birds and the squirrels, reminding each of us to honor the gift of life and the gift of the community of thoughtful speech and silence.
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.
The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.
Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.
Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.
– Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Fourth in a series of four haiku poems on RAIN: “Rain 4”
the rain falls on all
falls on the just and unjust
just give thanks for grace
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL 11/12/12
The first two lines refer to a portion of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount:
You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.
– Gospel According to Matthew 5:43-45
Sammy Williams, Pastor of Northminster Presbyterian Church in Richmond, VA, posted a thought-provoking piece on the Sermon on the Mount, including this picture that was taken just before “the hilicopters, tanks and jeeps swarmed in” on military maneuvers.
A sermon preached the Sunday before Election Day at Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church in Chaska, Minnesota.
Old pond,
frog jumps in –
splash.
Views from the Edge jumped OUT of the blog pond two days ago. Then… yesterday… it made a big splash. The daily number of visits soared to 1,466 yesterday, 14 times larger than average. Why would the visits go up … at all … after announcing silence? Was it applause? Three cheers for one less noisy gong?
Answer? An earlier post, “The Germans at the Service Club Meeting,” had suddenly gone viral with 1296 visits – on Election Day.
Why or how it happened is a head-scratcher. Maybe yesterday’s inexplicable splash is a tribute to the efficacy of silence, our preference for the Older Pond over the new one, and reason for a humble re-write of Basho’s (1644-1694) old haiku:
New Pond,
frog jumps out –
splash.
This old frog is smiling the day after Election Day. Big money can’t buy the Old Pond…or the country. 🙂
The New York Stock Exchange was closed down. For two full days the trading bell on Wall Street did not ring. But on Main Street the bells that mis-identify American freedom with Wall Street were ringing in our living rooms, flooding the airwaves with campaign ads about freedom and the loss of it.
In front of Westminster Presbyterian Church on the Nicollet Mall at the heart of downtown Minneapolis stands an eye-catching sculpture called “The Birth of Freedom.”. The figures are naked, emerging from primal slime, evolving, reaching toward the heavens.
The late Paul Granlund was the sculptor. Westminster commissioned him to give visual expression to the words of the Apostle Paul:
“For freedom Christ has set you free; stand fast therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” (Galatians 5:1)
There is a freedom from and there is a freedom for.
“For your were called to freedom; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you bite and devour one another take heed that you are not consumed by one another.” (Letter to the Galatians 5:13-15)
I listen to the campaign speeches. I hear the freedom talk. I see crowds cheering. I hear loud applause. And I wonder…what kind of freedom is being cheered? What kind of slavery is feared?
The advertisers who write the ads for the candidates and the PACs know the answers to these questions. They know that the psyche of American generations that grew up in the Cold War defines freedom as freedom from “Communism” or “Socialism.” They also know that the Christian Right fears submission to the “godless” whom they believe threatens their religious freedom.
But no one can take away my freedom or yours, and it is misleading to paint one’s political opponent as intending to take it way. For me, as a Christian, the freedom for which we are released (set free) is not freedom from but freedom for communion with my neighbors. It applies not only to personal relationships. It applies equally to the political and economic systems.
This morning the bell rang again at the stock exchange. The biting, devouring, and consuming of each other becomes a way of life again, the adored substitute for freedom. To condone it is to submit again to a yoke of slavery, the most widespread violence where, to quote Jacques Ellul,
“in this competition ‘the best man wins’ – and the weaker, more moral, more sensitive people necessarily lose.
“The violence done by the superior may be physical (the most common kind, and it provokes hostile moral reaction), or it may be psychological or spiritual, as when a superior makes use of morality and even of Christianity to inculcate submission and a servile attitude; and this is the most heinous of all forms of violence.”
– Jacques Ellul, Violence: Reflections from a Christian Perspective, Seabury Press, 1969.
Meanwhile Paul Granlund’s “The Birth of Freedom” still stands silently in downtown Minneapolis, calling for the birth of something as yet beyond our imagination. “Stand fast therefore [in the freedom for which Christ has set you free], and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” The Apostle Paul often wrote his letters from jail cells, charged with disturbing the Pax Romana.
The game’s computer keeps the score,
so we don’t have to add.
Its dictionary tells us clearly:
words are good or bad.
Yes, on-line Scrabble, Words-With-Friends,
that is the game we play.
My iPhone held up to my face
a hundred times a day.
I play my brothers, nephews, niece…
a guy who’s in my choir.
A don in England always wins
–he probably reads Shakespeare!
My fingers cramp, my eyeballs hurt,
my thumb is even sore,
but Scrabble keeps my mind alert
and keeps me from the bar.
My spouse complains, she feels left out,
but I play just the same.
How can she bitch when it turns out
Sudoku is HER game?
-Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 30, 2012