After several days away from writing for Views from the Edge, today’s Daily Post invitation to write something about ‘revelation’ struck a familiar chord, so to speak.
Andrews Casket Company mill in Woodstock, ME
Earlier this week an email arrived from a complete stranger who believed we were family. In a google search she had come across Views from the Edge’s photograph of the Andrews’ family property.
What’s that have to do with ‘revelation’?
It revealed a blood relative I didn’t know existed and led to the correspondence with the second-cousin I’d only met once on the old Andrews’ homestead years ago but had never forgotten.
The emails we’ve exchanged have removed the cover (i.e., ‘revealed’) from family origins that had remained hidden for almost 75 years.
The reflections of the second-cousin who grew up on the ancestral property of the Andrews family help explain both the sense of homesickness and forlornness I felt while visiting “The Hollow” last month. The latest visit confirmed the feeling expressed in “The Forlorn Children of the Mayflower” in “Be Still!”
Until this week’s correspondence, I hadn’t know the property was “The Hollow” to the relatives who grew up there, or as “Andrews Hollow” to the those whose relatives’ funerals had been handled by the Andrews family. It all came as a revelation.
So, today I take time out to write this post in reply to The Daily Post’s invitation. Perhaps life itself is a life-long pilgrimage of revelation – the unveiling of the deeper chords and cords of the DNA that lives on in the tissues and bloodstreams of later generations.
- Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, June 10, 2017.
While global warming accelerates and the rest of the world takes responsible action, we in the USA have decided to fire up the coal to warm ourselves to death.
The Paris Agreement on climate change is toast. It was scorched November 8 by election of a climate change denier who declared global warming was a hoax. Green is about to be torched and scorched into orange.
“Scorched Earth” – Margo Talbot, All That Glitters
Thanks to “The Daily Post” for the invitation to write a piece on the word ‘scorched‘. Lots of us are feeling scorched these days. it’s the first time in my life when orange made me feel blue.
- Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, Nov. 20, 2016.
Had I known it was this complicated, I might have thought twice about publishing a book. Yikes! I like to write. Securing copyright permissions, adhering to the publisher’s requirements for final manuscript submission, converting from Apple’s Pages to Microsoft Word, and completing the marketing survey are much more complicated than auth0r vanity imagined.
Be careful what you ask for. (You might inadvertently end a sentence with a preposition.)
September 10 is the date for final submission of “Be Still! Departure from Collective Madness,” in the once vain hope of making the NYT Best Sellers list. The author’s life is way too complicated!
The Daily Post’s invitation to write something on the word “complicated” is responsible for this waste of your time.
- Gordon, Chaska, MN, August 14, 2016.
This morning we reply to The Daily Post’s invitation to create a post on the word “connection.”
Because Views from the Edge has been silent the last few days – my only connection has been an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder preoccupation with preparing a book proposal for submission to a publisher – and feeling no urgency to add more punditry dribble to the presidential campaign coverage, my immediate response was the antonym for connection: “separation.”
I’ve been totally connected to the book proposal; almost totally disconnected – separated, walled off – from Kay, Barclay, and the news. I’ve also been less physically present except for short breaks for meals and answering the bell Barclay rings when he needs to go outside to do his duty. I’ve been dutiful indoors with little connection to anything but the book proposal – more connected and more separate all at the same time.
Theologian Paul Tillich translated “sin” as “separation” from the Ground of Being, nature, neighbors, and one’s self. I’ve been living in sin! And, now that I’ve broken the silence in response to the Daily Post’s invitation, I’m going back to sin until the connection with the publisher is finally made – by means of the internet which has managed to produce a new paradox: wider connection and deeper separation than previously imagined.
Temporarily less connected until next Tuesday’s submission…unless Steve connects with a poem,
“When life gives you lemons… make something else. Tell us about a time you used an object or resolved a tricky situation in an unorthodox way.” – Not Lemonade
The invitation brought to mind an altogether different memory. It’s unorthodox, but not what the Daily Post had in mind.
The memory is “Lemonade-on-the-Lawn” at Knox Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati. During the summer months worshipers gathered on the church lawn at the corner of Observatory and Michigan for conversation over lemonade.
Visitors frequently misunderstood the pulpit announcements to be an invitation to eliminate on the lawn. They were relieved to learn about the lemonade.
- Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, former Pastor, Knox Presbyterian Church, Cincinnati, January 26, 2016.