“The One On The Right Is On The Left”

There once was a musical troupe
A pickin’ singin’ folk group
They sang the mountain ballads
And the folk songs of our land

They were long on musical ability
Folks thought they would go far
But political incompatibility led to their downfall

Well, the one on the right was on the left
And the one in the middle was on the right
And the one on the left was in the middle
And the guy in the rear was a Methodist

This musical aggregation toured the entire nation
Singing the traditional ballads
And the folk songs of our land
They performed with great virtuosity
And soon they were the rage
But political animosity prevailed upon the stage

Well, the one on the right was on the left
And the one in the middle was on the right
And the one on the left was in the middle
And the guy in the rear burned his driver’s license

Well the curtain had ascended
A hush fell on the crowd
As thousands there were gathered to hear The folk songs of our land
But they took their politics seriously
And that night at the concert hall
As the audience watched deliriously
They had a free-for-all

Well, the one on the right was on the bottom
And the one in the middle was on the top
And the one on the left got a broken arm
And the guy in the rear, said, “Oh dear”

Now this should be a lesson if you plan to start a folk group
Don’t go mixin’ politics with the folk songs of our land
Just work on harmony and diction
Play your banjo well
And if you have political convictions keep them to yourself

Now, the one on the left works in a bank
And the one in the middle drives a truck
The one on the right’s an all-night deejay
And the guy in the rear got drafted

According to Wikipedia, the dam was built in the 1920s by Interstate Power Company as a hydroelectric energy source. The generators in the outlet works have been unused since the ‘70s but plans were in place to refurbish and recommission them as early as 2010.

(By the way, can anyone identify the structure shown on the left side of the outlet works, above?)
Some dams are designed to be over-topped. The Grand Coulee Dam in Washington State was over-topped by three-feet in June of this year. It was quite a sight. It drew lots of spectators. There’s a YouTube video of it.

The over-topping of the Lake Delhi dam was quite a sight too. It was also witnessed by lots of people. There’s plenty of YouTube footage too. Earthen impoundment dams routinely handle over-topping, but this one had a road and a chain-link fence at the crest. A couple of big trees on the dam didn’t help. All the additional people, roof footage, paved highways, driveways and parking lots placed upstream in the Maquoketa watershed over the past 90 years provided additional pressure. Ten inches of rain in said watershed over a 24-hour period was, as they say in Eastern Iowa, the last straw.

In the hours prior to the breach, as the river over-topped the dam, homes along the lake were inundated. As the lake exhausted, homes, boats, propane tanks, docks, shore-stations and decks, with and without furniture, were seen floating downstream. With the rapid drop in water level, structures which had been under water popped (boomed?) like water balloons due to the absence of the external force and corresponding pressure delta.

To the casual observer, dams and lakes exist pretty much unchanged over the years. They “just work and are taken for granted. You can imagine what the bed looks like but you don’t usually see it. The lake is a living entity, supported by its bed. Now, at Delhi, there’s just a bed and the river channel.

Artificial lakes don’t just happen. They require a lot of planning, vision, resources and maintenance. God’s hand in supplying a site with the right topography and geology is priceless. The synergy of this combination—man working with God—is awesome.

Certainly, the real estate along the lake is now a small fraction in value of what it was last week. But even if there was no improved real estate along the lake before, it would be an unacceptable waste not to repair the dam and rebuild the lake.

Our first grandchild was born June 17, 2010.

We have a tendency to come up to communion like we are coming up in line to get tickets for a ball game, and with considerably less excitement. I feel strongly that the Eucharist would be able to carry much more powerful grace for us if we could receive it consciously and with greater awareness with what is going on.

It isn’t a matter of “worthiness,” really. Of course, we must be free from serious mortal sin, but the reality is that we are all sinners and when we approach this sacrament, we need to be aware that we are receiving our Lord and Savior, who made us, who came to this earth to save us and who died for us. It is an overwhelming gift. If the minister gave a thousand dollars to everyone in the communion line, there would be much excitement in the church. But, when each of us receives COMMUION WITH - the body and blood, soul and divinity of - our Savior, we should be quite thrilled and show it. But, that takes a little work and preparation, and a little focus as we come to the Eucharist.

If Jesus himself, our risen Savior walked into the church and shook our hands, our hearts would be beating out of our chests and our lives would be transformed for a long time. We wouldn’t have a hard time thanking him or being nicer to the people around us, or being more heroic in living our faith. The reality is that each time we receive the Eucharist, we are holding that same Lord in our hands and receiving him in our hearts.

I hope we will try to receive Communion with more awareness of what is happening and let it touch our hearts and to push out the other stuff that is “pre-occupying” our awareness- the anxieties, the conflicts, the fears, etc.

They live in the flesh, but they are not governed by the desires of the flesh. They pass their days upon earth, but they are citizens of heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet live on a level that transcends the law. Christians love all men, but all men persecute them. Condemned because they are not understood, they are put to death, but raised to life again. They live in poverty, but enrich many; they are totally destitute, but possess an abundance of everything. They suffer dishonor, but that is their glory. They are defamed, but vindicated. A blessing is their answer to abuse, deference their response to insult. For the good they do they receive the punishment of malefactors, but even then they, rejoice, as though receiving the gift of life. They are attacked by the Jews as aliens, they are persecuted by the Greeks, yet no one can explain the reason for this hatred.

To speak in general terms, we may say that the Christian is to the world what the soul is to the body. As the soul is present in every part of the body, while remaining distinct from it, so Christians are found in all the cities of the world, but cannot be identified with the world. As the visible body contains the invisible soul, so Christians are seen living in the world, but their religious life remains unseen. The body hates the soul and wars against it, not because of any injury the soul has done it, but because of the restriction the soul places on its pleasures. Similarly, the world hates the Christians, not because they have done it any wrong, but because they are opposed to its enjoyments.

Christians love those who hate them just as the soul loves the body and all its members despite the body’s hatred. It is by the soul, enclosed within the body, that the body is held together, and similarly, it is by the Christians, detained in the world as in a prison, that the world is held together. The soul, though immortal, has a mortal dwelling place; and Christians also live for a time amidst perishable things, while awaiting the freedom from change and decay that will be theirs in heaven. As the soul benefits from the deprivation of food and drink, so Christians flourish under persecution. Such is the Christian’s lofty and divinely appointed function, from which he is not permitted to excuse himself.

From a letter to Diognetus (Nn. 5-6; Funk, 397-401)

235 years ago today, at dawn, dozens of armed Massachusettes “minutemen” stood with their elected captain, Jonas (John) Parker, on Lexington Green to face a force of regular armed British soldiers who had orders to sieze arms and munitions stored by the militias at Lexington and Concord and to arrest John Hancock and Samuel Adams. When the British commander ordered the seriously outnumbered Parker and his men to lay down their arms and disperse, they refused. The British then opened fire on the minutemen giving rise to the Revolutionary War and the birth of the United States of America. The American militia regrouped that day, repulsed the British, and sent them scrambling back to Boston. I give honor to the brave citizens of Massachuttes who stood tall in the face of tyranny and defeated it on this day 235 years ago thereby leading the fight which secured the blessings of liberty to us, their posterity.   

Francisco de Zurbaran (1598-1664) Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), circa 1635-1640, Spanish

This image appeared on the cover of the Journal of the American Medical Association, April 8, 2009. I had never heard of this artist. But browsing some of his images I will not likely forget him soon. This picture made a big impression on me. I’ve been saving it for almost a year to share it with you.
Happy Easter!

-o0o-

In addition to all the good Jim accomplished during his life and the thousands of people he touched, helped and changed over the years, there is no doubt that Jim’s suffering, and the sufferings his wife, family and friends have endured during this siege, have liberated untold numbers from Purgatory.

-o0o-

There were a number of poems recited. This one from Jim to his wife.

i carry your heart with me

ee cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

The Master A-String

Life without remote truly scary

This year, we celebrate the 54th anniversary of the inven­tion of the TV remote control, a milestone in American history at least as significant as the cot­ton gin or the tri-cornered hat.

Owing to the fact that I am 145 years old, I can remember a world before remote con­trols and, trust me, it was not a place fit for hu­man habitation. For start­ers — and you young people may want to sit down for what I am about to say next — in 1956 television pictures were broad­cast in black-and-white. That’s right. Two colors only. Black. And white.

When it came time to change the channel — and there were only three to choose from! — you had to physically roust yourself from a sitting or prone position and waddle to the TV, where you then had to twist a dial, risking a snapped tendon or future car­pal- tunnel syndrome, to the sta­tion you desired.

This was such an exhaust­ing procedure that many view­ers simply collapsed in front of their primitive sets, awaiting restoration in the form of fro­zen TV dinners or canned chop suey.

But changing the channel was only a small part of the excru­ciating ordeal that constituted TV-viewing in the mid-’50s. You also had to adjust the volume via a small, hard-to-see knob and adjust the focus with the help of a flimsy dial that some­times came off in your hand.

At this point, you will have spent perhaps 15 seconds in a stooped position, laying the groundwork for a lifetime of lower-back pain and future re­liance on copper bracelets. But you are not done. Oh, no, young person; you are far from done.

Next — and this gives me cold shivers just thinking about it — you had to adjust an evil, eye-piercing antenna on top of your TV set commonly referred to as “rabbit ears.” (Why inno­cent bunnies had to be pulled into this bloodbath is anybody’s guess; I’m thinking it was some sort of conspiracy orchestrated by Warner Bros.) The proper manipulation of rabbit ears required the kind of touch and artistry one normally associates with concert pianists. By the time you got the picture properly adjusted, you were so exhausted that even classic sit­coms like “My Little Margie” and “The Life of Riley” had lit­tle if any restorative power.

All of which is a long-winded way of saying that the invention of the remote control revolu­tionized TV viewing and made it possible for people like me to go days at a time without moving.

And that is most assuredly a good thing.

Contact the writer: