Saturday, December 27, 2025
1939 Between 20,000 and 40,000 people died in a magnitude 8 earthquake in Turkey
1978 Spain became a democracy after 40 years of dictatorship as King Juan Carlos ratified Spain's 1st democratic constitution
1985 Arab terrorists attacked the airports of Rome and Vienna, killing 20 and wounding 110
1996 Taliban forces retook the strategic Bagram air base, which solidified their buffer zone around Kabul.
2004 Radiation from an explosion on the magnetar SGR 1806-20 reached the Earth, the brightest extrasolar event known to have been witnessed on the planet.
2008 Israel launched Operation Cast Lead in the Gaza Strip, beginning with an airstrike that hit 100 targets in 220 seconds, killing around 250 people
In bed at 9, up at 5:10. 34°, high 40°, low 32°, cloudy all day.
Meds, etc. Morning meds at 7 a.m.
Andy Clausen:
Our schedule is getting really crazy the next couple weeks where having all 5 of us available at the same time is difficult, and Anh now has to head out to Oconomowoc or thereabouts at 11:00 tomorrow morning. Could we come by tomorrow at 10:00 for a brief visit instead of doing brunch?
Charles Clausen:
With all your schedules, I’m not surprised! 10 o’clock here would be fine. ♥️
I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"
He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
[Chorus]
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
"When you comin' home, son?"
"I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Dad
We're gonna have a good time then"
Thanks, Harry Chapin, for a beautiful song and painful memories. From the memoir:
I haven’t written much about [my mother] until this letter for a number of reasons. First, revisiting memories of her is painful, for reasons which will become clearer later. Second, I left home within days of my 18th birthday to go to Milwaukee, be sworn into the Navy Reserve, and attend Marquette. My college summers were spent on active duty with the Navy or Marines. I married immediately upon graduation and went off to serve 4 years of active duty in the Marines. Your mother and I returned to Milwaukee after I was discharged in 1967, and we did not visit my family frequently. My mother died 5 years after I was discharged, so for the last thirteen years of her life and the first thirteen years of my adult life, we were living in different cities, and I was not in frequent contact with her. As a consequence, my most vivid (though fading) memories of her are from my childhood and adolescence. I am remorseful that my relationship with my mother during those years was not nearly as close as Kitty’s. I have lived with this remorse in my heart for 35 years. It is one of the two great sorrows in my life. Third, it is impossible to get an understanding of my mother’s qualities without some knowledge of the tremendous challenges she encountered in her life, i.e., the subjects of the last several letters.
That remorse that I mentioned has only increased with each passing year, to the point where it now nearly overwhelms me at times with guilt and shame. In Erik Erikson's stage theory of psychosocial development, the eighth and last stage is old age and integrity or despair. As people reflect back on the life they've lived, they either find a sense of wisdom and fulfillment, a life well lived (aka integrity) or experience disappointment and regret (despair). In my 80s, I have fallen prone to the latter, focused on regrets, failures, self-blame, perhaps eager for unhappiness, like Jane Kenyon in Depression in Winter
Depression in Winter
.
There comes a little space between the south
side of a boulder
and the snow that fills the woods around it.
Sun heats the stone, reveals
a crescent of bare ground: brown ferns,
and tufts of needles like red hair,
acorns, a patch of moss, bright green…
.
I sank with every step up to my knees,
throwing myself forward with a violence
of effort, greedy for unhappiness
– until by accident I found the stone,
with its secret porch of heat and light,
where something small could luxuriate, then
turned back down my path, chastened and calm.
From Facebook today:
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe in a "God" who condemns people to eternal conscious torment for not believing the correct explanation of the terms necessary for salvation.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe in a "Gospel" that rests on the premise that the human species was afflicted with a genetic sin-condition that resulted from a literal Adam and Eve who were tricked into an act of disobedience.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that a middle eastern teenage woman was directly impregnated by God in order to give birth to a sinless human being who would qualify for the perfect human sacrifice to complete God's salvation plan for humankind.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that men are divinely anointed with special qualities, skills and wisdom that women do not have, which allows men to hold positions of leadership and authority in the church, but not women.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that the Bible, which is a collection of chosen ancient writings that were approved and interpreted out of political expedience, to be considered the infallible, binding, and only truth from God to humankind.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that the suffering of our world squares with an all-powerful God in the heavens, who is overseeing and managing human affairs according to his ultimate goodness.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that our primary recourse for effecting change, transformation and liberation within ourselves and the world is to retreat into a prayer room to petition for divine intervention.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that the religion bearing the name of Jesus was built upon the teachings and doctrines of Paul, instead of the truth that Jesus taught and lived.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that "God is love" and then perpetuate a mindset where people must deliver a stellar "Christian" performance in order to be blessed and stay in God's favor.
Is it me or does it seem odd to believe that there are 8 billion people in the world who are born into countless different cultures, religious beliefs and wisdom traditions, who are just wrong.
Is it me or does all this seem odd?
Wait. No. It's not me. This is most definitely... odd, absurd, damaging, indefensible and not the only way of conceiving Jesus, truth, ultimate reality or God.
You know we can do better than this, right?
Jim Palmer
Was this the first painting I ever tried, or was it the barnyard scene I found with it while working on organizing my painting space in the basement this afternoon? I was first, the other second, both done in Yuma? Or were they done when I started painting after I got back to the States from Asia? In either case, I'm finding it interesting that each represents what apparently is my lifelong interest in cemeteries, especially military cemeteries, and farm scenes. How many photos of cemeteries, especially Wood National, and farms in the last few years.
No comments:
Post a Comment