Skip to main content

Not far from a madding crowd

Dick and Lynn Cheney own original Picasso sketches.
They don't hang them in their home because they do not want
their grandchildren to see sketches of nudes.  Isn't that the same
Dick Cheney who seems willing to go to war almost anywhere;
who is giving Obama hell for not sending more troops
to Afghanistan?  Does he plan to invade the Prado Museum,
and the Louvre?  Does he take off his clothes when he showers?

I did not read the article, recently, but I saw the subject,
having to do with people's incredulity that a well-known
Hollywood actress actually walked around nude, at home,
before her young children.  She wasn't nude, was she,
when she gave birth to them? 

Now, I will admit to a certain amount of modesty, myself,
but it is not because I think a naked body is sinful, or liable
to cause excessive amounts of self-stimulation.  It is because
we have a mirror, and I caught sight of myself just a year or two
ago, and it was not a pretty sight.  I think I could live quite
comfortably on what neighbors and cultural associations
would be willing to give me to keep my clothes on. 
When I am chosen to play basketball on the skins side,
I wear a flesh-colored tee-shirt, with long sleeves. 

I recall a music teacher at Luther College who deplored
what students wore to class.  He said the sight of bare feet
made him want to throw up, actually, as in feeling sick.
Music may tame the wild beast in us, but it was then
I realized why I had trouble singing in key.  Feet are feet!

We live in the midst of a strange menagerie of people!
We have coffee with people who talk to God, work with
others who think witches are using Halloween candy
to infest people with demons, pay lots of money to teachers
who find bare feet makes them throw up in their throats,
and we turn our government over to people who think Picasso
sketches will do something awful to their grandchildren.

If I did not believe that the end times were near--
perhaps a mere few billion years from now--I would worry
about the lunatics who deliver the mail, and who drive Fords.
I might better understand why Sarah Palin participated
in an exorcism service!  But with the end that near. . . .

I think you should know that the voices I hear
have a slight Norwegian accent; nothing to worry about!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friends-- My step-father of 35 years died this morning. His name was Conrad Royksund. He was 86 years old. He was born into poverty on a farm near Puyallup, WA. He was the first member of his family to attend college and earned a PhD from the University of Chicago. He paid his way through all of that by fishing in Alaska. He spent his professional career as a college professor. I met him when I was just 3 years old and don't actually have any memories of my life befor e he was in it. He was intimidatingly smart, funny as hell, and worked his ass off. He taught me to meet people with kindness and decency until I was certain they could not be trusted. He taught me to meet ideas with carving knives until I was certain they could. I will remember him as one of the bravest, most curious, and funniest people I have ever met. He left this world with a satisfied mind. We are so grateful. Dan Hubbard

Caliche Busters and Government Work

When I was young and both stronger and smarter than I am now, I put my might and brain to work doing nothing useful, unless it might be thought that hand/foot/eye coordination might come in handy.  Those were skills to be learned and practiced.   I found an iron bar our grandfather had shaped in his blacksmith shop.  He took old car, truck, or wagon axles, and made tools from them for digging post holes.  He sharpened one end to a tip, and the other to a blade.  Washington State, like many places, had a hard layer of soil, probably created by water and limestone, or some such materials, that made digging holes a miserable chore.  The bar chipped through the natural concrete so that a shovel could take it up.   I found Grandpa's iron bar, and since I was young and dumb and strong--or so I thought--decided to punch a hole down to hardpan and ultimate truth.  I knew how to do that.  Raise the bar vertically with both hands, and then slam in straight down.  On the second try, aimi

The Sea is Rising

Let us just step back:  two hundred and fifty years ago, or so, the ships of England and Spain had drifted onto a whole new continent, as they saw it, from far north to a savagely cold south; pole to pole, as if there were such things. Millions of people already lived here, some of them still hunters and gatherers; some of them very wealthy, indeed!  Gold and silver stolen from the southern Americas funded Spanish and English dreams. There was land, lots of land, under starry skies above, rich land, and oil and coal and iron ore.  The whole western world learned how to build industries not on simple muscle power, but on steam and oil.  We farmed, too, of course.  All we needed was cheap labor--slave labor from Africa, mostly, so the ships came with slave labor.  Chinese labor built railroad beds where there had been rock cliffs. Europeans, long used to killing each other for good, religious reasons, brought their religious savagery with them.  Even when all they wanted to do w