This Lenten season, I'm giving up . . . no, giving away . . .

In liturgical churches, the season of Lent—40 days before Easter—is a time for self-denial, fasting, extra prayer, reflection, deeper consideration for others, a time to stop-and-take-stock- of-one’s-life.

I’m not one for either new year’s resolutions or self-denial. I won’t give up ice cream or Cheetos or caffeine, especially for 40 days. One source said Sundays were exempt from such disciplines. Even that wouldn’t get it for me. But, in the spirit of the season, what else could I do as a "disciple" to participate?

 

On social media (Facebook), I saw what I considered a good idea—at least for myself. Myself-- nearing another birthday ending in "0" ––has been needing to "clean out, clear out and downsize" (for the sake of my heirs, and those who shop at Goodwill for their clothes and other needs).

One post showed a black garbage bag tied with a string and something about "40 days: each day put something in the bag to give away."

That sounded like something I could and would do. I co-opted the idea and devised my own slogan: "40 days, 40 drawers, 40 things to give away."

So I began. Turns out, there were more things I didn’t need than just one. I discovered I could give away three shirts, three scarves, three unused kitchen gadgets, four odd spoons, and so on.

As I write this, ten days into the season, twenty-nine useful-but-not-being-used-by-me items are in the bag. And many more drawers remain to be gone through.

Also, daily readings from, say, Ruth Bell Graham’s "Letters from Ruth’s Attic," a poem or two from "St. Peter’s B-List" (edited by Mary Ann B. Miller), and "Meditations on the Psalms" (Crafton) help me pause and consider other ideas and possibilities.

And then I visited my friend Dot from Beebe. Beebe is rising fast in the "Flea Market of Arkansas" ranks. The "Do Drop In" is my Siren, my Satan, my Delight. I have no discipline when it comes to such. Especially as concerns books and cobalt blue glass.

So I confess to buying five books: "2201 Fascinating Facts" (for use in columns and blogs), an Iris Murdoch tome, a Joan Hess ‘Claire Malloy’ mystery, a Henry James classic and a small Maya Angelou poetry book—all for only $8.50!

I found a set of four Carnival Glass goblets for Christmas and birthday gifts, four small "oatmeal"-glass saucers, a sheep magnet for a sister, and four stemmed goblets of blue glass to add to my "blue room" collection.

Twenty-nine items out going—eighteen items incoming. Oh, dear. I might have to gear up my daily giveaways to four or more.

Our minister’s sermon title last Sunday was, "Why is it so hard?"

I, too, ask, "Why is it so hard to persevere in a ‘good-for-you; good-for-the-world’ regimen of disciplined acts?" And for only forty days?

A lock of Lincoln's hair

With Presidents' Day and the ongoing, fervid campaign for the next President--number forty-five, it seems appropriate to go to Ernie Couch's book again for information about Abraham Lincoln. Presidential Trivia (publ.1996) can't be out-of date for our beloved Mr. Lincoln.

In the section, "Life Before the Presidency," we find these stumpers:

To young Abraham Lincoln's dismay, what much belived childhood pet became the Lincoln family's breakfast entree? Answers are at the bottom of the page.

Where, on June 18, 1858, did Lincoln make his famous "House Divided" speech?

In what Indian conflict did Lincoln briefly serve as a captain of volunteers and as a private in a ranger company?

Lincoln's first salaried job as a store clerk paid him what amount?

Where did Lincoln and eight other presidents attend

As a lawyer, what was the largest fee Abraham Lincoln ever received for successfully defending a client?

During the Illinois senatorial campaign of 1858, debates with what eminent senatyor brought Lincoln to national attention?

The Illinois State Republican Convention applied what nickname to Mr. Lincoln?

In 1833 Lincoln applied for and received what type of license?

Although he did not accept the appointment, Lincoln was offered the governorship of what U. S. territory in 1849?

Who was Lincoln's vice-presidential running mate in the 1860 election?

What caused the scar above Lincoln's right eye?

        Answers: His pig. *  Springfield, Illinois * Black Hawk War. * Fifty-cents a day, plus sleeping accommodations. *

Nowhere. * $5,000, from the Illinois Central Railroad. * Stephen A. Douglas. * "The Railsplitter." * Saloon license. *

Oregon. * Hannibal Hamlin of Maine. * A fight with would-be thieves.


Pat here: Hope you are enjoying this summertime-during-wintertime weather. Surely there's more winter to come.

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

Love Poems by Mrs. Anonymous, Professor Tappmeyer and Mrs. Hinegardner

Verna Lee Hinegardner



It’s February already--with its wishy-washy weather—warm, cold, warm, cold. But, as happens every year, a bouquet of early daffodils, branches of yellow-bell and japonica—thanks to fickle February--- grace the front window.

This month also brings the "I love you time--sappy to some, precious to others. It is a time for l-o-v-e. Poet’s groups’ contests require "love poems." Valentine cards abound with cheesy (for some), reaffirming (for others) sentiments. Poems, too, may be syrupy for some, yet dear to others. Here are a few for the ones who (ahem) "heart" this late-winter season.

"To My Dear and Loving Husband," a poem whose author is the unknown Mrs. Anonymous, is selected in honor especially of Freeda and Gene Nichols, Dorothy and Terry Johnson, Diane and Joe Stefan, Jimmy and Pat Durmon, Rhonda and Gary Roberts, Marlene and Jerry Bush, and all other "still-in-love-after-all-this-time" couples.

"If ever two were one, then surely we;
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if ye can!
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward the manifold, I pray.
Then when we live, in love let’s so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever."

(found in THE JOY OF WORDS, J. G. Ferguson Publishing Company, Chicago, 1960, p 143)

Mark Tappmeyer, professor at Southwest Baptist University in Bolivar Missouri, writes what he calls in his 2005 book, WISECRACKING, poems that might "leave you wondering if he got the scriptures right or if he should be sent home from church." Here is his "First Great Lover" (Genesis 3:6)

"Noblest Adam, juiced on love,
took and ate.
He did not nibble on the skin
but sank his teeth
till droplets gathered on his chin.
His choice clear.
he’d fall with her—whatever
that should mean.
He’d be her surest love,
albeit into the wild beyond,
where thistles—whatever
they may be—sprout,
where he, undercover,
would never slump
into a feckless lover."

"Forever Love," written by Arkansas’s former and late Poet Laureate, Verna Lee Hinegardner, uses the Minute pattern, which she invented, and which is now recognized nation-wide. She always delighted in others printing her poems, with or without her permission. This one is from her latest and last book, MOSAIC.

"My wildest dreams of love came true
when you came through
that open door.
No time before
had Cupid’s arrow-piercing dart
stuck in my heart.
Forever love,
just like a dove,
flies low and coos a song of peace.
My love won’t cease
since every year

you grow more dear."

Happy Valentine’s Day to all.

Ear pollution --where can one go to escape?

 

 

 

 

 With the late January and early February warmth, I’ve been wanting to sit out in the porch swing (facing east and south). And I have done that a time or three. My ears must still be good as I am “coming into eighty”-- as May Sarton titled one of her books—because the shrill, constantly-yipping dog across the street is becoming more than I like to bear. Or hear. Oh, sure, it’s on the backside of their property, but sound on our road carries.

Ear plugs, you reckon? But I hate ear plugs. If earplugs won’t filter out dormitory snoring, why should I expect it to help with the high pitches of a dog’s constant barking?

 

I could devise a sit-out area in the back of the house, yes, and I’ve done that a time or two, especially early in the mornings before human life stirs. On weekends, and after school, however, three teenagers usually begin playing with their ATV on the street west of here. Vroom, vroom, vroom, grind, rumble, etc.
 

Grumble, grumble. Woman, stay inside your house. Get used to it. Think of how the noise level will rise when the new subdivision immediately north of you is full of families. Deal with it! It could be worse.

I stay inside during most of the winter. Wind chimes keep me grounded, hopeful.

But this early, spring-like weather is a siren’s call to “come out, come out wherever you are.” Come see the japonica blooming pink! Come see the daffodil foliage shooting up! Come see the privet that’s flaunting (reminds me of Mr. Trump) its hardiness and hard-to-kill demeanor. (I’ll run you daffodils over. Unless that pestiferous woman who lives here gets me first. Ow, ow, that hurts….)

I could open my window, put the radio in it, turn the volume up enough to stifle the dog barks, but that would worsen my quest for solitude—and it might bother the below-the-hill neighbors like they sometimes do me.

I could make a sitting area at the south of the house where the bird feeder and birdbath are, but would I discourage my fine, blue, red and brown feathered friends (who are fine until they cover my sitting-out car with their splats of undigested seeds and weeds.)

(Eight-thirty at night, and the dog still barks.) Maybe that’s why some folks keep the TV on—to mask other noises. Inside, yes, I can turn on the music—and often, I do, but no TV noise (or commercials or anything else) for me.

Ear pollution I DO like—when the dog is quiet and I can hear it—is the rumble of trains passing beyond the next town--about eight miles away. I’ve always liked that sound, even as a child when I stayed the night with Grandma near Mount Carmel. I don’t mind sounds of planes; I love the sounds of rain and thunder, and some types of wind. (How does that dog have enough strength left after its incessant barking? It stops neither to eat or drink, I swear!)

             
Now that my rant is over, the blasted dog quits barking. Thank goodness.