"One of these days..."

"I have learned that I have fewer and fewer 'one of these days' left in my life, so I better get busy doing the things I dream of."

~ me

“One of these day.” How many times have I said this in life? Too many to count. I don’t know. Maybe it is a danger of being a dreamer. Maybe it comes from reading too much. Although I don’t think there is a such thing as reading too much. Wherever it comes from, these words have crossed my lips many many times. And sometimes, the “one of these days” actually comes to pass.

When I returned from my first trip to England and France in ’75, I said, “One of these days I’ll go back.” I did. I even took it a step further when in 1996 my wife and I moved to England. But still, there are some things that are left undone. There are still some “one of these days” that need to be taken care of.

This became more obvious to me at 9:50 p.m. this past Friday. I got a telephone call from my mother. She was crying. Her sister, my Aunt Bonnie, died that day. It was unexpected. She wasn’t sick. There was no warning. She simply went into her kitchen, suffered either a heart attack or massive stroke, we don’t know, and died. Her son found that evening.

My mother, Bonnie and her brother Bill would spend every Fourth of July together. They started doing this when my grandmother was still living. They’d get together every year at that time and spend one or two weeks. They’d visit, talk, reminiscence, look through old photographs and eat. There was always a plan on where to eat and on what days. After my grandmother died they’d still get together. They would take trips to my hometown to visit the graves of my grandmother and grandfather. They would change the flowers, wipe away the mud and dust, and tell a few stories. Then they’d drive home. A trip to Sikeston, coffee on the back porch, breakfast at Loveless Cafe, lunch at Cock of the Walk or Miss Mary Bobo’s, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together and sharing life.

It will be different now. I’m sure that my Uncle Bill and my mother will still get together next Fourth of July. They’ll visit, share a few meals and remember stories of my Aunt. They’ll laugh some and there will be a few times that they’ll simply be quiet. 

That is what families should do I think. We should remember each other. We should rejoice in each others triumphs and soothe each others sorrows. We share our memories and we tell the stories. It is how families continue from generation to the next. 

But setting here and thinking about my Aunt and this past Friday, I am reminded of the frail nature of life and how suddenly it can be taken from us. When I go to bed tonight I will do so with a confidence that I’ll wake up tomorrow. But, I really don’t know that. None of us do. I hope that I have another sun rise in my future just as I hope that I will enjoy another sunset in the evening. But that is all it is - a hope. God will determine my days.

What I do know, and this too is a gift from God, is that I have this moment in time. I have this moment to hug my wife and tell her that I love her. I have this time to let my children and grandchildren know how much I love them and how very proud I am of them. I have this time to let my mother know how happy I am that she is still a part of my life. I have this moment to think about my sister and pray that her allergies get better soon and let her know how happy I am that her husband has a job that he loves. I have this moment to celebrate the wonderful friendships that I have been blessed with. I can be thankful for the hours we’ve had sharing our lives, laughing, breaking bread and the simple joy of being together. And most importantly, I can be forever grateful that God looked down upon me and determined that I was in need of salvation. So, He sent His Son to bring me home. That, I can do. And with whatever breath He gives me, I can use them to bring Him glory.

So, I’ll get up from my chair here and I’ll go about my day. I will continue to think about the “one of these days” that still (hopefully) lie before me. There is still a lot I want to do and places I wish to go. But, knowing that I only have this moment, I’ll get to doing what I can while I can. 

God Bless You Aunt Bonnie. Be at peace.

~ Greg

Margins V

“I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.”

~ C.S. Lewis

   Mere Christianity

Fifty Books

My wife and I visited our branch library yesterday morning. We were there on other matters but we made sure to stay for awhile. Like bookstores, there is something special about libraries. I could spend hours wandering through the stacks, thumbing through books, searching for just the right title to spend a little time with.

____________________

I make lists. I used to make more list than I do now, but I still make them. They’re helpful. They reduced the chance that I am going to forget something. Like a gallon of milk or head of lettuce. Lists are useful.

There was a series of books published titled The Book of Lists? There were three volumes.  They contained nothing but lists. Lists like:

• Former Jobs of 30 Famous People
• 15 People Who Became Words
• 15 Authors Who Wrote Best-sellers in Prison
• 10 Words You Can’t Pronounce Correctly
• The 15 Most Boring Classics

These were three books packed with all sorts of lists; some interesting and some not so much. Some were very enlightening and others made you scratch your head and ask why. But I have them and I have read them.

So, let’s see. Looking back many years ago, I had thoughts of running away. Things were not quite like I had hoped they’d be and I felt that a change could do me good. Perhaps I am the only who ever had these thoughts. But, maybe not. I thought about what all I could fit into a car and then just take off. No particular destination. Simply turn the car west and strike out on an adventure.

I made some lists. If I could take 50 books with me, what books would they be? That isn’t an easy question to answer. If I could take only 50 albums with me, which fifty would I take? That one was a bit easier. My Beatles and Jethro Tull albums, along with a few classical selections would get me to fifty fairly quick. I would have thrown in some art supplies, a backpack of cloths, the camera, and I’d be on my way.

Of course, I never packed the car and I never headed west. Maybe someday. I looked around trying to find those lists from years ago. I couldn’t find them. It would have been interesting to see if my taste in books changed much over the years. I know my music taste are pretty much the same, although I now enjoy a healthy diet of classical music. I have also grown fond of motion picture soundtracks. 

But thinking about books. If I had to choose fifty books now, I don’t know if they would be much different now from the ones I would have picked then. In fact, I have even started the exercise of choosing what would be my fifty titles. The list isn’t complete but I think I’ve made a good beginning.

1. The Bible
2. My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers
3. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
4. A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
5. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
6. Complete Works by William Shakespeare
7. Walden by Henry David Thoreau
8. Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson
9. Essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson
10. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
11. The Lord of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien
12. Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory
13. Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
14. The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham
15. The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham
16. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
17. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
18. Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
19. Slapstick by Kurt Vonnegut
20. A Treasury of the Worlds Great Diaries edited by Phillip Dunaway and Mel Evans
21. The Oxford Companion to Music edited by Alison Latham
22. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie
23. Curtain by Agatha Christie
24. ...
25. ...

You can see I have a few books to go. As I complete the list I imagine a few other Maugham and Hemingway works will be added. Perhaps a few more anthologies would be nice as would a couple of volumes of history.

Thomas Jefferson once said, “I cannot live without books.” Oscar Wilde noted that “If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.”

I suppose this paints one picture of my life. I cannot imagine a home without books. I cannot imagine a world without books. And books, to me, are like a wonderful pieces of music; they deserve to be savored again and again. Thus, most of the books on my list, I’ve already read at least once. But I would not dare be without them in the event I want to read them again. That is why they are there. In books, there is life.

Think on what Gustave Flaubert said, “Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.”

~ Greg

Friends, what are your favorite books? Care to recommend one or two for my list?

I'm Missing Some Things

I woke up this morning missing things. I just laid there in bed - missing. 

The air outside was cool but not cold. Still you can tell that Autumn has arrived. It is one of my two favorite seasons, Spring being the other. I was hunkered down under the duvet and thinking of leaves. 

Years ago, while I was growing up, we’d spend a few Saturday afternoons raking leaves. I think my parents did most of the raking while I did what I could to scatter the piles. We lived on North 31st Street in Paducah, Kentucky and the front of the yard had a ditch beside the street. Into this ditch went the leaves. Big mounds of dead leaves. 

There is something inviting about a big pile of leaves. When you’re a kid, they call to you. They urge you to come stand beside them and fall backgrounds. The particularly big piles demand that you jump into them, scattering them. Once they’ve settled you  can easily put them back into a pile. You get down on your knees, lean over and then scoop or push the leaves back together. Then, you jump in again.

Sometimes you jump in and just lay there. There is something special about the sweet decaying aroma of dead leaves. 

When the leaves have all been gathered into the ditch and once the parents have you at bay, the leaves would be burned. Controlled burns of course. The small burn would start at one end and slowly work its way down the length of the ditch leaving a blackened charred path. A white smoke would curl above the fire. The smoke also had a distinct smell to it.

Piles of leaves, burning leaves; they are the scents of Autumn. I miss it.

I suppose that missing things is the benefit of living a long life. The longer a person lives the more opportunity there is to miss things. In my generation we’ve experienced the demise of so many things as we move further into the digital age. I guess that is true of all generations; past, present and future.

While our music as become more portable we’ve lost the warmth, along with occasional pop and hiss, that came from listening to vinyl records. We’ve seen music move from LPs to 8-Track tapes, then to cassette tapes followed by CDs and now to digital download. I like that I can have days of music available to me in a small hand-held device, but I also miss holding an album cover. Album covers were art and there was something to be learned in reading the packaging. 

Letters. I miss letters. I was never a great letter writer. I wish that I was. But we’ve stopped writing letters. Our communication, like our music, is digital now. Gone are the days of sitting at our tables and carefully crafting a letter to a loved one or a friend. Now we hammer it out on a keyboard. We search for economy of words instead of expressive speech in our communications. What can we do and how can we say it so that what we need to say fits within 140 characters?

Letters were our journals that we shared with one another. They chronicled our days and weeks for family and friends. They were glimpses into our experiences and our feelings about those experiences. They shared our joys and our sorrows. Letters were our family histories, our heritage. They were a record of who we were at a place in time. 

I have kept a few shoe boxes with letters in them. Some of these letters were from my father. Others were from my grandmother; a great letter writer. I have a bundle of letters that my son wrote to me during a summer he spent in my hometown with his great-grandmother. There are few from my daughter when she was a young girl. These letters, along with a few cards that I’ve kept, are precious to me. These are my treasures.

These things, leaves and letters, are but a few of the things I miss.

Progress is necessary. I enjoy the benefits of progress and I am not wishing that we return to a time without digital music and communication. Although, I would love to smell burning leaves once again (maybe a drive in the country sometime soon). But do we need to lose some things to progress? Can we not experience music played on a stereo or sense the joy that comes from sending or receiving a letter. I think we can. 

Yes, it is much easier to call someone or to send an email. But where is the memory in that? Are we going keep a flash drive loaded with memorable emails and text messages? In 10, 15, 20 years, the way we use these drives will have changed. That is if they are even still around. But, a letter. A letter can still be there to read. The letters from my dad were written prior to 1977. 

A few weeks ago I visited my daughter at her apartment across town. I went there to help her put together a bookcase. She doesn’t have many books, but she has nice collection of vinyl albums. We listened to a few albums that afternoon. 

Ah, the sound of analog warmth.

Now if I could only find a pile of leaves to jump into and someone to write a letter to sharing that experience. 

~ Greg

Magic

I started this blog as a way to reflect on and write about my life. I know it is of little interest to many people, but there are a few who do read and comment from time to time. I sincerely appreciate those people. But there is one thing that I have not written about here.

This thing I speak is by no means the most important part of my life. Not close. Still it is something that you might say I am passionate about. It is part of who I am and because of it has brought some of my closet friends into my life. It has provided countless hours, days, weeks of enjoyment. It inspires. It also causes a few people to ask why.

This thing is Disney. I love the films and the music. I am drawn to art and the process with which it is created. I could visit the parks over and over and still find the magic. Disney is imagination and it is inspiring. It is motivating.

I will not write a lot about Disney in this blog; I have another venue for that. But I did want to share this, knowing that I Gerrie and I are there with some of our grandchildren as you read this.

What is it that keeps me going back? Forget the time and the expense involved. What is the basic reason? Well, there are two.

First, it is magical! I remember my first visit in the Spring of 1972. The only park then was the Magic Kingdom and it was still very new. My mom and dad took my sister and me. I was in the ninth grade. My grandfather and grandmother were also there. I can’t remember everything about that day, but I do remember the first time I rode Peter Pan’s Flight. It is something that I’ll never forget. I remember being amazed at hearing Peter say “Off to Never Land” and then rounding the corner to fly over London. All of those tiny lights were magical to me. I was transported to another place and another time.

Now, all these years later, hopping aboard a flying ship and sailing over London and in to Neverland is one of the first things I do on every visit. It is also one of the last things I do. It is a reason why a copy of Peter Pan is always on my nightstand. I never set back during the ride. I am always on the edge of my seat. 

A few years ago three of my grandchildren and I boarded a flying ship. When we flew into Neverland my grandson said, “Look Papa, it’s Neverland!” Earlier this year, riding the Disneyland version of the attraction, I gave out an audible gasp as we flew into Neverland. It was marvelous! 

We all know the story of Peter Pan; the boy who never grew up. As J.M. Barrie put it, “All children, grow up, except one.” If we are honest, there are more than a few of us who wish we were that "one." And while we manage the world just fine, we are still trying to find our way back.

This is second reason for why I keep going back. For those few days that I am in the park, I am ageless. I am not an overweight middle-aged man. Instead, I am the boy who can fly or a pirate sacking the village. I am a skipper navigating tropical rivers, a passenger aboard a runaway train or Tom Sawyer looking for the paintbrush. Being in the parks moves you to a different place; a place with no pressure, no worries, no deadlines and it is okay to eat ice cream for breakfast. For a few days the real world is held at bay and you exist in a world where imagination is free. 

As Willy Wonka would sing,

     “There is no 

     Life I know 

     To compare with 

     Pure imagination 

     Living there 

     You'll be free 

     If you truly 

     Wish to be”

And this is what Disney is for me. It is a place where I can be free. It is a place where I can be child again. Where I can play and sing and laugh and cry tears of joy, because that it what we’re supposed to do.

Truth is, we should do that more frequently, no matter where we are. It is just easier there.

So, I’ll keep going back. My hopes to travel back to England and France and to go to other places I haven’t been may make these trips a little less frequent. Yet still, I’ll keep finding ways to get back. When I do this it is my way of living out something I shared with my son when he was boy. I said, “Son, as you grow to become a man, please remember the little boy that lives inside you and bring him out to play from time to time.”

I believe in practicing my own advice. 

~ Greg