In Which I Discover a Treasure from Christian Culture

 I am surprised I spotted them.

And even then I hesitated, leaning forward to peer into the yellowed plastic before gingerly plucking them from amongst all the other knick-knacks on the dimly-lit thrift store shelf.

Carefully, carefully I pried open the sides of the brittle package.

Oh, my goodness! No yellowing here! 

The gorgeous dancing couple dressed in vibrantly-hued traditional European costumes delighted my eye and blessed my soul.

I marveled at the details. 

Her flower wreath and long blond braid. His cap with the multi-colored tassels on one side. The netting overlay on her skirt and the jaunty belt cinching his long vest.

I looked for the price tag: $10

Confident that I had already received $10 worth of value from the charming pair, I purchased it and hurried home.

I looked forward to removing them from the ugly packaging and examining them closer. It was only when I tried to free them that I realized the dancers' feet were permanently attached to the base. I turned it upside down and for the first time noticed that it had a label.

And it was in Polish.

I had no idea what it said. 

Nevertheless, a thrill of joy leapt through me as I thought how perfectly the couple would look displayed in my hutch with all my Polish pottery. I hurried over and found them a spot, center stage, my daily reminder that life is beautiful.

Christmas Eve in the Weary World

 Christmas Eve found me motoring from Kansas to Arkansas with our geriatric cat, Cotton, and our middle aged Lab, Esther. I had given Cotton a tranquilizer for the five-hour drive, so she protested meekly but regularly from the carrier in the cargo area of my Ford Flex. 

I made frequent stops at convenience stores because I kept getting drowsy. Each time I had interactions with folks that kept me thinking of and praying for them for several miles after I departed.

At one, I wished a man with an unkempt gray beard and loose fitting clothes a Merry Christmas. 

We were retrieving drinks from the refrigerated cases at the back of the store. "Merry Christmas," he replied smiling. "Are you going to the casino?"

I smiled and told him "No, no, I'm not".

We each still had a door to the cooler open as he proceeded to tell me that he had just gotten off work and that his wife and children had gone away for Christmas, leaving him alone. So he was on his way to the casino to spend the holiday. 

"I'm so sorry," I said, caught off guard by his frankness and not really knowing how to respond.

Unperturbed, he described how the local casino is quite a bit nicer than the other one that he frequented. "You should try it," he said enthusiastically.

He said something else I didn't catch, and we both headed to the checkout counter, my thoughts whirling. Was he happy or sad that his family had left him alone for Christmas? I was waiting behind him when a young female clerk called me to her register.

I wished her a Merry Christmas, and she returned the greeting.

"I have to work, though," she explained. "I won't be able to see my kids till tomorrow."

"Oh, that's awful," I sympathized. "But luckily Christmas Day is just the first day of the Twelve Days of Christmas."

"Oh, that's good," she said. "I've never heard of that." 

Suddenly a young male clerk jumped in beside the one I was talking to and asked loudly, "Are you talking about Kwanzaa?"

"No," I said, feeling like I needed to shake my head vigorously to process all the conversations I had participated in since I entered the store. "I was talking about the Twelve Days of Christmas".

"Huh? Never heard of it," he confessed.

He had heard of Kwanzaa but not the Twelve Days of Christmas. Letting that sink in, I smiled and returned to my car. "Maybe I should try one of Cotton's tranquilizers," I mused.

"Meow," Cotton complained softly.

At my next convenience store stop, I pulled open the ladies' bathroom door to be immediately greeted by a loud bark. I was so surprised that I gasped loudly. A woman's voice sang out from one of the stalls, "It's all right. It's just my dog Rosco. He won't hurt you."

As there were only two stalls, I reluctantly entered the vacant one, separated from the the voice and the bark by one shared metal partition. Would Rosco stick his snout under the wall? I drew in my feet.

"HELLO? IS THIS THE COUNTY JAIL?" the voice next door boomed. "I'm looking for my fiancé. His name is..." The woman gave a man's name. After a short pause, she said, "Oh, ok. I'll call that one". Apparently her betrothed was locked up at a different location.

I exited as quickly as possible, seriously lamenting the loss of enclosed phone booths...and berating myself for not thanking God enough for all my many blessings.

Words to Live By?

Edification. This word chose me last year. Edification and I had a good run with her as my co-pilot while I navigated the rough roads of 2021 with both gloved hands on the wheel. 

We had a conversation going 'most all the time. 

I especially treasure the memory of one of our roadside picnics, complete with a flask of mint tea, elegant chicken salad sandwiches shaped by a tulip cookie cutter, and poetry recitation from Sonnets from the Portuguese in the shade of a moss-laden oak.

Edification is still with me but has moved to the back seat where she reads and occasionally comments on the scenery. 

Yesterday a new word came and claimed me for its companion: propriety. This word leapt out of the page at me as if it were bolded, italicized, and three-dimensional. This does not seem proper behavior for this word--a puzzlement to be sure. At any rate, the reality was that it was just plain type in Wendell Berry's essay, "People, Land, and Community". To quote:

A farm can be too big for a farmer to husband properly or pay proper attention to. Distraction is inimical to correct discipline, and enough time is beyond the reach of anyone who has too much to do. But we must go farther and see that propriety of scale is invariably associated with propriety of another kind: an understanding of and acceptance of the human place in the order of Creation--a proper humility.

Berry is using propriety to mean "the quality or state of being proper or fitting," which is a definition I am eager to explore because it implies a timelessness that we do not get from the understanding of propriety as "the standard of what is socially acceptable in conduct".

Clearly, what is socially acceptable in conduct can and does change dramatically.

"Sad, but so true!" remarks Edification from the back seat, reaching for her dainty but well-worn copy of Famous Shakespeare Quotes.

 This leads me to thinking about limits and right back to the quote above. I don't see how to understand "the quality or state of being proper or fitting" without taking into account the concept of limits.

If I am reading Berry correctly, a proper humility is what helps us recognize the limits.

"Gosh," I sigh to myself, involuntarily squeezing the steering wheel. "Much food for thought in this word." 

"Indubitably," chirps Propriety from the passenger seat.

By the way, in my dictionary, Webster's Third New International Dictionary, copyright 1981, the first three definitions are obsolete usages; the fourth one is the one I want to study; the fifth is the "standard of what is socially acceptable in conduct" one.

Finding Free Market Medical Care

 Ever since I had to do my own research to get help for my daughter's Hashimoto's (autoimmune thyroid disease), I have been questioning what has happened to our medical care system in the USA. I found those answers, but I won't go into them here. My conclusion was that we need a new paradigm. 

I have read about a few doctors who operate by a membership where you pay them annually to keep you well. There are also doctors who work on a cash per visit basis. I have even read about cash-only surgery centers that are extremely cost-effective and offer excellent results. These options save a lot of money because the costs that doctors incur to accept insurance is extremely high. They have to pay extra employees to do the coding and billing, and the insurance companies also dictate to the doctors about what treatments/tests are acceptable and how much they can charge for them.

The Association of American Physicians and Surgeons is a good resource for these alternative medical care options. Here is a link to its article "Find a Direct Payment/Cash Friendly Practice". And here is a link to its article "Surgery Centers with Cash Pricing".

I also recommend this video of Dr. Gordon Donaldson's presentation on building Christian Medical Structures. He has run his own private medical practice for 31 years:

Good for Your Soul: Jefferson Davis's Remarks on Robert E. Lee

 

On a whim tonight I decided to check Abbeville Institute's site for something historical to read. I hadn't visited in months, maybe not since last year. I discovered just the right thing to suit me: a speech by Jefferson Davis honoring Robert E. Lee. I didn't read the whole thing. The first two paragraphs were enough. I had a deep need to read about a truly good man. I had been reading Twitter. Enough said? 

This was a double scoop of edification, because Jefferson Davis's own goodness shone brilliantly in his remarks about his friend. Such gentlemen. Shall we have the likes of them again when the rule by the insane predator class is over? ( I started to just say "predator" but felt it was critical for accuracy to go back and add the modifier "insane".)

 I didn't read the whole thing because I have How to Resist Amazon and Why by Danny Caine on the chair beside me. I want to get started on it. And on the other chair I have a gorgeous edition of Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, which I started re-reading with supreme delight a couple of nights ago. 

Anyway, here are the two paragraphs I read about the admirable Robert E. Lee:

Robert E. Lee was my associate and friend in the military academy, and we were friends until the hour of his death. We were associates and friends when he was a soldier and I a congressman; and associates and friends when he led the armies of the Confederacy and I presided in its Cabinet. We passed through many sad scenes together, but I cannot remember that there was ever aught but perfect harmony between us. If ever there was difference of opinion it was dissipated by discussion, and harmony was the result. I repeat, we never disagreed, and I may add that I never in my life saw in him the slightest tendency to self-seeking. It was not his to make a record, it was not his to shift blame to other shoulders; but it was his with an eye fixed upon the welfare of his country, never faltering to follow the line of duty to the end. His was the heart that braved every difficulty; his was the mind that wrought victory out of defeat.

He has been charged with “want of dash”. I wish to say that I never knew Lee to falter to attempt anything ever man could dare. An attempt has also been made to throw a cloud upon his character because he left the army of the United States to join in the struggle for the liberty of his State. Without trenching at all upon politics, I deem it my duty to say one word in reference to this charge. Virginian born, descended from a family illustrious in Virginia’s annals, given by Virginia to the service of the United States, he represented her in the Military Academy at West Point. He was not educated by the Federal Government, but by Virginia; for she paid her full share for the support of that institution, and was entitled to demand in return the services of her sons. Entering the army of the United States, he represented Virginia there also, and nobly. On many a hard-fought field Lee was conspicuous, battling for his native State as much as for the Union. He came from Mexico crowned with honors, covered by brevets, and recognized, young as he was, as one of the ablest of his country’s soldiers. And to prove that he was estimated then as such, let me tell you that when Lee was a captain of engineers stationed in Baltimore the Cuban Junta in New York selected him to be their leader in the struggle for the independence of their native country. They were anxious to secure his services, and offered him every temptation that ambition could desire. He thought the matter over, and, I remember, came to Washington to consult me as to what he should do, and when I began to discuss the complications which might arise from his acceptance of the trust he gently rebuked me, saying that this was not the line upon which he wished my advice, the simple question was “Whether it was right or not”. He had been educated by the United States, and felt wrong to accept place in the army of a foreign power. Such was his extreme delicacy, such was the nice sense of honor of the gallant gentleman whose death we deplore. But when Virginia withdrew—the State to whom he owed his first and last allegiance-the same nice sense of honor led him to draw his sword and throw it in the scale for good or evil. Pardon me for this brief defence of my illustrious friend.

Please do read the whole thing here if you have a mind to: Jefferson Davis on Robert E. Lee 

My Lovely Conversation with a Stranger at the Dearing Drive-in

On my way back from getting my hair bobbed and crimped, I stopped at The Dearing Drive-in for a hamburger. I love that place! Their hamburgers are so tasty--the way I remember them when I was a kid in the 60s. It's in an old building that looks like it was originally built as a Tas-t-freez. 

Nothing about its humble origins has been updated, which makes it all the more alluring to me.

A lone picnic table under the front awning offers the only available seating, and all orders are taken at the walk-up window by right friendly folks. An air of mystery pervades the transaction while the ancient sliding screen is in place. 

But that may just be me seeing things through my Catholic lens.

After I placed my order I turned and saw that the gentleman who ordered before me had sat down on one end of the table, on the side closest to the road.  

I considered sitting down on the other bench, so that I would be facing the building with my back to him to wait for my order.

Chastising myself, I decided to engage him in conversation instead. 

I figured I couldn't complain about the disintegration of society if I didn't even make an attempt to talk with this fellow under such easy circumstances.

So I sat and greeted him, and soon we were chatting amicably while we waited for our orders. He explained to me all about the garbage company he drives a truck for. I had no idea there were so many types of dumpsters and garbage trucks. 

When I admitted this to him, he surprised me by saying that he didn't know it either until recently. "I've only been working for this company for five months," he admitted smiling. "I lost my job, But some people get angry when I talk about it."

I grinned and assured him that I would not get angry.

His face lit up. "I was a pipeliner. My wife and I traveled all over the country in our 5th wheel. But Biden put an end to that," he explained matter-of-factly. 

I detected no resentment in his voice or expression. In fact, he seemed almost jolly--happy to talk about driving the garbage truck, how busy he and the other drivers are, and how far afield they travel from their home base on their routes.

"Ah, I see." I told him smiling. "My husband works for the refinery here."

He returned my smile and mentioned one of the contractors at the refinery that is also one of the garbage company's customers.

"YES!" I thought. We can talk about hard things and not lose our composure. I wanted to hug him but restrained myself. (This new-found restraint is one of the gifts of my dotage.)

The clerk at the window hollered that the pork sandwich was ready, so my new friend retrieved it and sat down again. I commented that the sandwich didn't look big enough to maintain a man. He smiled and said that he usually didn't eat breakfast or lunch. "When I started doing that I lost 30 pounds," he exclaimed happily.

"Wow!" I thought to myself. "He's an intermittent faster, too. What a super cool fellow!"

The clerk announced that my double cheeseburger was ready, so I wished my new friend a good day and thanked him for the conversation, feeling enormously grateful for his company. 

I hope I see him again. I want to ask him to tell me some stories from the time when he and his wife were traveling around the country towing their 5th wheel.

The Antidote to the Technocracy: Immersing Myself in Sumptuous Ladies' Magazines

When the world is too much with me, I retreat into Victoria and Southern Lady magazines. They pile up in tucked away towers around the house for months at a time, unopened. Sometimes even six months fly by with nary a ruffling of the pages by yours truly. 

But then, suddenly, I will feel so dried up and crispy from this worrisome world that I will grab a couple from the stacks and scurry off to the patio, like I did Saturday evening. 

With birds flitting and chirping, chimes resonating, and the horn of a distant train lending a bass line, I melt into the loveliness of elegant words, elevating thoughts, and picturesque scenes. 

I startle myself from my reverie by whispering gorgeous phrases, savoring each word-picture as it rolls off my tongue. 

Oh! A feature story on demitasse spoons! Readers writing in about their lovely book clubs, peopled by ladies endowed with exquisite manners. An article on artful stationery. 

I am charmed and feel the the nectar of life filling my cells, moistening my very marrow. 

I am restored. 

At least until I open my email again.