Blog #396                                October 10, 2024

 

Tomorrow begins Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement where each Jew asks God to forgive his-or-her sins.  And God forgives us.  My question is – Can we forgive God?  Can we forgive God for the wholesale death and suffering in the Middle East, for the disastrous forest fires and hurricanes, for the pervasive hatred that has infected our society and threatens to destroy friendships and families.  Can we?  I’ll leave that question up to you.

 

Carol and I went to Rosh Hashanah services last week, and will go to Yom Kippur services tomorrow.  I’ve probably told you that when we got married, Carol and I made a pact.  I promised to go to services with her every year and she promised to go to the circus with me whenever it was in town.  I like circuses.  Well, we have been married 57 years now, and I have gone to the High Holy Day Services every year.  She has never once gone to the circus.  It doesn’t much matter anymore because there are no more circuses.  All the clowns have moved to Washington, D.C.

 

I actually enjoy the religious services.  They foster closeness, and a feeling of community.  And the music is wonderful.  Upton Sinclair wrote, “When you hear singing you may lie down in peace, because evil people have no songs.”

 

I don’t like, however, the way they have changed some of the liturgy.  Old people do not like change, of course, but I generally can adapt.  I object, however, to the changes in the 23^rd Psalm?  Now it reads, “The lord is my shepherd; I shall lack for nothing” and “My cup overflows.”  What happened to runneth?  That’s one of my favorite words.  Changing “my cup runneth over” to “my cup overflows” is like changing Genesis to read, And God said Flip the switch.  Or how about the following:

 

·        Friends, Romans, Countrymen – listen up.

·        One if by land and two if they’ve got a boat.

·        M-I-C see ya real soon, K-E-Y why? Because Walt tells us to.

·        Frankly, my dear, who cares.

 

Hi there and welcometh back.  I hope you’re feeling well and getting ready to

celebrate Indigenous Peoples’ Day.  It’s next Monday.  You might have thought

that was Columbus Day, but Columbus, in today’s PC world, was a colonialist piece of ziti who opened up the New World to European exploitation and, as a result, has lost his eponymous day.  I have never understood why descendants of English, Irish, French, Italian, German, Russian, Polish and Swedish Europeans are called White Privileged Racists, but descendants of Spanish Europeans are called Hispanics.  Anyway, now we celebrate Native Americans, which is appropriate

 

My generation grew up thinking “Indians” were bad.  We watched Hopalong

Cassidy and John Wayne and played Cowboys and Indians and bought plastic Colt

45s.  We learned that the only good Indian was a dead Indian, except Tonto of

course.  They never told us that Kemosabe really meant Ridiculous-Looking

White Boy or that the Lone Ranger wore a mask because he had Covid.  We only got one side of the story, and that was mostly misinformation.

 

Message from Shakespeare: Made lame by fortune's dearest spite (Sonnet 37).  Hopalong?  That’s what Pops calls me because I only have three legs.  That’s ok; I still love him, but maybe I’ll start calling him Kemosabe.  He is pretty much a ridiculous-looking White boy.  Purr.

 

Last weekend, we went to a charity polo match sponsored by Old Newsboy Charities, a wonderful organization that helps children in the St. Louis area.  As we watched the polo players get ready for the first chukker, my friend Bill said, “These guys are riding 30 miles an hour on a 700-pound beast with an eight-foot- long stick and hitting a ball that’s rolling along the grass.  And I can’t even hit a golf ball that’s sitting motionless on a tee!”  I used to play polo, but I took my horse to play water-polo, and he drowned.  Ok, bad joke; I apologize.

 

Weekly Word:  A chukker is a 7½ minute period of a polo match.  That’s good to know, isn’t it?  I was going to write a limerick using chukker as my rhyme, but I decided it against it.

 

This past week marked the anniversary of the October 7^th attack on Israel.  We all pray for peace, but the circumstances do not look favorable.

 

In the lands of the sad Middle East

We pray that the fighting will cease

But although we may pray

That it all ends one day

It seems there will never be peace.

 

There was a prayer read in the holiday services last week that went:  Watch over us, we who go forth to life; watch over us, that we may come home in peace.  And we can all say amen.

 

On a lighter note, my granddaughter Charley dragged me down in her basement the other day to show me her video games.  All the kids love to play their games on the Wii or the X-Box or on their phones.  “Look Poppy,” she said, and showed me a new game character she had created.  It was called Poppy and wore a yellow shirt (my favorite color) and had gray hair.  It also had an impressive collection of wrinkles.  I turned to Charley and asked if all those wrinkles were necessary.  She examined my face closely, smiled and said, “Yes.”  That’s ok, a grandfather is someone with silver in his hair and gold in his heart.  I watched her play a game with the new character.  There he was, wrinkles and all, limping around the course and taking all the wrong exits.  Go, Poppy!

 

The grandkids, of course, don’t understand how frightening getting old is for us.  They are different; they want to get older. 

 

Kid:  Yay! Another year closer to getting my driver’s license. 

Grandparent:  Oy! Another year closer to losing my driver’s license.

Kid:  Yay! Another year closer to moving into a home of my own.

Grandparent:  Oy! Another year closer to moving into a home.

Kid:  Yay! I’m getting taller. 

Grandparent: Oy! I’m getting shorter.

Kid:  Yay! I’m growing up so fast.

Grandparent:  Oy! She’s growing up so fast.

 

Last week, I went to an antique show and someone bid on me.  Oh, well!  Stay well and counteth thy blessings.  I’ll see you next week.

 

Poppy                                      Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com