Friday, November 5, 2010

Little Children, Old Men and Psychotics

Long ago I heard that little children, old men and psychotics always tell you the truth about yourself.  I don’t buy the idea that they ALWAYS do, but I certainly have experienced some direct hits from people in these categories.

One of my granddaughters, when she was younger, would always tell me that I had bad breath when I was drinking coffee.  Since she did not do this at other times, I concluded that she disliked the smell of coffee and was not discrete enough to ignore the aroma emanating from my mouth.  She was telling the truth as she saw it….or smelled it.

When I worked as a nurse as a young woman, elderly men patients often told me that I was going to make a good wife for someone.  I hoped they were telling me the truth.  My husband, who is now in his late 60s, seems willing to stick it out with me for a forty-third year, so I guess the predictions were somewhat accurate.

As for psychotics…..early in 1965, I spent some time at Chicago State Hospital for my psychiatric nursing experience.  One day I was walking between buildings on the grounds, having been sent on an errand of some kind.  Several inches of snow lay on the ground, so I had no inclination to take any short cuts through the snow banks.  I planned to reach my destination via the sidewalks and roads which had been cleared.  Uh-oh!  I was headed toward a patient who was approaching me swinging a large stick around his head. 

I immediately thought about a “legend” told in hushed tones soon after our arrival on the state hospital grounds.  I was never able to confirm if it was true.  On one of the units, so it was told, was a woman in a vegetative state who had previously been a nurse at the hospital.  She had flirted with a patient, but then resisted his advances.  He had hit her on the head with a pipe knocking her into oblivion. 

I did not want to become a legend and considered altering my course to avoid the stick-swinging young man.  But, wading through the snow wasn’t an option, and I did not want to show fear.  So, I marched along knowing we would walk right past each other.  I held my breath and thought that at least I wasn’t guilty of flirting.

When we were within about 20 feet of each other, he slung the stick in an arc through the air and onto an adjacent snow-covered lawn.  He then looked me up and down and said, “You’re fat….and cute.”

I smiled in relief and kept walking.  At least he hadn’t hit me with the stick!  And, he had told the truth about my weight.  I was carrying around about 40 extra pounds at that point.

During the next two years, I lost the 40 pounds and met my husband.  I managed to maintain my weight until hit by menopause.  Even that hasn’t caused me to come anywhere near my 1965 weight.  My husband tells me I’m not fat.  Since he is now a little old man, I think he is telling me the truth.  I do not currently know any psychotics from whom I can obtain a second opinion.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Wallpaper Rehash

Back in August and September, I wrote on 4 occasions about the trials and tribulations related to the wallpaper for the kitchen of our new home.  You would think I had said everything there was to say about wallpaper.  Oh, how I wish!


The home we recently vacated is almost emptied out and cleaned up.  The real estate agent plans an Open House for this coming weekend, and I decided that two of the rooms in the house really could use some fresh paint and paper in order for the house to look its best.  I certainly was not going to go through all the hassles of ordering paper as described in the earlier posts, so I went to a different store that has loads of wall-coverings in stock.


Last week I hired someone to strip off old paper.  Then I caulked and spackled and sanded and scrubbed and primed.  I painted the ceilings and woodwork.  This week on Monday, I papered the room that had been my den.  Today I arrived at the house by 9 AM to paper the master bathroom.


When I purchased the paper, the owner of the store told me that it was a really nice paper...it went on the walls easily and was great to work with.  But, I hadn't noticed that it was not prepasted paper.  So this morning when I opened a roll in order to see the directions, I realized I needed paste.  The directions said to ask the wallpaper supplier for the correct paste.  I drove back to the store and asked the clerk.  She gave me the appropriate paste, or so she thought.


The directions said to roll the paste on the wall with a paint roller.  This did not intimidate me, because about 15 years ago, I learned this technique from a professional.  It had worked so well, that I was looking forward to speedy progress.  I got myself all set up and began the task.  Forty-five minutes later, I was putting the first length of paper on the wall for the fourth time.  I just could not get the paper to lay smoothly and stick tightly around the edges.


Although not satisfied, I thought I would see if I did any better on the second piece.  The repeat on the pattern was supposed to be at 27.3 cm.  I could easily identify some small triangles in the pattern that were this distance apart, but I absolutely could not figure out what they were supposed to match on the edge of the next sheet of paper.  I slid the two edges past each other over and over again.  The match just never looked right.


I ripped the first sheet off the wall, stuffed it in a trash bag, picked up the unopened rolls and headed back to the store.  I told the clerk and the manager that this paper was the absolute worst I had ever worked with, and I wanted to return it.  They didn't argue with me, but said I should have put the paste on the paper instead of on the wall.  Of course, the directions very specifically said to put the paste on the wall  AND there was the little matter of matching the pattern.


I picked out a different paper and headed back to the house.  By this time, I had wasted two hours and was beginning to despair of completing the project today.


Joy and delight!  The paper I picked as my second choice was wonderful...as close to infinitely better as anything in this world could be.  It went on the walls smoothly, the pattern was easy to match and it even cut easily and cleanly with the razor blade...no ragged ripping....just nice clean zipping.


The master bathroom is a very spacious room with lots of tricky cutting in, so I didn't finish until well after 5 PM.  I came home exhausted and my back is killing me....I've spent the evening with the heating pad.


I am oh-so-happy, and I am NOT planning to wallpaper again for a very long time....maybe not ever.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Confession by John Grisham

I recently finished reading John Grisham’s latest book, The ConfessionIf you haven’t read it yet and don’t want to know too much about the story line before reading it yourself, don’t continue reading this blog!

I will be interested to see how this book is received.  I don’t think Grisham has made any strong statement on a contentious social and political issue in his prior books.   Maybe he has, and I was too taken up in the story itself to notice.  In any event, The Confession makes it pretty clear that he is opposed to the death penalty.

As the story plays out, everything that could go wrong for the defendant in a rape/murder trial, does go wrong.  Police use questionable tactics in interrogating him, the detective is anxious to put the blame for the crime on someone, an acquaintance lies about what he has seen and heard, and the DA is sleeping with the judge whose rulings end up favorable to the prosecution. 

During the appeals phase, what should have been legitimate concerns are brushed off.  As the time comes for the death sentence to be carried out, some possible avenues of rescue develop, but the timing is all wrong.  The accused is executed, and within 24 hours, the proof of his innocence emerges.  At the end of the book, one is left with very negative feelings about the death penalty.  Do we ever dare run the risk of an innocent man being executed?

However, I am wondering if Grisham has played fair.  In the real world, would all of the people with power be scoundrels or unwilling to act?  Would everyone who cared also be someone with no power to change the course of events?  This scenario makes for a great novel.  I couldn’t put the book down.  I wanted to know if the appeal would be heard in time.  But, as commentary on the death penalty, it isn’t a balanced argument. 

Obviously, if Grisham wants to write a biased novel in an attempt to influence attitudes on the death penalty, that is his prerogative.  Many novels have been written as social commentary and have impacted opinions and the course of events.  But, I am curious as to how it will be received.

For my part, I will not be boycotting future novels by Grisham..biased or not.  He has a real gift for telling a story.  I fully expect Borders will again send me advance notice, and I will prepay and pick the next book up as soon as I can get to the mall.  Then, no matter what else is going on in my life….with the possible exception of being on my deathbed….I will read it within 48 hours or less of getting my hands on it.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Let There Be Light

Invisible to the eye,
Unseen,
Until He spoke,
“Let there be light.”

Out of the swirling void,
Chaos,
Until He spoke,
“Let there be light.”

An orderly universe,
Substance,
When He spoke,
“Let there be light.”

Agony of soul,
Turmoil,
Until He spoke,
“Let there be light.”

Pervasive peace,
Rest,
When He spoke,
“Let there be light.”

By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.  Hebrews 11:3
And God said, “Let there be light….”  Genesis 1:3

Light in my world…light in my soul, I take this step of faith.  Nor do I feel that I must leave my intellect behind.  Science recognizes dark matter and dark energy…unseen by man.  By faith, I believe in an all-seeing God, who can, at His will, extract from His vast reserves of matter and energy that which is seeable and knowable by man.

I believe that He created time and space, and although He encompasses it, He chose to step into it to redeem man and restore fellowship between Himself and man.

By faith, I understand and accept His light in my soul.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Observations on The Iliad

I finally made it all the way through The Iliad.  Here are my observations:

1    Apparently war has always been hell.  We worry about our young men going to war and the awful things they see.  We say that they have post-traumatic stress syndrome when they come back.  Oh my!  To begin with, in The Iliad the odds of coming back would not be as good as they are today.  I suspect that those who came back wounded did not fare well either, as antibiotics were unknown.  “Let me throw a few herbs in that gaping wound for you!”

Then there are all the graphic images of death.  Men double over holding their entrails (a.k.a. internal organs) in their hands.  Their brains ooze out from under their helmets.  A spear goes through ones mouth and out the back of his head.  Another ones eyeballs fall at his feet.  Such descriptions go on for page after page and chapter after chapter.

2.  These “heroes” are always bragging about their lineage and prior deeds in an attempt to intimidate their enemies.  I’m not sure how this realistically happens on the battlefield, but it is a regular occurrence in The Iliad.  Opponents charge at each other and come to a screeching halt while they prate on about which god they supposedly claim as father or grandfather, and, "Ha..I killed your brother (or best friend) and now I will kill you too!”  At some point, by mysterious agreement, they begin hacking at each other.

The boasts continue over the body once a winner and loser have been determined by this mortal conflict.  The winner stands over the vanquished and continues his rant.  The translation of The Iliad which I read referred to this as “vaunting.”  I have had my fill of vaunting.

3.  Apparently parents of that era had no concern for the self-esteem of their off-spring.
Then, he (Priam) called to his sons… "Come to me at once, he cried, worthless sons who do me shame; would that you had all been killed at the ships rather than Hector.”
Talk about playing favorites!  You wouldn’t believe some of the things that cause one or another of my children to think they have been slighted!  I’ve never come close to making Priam’s rebuke.

4.   I find it interesting that some expressions we use today had origins in antiquity.  E.g. “another one bites the dust”   A whole lot of dust biting occurs in The Iliad.
Also:  Hindsight is 20/20 is found as “Even a fool may be wise after the event.”

5.  Extreme fatalism and a belief that we are predestined to certain outcomes permeate this work.  Folly, eldest of Jove’s daughters, shuts men’s eyes to their destruction.  She walks delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men to make them stumble or to ensnare them.  Supposedly, she has even hoodwinked Jove himself.

6.  Which brings me back to the notion mentioned in an earlier post, that the gods of The Iliad are totally worthless.  They are as flawed as any human being.  Not even the mightiest is always in control.  What is the point?  I do NOT want a god like that!

Unfortunately, many people in our world worship such gods.  Even those who think they worship no god at all are trusting in things which offer no genuine or permanent security.  Education, health, money, friendships, talents can all be lost or altered in some way that is unsettling….or even earth-shattering.

I believe in one God who is Creator and Sustainer of the universe.  He loved me enough to redeem me by the death of His own Son.  I have His promise that nothing can separate me from His love.  That is security.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Pajama Day

A Facebook friend has mentioned that the class in which she teaches is having a pajama day tomorrow.  The kindergarten is working on the letter “P” and will have peanut butter sandwiches and popcorn, make penguins, and wear their PJs to school.

On the surface this sounds like a fun time for little kids.  So, maybe I am just a grumpy old lady, but I think it sends some wrong messages.

One of the ways in which we as human beings have historically shown respect for others is by the way we dress when we meet them.  If one was to be introduced to a president or member of royalty, he or she would don his/her best attire.  Churchgoers had clothing referred to as their “Sunday best.”   This was the clothing in which they worshipped as a body of believers.  Of course, a person could put on such clothing in pride and ostentation and completely forget the objective of respect.   But, our culture seems to have lost sight of the connection between respect and clothing.   I would certainly rather that someone came to church in dirty jeans than not to come at all.  But, if a person has a choice between neat, clean clothing and disheveled clothing and opts for the grubbies, he/she is making a choice to be disrespectful.

We complain about lack of respect for teachers and the whole educational process.  Children should come to school with faces washed, teeth brushed, hair combed and clothing which fosters a bit of formality.  There is a reason why some schools still insist on uniforms.  Why risk the possibility that sloppy attire fosters sloppy attitude?  Children should learn from the outset that there are certain expectations for appearance and conduct. 

Secondly, encouraging children to wear pajamas in a public setting blurs the line between what is meant to be private and what is acceptable in public.  This is a line we cannot afford to lose to any greater degree than has already occurred.  Young women are routinely appearing in public in clothing that looks like it is meant only for the bedroom.  I have seen hip-hugger pants slung low enough to reveal the string of a thong.  Young men wear pants that sag to the point where there is no question whether they prefer boxers or briefs.  I have seen teens and adults in public in what appear to be pajama tops and bottoms without any undergarments restraining body parts from flopping around.  The idea of a robe seems to be totally passé. 

If we encourage kids to wear PJs to school in kindergarten, why would they think it was inappropriate later in life?  I can’t think of any legitimate employment situations where PJs are acceptable!  Why are we tolerating “pajama days” and thinking it’s cute?  There are plenty of other words starting with “P" that could be emphasized with proper planning.  They could wear pink or purple or a pair of something.  They can use paper, pens and pencils.  They can paste and punch holes.   

Sadly, they can’t pray.
'Tis a pity.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The Great Books

Many years ago, I bought a set of the Great Books.  I was operating under some illusion that I would have time to read them.  Somehow it was never quite a priority, although, I had read a few during my college years.  (I am one of the strange characters who actually did reading assignments.)


Now that I am retired, I have decided to renew the effort to make myself "truly educated."  Perhaps this can be accomplished before "my time comes," or maybe not.


My son says that if he had the set and any such inclinations, he would read those that interested him first.  I know if I do that, I will never read some of them.  


For example, I am currently slogging through The Iliad of Homer.  I am quite weary of page after page of detailed descriptions as to who was killed and how. Armor rattles as men fall headlong. Others are decapitated and their heads roll along.  All the while the gods and goddesses are behind the scenes helping some and undermining others.  


The gods and goddesses are, of course, not in agreement, so a great deal of mayhem ensues.  Some of it inexplicable to mortals, but some of it suspected by man as the whim of the gods.
I really dislike this view of deity and the world view that results.  What purpose is there to having gods, if they behave the same way human beings do?  They lie.  They cheat.  They run around behind each others backs with vindictive objectives.  Mortals can rarely be certain if the gods will help or harm them.


I far prefer my concept of God...just one God.  He is omnipotent, omniscient, a definer of Truth, a righteous judge, and He loves me.  As long as that is the case, all is well even when it doesn't appear to be well.   


Poor Priam and Hector and Ulysses and Menelaus and Achilles and Agamemnon and all those other souls.  Pity the Trojans and the Argives...all subject to the caprices of lesser gods and never sure if the hecatomb they offered was adequate to win favor.


I worship an unchanging and totally reliable God.