Gross Out!

Have you ever been really grossed out? I mean something grabbed you by the throat and almost brought you to your knees gagging? No, I didn’t take the aluminum foil off something in the refrigerator and find maggots working, but if you thought that, then you’re not far from what I am talking about. For seven years I have sat in the same chair at work. The chair was there when I arrived. It worked, it fit, so I didn’t question it. I did add a sheepskin to keep it cool in summer and warm in winter. No, I didn’t find worms in the sheepskin. But moths have worked on it over the years. Recently this pneumatically adjustable chair lost its ability to hold air and collapsed all the way down, which rendered it useless, since that puts my computer keyboard at nose level. So, in frustration, I flipped the chair over hoping to discover either something unplugged or a label with manufacturer information to get help repairing it. When I flipped it over, I noted the underside of the seat had an off-white fabric covering with labels pasted on it. But I also noticed something all over the left side of this fabric and even on the labels on that side. Upon closer examination it became quite clear what it was—and that’s when my knees buckled and my lunch did a back flip. What I was looking at (and almost touching—gag) was nasal deposits. You know, finger in nostril, hand down beside chair, finger wiped on cloth bottom. Not just a time or two, but hundreds of times. The only thing that could have made this worse was for maggots to have been working in it. Sorry, I know this is gross. And my wife told me not to tell anyone. I wanted to take photos and post them on Facebook, but she absolutely forbade it upon pain of . . . well, never mind. So, my only recourse to get this nightmare out of my head was my blog, which she never reads. My advice: if you are sitting at work in a chair that you inherited from someone else, don’t flip it over.

My American Credentials

My earliest ancestors on both sides of my family immigrated lawfully, legally into the American colonies. My 5th and 4th paternal great-grandfathers were patriot soldiers in the American Revolutionary War. Both of my great-great-grandfathers were Confederate soldiers in the War Between the States. My paternal grandfather was an Army infantryman in WWI. My father was a US Marine during WWII. My uncles wore various uniforms of the USA. My father-in-law and his ancestors also wore various uniforms of the USA and served in various conflicts all the way back to the Revolution. My nephew has served two terms in Iraq and is currently in Afghanistan. Though I have never served in the military, I tried to enter several times and was turned down due to medical disqualifications. I have voted in every election since I turned 18 and feel it my obligation, my duty, and my privilege to do so in honor of my ancestors and all like them who fought to insure that I could vote. These are my credentials as an American, a tax-paying citizen of the United States.

Thanks for the Insult

Am I the only one who is bothered by email messages that I don't ask to receive which end by telling me to pass it on to someone else? Especially the ones that sound like chain mail saying that if I forward it wonderful things will happen, but if I don't, then watch out.

I think I am intelligent enough to know whether or not the unrequested email has any merit or is WORTH sending to someone else. I don't need the anonymous author telling me, even scolding me, about sending it to everyone else in my address book.

Usually, I simply delete all messages that tell me to send it on (or tell me to do anything else, as if I am not intelligent enough to figure out what to do without being told). Occasionally, though, I do decide to send a message to someone else. But the first thing I do is delete all the forwarded addresses. Then I delete the ending, which tells the recipient to forward it or something else. If the story or anecdote has merit, it will stand on its on and does not need any commentary by me or anyone else, much less a scolding about forwarding it. Now all this takes time, at least a few minutes. But, if the piece really has merit, and if I think enough of the recipients I intend to send it to, then surely a few minutes of time to "clean it up" are worth the bother.

So, if you have an urge to hit forward and send me something from your email in box, please first delete all the headers with dozens of email address that I don't want or need. And please correct all spelling and punctuation. And please deleted the ending that tells me what to do with the story. Then, if I think it has merit, I will thank you for it, and possibly send it to someone in my address book.

Miracle (and other overused words)

I guess we all have pet peeves. One of mine is people overusing or misusing words. I think if I hear one more person on TV describe something as surreal, I'll gag. I doubt that any of them has ever looked up the word in the dictionary. Likewise with "hero" and "miracle." Don't get me wrong, I believe there are heroes, and I do believe in miracles. But I usually cringe when I hear such words used because they are used incorrectly. The sad thing is that we cheapen such terms by their overuse and misuse. Take for example the word "miracle." A true miracle is a supernatural phenomenon. That is, something that supersedes (I don't like the word violates) the laws of nature.

For example, the jet that "landed" in the Hudson River. The whole incident was dubbed by the news media as "The Miracle on the Hudson." I simply ask, "What law of nature was superseded?" When jet engines shut off, jet planes fall out of the sky. And that is exactly what this one did. Ah, but here is where we can correctly use the term "hero". The pilot used all his training and experience to do exactly what he was trained to do, glide that jet to a skidding landing. And he did so perfectly. Personally I believe God enabled him to do it. But still no laws of nature were superseded in the process. Had the plane kept flying without engines, then a true miracle would have occurred.

People--even Christian people--get angry with me for saying this. They think I'm robbing God of some glory by saying it was not a miracle. No, no. I give God all the glory. As I said, I believe it was God's good grace and providence that overshadowed Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III, whether or not he acknowledges it (I haven't heard him say one way or the other, and that's not my point). All I'm saying is that no law of nature was superseded. These aircraft are made to float (if passengers don't panic and open doors, as was the case in this incident). So, even the fact that the plane didn't sink before every person was rescued is not a true miracle. But still an act of God's grace, none the less.

All I'm saying is that if we label things as miraculous when they are not, we cheapen the word and do God no favors. Finding my keys that I lost in the grass while mowing is not a miracle. It is an act of God's grace, perhaps in answer to my prayer, but no law of nature was overcome.

Raising the dead is a true miracle. So is walking on water, calming a violent storm with a spoken word, and multiplying a few small fish and biscuits to feed thousands. There are other examples in the Bible besides these (creation, incarnation, resurrection for example). I doubt that it will happen, but I sure hope that Christian people will not buy into the world's watered down, cheapened definition and use of the word miracle. Or the word hero.

My Good Deed

I was leaving the hospital, crossing the street, when an elderly woman pulled her car into the cross walk very close to me and asked where she was to go for surgery. She said she was looking for the front entrance. Spartanburg Regional has over a half dozen "front" entrances. The light changed, traffic began moving, I'm in the middle of the street and have not a clue where to send this woman. So, I pointed to a nearby driveway to one of the "front" entrances. She pulled away and I continued on to my car. Then my dear mother came to mind. I thought, "Why didn't someone come with that woman?!" I got my car and went to where I had sent her. She was sitting there in her car. I asked if anyone had helped her and she said, "No." Then I saw a security guard. I asked her to come see if she could help the lady. She told her where she needed to be, and fortunately I knew the place. I told the woman to follow me and I would take her to that "front" entrance. When we arrived at that area, another security guard was waiting for us with a parking place close to the door. She took control of the situation so I drove on. I didn't get to speak with the woman again, but I felt sure she would be taken care of. I think my mother is smiling down at me. I would have wanted someone to do as much for her.

Lowest of the Low

I have what some might consider a morbid hobby. I catalog old cemeteries, and locate graves by request. I am a member of FindAGrave.com. When someone requests a photo of a grave marker in a cemetery in my zip code, I get an email from FAG (I know, I don't like the acronym either). When I go to locate this grave, I often find damage by vandalism. I recently visited two vandalized cemeteries that particularly bothered me. One was in Cassville, Georgia (once the largest city between Nashville and Savannah, Cassville was the cultural center of North Georgia before the War Between the States. Read more here: http://www.notatlanta.org/cassville.html). The damage here was particularly heart breaking because of the unusually high number of Confederate soldiers buried here, including a general (for more look here: http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~mnwabcw/30.htm). The vandals cracked and broke in crypts. They turned over markers and large uprights. They marred, defaced, and defiled a sacred place. There must be an especially hot portion of hell for such wicked people.
The other vandalized cemetery I recently visited is Oakwood in Spartanburg, SC. This cemetery is majestic. There are huge monuments and family crypts and mausoleums. Obviously Spartanburg's elite and wealthy are buried here. But there is also a pauper's field, and even it was damaged. Again, the wicked pranksters upset and overturned huge obelisks and ornate stones, breaking many in the process. Besides the thousands of dollars it will take to cleanup and correct the damage, there is the theft of solitude and sanctuary, dignity and honor. Who would do such a vile thing? Animals do not behave this way. Only wicked, fallen, depraved, twisted, perverted, sinful human beings. I pray the guilty will confess their crime and seek forgiveness from God and the community, lest they die and enter eternity with this guilt upon them.
Here is one stanza from an old poem that expresses what I feel:
He sleeps ~ what need to question now
If he were wrong or right?
He knows, ere this, whose cause was just
In God the Father's sight.
He wields no warlike weapons now,
Returns no foeman's thrust ~
Who but a coward would revile
An honest soldier's dust?

O.P.T.

We're all familiar with the acrostic OPM. It's what all the financial gurus tell us will make us rich: Other People's Money. Well, it hasn't worked for me. But what I want to address is OPT. I have over 27 years of experience in this matter. And quite frankly, I'm sick to death of it. We own property in Cherokee County, Georgia, which we visit about twice a year. While there one thing that I have done on every visit home since 1983 is take two huge plastic bags and pick up all the trash that people have thrown out on my property. Other People's Trash (OPT). Almost daily here in SC I pick up trash thrown out of passing cars onto the church property. Almost every Sunday morning I pick up beer cans or bottles. I don't know what goes through the minds of those who do this, whether is it ignorant thoughtlessness or maliciousness. After dinner last evening my wife and I went for a walk at a private garden that is open to the public. It is beautiful and lush, but kept up by volunteers. As we came to the center, there were four muddy napkins on the ground. It appeared that someone stepped off the path and got their shoes muddy. So they produced these four napkins and cleaned off their shoes, but just left the napkins there on the ground. Why? Do such people think the world is their trash can? In the 27 years we have owned the property in Georgia, I must have picked up a ton of beer and soda cans or bottles, along with fast food bags, Wal-Mart bags, household garbage, you name it. If I threw any of this in the yard of any one of those persons, they would probably want to fight me over it. I've never done anything to them, yet they not only feel free to trash my personal property, but all along the road above and below my property as well. When God created man (Adam) and placed him in the pristine garden (earth), He commanded him to keep the garden, not to trash it. Yet trash it is exactly what man has done. I just don't get it. Why can't people dispose of their trash properly? Did I mention dirty baby diapers dropped in parking lots? Or chewing gum spit all over public sidewalks? OPT, I hate it.