A Place to Sing

An occasion occurred this week that solidified my decision to limit my singing to the grounds at Merry Mount.  This decision is bitter/sweet but has reminded me of pertinent words penned by two giant poets: Frost and Whitman.  I offer you their words:

The Oven Bird

                                    Poetry by Robert Frost

                                   

                                    There is a singer everyone has heard,

                                    Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,

                                    Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.

                                    He says that leaves are old and that for flowers

                                    Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.             

                                    He says the early petal-fall is past

                                    When pear and cherry bloom went down in 

showers

                                    On sunny days a moment overcast;

                                    And comes that other fall we name the fall.

                                    He says the highway dust is over all.                  

                                    The bird would cease and be as other birds

                                    But that he knows in singing not to sing.

                                    The question that he frames in all but words

                                    Is what to make of a diminished thing.

From Walt Whitman

I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!)

Not words of routine this song of mine,

But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer

            bring…

I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,

Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond

            them,

A reminiscence sing.

Comrades

  Poetry  by Patrick Woliver

  At the first glimpse of the Evening star, Thrush music!

  The road behind me seems distant,

            yet somehow short.

  It glistens as the last of the light of the sun magnifies

            each grain of sand.

  Wildflowers stretch toward heaven, striving to retain

            their beauty.  Thrush music returns!

  O ageless singer, I, like comrades before me, know

            your song.  I understand your music.

  But as I look toward the sunset, I savor the

            magnificence of the remaining light.

At this time of closure, I wish to voice gratitude for my “Comrades”: Rett, Lee, and Robert; and to Pete for his genius displayed in his musical setting of The Oven Bird.

 CPW

A Place to be Skeptical and Contrary

Let's play Devil's Advocate

Let’s begin by breaking with convention.

sOme May saY  that MY Name should Have been THOMAS iNsteAd of patricK BUT i DisagrEE.  FOR iT haS onLy beeN durinG the pasT few yearS that i have beCome sOmewHat CONTRARY; i EVen ? the Under Lying Parable iN John 20:24-29.  

bUt HAS ThIs douBter goNe tOO faR FOR If i want YOU to uNder STanD thE mESsAgE iN tHiS BLOg' whY WOULD i NOT CoNfOrM  to tHe ruleS of grammar and CaPiTaLiZaTiOn?

Try this poem by E.E. Cummings:

Now Rett may tell you that living with “a contrary old curmudgeon” has its challenges, but, at least, she is presented with the other side of the story.

I posit that my contrariness is a result of how I have programmed my mind to work.  For too many years, I accepted information as fact without stopping to consider whether I believed the information. Now I have developed a mental sensor that automatically questions information, digests it, and then stores it away for further consideration. The process allows me an opportunity “to get to the truth”. 

After all, we do live in a world of “fake news”.

A result of my contrariness process is THOUGHT.

So I ask myself,  “is thinking enough, or does patriotism require action?”

I leave you with a piece by Wendell Berry:

The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer

I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my

 inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission

 to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.

 I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,

 and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,

 and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven's favor,

 in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught

 so often laughing at funerals, that was because

 I knew the dead were already slipping away,

 preparing a comeback, and can I help it?

 And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed

 my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom

 had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not

 be resurrected by a piece of cake. ‘Dance,’ they told me,

 and I stood still, and while they stood

 quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.

 ‘Pray,’ they said, and I laughed, covering myself

 in the earth's brightnesses, and then stole off gray

 into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.

 When they said, ‘I know my Redeemer liveth,’

 I told them, ‘He's dead.’ And when they told me

 ‘God is dead,’ I answered, ‘He goes fishing every day

 in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.’

 When they asked me would I like to contribute

 I said no, and when they had collected

 more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.

 When they asked me to join them I wouldn't,

 and then went off by myself and did more

 than they would have asked. ‘Well, then,’ they said

 ‘go and organize the International Brotherhood

 of Contraries,’ and I said, ‘Did you finish killing

 everybody who was against peace?’ So be it.

 Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony

 thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what

 I say I don't know. It is not the only or the easiest

 way to come to the truth. It is one way.

- Wendell Berry

CPW

In Memorium: Lynda Junk, A Life Dedicated to the Pursuit of Beauty II

As a response to a wonderful evening last night at Dave Junk's around a fire pit under a clear sky filled with stars, Dave suggested that Lynda was one of the stars looking down at us and I agreed and said, " and she is smiling down".

Madame Armfeldt in Sondheim's A Little Night Music proclaims, "the summer night 'smiles'  three times: first on the young, second on middle aged fools, and third on the old who know too much". I posit that Lynda is smiling down on a family that she knew and loved.


In Memorium: Lynda Junk, A Life Dedicated to the Pursuit of Beauty

Lynda riding the giant pumpkin she grew in her vegetable garden

Obituary: 

Junk, Lynda
1946 – 2018

On August 8, 2018, surrounded by her loving family at her beautiful home in Mt. Sterling, Ohio, Lynda Junk, age 72, passed over the rainbow and into the embrace of our heavenly Father. She fought a valiant fight with cancer. Lynda was born on June 20, 1946 in Tiffin, Ohio to Paul and Mildred Good. She graduated from London High School in 1964 and on December 5th of that same year, she married David Junk, her soul mate of 53 years. David and Lynda were blessed with 2 children and 4 grandchildren. Lynda earned an associate degree in criminal justice from Hocking College in 2006 and retired from the state of Ohio's Madison Correctional Institution in 2011. Lynda was a life long member of the London First United Methodist church. Lynda is survived by her mother, Mildred "GG"; her husband, David; her children, David (Natasha), and Jill (Tony Jones); her grandchildren, Kenley Eileen Jones, Max Junk, Griffin Jones and Nick Junk; her sister, Joni (Keith McKinley); and many beloved nieces and nephews. Lynda was preceded in death by her father Paul. 

One of our favorite children’s books is entitled, Miss Rumphius (ISBN 0-14-0.50539.3).  The narrator tells the story of how her great-aunt, as a little girl, was challenged by her grandfather (an Artist/Woodworker) to “do something to make the world more beautiful.”  We are lucky to have observed Lynda as she did just that.

Rett and I clearly remember the first time we met our dear neighbors, Lynda and Dave.  We had moved into Merry Mount the day before and were out aggressively pulling weeds in preparation to plant perennials that we had transported from our garden on Candlewood Drive.  Lynda and Dave drove up in their Gator with their dogs, Mia and Wolfie in tow.  After a warm introductory handshake and smile, we learned that Rett and Lynda had several things in common, but primarily a great love of birds and flowers. 

Lynda (cradling Mia) and Dave displaying their giant pumpkins

Following Lynda’s encouragement, Rett decided to study to become a “Master Gardener” and with Lynda by her side, Rett signed up for classes presented by the Madison County Extension office with The Ohio State University.

The following paragraph are Rett’s words about Lynda.

“ I am not sure how to describe the loss I feel in Lynda’s passing.  She was such a dear friend and neighbor.  When I feel my grief well up, I also have a memory that comes to make me smile. We had so many fun times and conversations driving to and from London each week for the Master Gardeners meetings.  I thought I was going to just learn more about gardening.  Lynda neglected to tell me I was also joining a “club” of sorts for which I would need to contribute fifty hours of volunteer work.  I am so glad I did though, for not only did I learn a great deal, but made many new friends, especially Lynda.  She taught me many things about life and gardening.  One lesson that I love is, when weeding, it is a time to ponder and figure out the problems of the day.  She also corrected me every time I would say ”street” instead of “road” when referring to where we live.  I will miss my dear friend more than I can say.  I will always keep her close to my heart.  I am so blessed and fortunate to have had such a wonderful friend and neighbor.”

Lynda making Rett laugh!

The Junk’s house is surrounded by Lynda’s garden design.  It is a place of beauty invoking peace and serenity: flowering plants and shrubs, fountains, statues, archways, and stone paths that lead viewers to splendor. Her gardens indicate the vision and touch of a Master Gardener.

Lynda, Dave, Griffin, and Katherine

Joy & Eva at one of "Miss Lynda's" fountains

Endymion

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: 
Its lovliness increases; it will never 
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing 
A flowery band to bind us to the earth, 
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth 
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, 
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways 
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, 
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall 
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, 
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils 
With the green world they live in; and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, 
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: 
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead; 
An endless fountain of immortal drink, 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 

by John Keats

Dave shared with me the fact that the beauty displayed in a rainbow captivated Lynda.  One of her favorite songs was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” a piece performed at her Celebration of Life service.  I share this photo of a rainbow whose arch ends at the front door of the Junk home.  I posit that Lynda’s spirit, like a hummingbird, continues to hover along the spectrum of light.

Like Miss Rumphius, Lynda did “something to make the world more beautiful,” and her love is “An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.”

CPW

A Place for Common Sense: Gun Control II

Due to the horrific events of this past weekend, I refer you to an earlier blogpost:

A Place for Common Sense: Gun Control

At Merry Mount, we practice gun control.  We own guns and we make sure that the guns are under our control.

Gun violence is out of control in the United States.  Mass shootings have become an almost daily occurrence.

I propose a common sense solution to the problem.  Here are the “bullet” points (bad choice of word):

•      Write an amendment to the 2^nd amendment updating it to the 21^st Century

•      Stop the manufacture of automatic guns

•      Do not attempt to confiscate the many automatic guns owned by private citizens, instead, implement a national gun buy back program that creates an incentive to return automatic guns

•      Educate our children (yes, brainwash them) to respect the dignity of every human so that the thought of taking a life becomes repulsive

•      Promote peace, not war.

I am not naïve.  The initiative that I posit would not happen overnight.  It would probably take three or more generations.  Let’s examine each point.

•      Write an amendment to the 2^nd amendment updating it to the 21^st Century

Amendment II of the United States Constitution reads:

A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

"The Gun Lobby's interpretation of the Second Amendment is one of the greatest pieces of fraud, I repeat the word fraud, on the American People by special interest groups that I have ever seen in my lifetime.  The real purpose of the Second Amendment was to ensure that state armies - the militia - would be maintained for the defense of the state.  The very language of the Second Amendment refutes any argument that it was intended to guarantee every citizen an unfettered right to any kind of weapon he or she desires."

Retired Chief Justice Warren Burger, "The Right to Bear Arms," Parade Magazine, January 14, 1990.

I refer you to:

https://alumni.berkeley.edu/california-magazine/just-in/2017-08-28/so-about-well-regulated-militia-part-constitution

Considering the present ability of Americans to buy and possess weapons capable of multiple human casualties, I posit that the writers of the 2^nd amendment are guilty of creating language that is too ambiguous and should be amended.

But let’s try to interpret their meaning.  I believe that the first phrase establishes a context for a body or group of people, who by their very intent, are brought together to secure a state against tyranny.  It is only toward that intent that the people (plural, not individuals) have the right to arm themselves, so not to be placed under tyranny.

The 2^nd amendment, therefore, gives the people of our country the right to prepare for war, not to allow individuals the right to possess weapons capable of multiple human casualties.

•      Stop the manufacture of automatic guns

Pass legislation making it illegal to manufacture automatic guns.  If leaders of Congress, like McConnell, refuses to bring the bill to the floor, galvanize the populace and force him to.

•      Do not attempt to confiscate the many automatic guns owned by private citizens, instead, implement a national gun “buy back” program that creates an incentive to return automatic guns

Common sense:  everything is for sale at the right price.

•      Educate our children (yes, brainwash them) to respect the dignity of every human so that the thought of taking a life becomes repulsive

Cut the “defense budget” (a misnomer) by 75% and redirect that money to education.

•      Promote peace, not war.

Live by two biblical scriptures: 1) Thou shall not kill, and 2) Love thy neighbor as thyself.

CPW