PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … March 2nd, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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WasDay

I don’t remember being born

I feel like I should

I don’t recall potty training

It seems to have paid off

When was my first lie?

Did I get caught?

When did I discover my private parts?

No public record

Santa Claus was easy to buy

You get things if you’re good

So why did I lessen being upright?

Was naughty really that nice?

“Jesus loves me, this I know”

But do I really believe?

“The Bible tells me so”

Maybe I should read it more often

When did I start wanting?

How did it become needing?

Or did the other one come first?

Which is better? Which is worse?

How much good until you’re better?

How much better to achieve the best?

Is life for learning or just a fruitless test?

I don’t want the answers

Because I kind of hate the questions.

 

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Not So Much … February 19, 2013

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I was wearing an old pair of running pants and a stretched out T-shirt, certainly a bit askew of GQ.

I was sitting in my chair, waiting for the final tally of the groceries I had selected, when two young boys came walking by, one of the lads poking his friend in the ribs, pointing at my protruding belly and laughing. The other young man seemed completely uninterested, so they scampered on their way, with the first little guy maintaining his chuckle.

There was a time in my life when I was quite aggravated by such youthful assaults. But on this particular day I didn’t give it another thought. I realized that the reason I did not give it much attention was not that I had “grown in maturity,” but because it has lessened in occurrence. Yes, over the years, as a fat man, I have observed less giggling from bored youngsters than once was the case.

I was suddenly struck with a great wave of gratitude–because in this time, when people are complaining so ferociously about all the difficulties and “simmering pots,” it is nice every once in a while, to look back and realize that we have made some human progress.

For instance, it used to be in this country that people of different races couldn’t date, marry or be together without receiving ridicule and persecution. Not so much anymore.

In our history–quite recent, may I add–it was a favorable thing to segregate and even do harm to those who did not exactly match our skin hue. Not so much now.

Catholics and Protestants in Ireland massacred one another at one time, in the name of Jesus Christ, to establish the dominance of their spirituality. Not so much.

Water supplies in towns across America were questionable in their quality because there were no restrictions on certain contaminants. Not so much.

Litter filled the highways with trash as a scar on our nation’s landscape. Not so much.

Politicians were able to get by with numerous scams and scandals without ever being caught by a press corps that was often in the back pocket of big corporations. Not so much.

Religion was blindly accepted for all of its inadequacies instead of being questioned and challenged to be productive in the human environment. Not so much.

Children were to be “seen and not heard”–set aside and basically ignored unless they were extraordinarily accomplished or equally in the other direction, naughty. Not so much.

Catsup was considered to be a vegetable by national leaders, who were gradually turning all of our children into guinea pigs for commercial poison. Not so much.

I just paused as I sat there and waited for my groceries, which are now so easy to purchase and much simpler to carry in their bags than they used to be, and was grateful that the little boy who ran by me with his ridicule was in a minority. Somewhere along the line, we have taught our children to be more tolerant of human space.

That’s good.

So in the process of trying to change our lives and improve the lot of the American populace, let us occasionally stop off at an altar of gratitude and realize that much of the crankiness, bigotry and controlling attitudes that once permeated our adult culture have been decimated by mercy, knowledge and appreciation for one another.

Am I optimistic? Don’t push it. But today, I am grateful.

And I can say this about stupidity: not so much.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

TJ, JT, VL, Gurgle, Gurgle, Gobble, Gobble, Z-Z-Z … November 23, 2011

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In Washington, D.C.

I had the audacity to presumptuously plan to take four days off for a Thanksgiving vacation to spend with my family in the Nashville, Tennessee, area, renting a home so that we might all gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

I learned a long time ago that days planned off or vacation possibilities are one of Mother Nature’s favorite targets.  She seems to have a personal giggle-fest over our notions of rest and relaxation or any form of escapism and saves us little pieces of tedium to interrupt our purported bliss. Maybe it’s because I still plan to do things while taking the time off that causes the difficulty.

I had to get a piece of our equipment fixed, so I placed an ad on Craig’s list, and promptly received a phone call from TJ. He seemed like a really nice fellow, knew his stuff, and was in need enough of the employment that I felt good about engaging him, if you know what I mean. So I handed my very important instrument over to him for repair.

He brought it back to me yesterday. Broken.

Understand, he had worked on it but had failed to achieve the task–making it even worse than it was before. Some form of remuneration was in order–just to be polite and to cover his expenses. So I ended up paying sixty dollars for someone to break my equipment. (I think I could have given it to a three-year-old with a candy cane and come out on the better end.)

Then an old friend of mine came over–JT–a veteran of a thirty-year acquaintance, and we had a delightful time talking about family, dreams, the past and hopes for the future.  He is a wonderful soul with a lot of talent, whose works may never be heard by the masses because America is not really in search of talent, but rather, in admiring and uplifting the greatest yield on ego. So as he left, I was invigorated but also a bit saddened that some of the things he may desire to do will lie in the planning stages on a table in a corner room.

Back to my piece of equipment that needed to be repaired (which is called a VL70-m box). Once we discovered that it had been sabotaged by the minions of inefficiency, Jan immediately got on the phone to track down other possibilities, revealing a myriad of potential, none of which were particularly attractive to either my vacation plans OR my wallet.

Thinking I had acquired enough activity for one day, the house we had rented for the four days suddenly sprouted a demonic presence in the form of a gurgling toilet.  Now normally, I don’t like my appliances to have personality–call it my quirk–and when I place toilet tissue into a receptacle, I do not expect it to be gurgled back up to me. This toilet seems to be offended by the mere suggestion of doing its job–so anything deposited within its porcelain sanctuary may eventually come back to you later on. For the time being, I have decided to leave it alone in its solitude, shutting the door to the bathroom, gagging the gurgle.

On a brighter note, I did begin cooking my turkeys for the Thanksgiving festivities.  If I must say so myself, I do a pretty good job preparing my bird. Most people over-cook their turkeys or cook them much too hot in an attempt to get that famous browned-skin look on the outside, which means the innards has surrendered and dried up.

Here’s what I do: I thaw the bird to a point that I can remove all the inner workings and leftover parts that are basically unidentifiable by even a poultry forensics expert. Then I take a couple of apples, a couple of oranges, a couple of onions and a few stalks of celery and stuff them inside. I take one bottle of zesty fat-free Italian dressing and pour it over the top of the bird and I cover the creature with aluminum foil and put it into the oven at 250 degrees for about eight hours. In the last hour I remove the aluminum foil from the top and turn the oven up to 300 degrees, basting every twenty minutes. This is for about a twenty-pound fowl package. If it’s smaller, of course, you can cook less. I then take it from the oven–and I choose to de-bone it for ease of serving. I cover it with some of its juices and put it in the refrigerator, and upon re-heating the next day, it is moist, tender and sweet beyond words. The turkey was the last event of my day–and a successful one it was, to counteract the attack of the repair man, the visit from a friend with unrequited talent and the grumblings of a spotty potty.

I was tired. Z-Z-Z.

I realized I had two more days of this alleged vacation–and honest to God, I began to think about how anxious I was to get back to work so I could really rest up. I admire all of you who pursue a life of domestication. It has never been particularly kind to me because houses always need repair, families always need counsel (or money), friends are looking for hope when what is available is reality and repairmen … well, they often don’t.

So believe you me, I will enjoy the rest of my time with my kind kin. But when the hour of departure does come, I will provide adequate tears for the appearance of separation, but inwardly I will smile, knowing that I’m escaping the gurgle-gurgle … and even the gobble-gobble.

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Here comes Christmas! For your listening pleasure, below is Manger Medley, Jonathan’s arrangement of Away in the Manger, which closes with him singing his gorgeous song, Messiah.  Looking forward to the holidays with you!

It’s the Whole List Thing … November 22, 2011

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In Washington, D.C.

Nearing Christmas again, here come the songs–and some composer decided to write a lyric about Santa having a list which he checks twice to find out who’s naughty and nice.   What’s with all these lists? Here’s a list over here that says you can’t borrow money. Here’s a list that says you’re not qualified to join some club. Still another list we make — of things to do today —  ends up frustrating us because the one thing we forget to add mars the whole experience. Politics has come down to composing lists of candidates who fall into the category of acceptability. And I guess it began with that list of the Ten Commandments. 

First of all, may I state that most of the things on that particular compilation are pretty obvious?  “Thou shall not kill.”  Gotcha.  But I just wonder if that counts the number of times I wished somebody was dead, though I didn’t have the energy to perform the murder myself…

 

“Thou shall not steal.”  Stuff is stuff.  Mine over here, yours over there.  Got it.

 

And of course, the list begins with the one that always baffles me.  “There is only one God.” But it turns out, He’s jealous.  So if He knows there’s only one God, who’s He jealous of?  I don’t get it.  Or is it that He’s trying to promote the idea that He’s the only God, and privately He fears competition?

 

“Honor your father and mother.” I understand that. Must have been exhausting for them to conceive me. But this is a tough one for many folks out there who have been abandoned by mothers and molested by fathers.  Exactly how are they supposed to honor these creatures of intrusion?

 

“Thou shall not commit adultery.” A big plus for this particular step of moral excellence is being granted the grace of unattractiveness. Does that mean that ugly people are more spiritual because they find it easier to put a cork in it?

 

“Do not bear false witness against your neighbor.” Wow. Forbidding lying and gossip? Could you field a choir in a church? Or have a congregation gathered to hear them, let alone a preacher to lead the singing?

 

Seems like every religion has a list. Most religions even believe there’s a final list–some sort of Book of Life where our name has to be written or we end up with what would resemble a forty-five minute wait at Red Lobster, or discover that the heavenly destination has been closed down by the health department. At least for us.

 

What is it with lists? Do I really feel closer to God, knowing that other people are going to be unceremoniously thrown out the back door? Do I really sense the presence of an eternal love by waving Ten Commandments in front of the faces of bewildered fellow-travelers? If serving God and being moral is really such a good thing, why don’t we enjoy it so much that we don’t have to talk about lists that exclude other members?

 

I’m having so much fun in my life that I’d like to go around and invite people to the party instead of thinking up reasons why they shouldn’t come because they’re boring, smelly or lack the intelligence to carry on decent dinner conversation. What’s the reason for all these lists? And where does Santa get off–deciding who’s naughty and nice? Listen, North Pole Boy, from what I hear, gluttony is a sin and wearing red with fur on it … well, talk about gender abiguity… So get off your high horse–or is it reindeer? 

 

 Here’s what I think. If you’ve found something that makes you happy, be happy and don’t make other people miserable because they don’t share your happiness.  If you’re not happy and feel the need to make other people miserable because they don’t share in your complication, you might want to go out and find something to make you happy so you don’t end up being the grumpiest guy on the block.

 

You go ahead and make your lists. You go ahead and exclude people because they don’t qualify and you go ahead and believe that God is going to boil everything down to some tight-knit group of compliant and bored adherents.  Not me. I’m looking for reasons to include you in my life and hope that you do the same.

 

What’s with all the lists? What’s with all the restrictions on membership? Does it really make any difference how we’re baptized, or is baptism really about coming to the conclusion that it might be nice to symbolically wash away the past? Do these things really matter? And if they do to you, I hope you will enjoy compiling your list, following your list and checking off those who do not give homage to your list. As for me, I think I will just take it as it comes, laugh about what I don’t understand, weep a bit about what I can’t change, and enjoy all the rest. 

 

What is it with all these lists? Maybe it’s because we think there’s limited parking in heaven–so it’s a good idea to discourage shoppers.

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Here comes Christmas! For your listening pleasure, below is Manger Medley, Jonathan’s arrangement of Away in the Manger, which closes with him singing his gorgeous song, Messiah.  Looking forward to the holidays with you!