Grace. Do I really believe it’s possible to receive “unmerited divine assistance”? Do I really believe that I’ve been granted “approval, favor, mercy, and pardon”; that somehow, I’ve received “a special favor”? Do I show a “disposition to kindness, courtesy, or clemency”? Is grace the “attractive trait or characteristic” of my life?
Thoughts From the Porch:
It’s been a gray, dreary, and cold weekend here in North Texas. There were
rumors of sleet around us, but here in Fort Worth it was a constant drizzle. I
spent several winters in the Colorado High Country and I’ve never felt the cold
like I do here. It’s the kind of bone-piercing cold that feels like thousands
of tiny needles poking you all at once. Of course, I’m much older now and maybe
it was simply youthful exuberance that made the cold more bearable. Today is to
be warmer and it’ll be seventy in the next couple of days. I’ll quit
complaining now…
I had to run to the grocery store yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t nearly as busy as usual. Everyone must have opted for Netflix binging rather than dealing with the weather. When I got home, I paused on the porch to enjoy what gray light remained of the day. I’d love to tell how I got tom enjoy the quiet at the end of a long, dismal day, but that wasn’t the case. The caterwauling of hundreds of Grackles in the surrounding trees put an end to any idea of quiet enjoyment of the porch. It was so deafening I couldn’t even hear my inner voice, much less the next-door neighbor saying hello as he walked to his vehicle.
Some of you might be
unfamiliar with Grackles, so allow me to explain. The “Great-tailed” or
“Mexican” Grackle is a medium-size bird originally native to Central America.
According to Wikipedia, they’ve increased their range by over 5500% and can be
found through much of the United States. I’m convinced however, that the
greatest concentration of them are in my trees…
I don’t wish to offend
bird lovers, but I don’t like Grackles. If we lived outside the city limits, I
would have no problem declaring open season with the shotgun. Don’t get me
wrong. I love birds. They bring color and song to our quiet little cul-de-sac. Grackles,
not so much. They are, like city pigeons, flying rats. Noisy, flying rats…
Please don’t judge me if
you’ve never experienced a flock of Grackles. They are incredible foragers and
they have little fear of humans. They mock efforts to shew them away. They fly
together in huge flocks, often darkening the sky and even been known to interfere
with traffic.
Several years ago, the
Grackle problem got so bad in downtown Fort Worth that a noise cannon could be
heard going off in hopes of driving them out of the city center. Sundance
Square, the jewel in the crown of Downtown Cowtown, was so noisy and covered in
bird droppings it was difficult to find a safe place to sit and enjoy a summer
evening outdoors. The city sought to drive them away lest they deter commerce
and conspicuous consumption. Unfortunately, they ended up in quiet little
neighborhoods like ours. You wouldn’t believe I wash my vehicles and sidewalk
regularly.
That being said, I
noticed something somewhat unique to our Grackle population. They were all
yelling (it can’t really be called ‘singing’) over one another creating
incredible dissonance when all the sudden it was eerily quiet. I’m not talking
about the noise fading out. It was as if someone yelled, “lights out” and the
entire flock stopped at once. It went from a din to silence in the flick of a
switch. Looking up I couldn’t see a one.
I guess I’m a bit
simple. Little things really intrigue me. The Grackles may be flying rats but
they’re awesome flying rats. Now I know there’s several scientific and
biological reasons for their unique abilities, but to go from unbearable
dissonance to complete silence in a second is pretty darn awesome. It’s not as
though there were a few birds here. We’re talking about a flock of hundreds of
birds acting as one. Sometimes I wish people were like that…
I sit at my newsfeed
every morning, only to be greeted with all the dissonance around me. Everyone
yelling at everyone else. Everyone shouting how right they are. Everyone
screeching to be heard. Everyone screaming out for their self-interests. Sounds
a lot like the Grackles to me.
Imagine if whole
neighborhoods, whole communities, acted as one. You know, for the best interest
of the ‘flock’. Imagine if my selfishness was replaced by concern for my neighbor,
my community, heck, for my planet. Imagine if, instead of yelling to be heard,
everyone got quiet together, changed the manner of discourse and talked to one
another. I don’t really expect it to happen, but what if…
You’re right, I’m a
dreamy-eyed idealist. Maybe the world needs more idealists. It tends to get
beaten out of children in favor of being a practical, rational adult. It’s a
little ironic that Jesus said we should “become like little children” if we
really wanted to live out the Kingdom of God. Like John Lennon sang, “People say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not
the only one…”
Thoughts From the Porch: All is quiet and peaceful on the porch this morning. Everyone else is sound asleep and I get to indulge in extra cups of coffee all to myself. It may sound selfish, but moments like this are few and far between in family life. I intend to relish in the moment, enjoying the quiet and a sunrise hidden by the overcast skies.
Ms. Opal and I were invited to speak to a university class
about Opal’s Farm. It went well. You all know I love to talk about the farm. As
such, I’m rarely intimidated by public speaking. I must admit I was a bit nervous
as the class filled. Things have changed drastically since I was a university
student. There wasn’t an overhead projector to be found. It may sound silly,
but I felt really old. I still
remember how cutting edge it was to type my term papers on a gold old IBM
Selectric typewriter. Heck, I didn’t even bring a Power Point presentation.
Yes, things have changed.
As Ms. Opal and I were walking back across campus to our
vehicle, we spoke of sharing our experience with young people. The students at
TCU were attentive, interested, and engaging. Not all young people are. That’s
a shame.
I am under no illusions. Young people are better navigating
the technologies available and I’m glad. If it weren’t for my grand-kids I may
never have gotten my phone to work right. Some of you know what I mean. Still,
young folks today tend to neglect the wealth of wisdom that comes from our
elders and that makes me a little sad.
I’m not saying I have any wisdom to impart mind you. Most of
my life has been an example of what not to do. I didn’t start growing up
until I was in my late forties. It wasn’t until then that I began to truly
appreciate my elders.
Appreciating my elders meant I had to spend more time with them. It began with my Mom and kind of spread out from there. Dad had already passed, and Mom was in an assisted living facility here in Fort Worth. I stopped by to check on her several times a week and see if she needed anything. I met the ladies who sat at her table in the dining room and several of the other residents, particularly those who didn’t have frequent visits from outside the facility.
I saw the sheer delight in their eyes as they began sharing
their life experiences and memories with me. It dawned on me that having
someone to listen was all-to-rare for many of them. I’ve found that listening
is not only a gift to them, it’s filled my own life with a wealth of joy.
Try to spend some time with your predecessors today. They
have a wealth of knowledge and experience to impart. Who knows? You might just
make their day, and yours will be blessed beyond imagination…
Thoughts from the Porch: It’s the last day of January. It felt like it on the porch. Still, I can enjoy my porch time unlike our neighbors to the north. The record low temperatures remind me how lucky I am to be a Texan where we complain about the cold when the high is in the forties, not forty below. Prayers of warmth are being sent up for the folks in the Midwest. Hang in there, guys…
Being from Texas, I’m
genetically predisposed to be a football fan. Football is most certainly a
religion here. Our football fervor has inspired countless books, several movies
and even a television series, “Friday Night Lights”. Visit any small town on
Friday nights in the Fall and you’ll see what I mean. In the big cities there
are multi-million dollars high school stadiums filled with frenzied fans. Winning
coaches and star players are often held in the same worshipful regard as Davy
Crockett and the heroes of the Alamo. Fans know the stats of every player on
the home team. For a few months of the year, football is king.
When I moved to Colorado in my
early teen years, I was baffled that high school football seemed to take a back
seat to basketball. My dad informed me that football wasn’t revered by the heathens
north of the Red River. Though that might have been true about high school, it
didn’t seem to apply to pro ball. Denver Bronco fans were intense! Colorado had
some redeeming qualities after all!
For many years, my Sunday
afternoons were spent at either the stadium or in front of the television. I
was happy to play Monday morning quarterback with coworkers and friends. God
forbid that I ever miss a Super Bowl, regardless of whether my teams were
playing. I was a football fan!
This coming Sunday is Super
Bowl LIII. It’s unlikely I’ll be tuning in except to see the new crop of Super
Bowl commercials for the year. They’re far more entertaining even if they are
about rampant consumerism. Things have changed over the years. I may see part
of one or two games per season, if I think about it. Watching for a few minutes
seems to be a waste of time. It’s just not the same.
I still make high school games.
I love the school spirit, the energy, and the love of the game. High school
players still play ball because they enjoy it; for the most part anyway. People
still fill the stadium because that’s what we do: support our kids, yell at the
opponents, and then go out for dinner with them after the game. There’s a
certain purity to that.
I don’t follow professional
football much. Not only are the Dallas Cowboys (my favorite team) absent from
the playoffs most years, watching a bunch of prima donnas do put on end zone
theatrics, kind of turns my stomach. It’s far more about money and celebrity than
it is love of the game. Real players and role models are few and far between.
I have mixed emotions about the sport today. The medical community has begun to understand the long-term consequences of the game. It’s not just bad knees and back problems anymore. There’s traumatic brain injury and early onset dementia to think about. I sometimes wonder if allowing my son to play was in his best interests. His college scholarship hopes were cut short by an injury during his senior year.
Despite his injuries, I still
believe in high school football and the purity of the game. He learned a lot
about teamwork, sportsmanship, and perseverance playing ball. Watching most
(not all, mind you) pro players today those things seem to be absent. I have no
desire to give my time or my dollars to such foolishness.
So, this Sunday will find me
working around the house, catching a movie on Netflix, or sleeping in my
recliner. You won’t find me watching the “Big Game” but, if it’s a Friday night
in November, you might just see me under the Friday night lights.
gregoryjoel.com 