Can You Hobby Without A Lobby

YOU KNOW THAT NOT EVERYONE WHO TALKS, knows what they’re talking about; right? I have a hunch that the louder, the bolder, the more dogmatically someone talks, the greater the chance they don’t know what they’re talking about. But don’t take my word for it; I don’t know what I’m talking about.

This little essay falls smack dab in the middle of me talking about something I know very little about. But that hasn’t stopped me before. Don’t look at this as so much advice or guidance but more like a cry for help. So, with all of that disclaimed, let’s dive in. I’ll admit it, I fall into that category of weak, frail, old-people who need to stay at home, even though I feel like a fraud because I see myself as active, hip, wise, virile, and cool. Now I see that is the fraudulant persona. The more accurate one is the old, weak, vulnerable one. But enough of the self-misdiagnosis.

For now, we are “shut-ins”. That’s what the church used to call folks like this. “Let’s pray for the shut-ins.” Then the title was upgraded to “homebound”. Sticks and stones. I’m one of those persons for a while and maybe you are too.

My Amazing-Missus is much better at this than I am. But she has a hobby! She’s a sewing machine—not like the actual Singer or PFAFF, but in the productivity sense. Every now and then I go to the door of her sewing room and look in and wish I had a hobby. I’m sure she also wishes I had a hobby because when I get bored I play my drums.

I do have options: I have a guitar, a ukulele, but arthritis in my fingers. Thankfully I can still hold drumsticks, type and use the TV remote. I used to paint a little; watercolors were my medium of choice. I still have my brushes, paper and water, but lack the paints.

I’ve noticed a number of online offerings and ideas for learning new tricks. But nothing is ringing the bell yet.

Classes from MASTERCLASS

Classes from MASTERCLASS

Which brings me to this: for a while it looked like the Green’s would be keeping their lobby for hobbies open. Experts are advising that social distancing can be more fun with a hobby. If we all need a hobby. We need a lobby, right? But alas…

I’m sheltering in place so I need to ponder a hobby from the safety of home. I’ll need a soundtrack for this. Maybe Spotify has a playlist of Hobby-Lobby-esque music or as I like to call it: “Kenny G Plays Through the Baptist Hymnal”.

With stuff we have on hand I could do a bit of macaroni art, but we might need to eat that. Papier mâché is out. We may need all of our loose paper. I could convert the garage to a den but I sold my circular saw to help pay for the Airstream® which we could take on a social distancing road trip but RV parks are closing too for some odd reason.

Back in my psuedo-hippie days, I did some freelance tie-dying. I also did some leatherwork—watch bands, belts, bracelets, etc. That was always fun.

Many, many videos later—YouTube leather crafters have encouraged and emboldened me. To the Tandy Leather website! It’s not working, apparently Tandy is in the same boat as Hobby Lobby. Some of the YouTubers recommended Springfield Leather Company. I gave them a call. Very nice, very helpful. I spent the evening filling a “shopping cart” with the tools and goods for my new hobby. The next morning I went back to the website to place my order; “Springfield Leather has shut down”.

Finally I found a couple of online shops still up and running. I talked to wonderfully helpful people like Emmy and Robin from Rocky Mountain Leather Co. They actually did a FaceTime call with me to show me some leather they were recommending.

So with apologies to my vegan friends, I have a hobby and I didn’t even need the lobby. COBBLE ON! (As soon as my order arrives and I open it with gloves and douse with Lysol.)

THE OLD SHOE COBBLER BY STEVE MCKINZIE. FINEARTAMERICA.COM

THE OLD SHOE COBBLER BY STEVE MCKINZIE. FINEARTAMERICA.COM

AT THE RISK OF BEING HER

pollyanna.jpg

“That’s not good.”

I was sitting in the right seat of a small twin-engine plane, next to the pilot. We were on our way to Portland, Oregon and had stopped for fuel in Boise, Idaho. As we took off I saw from the air the ugly blue artificial turf on the football field of Boise State University. I remember thinking, “I’m so glad God didn’t make the grass blue, and where did that whole musical genre called Bluegrass get that name?”

I also noticed the ominous dark clouds looming directly in front of us. Then a voice on the radio from a tower somewhere tracking our flight said, “I will be losing you for a while.” And then asked for some kind of information. My good friend, the pilot, said something about two souls being on board. TWO SOULS! SOULS?! I don’t like that sound of that! And then he gave the guy the phone numbers of our next of kin.

Within a few minutes, my good friend, the very good pilot said, “That’s not good.” “What?! What’s not good” flew the words from my paniked soul. I’m not sure if I said that out loud or not. “We’re picking up some ice on the wings. I’m going to take us higher hoping the air will be cold enough the ice won’t stick. Our plane isn’t pressurized and we have no oxygen on board. Keep an eye on your fingernails and let me know if they start to turn blue. We’re going to be flying pretty high.”

The strategy didn’t work. I asked, “Why not fly lower, in warmer air.?”

“The Rockie mountains are below us.” Oh yes, there’s that.

Could we turn around and go back? We would still be flying through the ice-filled clouds, just the opposite direction.

I became stuck in the moment; in that quagmire of limited understanding, of blindness, of panic.

That happens to us doesn’t it, sometimes. You know. When all we can do is wash our hands a lot, watch the Law & Order marathon and wonder what will happen if I get to the end of Netflix and Amazon Prime. Am I the only one wondering if a diet of vienna sausages and ramen noodles will impact my cholestoral levels? Is it wrong to look at the toliet paper supply in our house and remind Jesus of the loaves and fishes story?

When we are no longer able to change a situation - we are challenged to change ourselves.
— Viktor E. Frankl

Hold on for a minute. NO, I am not comparing our current state with the one that defined Viktor Frankl’s life. Not in the least. I am merely sharing a truthful quote as a bit of perspective for myself.

Back to the icy airplane. Obviously we made it through that storm. Just as I was in the midst of promising God I would go be a missionary in a bluegrass commune or something, a voice on the radio cracked through the thin air of the cockpit saying we were on his radar, we were beyond the Rockies, and could descend to warmer air. Oh the relief when that ice begin to break off of our wings!

How had my good friend the really good pilot managed to keep from freaking out like his passenger was? He had been there before. He know it was just a matter of minutes before we crossed over the mountains and could descend from icy air and sheer panic.

Sometimes the uncertainty can be a bit paralyzing right? Unfortunatley the virus spread has been devastating for many and many more will be impacted. But maybe we can change the situation a little bit. Stay home if you can. Wash your hands. Pray hard and unselfishly.

Maybe we can change ourselves in the midst of all of this. When it passes let’s all go out to eat, a lot, to help our favorite places bounce back. Let’s be more grateful. Let’s remember this so we don’t take community for granted. I don’t know when, but at some point we will clear the mountains and descend to warmer air.

Is the movie “Pollyanna” on that new Disney+ thing?

GOOD TIMES BAD TIMES

In the days of my youth
I was told what it means to be a man
Now I've reached that age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can
No matter how I try
I find my way to the same old jam
Good times, Bad times
You know I’ve had my share
When my woman left home
With a brown eyed man
Well, I still don't seem to care

So sang Led Zeppelin in 1969, in their song “Good Times Bad Times”. As an 18 year-old, I stupidly thought I could relate to that first stanza and still do--until you get to lines 9 through 11. Trying to ponder those lines today, I'm sure that if My Amazing-Missus were to leave home with a brown-eyed man, I would care deeply. Would I blame her? I'm not even going to speculate.

I loved this song. I loved the whole album. I remember playing it in a loop on the 8-track player in my 1940 Ford. While the poetry of the lyrics was worth the price of purchase, John Bonham's drum licks were the thing that kept me coming back. Just listen to what he does on Good Times Bad Times! At 18, those times seemed more simple, more good. Easier.

40ford-2.jpg

Of course the fact is that 1968 and 1969 and 1970 were some of the most tumultuous times in our nation's history: the assassinations of John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. Race riots, political unrest. A war with no end in sight. Protests over that war and the Kent State University killings.

And today? Are you ready for some good times or at least some good news?

These days, in my head, I'm drawing parallels between that Summer of '69 when I was 18 and this Summer of my 69th Year. I can say without doubt that in every season there are Good Times and Bad Times at the same time.

We cannot be happy if we expect to live all the time at the highest peak of intensity. Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony. Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm.
— Thomas Merton from essays published in 1955 titled "No Man Is An Island

That title, "No Man Is An Island", reminds me of the Simon & Garfunkel song, "I Am A Rock. I Am An Island". So, which is it?

Think about where we are right now, if we assume that we are where the headlines of the day put us (although there’s some question about that). Now read Paul Simon's lyrics:

I Am a Rock
By Paul Simon

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock I am an island

I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain
I am a rock I am an island

Don't talk of love
I've heard the words before
It's sleeping in my memory
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died
If I never loved I never would have cried
I am a rock I am an island

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me
I am a rock I am an island

And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries

Let's consider the coronavirus as one of those current headlines. Some wisdom says isolation is prudent, and while it comes to physical contact at least for a time that may be true, but if we hunker down and bunker down and say stupid stuff like: "Not my Circus, not my monkeys" we sound as crass and naive as Simon's protagonist. I saw a report of a few politicians calling this the "Wuhan Virus". That is irresponsible, destructive and brings nothing to the quest of finding solutions. The solution, whatever it is, will be found as a community through cooperation, honesty, wisdom, scientific knowledge and prayer; not in idealogical isolation and fortress-building.

I was idealistic at 18. I am idealistic at 69. I believe that Good Times and Bad Times come and go together. Like Merton said, "...without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm."

THE GLUE

pm_photo.jpg

I DON’T KNOW THESE WOMEN; and yet, I do. I know them well. I was literally raised in church; enrolled in the “Cradle Roll Department” of the Brookside Baptist Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at just a few weeks of age. This picture was posted on Facebook by my friend Phillip Mitchell along with this comment: “These ladies were the glue that held the Ada Church of God In Christ together! Much love to them for all the prayers they sent up for us!”.

I say we are friends but I’ve yet to met Phillip face to face. I know him only by his work, his calling and his obvious commitment to youth and the arts—two of my highest priorities. And in this passion, he and I are kindred spirits.

I have been in many, many churches in my life and in every one of those churches, if it still has a heartbeat, there is a core of women who are THE GLUE. They hold it together through the “prayers they send up for us”, through their discipline, their discipleship and their determination.

My Dad was a Baptist pastor for most of my life. His mother, his wife and his sister, Betty were church glue too. Sometime back, Baptist leadership (men) decided it was time to proclaim a twisted version of the Bible that somehow made the role of women as subservient to men. This took on varying degress of craziness and application. It was an exercise in blindness as far as I could tell. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

One day, not to many years ago, my Aunt Betty Brady was visiting my parents home. We were there too. We were all crowded in the kitchen while the meal was being prepared. Something was said about trends in the Baptist church and the role of women. My Dad made a comment about how he could see where the view came from with a strict reading of Paul’s letters. I don’t remember his exact words, but I remember my Aunt Betty’s: “Oh, Brother, you know better than that!” And he did too. I never remember my Dad, after that day, commenting on the role of women except to maybe acknowledge that: “There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Galations 3:28.

Glue indeed! It seems like we’re geared to think of the pastor’s sermon on Sunday morning as being the pinnacle of the church’s being. Try sustaining a church that only had that. Even Billy Graham needed a choir. If you look deeply into the life of a church you’ll find music, fellowship—being together usually around the table, you’ll find Vacation Bible School, Sunday School, ministries to the shut-in, the poor, the grieving—meals taken to the home, funeral dinners, and just being present. Where would all of that be without the Glue?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that the only thing men are good for is changing the oil on the church bus. Sometimes I think it would be easier to pick new carpet for the sanctuary if the women weren’t in that business meeting, but I would hate to see that carpet.

I’m just saying: Phillip’s post helped me to remember the wonderful, beautiful women who have served and given and prayed, not for notoriety or a title, but because they seemed called to do it somehow. They seemed to understand the need for Glue. Now, more than ever.

Thank you to all of those women and to the women of the Ada Church of God in Christ. Please send up some prayers for us all.


P.S.: I asked Phillip’s permission to share this. I wanted you to see his reply because it is rich with truth.

Dave,

Thank you for your very kind words of reassurance and your well wishes for our family. We are indeed well and offer our best wishes to you and yours as well.

One of the reasons that young people of today suffer…is because they don’t have the support system that you and I had. What is a support system? It’s the Glue!

The ladies that you see in that picture never hesitated to open the door to anyone who knocked. Many of them were single women, but you could still count on them to open their door, and extend their love to anyone they encountered. The men too in our neighborhood, never hesitated to show somebody else’s kid how to comb his hair, tie a tie, change his oil, or fix his lawn mower.

This is where I learned the importance of being a godmother or a godfather to kids who are not your own. On February 22nd at the Oklahoma history center, through the organization that you helped to start, P’Light Society Jazz Inc., I had the opportunity to present community awards to several individuals who have shown this magnificent trait!

I would like to send you more information and pictures as well as video of that incredible day. You certainly have our blessings on sharing the pictures from our humble beginnings!

Have a spectacular day my friend!

PMM