Not Funny

Waiting on events.

Idleness.
Devil's workshop?
Voltaire said, " All people are good except those who are idle."

Pretty bad self-assessment!

"We never live; we are always in the expectation of living."

I should have my head examined.
"Not to be occupied, and not to exist, amount to the same thing."
Couldn't have said it better. It's really too bad. Tough all over.

Get occupied.

Take a picture.
Work it out.
Could be worse.

Treating People

Really something. The pastor mentioned Alexander Whyte.
He wrote this, which, of course, brought to mind Galen.
Looking for accompanying image, came across the one presented.
One of a series I saw every school day in the drug store window!

Waiting for the bus. Never thought I'd be involved in medicine.
That's to say, had other career interests, mostly of getting hits...
...and throwing guys out on the base paths. Every time. Yup.
It wasn't until too late, etc., but I remember these plates.


He preached on Acts 10. Cornelius and Peter meet.
The supervention of custom; the Gospel goes global.

Genotypicality transcended, all are welcome. No barriers.
Great story in the telling, difficult in its application.

Significant that Roman soldier and Jewish tradesman attain agreement by dint of their visions, an implication being it couldn't happen otherwise. How do we treat people who are not only the sociological "outgroup" but also repugnant or castigated as such by the "ingroup?" Well, everybody gets treated! And treated well.

Composure

Out for a spin and a grove preserved. Got to be dates.
To say timing not right toward Suns date a stretch.
Timing all off, really; too old, too broke; too out of it.
And the Suns lose. All within diminished expectations.

Shows to go. Were I a gambling man, I'd know better.

Agendas

When we were boys, my uncle, a career Army man, brought my brother and I to Arlington Cemetery. I suppose I was in the sixth grade. We'd gone to the Pentagon and Fort Meade. I think I took my first pictures there with an Instamatic, and specifically remember a shot of the map diagramming the Pentagon's floor plan of concentric rings and radiating corridors, the flash bursting onto the plate glass. The print now somewhere in the flotsam of life, I still have a photographic memory of Arlington.

The Custis-Lee mansion was filled with decorations of the Unknowns from other countries. We waited patiently, as instructed by our uncle, for the hourly changing of the guard. He told us about the "Third Herd," the 3rd Infantry and its contingent making up the Honor Guard. Spit and polish; exact and flawless. Walking the mat. We'd no idea of what we were in for. Totally fascinating, it was. I never forgot, and, if there's any "moral compass" or notion of wandering from the U.S. of A., well, this pretty much puts the kibosh on that.

We went on to John Kennedy's grave. The service covers were still emplaced at the time. The country was still reeling from his murder, factions divisive gaining influence. Quite a lot for boys to handle on the one hand, just the way it is on the other.

We proceeded to walk through the grounds toward the river and the Marine Corps installation. Very impressive. A beautiful day. Nowadays, here in Arizona, we know all about Ira Hayes and his troubles. It's all so mind bending; we wouldn't be so presumptive to see ourselves in his place on Suribachi yet walk in his moccasins for the travails - though, again, we don't have it near as bad. Such a sad story. One of many after their horrid experiences.

My uncle also attended my cousin's funeral soon after. On Long Island. He, a Ranger with the 9th Infantry, was shot down while doing forward air control in the Delta. As the Honor Guard reported and Taps blew, our eyes met, locked, and lit up. It was a "we are not afraid" moment I'll never forget. We held it together while everyone else fell apart. I'd participated in many funerals as an altar boy so was somewhat more rigored in that respect. Death, where is thy sting and all. But a terrible tragedy and we're very grateful through all the controversy.

I'd like to take a ride to the National Cemetery to my parents' repository but the truck is struggling. I've never planted flags like they do; not a veteran, I've never participated in such things. Had a thought to. Frankly, it would merely be a gesture, sure as we are of eternal life. That was what occurred those many years ago when our eyes sparkled... forever like.

Exercised

Great day. Last of "spring" if that's the time before centurion temps.
Out biking and a bunch of pictures, doing the best I can. Just doing.

Met a very interesting woman. Maybe see her tomorrow. Maybe.
Would be nice to see Suns with her, if she's inclined. If I gumption up.

(Just remembered Wilt Chamberlain taking up ballet.)

"Hey... it's a kinetic art form when it doesn't get too bruising."

If not, well, they've got to win. Hope they do.

Yeah, live in hope - never say die in despair.

Splat

Having hit wall, this presents, yet not on rebound, given our topic.
I'm going to go back. You'll see. Take some people too. We'll see.

Will have to make time to essay as well, I suppose. Will do.
"Get me outta here!" redounds elsewhere.

Went back and took in the whole. So stark. Bothers me.

I had wanted to sit at the entrance and take pictures of the patrons coming and going but there weren't any so I didn't have to deal with the protocol. Did have a brief conversation with someone sitting in the shade near the entrance reading a book. Tagged with an ID, she was evidently an employee on her break. The flag was at half-staff in the courtyard. I asked her why.

A Phoenix policeman was shot and killed a couple of days ago.

Oh my. Indeed. End of conversation.

My Dad was a policeman.

Treated me like a criminal sometimes; pressures of job.
We eventually got along famously!

End of essay.

Nothing but Trouble

Had a look at Durant's essays on the principals. An old, falling-apart, spineless paperback I first glanced at thirty years ago. Francis Bacon spoke to exactly the kinds of attitudes and perspectives mentioned below. I feel like I'm dealing with another sort of scholasticism where what one pedagogue says about scriptural text is passed along by another, based on nothing more than subjective authority and reverence, one meanwhile indeed respecting and revering the actors.

Bacon posits an inductive approach, descrying impediments:
* Idols of the Tribe - culturally imprinted suppositions

* Idols of the Den - vis Myth of the Cave; illusions and self-delusion

* Idols of the Marketplace - mass psychology impacted by slogans

* Idols of the Theatre - all above playing out in societal folly

So, gather the facts before impressing others with erudition?

Good idea... and, as it warms up in Phoenix, wish I was over there.
Frankly, can't much stand it here year round. Dull and strange people.

Little savoir-faire, everything reduced to money changing hands.