Cat Tricks

DSCN1758

Believe it or not, cats can be taught to do tricks. They can even be taught to use the toilet. Doing so requires patience and skill, both of which I lack, so our cats are pretty much as they came out of the can. They do have two tricks: eating and sleeping. They do both very well. We seem to acquire cats which are strong minded and not about to do a trick for anyone. Nacho will play with a pencil and is an excellent eight-pound guard animal, staying with me and lying between me and anyone who would do me harm. So watch out! If you want a piece of me, you’ll have to deal with a piece of a fighting mad dilute tortie/Siamese mix.

My brother once had a cat that he wore on the top of his head like a hat. (Our cats don’t like to be picked up,  much less worn as a fashion statement.) I was thinking about this when I was trying to remember if we had had any cats who would do tricks, and it put me in mind of the popularity of the Davy Crockett Disney TV series, with Fess Parker as DC and Buddy Ebsen as Georgie Russell, his sidekick. (I need to do a piece on sidekicks. There don’t seem to be many around any more, and I miss them. Batman and Robin, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Wild Bill Hickok and Jingles, the Cisco Kid and Pancho,  Huck and Jim, Han and Chewie…you get the idea.) Anyhow, Fess Parker wore a coonskin cap on his head, which is pretty strange if you think about it, although if the one you owned got messed up, you’d just shoot another coon and turn it into a hat. Parker’s model didn’t have the head on it. I think John Wayne’s did when he played Davy in the movie The Alamo. Or maybe that was Daniel Boone. I forger who played that. Anyhow, every kid I knew would have killed for a coonskin cap, which is pretty weird when you consider that you’d be wearing a dead animal on your head. Granted, they didn’t have many sartorial choices on the frontier and couldn’t exactly trip on over to their local MLB store and buy a Nationals hat.

So, we do live in better times. I just wonder if Davy Crockett could train his cats.

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Friday Poem of the Week: Efficiency vs. Beauty and Grace

Daffodil

Efficiency vs. Beauty and Grace

Having left a car for my aunt to use
At the assisted living place where my Dad lives
While she visits him
I walk home, a distance of about half a mile
In the bright spring sunshine,
Wondering why I don’t walk more.
I see things I don’t see when I drive
But, darn it, I have places to go and
People to see and don’t have the time
To walk everywhere and so I don’t.

But I should.

I remember my grandmother talking about
Walking to see people a distance of eight miles
One way. That would take five hours total,
Visiting time not included.
Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy walked
Twenty miles in a day just for a lark
Or a daffodil or a beautiful spring lea.

I am such a weakling, insulated from nature
Most of the time, moving from heated space
To heated space or air conditioning to air conditioning.

I am missing out on so much Beauty and Grace
In the name of cold Efficiency.

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A Tale of Peter Rabbit…or Not…

Ken Duck's humane rabbit trap. Nice woodworking, Mr. Duck!

Ken Duck’s humane rabbit trap. Nice piece of woodworking, Mr. Duck!

This post is courtesy of fellow Manassas Chorale member and aerospace enthusiast Ken Duck. We’ve known Ken and his wife Myrtle for years: he’s a gentle and affable sort who also plays in a band (not a rock band, but one using instruments like horns and reeds), and Myrtle is a smiling and sharp lady who taught both our girls math. Enjoy Mr. Duck’s tale of rabbits run amok and his solution…and he did not call on Elmer Fudd to hunt wabbits…because as the Geico commercial might say, “Elmer Fudd can’t hunt wabbits because he’s not real. He’s a cartoon, and cartoon characters can’t hunt real rabbits.”

As many of you who know Mike, Zuill, John, and me, must understand by now that we are badly frustrated by rabbits, especially on Station Four at the Bull Run Shooting Center sporting clays course. Mike, Zuill, and John know that, as I often do when facing a challenge, I built a mathematical model of the situation, and it worked… once! Myrtle has now developed her own rabbit frustration, i.e., a 3/4 grown rabbit is chowing down on all the expensive plants in her new garden. As cute as he is, M is about to go postal on him. She even bought a trout net at Target to try to catch him for relocation. Me, being a bit of a smart aleck, offered to lend her the Beretta 12 gauge or the Benelli 20 gauge to deal with the problem, once and for all. She feels my suggestion would not work because:

1. She’d probably shoot herself in the foot;
2. The neighbors, the rabbit, and Prince William County’s finest would not be happy, especially in the middle of the night when the critters typically dine.

All that being said, I decided to take a different tack, namely, to build a live trap and take the captured bunny deep in the forest, spin him around fourteen times and release him to the wild. I remembered that my eccentric Uncle Bernie, my mom’s oldest brother, who farmed at night because it was cooler, used to have similar traps near all his crops because he liked to eat rabbits, and any trapped rabbit didn’t pilfer his crops either.

I must say that my trap looks a bit more finished than my uncle’s. This fine trap has now been baited with fresh carrots and spinach and placed in the garden. Tomorrow, I’ll publish chapter 2, especially if I’m successful. This project has kept me off the street and out of saloons all afternoon long.

Can you guess what M wants now? She has a Bambi problem too. Do you think this trap could be scaled up to deer size? It would certainly need wheels for portability.

Ken

I’ll post the results of this episode of Call of the Wild when I get them!

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A Floral Surprise

Day Lilies (not mine)

Day Lilies (not mine)

I have a brown thumb. I know it, and I admit it. So when I got some day lilies last summer to go around the mail box, I wasn’t surprised when the leaves turned yellow and died. Maybe I watered them too little; maybe I watered them too much; maybe I planted them too deeply; maybe I didn’t plant them deep enough. I don’t know. I’ve killed plants off so frequently I just shrugged at this latest example of floracide and went on. The poor plants endured as some dry brown husks.

Then, this spring, I noticed that they were coming back! They had greened up, and one of the two plants started growing. Now it has nice yellow flowers. The other is still stunted but still, it’s green!

I reported my experience to a lady in choir who knows a whale of a lot about plants and flowers. She said, “Well, you can’t kill day lilies. They’ll live in a ditch by the side of the road and they don’t care if it’s too wet or too dry.” I was glad to hear they were hard to kill, but not as impressed with my success in bringing them back. I didn’t do anything after all, but apparently if I want real success with day lilies, I need to dig a ditch by the side of the road.

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Friday Poem of the Week: June 6

D-Day

June 6

A day in late spring

In which I did a little painting of part of a cinder block wall

Wrote on the computer for several hours

Had three good meals

Listened to the radio

And took a nap

But I was thinking

Of June 6 sixty-nine years before

And a place an ocean removed from my comfortable home.

D-Day

And of the thousands of men and women involved in the greatest invasion in history

Dropping into danger, coming ashore under murderous fire, scaling high cliffs,

Dying, wounded, striving and finally prevailing on that day,

The beginning of the end for the Thousand-Year Reich.

My mother talked of ironing and listening to the news on the radio

My father was somewhere in Burma or China or India

(He said they often didn’t know where they were)

And I am right here, musing that there was so little notice of the sacrifices made on this day

And thinking that there needs to be some kind of notice.

And so, brave soldiers, sailors, airmen, people on the home front, here is your notice:

On this day I salute you and I thank you, living and dead, for your sacrifice

That gave me this peaceful day

On June 6

So many years

Later.

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Smart Phone, Dumb User

It's too much! Make it stop!

It’s too much! Make it stop!

So, I had an iPhone and liked it. It was easy to use and kept me up on what was going on. Then the battery went dead. And because I am cheap, I ordered a battery and tried to replace it myself. Uh-oh, problemo. I tore the phone up trying to put it together, so I needed a replacement. The friendly folks at AT&T waived the time remaining on my contract since we have been with them since 1999, so I got a nice free Samsung Galaxy 4 or some other number between 1 and 10. That’s when the trouble started. I liked being able to keep up, but answering a call required that I (1) swipe the screen and (2) slide a circle on the screen over. That was hard to do with one hand after I had gotten the phone out of my pocket. I missed a number of calls and then had to go through more contortions to get the voice mail, if I could figure out I had voice mail.

After a couple of months of this frustration, I decided I needed a nice dumb flip phone to solve my telephonic problems, so I called the nice people at AT&T and said I wanted to downgrade my phone. The nice lady on the line said I wasn’t eligible for an upgrade yet. Apparently they don’t get too many requests to downgrade, so I repeated my request. She allowed as how I could get a “Go Phone,” which is a phone without a contract, so I did. I also could send in my smart phone from the infernal regions and get money for it, which more than paid for the Go Phone. I was money ahead!

The Go Phone arrived and “all” I had to do was put the SIM chip (phone identity thingie) from my old phone into the new phone. Unfortunately, the SIM chip was smaller than the allotted slot in the new phone, so I hied myself over to the internet and found instructions on how to make a small SIM chip holder out of an old credit card. Through skill, patience, perseverance and using a new X-acto blade, I made said SIM chip holder. I put it in the new phone and it worked! And all my contacts (200 of  ’em) were there! Couldn’t figure out how to move my calendar over to the new phone but I had kept a paper backup (always keep a backup, boys and girls!) and went back to using that. I sent the old phone off to AT&T where it was changed into a nice credit on a little card. How precious! How spendable!

So, I’m not up with it as I used to be, but I can answer calls by flipping open my phone. And after all, I’m still listening to CD’s. Rock on, boomers! Sometimes (not always) the old ways are the best ways!

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Once Again, with Feeling!

Photo by Larry Brewer

Photo by Larry Brewer

This weekend was a good one for music, even if I do say so myself. The Manassas Chorale (of which I am a member–tenor II, and–full disclosure–my wife Becky directs) ended its nineteenth season with a spring concert of patriotic music entitled “A Star-Spangled Celebration” which was presented to a sold-out house at the Hylton Performing Arts Center on the Prince William Campus of George Mason University. The concert went well, and included arrangements of a number of red white and blue favorites, including “The Star Spangled Banner,” “God Bless America,” “Battle Hymn of the Republic” (in a timeless arrangement by Peter Wilhousky), “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” and “America, the Beautiful,” in addition to some “new” arrangements and songs such as “Riversongs” (a medley by Joseph Martin), “Thank You, Soldiers,” “Salute to Our Grand Old Flag” (ably voiced by a sixty-voice children’s honor chorus of elementary students selected by their music teachers), “Let Freedom Ring” (written and made popular by Barry Manilow), “A Festive Call to Freedom,” and in recognition of veterans and active-duty military, “A Tribute to the Armed Forces,” in which each branch of service’s anthem was sung.

One of the most touching and outstanding pieces as far as I was concerned was American composer Mark Hayes’ setting of Abraham Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address.” Hayes’ arrangement, paired with his orchestration, enhanced the rhythm, musicality and nuances of Lincoln’s two-minute speech delivered nearly 150 years ago. Singing it gave me chills, and that doesn’t happen too often!

The audience for the evening was appreciative and complimentary. We anticipate another good year for our twentieth season. If you are interested in more information about the Chorale or in joining us in the fall (we are an auditioned group), visit the Chorale website at http://www.manassaschorale.org/home.aspx.

And in the words of Joseph Martin, “Let music live!”

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Song of the Week: Blessings

Blessings

Our choir at church is doing an SATB version of this song by Laura Story. The words and ideas struck me, and I heard the solo version on the radio while doing some painting at our church yesterday. I took that as a sign that I should post it here. Enjoy!

Here’s a condensed version of an interview with Laura Story in which she talks about how the song came to be written.

Laura Story had a highly successful career as a contemporary Christian singer. She would have described herself as blessed in the conventional sense of the word. In 2005, she married a handsome athlete and began working in music and women’s ministry at the 4,000-member Perimeter Church in Atlanta. Her 2008 national debut Great God Who Saves, won a Dove Award for Inspirational Album and earned Laura two consecutive nominations for Female Vocalist of the Year
But a brain tumor hospitalized her husband in 2006. The faith Story sang about was put through the unexpected fires of fear and loneliness. Most young newlyweds don’t imagine being kept alive at one point by breathing machines or having to find their way through significant post-operative vision and memory loss. Could grace notes resound from such a life-altering struggle?
The answer, according to Laura, is a resounding “Yes!” She declares, “We have a voice that wasn’t there prior to this suffering. I can hardly begin to tell you of the hundreds of hurting people we’ve prayed with, people going through more than we have. This is a chance to share the Gospel.” The song “Blessings” came from her experience.
She says of it:
The song shows that we still have more questions than answers. But there’s a decision that I find God is asking us to make. Are we going to judge God based on our circumstances, or are we going to choose to interpret our circumstances based on what we hold to be true about God?
Our circumstances have magnified the blessing of marriage. As high school sweethearts, we faced the strong chance that our long-awaited marriage bond might last just two years. Once you’ve rallied through a life-threatening illness together, the rest of it is like a surprise; every day is a new gift that might not have been there. It’s not as big a deal now if he leaves his socks on the floor.
It hasn’t been easy. Everyone wants to be a mature and equipped follower, but would I have signed up had I known what it would take? God has grown us up, deepened our faith, our awareness of our great need for Him as a Savior, daily. We knew it before, but we didn’t see it.
Life is filled with things you don’t expect, but the Bible tells us to respond by trusting God and continuing to worship Him. Martin hasn’t received complete healing, and that can be hard when we view God as all-powerful and all-loving. But here we are now saying, “Yes, this is how faith works. God has proven to be faithful.”
We have been truly blessed out of a circumstance that at first didn’t seem like much of a blessing at all. God is love. He tells us so repeatedly in the Bible. Yet sometimes it doesn’t feel like He loves us. What if we pray for our loved ones to make it through, but they pass away before we even say goodbye? What if we pray for our children to grow up healthy but instead we watch them suffer a life-threatening illness? What if we pray for that little extra money to make ends meet, but we end up losing our home?
It’s devastating when we don’t see God’s answers to our prayers. “We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near.” What if the very thing that is best for us isn’t the same as what we’re praying for? All the while, God hears each spoken need. He loves us way too much to give us lesser things. God is watching over always, directing every moment we experience. So if He isn’t answering our prayers how we think He should, does that mean He isn’t answering? Or could it be something else? Could it possibly be that He’s really blessing us?

Wise words, and wise thoughts to think about.

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Waltz of the Cicadas

Cicada

Well, the cicadas have been out for about three weeks or so now, so I suppose I need to write about them.  I recall they came out the year I graduated from college,  in ’70. That would be 1970, not 1870, as you might expect. They were all over the place then, and I associate them with my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, who squealed and jumped every time she came across one of them. And there were a lot of them on the sidewalks. The way she reacted to them is one reason I broke up with there. The other reasons are not important now.

I hear the eerie siren call (except I don’t need to be tied to no mast to resist it) of the cicadas every time I step outside the house, and sometimes when it’s really quiet, I hear them inside the house. When that business started a while back, I thought a pipe had burst. No, donkey, it’s only the invasion of the seventeen-year insectoids. Their sound reminds me of the noise made by alien space ships in the ’50’s sci-fi films. They’re out there in the woods, and they’re planning to take us over! Maybe they’ll start with Washington and take over Congress. You know, that might be such a bad idea. They could turn out the present crew in power, enact a bunch of thoughtful and far-reaching legislation that would change everything for the better, and then go burrow in the ground for seventeen years and leave us alone until we needed them again. Does that sound like a plan to you? It does to me!

I also think cicadas look like something from another planet. I know they’re an entomologist’s dream. [I wanted to write “etymologist,” but that’s someone who studies word origins, like the origin of the phrase, “sci fi.” It’s a contraction of the phrase “science fiction (duh), and Britannica’s 1955 Book of the Year used it, so that’s when things underwent a contraction. Now it’s even the name of a cable channel, but they spell it funny: “Sy Fy.” As if, you wacky cable channel people!] Anyhow, cicadas just creep me out. I know they can’t help it and their life cycle is amazing (if you can call it a life: hang out underground for seventeen years, come up out of the earth, sing your heart out, mate, and die. Almost bad as a penguin’s life. Hatch, march to the sea, jump in, eat, maybe be devoured by a sea lion, jump out, waddle back to the mating grounds. If you’re a lady, lay an egg. If you’re a male, sit on the darn egg until it hatches, herd the baby penguin to the sea where you eat for the first time in who knows how long, maybe be eaten, and repeat the whole process over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. No, thanks. Even with this messed up world, I like being a human. So good luck to us all, cicadas, penguins and people we’re all going to need it!

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Evensong Bells–Candlelight Concert, Bruton Parish Church

handbells

Here’s a video of the group, shot by friends of bell player Jane Cole. I’m in the back, mostly hidden from view.

The concert runs about 54 minutes and features a variety of music. Enjoy!

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