I think one very interesting thing in viewing our lives as stories, is how stories intersect. In this section Quins story begins to be intersected by the historical society's....
The Society had added a few new members in their first five years, but the Appendix Historical Society had not added another member in the past twenty years. A few members had let their annual membership dues of twenty-five dollars lapse, but most had let their health lapse and had had to be removed from the membership roll because they had been removed from the rolls of the living. Now there were only the five left for their quarterly meeting.
The meeting began with Red calling the meeting to order. The meeting always began promptly at nine even though all the members would be there by 8:30. They would gather at 8:30 and eat the day old plain and powdered donuts that Red had picked up that morning from the supermarket on the way to the meeting. They would also drink the scalding hot extra strong coffee that Red made at 8:15. Red was very precise when he made coffee. He always made certain that he filled the filter all the way to the top with grounds. With this method he consistently turned out very bitter, very dark, strong coffee.
The members talked ate donuts and drank coffee for half an hour as they sat on the metal folding chairs that are the staple of all church basements.
At about 8:58 Red would say to one of the members, “Well it is just about time to get this show on the road.” Then he would gravely get to his feet and walk to the podium that stood at the ready by the table that was home to the donuts and coffee. At precisely 9:00 AM he would begin the meeting by solemnly banging a gavel on the podium as loud as his old arm would allow; three times.
He had been banging the gavel since the first meeting of the historical society. Ed Reynolds had told Red that they needed a gavel, before the first meeting. He said that it would give the society legitimacy. Red immediately latched onto the idea. He had never led anything before in his life so the gavel became the symbol of his leadership and authority.
He learned in the first meeting that sometimes simply having the right costume is what matters. During that first meeting he banged the gavel and everyone came to attention. Later that meeting they had elected him president and he had been president ever since. He had led the historical society through six different US presidents.
That fall he again banged the gavel and brought the meeting to order. However on this day instead of handing the podium over to one of the other members to tell a story that the committee had heard a hundred times before, he kept the podium to himself. He decided that this would be the morning that he would share a plan that had been forming in his mind since early summer when he had first heard that his grandson would be moving home to teach at the college. He had rehearsed how he would deliver the plan a number of times before the meeting, and though he had practiced he was still a bit nervous, though he need not have been.
The four members of the audience listened in rapt attention as he unveiled his second stroke of genius.
He began with a bit of self- reflection. “Fellow members of the Appendix Historical Society, it has been my great pleasure to stand behind this podium and serve as your President for these past thirty years. I love this society as it has helped me remember the best days of my life. Ed Reynolds and I talked a number of years ago about the need to remember the great events of our youth, and we decided that we would invite others to help us in the remembering. Many joined us in this endeavor. The intention always was to remember and to commit the memories to paper, so as we passed on our memories would not.”
The members of the society nodded in agreement with all that Red was saying. “Well I’m sorry to say that many of our members in good standing have passed on, and yet we do not have anything on paper.” The members shook their head in grim recognition of the sad truth.
“Well ladies and gentlemen I suggest that this is no longer acceptable. I fear that I myself am drawing closer to that other side, and I do not want this work to be left undone. I propose that we draw upon the savings of the Historical society and commission a writer to write this history, so that after we are gone a record will remain of what life was like in our youth. So the chair will entertain a motion to commission a writer to write the history of Appendix, MI and its Carnivals.”
One of the members immediately jumped to their feet and shouted, “Mr. President, I move that a writer be commissioned to write a history of Appendix and its carnivals.” The other three remaining members said immediately in unison. “Second.”
Red smiled as he said, “It has been properly moved and seconded that the society commission a writer to write a History of Appendix and its carnivals. Is there any discussion?” Each member of the society basically repeated the gist of Red’s opening statement. They all hit the main points. They wanted to get something on paper so that the memories would live. Each also noted that a bunch of their members had “passed on,” and they were approaching that marker themselves. After the fourth member had spoken they brought the matter to a vote and the motion carried unanimously.
Red banged the gavel, “The motion carries. Now I suggest that we move quickly on this motion and commission a writer as soon as possible. I would like to make a suggestion, but it is of course entirely up to the society. I have no special say just because I am the president. Many of you probably remember my grandson Quin. He was the kid who pitched the shutout in the state championship game the year that Appendix won the state title. Well Quin has always loved Appendix and has moved back into the area. He is teaching literature at the College. He has studied writing and he loves Appendix, and I know that he would be willing and that he would do an outstanding job writing the history.”
Red paused. In that brief pause one of the members was on their feet. “Mr. President I move that the society commission a son of Appendix, Professor Quin Holsten to write the History of Appendix.” Again there was a unanimous second. Again Red asked for discussion and each member repeated similar things and the phrase “son of Appendix” was a particular favorite of the committee. The last member of the society to speak summed up the attitude of the whole, “Who could possibly better write a History of Appendix than one of her own sons. I urge the society to vote in unison on this very important matter.” They did just that.
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Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Prophet's Song and I how spent the entire talk on one thing - that we are the Temple
For Advent we are participating again this year in Advent Conspiracy with churches from around the Globe.
Our particular focus this year for Give More is Kenya Matters and their well project, which will supply clean water not only to the orphanage, but also to the surrounding area.
For advent we are also participating with Churches around the world in the lighting of Advent Candles which give a particular focus to each week of Advent. The first candle is the Prophecy Candle. This candle reminds us that the Old Testament is full of poetry and songs that point to Jesus the coming Messiah.
The readings for were from Isaiah 40 and Luke 1. I titled the talk The Prophet’s Song.
I started by pointing out how this season is a season of songs – Christmas songs are everywhere. Just this morning I heard one of the songs I reference Santa Baby. This is a fairly recent song, but there are ancient songs that go back millennia. One of the most ancient songs is found in Isaiah 40 which pointed to the Messiah’s forerunner, John the Baptist.
I discovered that I came into this talk a little overloaded with things to say. I had three things that I felt like the Spirit wanted to highlight from Luke 1 and Zechariah’s encounter with the angel. I somehow managed to really only get to one of them, and that was this. The ancient Jews believed that the temple was the place where Heaven and Earth met. The temple was the place where they believed God dwelt. Three primary things happened at the temple that we see in Luke 1: Sacrifice; worship and prayer.
The New Testament points to us as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. People who call on and follow Jesus are now the place where Heaven and Earth meet. I think that this means that our lives like the ancient temple are to be characterized by: Sacrifice; Worship; and prayer.
I really spent a bunch of time on Sacrifice and Worship and short-changed the prayer part, because it seemed important to spend time in worship at the end.
Regarding sacrifice there is an undeniable thread in the New Testament that refers to us taking up our cross, losing our lives, presenting ourselves as a living sacrifice. God it would seem is after our entirety of our lives. A shorthand way of representing this is to talk about our time; talent and treasure. I believe each of these areas will reveal what we value.
Regarding worship, I tried an experiment (about a quarter of the way into it I thought this is taking way to long – which it was), in which I read a fictional description of a Martian observing the “worship” practices of modern society. The excerpt is from the book Desiring the Kingdom by James K. A. Smith. Though it took way too long and that probably wasn’t the setting to read for an extended period of time, I thought the passage was brilliant in its description of the Mall as a place of worship. The point of the exercise was to help us recognize that our hearts are shaped by what we admire – by what we ascribe worth to (ascribing worth is the most basic definition of worship).
The point brothers and sisters is that there are many other things which compete for our allegiance and admiration, or as Rich Mullins beautifully said in song, “The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance, I owe only to the Giver of all good things.”
In the end I briefly referenced prayer and the exercise of thoughtfully praying through the prayer Jesus gave us as way of training our souls.
Then we closed in singing of the worth of our Great God.
My prayer is that we would be a community of Jesus followers who are characterize by our self-sacrificial love, extravagant worship and lives of prayer.
For advent we are also participating with Churches around the world in the lighting of Advent Candles which give a particular focus to each week of Advent. The first candle is the Prophecy Candle. This candle reminds us that the Old Testament is full of poetry and songs that point to Jesus the coming Messiah.
The readings for were from Isaiah 40 and Luke 1. I titled the talk The Prophet’s Song.
I started by pointing out how this season is a season of songs – Christmas songs are everywhere. Just this morning I heard one of the songs I reference Santa Baby. This is a fairly recent song, but there are ancient songs that go back millennia. One of the most ancient songs is found in Isaiah 40 which pointed to the Messiah’s forerunner, John the Baptist.
I discovered that I came into this talk a little overloaded with things to say. I had three things that I felt like the Spirit wanted to highlight from Luke 1 and Zechariah’s encounter with the angel. I somehow managed to really only get to one of them, and that was this. The ancient Jews believed that the temple was the place where Heaven and Earth met. The temple was the place where they believed God dwelt. Three primary things happened at the temple that we see in Luke 1: Sacrifice; worship and prayer.
The New Testament points to us as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. People who call on and follow Jesus are now the place where Heaven and Earth meet. I think that this means that our lives like the ancient temple are to be characterized by: Sacrifice; Worship; and prayer.
I really spent a bunch of time on Sacrifice and Worship and short-changed the prayer part, because it seemed important to spend time in worship at the end.
Regarding sacrifice there is an undeniable thread in the New Testament that refers to us taking up our cross, losing our lives, presenting ourselves as a living sacrifice. God it would seem is after our entirety of our lives. A shorthand way of representing this is to talk about our time; talent and treasure. I believe each of these areas will reveal what we value.
Regarding worship, I tried an experiment (about a quarter of the way into it I thought this is taking way to long – which it was), in which I read a fictional description of a Martian observing the “worship” practices of modern society. The excerpt is from the book Desiring the Kingdom by James K. A. Smith. Though it took way too long and that probably wasn’t the setting to read for an extended period of time, I thought the passage was brilliant in its description of the Mall as a place of worship. The point of the exercise was to help us recognize that our hearts are shaped by what we admire – by what we ascribe worth to (ascribing worth is the most basic definition of worship).
The point brothers and sisters is that there are many other things which compete for our allegiance and admiration, or as Rich Mullins beautifully said in song, “The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance, I owe only to the Giver of all good things.”
In the end I briefly referenced prayer and the exercise of thoughtfully praying through the prayer Jesus gave us as way of training our souls.
Then we closed in singing of the worth of our Great God.
My prayer is that we would be a community of Jesus followers who are characterize by our self-sacrificial love, extravagant worship and lives of prayer.
How the Appendix Historical Society got started and how Red found a sudden passion for basketball
When Ed Reynolds sat across from Red Wilson and started complaining about how the carnivals had gone to seed, he had a ready audience. Red nodded glumly in deep agreement. Then somewhere in the midst of this conversation, Ed said, “you know Red these kids today don’t have any idea what it was like back then, and their parents ain’t going to tell them.”
Red merely nodded in glum agreement, and he thought of his grandson Quin. Suddenly he was seized by the idea that Quin must someday know about the magic of the carnivals when Red was eighteen. He said with a sudden burst of energy that startled Ed, “So we’ve got to tell them, Ed,” and in that flash of passion and inspiration the Appendix Historical Preservation society was born.
They ran one advertisement in the local paper:
Anyone interested in preserving and documenting the history of our fine town and
the carnivals of the 1940’s is invited to the first meeting of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society. Tuesday, September First. We will meet at seven in the basement of the First Methodist Church.
There were twenty people at the first meeting, and Red was elected president of the society. Red’s wife said he was forming the society just so he could reminisce about the Chinese Acrobat. Red lied and said that that could not be farther from the truth, and that he wanted people in the town to understand their heritage and know about the good times they had had as they were kids.
Some of the members had wanted to create a complete history of the town, but most wanted to talk about the old carnivals they had snuck into. So eventually the society focused almost exclusively on the old carnivals and the founder of the carnivals, Wondermaker.
The committee still met in the basement of the First Methodist Church of Appendix. Red was still the president.
*
The society never learned that much amount the end of Wondermaker’s life. He had sort of faded away. All the members and Red in particular did know that he had had one daughter later in life. There were many in the community who whispered that the child must have been someone else’s. Red’s dad in particular had participated in this gossip.
Wondermaker’s daughter did not attend Appendix Schools until her freshman year. When she did arrive her freshman year, she had an immediate impact. Her name was Grace, and as a freshman she became a member of the Fighting Carny Cheer team. She had been trained since her youth to be a performer, and beyond that she was a natural. Suddenly men, including Red, who had not been to a football game since his graduation were showing up to the games and joining loudly in the cheers. Meanwhile on the field the Fighting Carnies took even more drubbings than usual.
The basketball games in particular, where the crowd is right up close to the cheerleaders were all sellouts. Red did not miss a home game and even found a way to make it to the road games. His wife of five years (along with many other wives in town) accused Red of going to the games “So that you can gawk at Wondermaker’s daughter, while she does all those flips and twists. You just think she is so pretty, don’t you?” Red always told some bland lie about showing team spirit. They did not miss a game.
After Grace Wondermaker graduated from Appendix High School, attendance fell off considerably. The one exception that year was the homecoming game. The tradition at homecoming is for the homecoming queen from last year to return to crown the new queen. Grace Wondermaker had been the previous year’s queen. The game sold out, and though the Wilson’s had not made a game that year, they were there for homecoming. Red told his wife, “It just doesn’t seem right not to cheer the team on at homecoming. We haven’t been to a game all year, because you complained so much last year, but we have to go to homecoming.” A bunch of other families in Appendix must felt the same way, because it was standing room only around the old Appendix field. No one went to the concession stand at halftime and when Grace Wondermaker was introduced as the previous year’s Queen, the crown including Red burst into loud applause.
Red merely nodded in glum agreement, and he thought of his grandson Quin. Suddenly he was seized by the idea that Quin must someday know about the magic of the carnivals when Red was eighteen. He said with a sudden burst of energy that startled Ed, “So we’ve got to tell them, Ed,” and in that flash of passion and inspiration the Appendix Historical Preservation society was born.
They ran one advertisement in the local paper:
Anyone interested in preserving and documenting the history of our fine town and
the carnivals of the 1940’s is invited to the first meeting of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society. Tuesday, September First. We will meet at seven in the basement of the First Methodist Church.
There were twenty people at the first meeting, and Red was elected president of the society. Red’s wife said he was forming the society just so he could reminisce about the Chinese Acrobat. Red lied and said that that could not be farther from the truth, and that he wanted people in the town to understand their heritage and know about the good times they had had as they were kids.
Some of the members had wanted to create a complete history of the town, but most wanted to talk about the old carnivals they had snuck into. So eventually the society focused almost exclusively on the old carnivals and the founder of the carnivals, Wondermaker.
The committee still met in the basement of the First Methodist Church of Appendix. Red was still the president.
*
The society never learned that much amount the end of Wondermaker’s life. He had sort of faded away. All the members and Red in particular did know that he had had one daughter later in life. There were many in the community who whispered that the child must have been someone else’s. Red’s dad in particular had participated in this gossip.
Wondermaker’s daughter did not attend Appendix Schools until her freshman year. When she did arrive her freshman year, she had an immediate impact. Her name was Grace, and as a freshman she became a member of the Fighting Carny Cheer team. She had been trained since her youth to be a performer, and beyond that she was a natural. Suddenly men, including Red, who had not been to a football game since his graduation were showing up to the games and joining loudly in the cheers. Meanwhile on the field the Fighting Carnies took even more drubbings than usual.
The basketball games in particular, where the crowd is right up close to the cheerleaders were all sellouts. Red did not miss a home game and even found a way to make it to the road games. His wife of five years (along with many other wives in town) accused Red of going to the games “So that you can gawk at Wondermaker’s daughter, while she does all those flips and twists. You just think she is so pretty, don’t you?” Red always told some bland lie about showing team spirit. They did not miss a game.
After Grace Wondermaker graduated from Appendix High School, attendance fell off considerably. The one exception that year was the homecoming game. The tradition at homecoming is for the homecoming queen from last year to return to crown the new queen. Grace Wondermaker had been the previous year’s queen. The game sold out, and though the Wilson’s had not made a game that year, they were there for homecoming. Red told his wife, “It just doesn’t seem right not to cheer the team on at homecoming. We haven’t been to a game all year, because you complained so much last year, but we have to go to homecoming.” A bunch of other families in Appendix must felt the same way, because it was standing room only around the old Appendix field. No one went to the concession stand at halftime and when Grace Wondermaker was introduced as the previous year’s Queen, the crown including Red burst into loud applause.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Red's brush with passion at the Carnival
One of my growing convictions is that we were meant for life... many of us will look for life in the wrong places, but we are nonetheless looking for life. This portion of the story is about Red looking for life.
Twenty-five years ago Jack Reynolds, sat down at the corner booth, his booth at The Caboose, and started talking with Red Wilson. Red at eighteen had snuck into the Carnival on the first day and had been smitten by a beautiful Chinese girl. The girl was also eighteen, and was at the freak-fest because she and her family were acrobats.
Red’s passions overwhelmed him. He snuck into the carnival for the rest of the week, and managed to offend the girl’s father with his persistent interest in his daughter. In so doing he made himself attractive to the girl, who had showed no interest in him prior to that.
The girl resented her whole family and the life of traveling around as an acrobat. So anybody who angered her father and had her father’s disapproval was someone she found irresistible. On the last day of the Carnival Red had once again managed to sneak in.
Wondermaker was always well aware of the kids from town sneaking into his Carney-Festival, but he didn’t care it boosted concession sales. It especially boosted sales at the beer tent.
Red and the Chinese acrobat managed a clandestine rendezvous in the straw pile of the horse-tent. They were just in the beginning stages of the throes of passion, and Red’s trembling hands were making their first fumbling gropes at regions of femininity they had never known previously. The acrobat was responding with willing passion as she dreamed of this Michigan farm boy rescuing her from life with her family of acrobats.
In these opening moments of passion Red and the girl had been discovered by her younger brother who had been sent by their father to look for her. He immediately reported what was happening to his father.
The father came running and would have thoroughly beaten, and possibly killed Red had the commotion not drawn a crowd that restrained the very angry little acrobat, before he could skewer Red with the pitchfork he had picked up as he entered the horse tent.
The incident had attracted enough attention that Wondermaker himself had been called in. Wondermaker did not mind the local kids sneaking in to boost sales, but he couldn’t have this commotion known in the town or there would be an uproar. So he very deftly arranged for Red to be dropped off in town, after he had talked with him and said that he understood the passions of a young man, but that the father just did not understand. Let him talk to him and see what he could work out. To this day Red still referred to Wondermaker as the greatest man he had ever met. Wondermaker soothed the angry acrobat, by having him and his family as his personal guests for dinner, which was the greatest honor that could be bestowed on those who attended the carnival.
This may have been the end of the incident if Red had not told his best buddy that he was in love with an acrobat and that Arnie Wondermaker was going to arrange it so that they could be together. His best friend told his girlfriend. His best friend’s girl friend told her mother, who was best friends with Red’s mother. She of course had told Red’s mom who told Red’s dad.
Red’s dad was a hot-tempered, frustrated farmer who was about to lose the family farm, he screamed and yelled at Red for about an hour. He was furious not that Red had been caught with a girl, (he was actually quite relieved to know that Red was not a homosexual, which had always been his deepest fear), but he was furious that the girl Red had been caught with was a “freak” and that she was a foreign “freak” no less. After yelling at his son, but being secretly relieved he went to go see Wondermaker who tried to pacify him, but had no success.
Red’s dad had started a petition to outlaw the Carnival for the Carnies, for corrupting the morals of the youth of Appendix, by that of course he meant introducing them to foreigners. A petition to end the Carnival was something that happened nearly every fifth year. Wondermaker had become accustomed to the petitions and he always managed to diffuse the situation, because the reality was that the carnival was a once a year economic boon for the merchants of the town.
Red had never seen the girl again, but his heart and his groin still ached when he thought of her; which he still frequently did. The carnival ended and all the freaks left town, and Red sank into a deep depression. The next year when the carnival returned the acrobats also returned, and Red’s spirits revived, but soon fell again when he found out that the beautiful daughter had not. Red learned what had happened by asking around, and finally by asking Wondermaker what had happened. Wondermaker told him that the father had arranged a marriage for his beautiful daughter to a Chinese merchant in California who was nearly twice the girls age, but was quite wealthy, and he had paid the father a very nice dowry. Red was devastated and furious.
He released his anger by vigorously pursuing his best friend’s girl friend who had told her mom about what had happened. He succeeded in stealing the girl from his friend and eventually married her. She nagged him for the forty years of their marriage to be romantic like he was when they were courting. He never was, but he did frequently think longingly and passionately about the Chinese Acrobat and his time of passion in the straw.
Red did show enough interest in the marriage to eventually after seven years produce one child, a daughter. His daughter, Linda, married a local boy, Buzz Holsten. They had one son, Quin.
The only times Red Wilson had been passionate in his life, outside of his encounter with the Chinese Acrobat was when his grandson Quin had led the Appendix Carneys to the state title in baseball, and when the Appendix Historical Preservation Society met.
Twenty-five years ago Jack Reynolds, sat down at the corner booth, his booth at The Caboose, and started talking with Red Wilson. Red at eighteen had snuck into the Carnival on the first day and had been smitten by a beautiful Chinese girl. The girl was also eighteen, and was at the freak-fest because she and her family were acrobats.
Red’s passions overwhelmed him. He snuck into the carnival for the rest of the week, and managed to offend the girl’s father with his persistent interest in his daughter. In so doing he made himself attractive to the girl, who had showed no interest in him prior to that.
The girl resented her whole family and the life of traveling around as an acrobat. So anybody who angered her father and had her father’s disapproval was someone she found irresistible. On the last day of the Carnival Red had once again managed to sneak in.
Wondermaker was always well aware of the kids from town sneaking into his Carney-Festival, but he didn’t care it boosted concession sales. It especially boosted sales at the beer tent.
Red and the Chinese acrobat managed a clandestine rendezvous in the straw pile of the horse-tent. They were just in the beginning stages of the throes of passion, and Red’s trembling hands were making their first fumbling gropes at regions of femininity they had never known previously. The acrobat was responding with willing passion as she dreamed of this Michigan farm boy rescuing her from life with her family of acrobats.
In these opening moments of passion Red and the girl had been discovered by her younger brother who had been sent by their father to look for her. He immediately reported what was happening to his father.
The father came running and would have thoroughly beaten, and possibly killed Red had the commotion not drawn a crowd that restrained the very angry little acrobat, before he could skewer Red with the pitchfork he had picked up as he entered the horse tent.
The incident had attracted enough attention that Wondermaker himself had been called in. Wondermaker did not mind the local kids sneaking in to boost sales, but he couldn’t have this commotion known in the town or there would be an uproar. So he very deftly arranged for Red to be dropped off in town, after he had talked with him and said that he understood the passions of a young man, but that the father just did not understand. Let him talk to him and see what he could work out. To this day Red still referred to Wondermaker as the greatest man he had ever met. Wondermaker soothed the angry acrobat, by having him and his family as his personal guests for dinner, which was the greatest honor that could be bestowed on those who attended the carnival.
This may have been the end of the incident if Red had not told his best buddy that he was in love with an acrobat and that Arnie Wondermaker was going to arrange it so that they could be together. His best friend told his girlfriend. His best friend’s girl friend told her mother, who was best friends with Red’s mother. She of course had told Red’s mom who told Red’s dad.
Red’s dad was a hot-tempered, frustrated farmer who was about to lose the family farm, he screamed and yelled at Red for about an hour. He was furious not that Red had been caught with a girl, (he was actually quite relieved to know that Red was not a homosexual, which had always been his deepest fear), but he was furious that the girl Red had been caught with was a “freak” and that she was a foreign “freak” no less. After yelling at his son, but being secretly relieved he went to go see Wondermaker who tried to pacify him, but had no success.
Red’s dad had started a petition to outlaw the Carnival for the Carnies, for corrupting the morals of the youth of Appendix, by that of course he meant introducing them to foreigners. A petition to end the Carnival was something that happened nearly every fifth year. Wondermaker had become accustomed to the petitions and he always managed to diffuse the situation, because the reality was that the carnival was a once a year economic boon for the merchants of the town.
Red had never seen the girl again, but his heart and his groin still ached when he thought of her; which he still frequently did. The carnival ended and all the freaks left town, and Red sank into a deep depression. The next year when the carnival returned the acrobats also returned, and Red’s spirits revived, but soon fell again when he found out that the beautiful daughter had not. Red learned what had happened by asking around, and finally by asking Wondermaker what had happened. Wondermaker told him that the father had arranged a marriage for his beautiful daughter to a Chinese merchant in California who was nearly twice the girls age, but was quite wealthy, and he had paid the father a very nice dowry. Red was devastated and furious.
He released his anger by vigorously pursuing his best friend’s girl friend who had told her mom about what had happened. He succeeded in stealing the girl from his friend and eventually married her. She nagged him for the forty years of their marriage to be romantic like he was when they were courting. He never was, but he did frequently think longingly and passionately about the Chinese Acrobat and his time of passion in the straw.
Red did show enough interest in the marriage to eventually after seven years produce one child, a daughter. His daughter, Linda, married a local boy, Buzz Holsten. They had one son, Quin.
The only times Red Wilson had been passionate in his life, outside of his encounter with the Chinese Acrobat was when his grandson Quin had led the Appendix Carneys to the state title in baseball, and when the Appendix Historical Preservation Society met.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Appendix Historical Society
I probably enjoyed this part of the writing as much as any. For whatever reason I found this part particularly fun. Maybe I was glad to take a break from Quin (who really was a bit of a drag to write about at times, and maybe I was also glad to be done with baseball for a bit)...
The second day of classes fell on the same day as the quarterly meeting of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society. The society consisted of five members all now in their early eighties. Three were female and two were males. All were life long residents of Appendix, who had been in their formative years when Arnie Wondermaker had begun his failed Ferris Wheel business and who had been teenagers when he began his successful carnival freak-fests.
While all of their parents had strongly disapproved of the happenings on the outskirts of town, they had been drawn to the assortment of odd-folk that gathered to make noise and have a hilarious time. To them the gatherings had been magical, giving faint hints of a life beyond farming, manufacturing and ice cream socials on Sunday after church. Without a doubt much of the appeal had been their parent’s disapproval. So at one point or another each of the members of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society, when they were teenagers, had slipped into the freak-fest and had had loud, hilarious times. The memory of these times could to this day stir their old blood, the many years and the true decadence of the youth of today making the memories more magical and more innocent than they actually were. It was the golden time of their life and it was sixty-five years ago.
The Society had formed twenty-five years ago when they were in their fifties and were old enough to be disappointed with how their lives had turned out and how their children had turned out. They would occasionally bump into one another at the local grill, The Caboose and there they would lament the current state of affairs in their life and in their town. They complained most strenuously during the annual Carney-fest, because it was certainly not what it was when they were in their youth. They would commiserate over the miserable state of the world around them, and talk of the golden past and it would become even more golden.
The second day of classes fell on the same day as the quarterly meeting of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society. The society consisted of five members all now in their early eighties. Three were female and two were males. All were life long residents of Appendix, who had been in their formative years when Arnie Wondermaker had begun his failed Ferris Wheel business and who had been teenagers when he began his successful carnival freak-fests.
While all of their parents had strongly disapproved of the happenings on the outskirts of town, they had been drawn to the assortment of odd-folk that gathered to make noise and have a hilarious time. To them the gatherings had been magical, giving faint hints of a life beyond farming, manufacturing and ice cream socials on Sunday after church. Without a doubt much of the appeal had been their parent’s disapproval. So at one point or another each of the members of the Appendix Historical Preservation Society, when they were teenagers, had slipped into the freak-fest and had had loud, hilarious times. The memory of these times could to this day stir their old blood, the many years and the true decadence of the youth of today making the memories more magical and more innocent than they actually were. It was the golden time of their life and it was sixty-five years ago.
The Society had formed twenty-five years ago when they were in their fifties and were old enough to be disappointed with how their lives had turned out and how their children had turned out. They would occasionally bump into one another at the local grill, The Caboose and there they would lament the current state of affairs in their life and in their town. They complained most strenuously during the annual Carney-fest, because it was certainly not what it was when they were in their youth. They would commiserate over the miserable state of the world around them, and talk of the golden past and it would become even more golden.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
How Thanks and Giving cultivate abundance
This past Sunday we wrapped-up our Good and Beautiful God series and began the transition into the season of Advent with a talk entitled How Thanks and Giving Cultivate Abundance. As always it is humbling to listen to a bit of the talk. I am quite thankful today for the opportunity to clarify a couple of things and also for the ability to edit the actual talk itself with sound editing software.
For some reason I began the talk with a plethora of “um’s, and uh’s.” So I cut the first two and a half minutes right out of the talk. Really, um, you will, uh, like not miss it, um, at all. I also cut about the last five minutes to shorten the talk, so that it will seem more concise than it actually was.
I’m also thankful for the opportunity to clarify something. Kristine pointed out that the talk could have been construed to have been saying that if you are suffering from depression it is probably because you are ungrateful. Let me be clear in writing. That is not at all what I meant to convey. I know that depression is an unwanted life - draining reality for many of us with many varied causes.
What I did mean to say is that Jesus came to bring us life, and one thing that he modeled and that the whole of scripture commends to us is giving thanks. Many studies in recent years have shown that Jesus was right. Giving thanks is indeed good for us. It boosts our feelings of happiness; we will be more likely to exercise; lowers blood pressure; makes us feel more socially connected etc.
Conversely the Bible warns against ingratitude. Not saying thanks has a way of shrinking our world. It narrows our focus to what we do not have, and the more intent our focus becomes on the thing we do not have the less happy we become. An interesting story that illustrates this in scripture is the story of Ahab who is the King of Israel. Being king is a pretty prime position, but he becomes focused on a Vineyard that he does not have. I suppose you could say the same of David as he becomes fixated on Bathsheba (he already has a quite a few wives at that point – incidentally just because something is recorded in the Bible doesn’t mean that God thinks it is a good idea - for example David’s multiples wives). You may have seen this illustrated at times in your own life when you become focused on the thing that you want, that you don’t have and it begins to rob your enjoyment of what you do have. I talked about how I sometimes see this in my children, (it is easier than talking about how I see in my children than to talk about how I see it in me – which I do).
In the Bible passage we looked at John 6. The disciples are approaching their situation from a position of scarcity, “There isn’t enough.” Jesus approaches the situation with a heart of thankfulness and abundance.I believe that saying thanks changes our perspective and opens our hearts and our hands.
After Jesus gives thanks he begins to distribute the bread. He isn’t hoarding what he has. Instead he is giving. The Bible frequently commends giving. Giving also boosts our levels of happiness. Giving it turns out is actually good for us. Paul says to the Corinthians that as they give they will be rich in every way.
Sometimes I think we are tempted to think that the primary reward from giving will be that we will actually end up with more money. This may or may not be the case, but I think ultimately misses the point. If the money is our focus then we are still living from a narrative which points to money as the source of happiness, a narrative which points to money as a source of life. The Bible is clear that God is the source of life. I think that giving is an opportunity to focus our hearts on God and on others. This focus on loving God and loving others, leads to a life that is rich in every way. In other words we will really be living. We will be discovering that Jesus really did come to bring us life.
We are about to enter a season where many different voices will be saying you need more. You need to spend more you need this. I showed one of the ads that at least approaches the event of Black Friday with a sense of humor…
- Make a no complaint pledge from here to Thanksgiving
- Record at least 5 things you are thankful for at the end of the day
- Sleep in and buy nothing on Friday
- During the next week every time a commercial comes on get up and take inventory of what you have
- Give gifts that help change the world like ducks, or goats or jewelery from the WAR Chest
Quin is drawn further into a story
I'm starting to read a book by Donald Miller that is asking the question how would we need to live our lives so that they are stories.... Today is the conclusion of the practice and Quin being drawn into the story of being a coach....
He arrived at the mound just in time to hear, “OK now coach Holsten will show you what a real delivery looks like, and teach you how to throw batting practice. Draver warm the coach up, the infield will bat first, outfielders shag flies.”
Pitching batting practice is a good discipline for a pitcher to learn, it helps their accuracy and it helps them remember that baseball is a team game. A pitcher instinctively wants to keep the batter from hitting the ball, but in batting practice his job is to make his pitches as hittable as possible, so that his teammates can hone their swings.
Quin had always passionately hated throwing batting practice. Whenever he had done it at Appendix and at Stanford his teammates had invariably complained that he was throwing too hard. He was very tempted to simply jog off the field and leave Jack to explain to his team that Quin had not agreed to be “Coach Holsten.” But, before he could seriously entertain the idea, Draver was in position and telling him to fire it in there. He did a few of the warm-ups that he had had the pitchers do, and then he began to try to throw with a little bit of heat. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was still pretty accurate and that even as he approached forty he could throw the ball with some pace. He knew instinctively that he was not throwing as hard as Mullen had been, but then he was at least throwing strikes.
While he was warming up somewhere from deep within himself an unbidden thought came, “Quin you’re becoming part of a story.” As quickly as the thought came it was pushed back down and drowned, by a thought much closer to the surface, “Oh, no I’m not because I’m not ever doing this again after today.” He pitched batting practice without much effort, and felt a bit of sympathy for Preston, because with the possible exception of the Catcher Draver, there was not a whole lot of hitting talent on the team. He was surprised, though by how well they all seemed to field.
After the last batter had taken his swings, Jack said, “OK, we’re going to play three quick innings. Team two take the field behind Coach Quin. Team one you’re batting.
By this point in the practice Quin was completely accustomed to Jack making pronouncements about what he was going to do without consulting him. Once again a thought from the deep of Quin’s soul came with bass melody “You’re excited that you get to throw hard now. You wonder if you still have it. He’s pulling you in. You’re a part of this now.” The surface thoughts responded quickly again. “If I am excited that’s pretty damn pathetic, I’m throwing to a bunch of teenagers, and I’m not doing it again.”
He struck the first batter out on four pitches, and felt alive each time the ball left his hand. He struck the second batter out with a beautiful change-up. Team two was hooting it up behind him. Encouraging him and making catcalls to the two batters he had struck-out. Draver was on deck, as he struck out the third batter on three pitches. The strike-out pitch was a nasty curve that had buckled the poor kid’s knees before hitting the mitt for a strike.
The kids from team two managed two hits off of Jack, who was pitching for team one, in the bottom of the first, but they didn’t score. In the top of the second Draver, fouled off the first pitch, a fastball, and then took the next two pitches for balls. Quin decide that he wasn’t going to even let anyone put the ball in play, so he semi-intentionally threw the next two pitches way outside walking Draver. Then he struck-out the next three batters. He felt a little bit like a chickenshit, but mostly he felt good. Once again team two got a couple of hits, but didn’t score.
Quin struck out the first two batters in the top of the third. The third batter finally put the ball in play grounding out weakly to second. In the bottom of the third practice inning his team managed to push a run across the plate with three singles Quin got so caught up in the moment that he yelled, “Dig, Dig Dig,” like a madman as the winning runner rounded third and headed for home.”
As Jack and Quin jogged very slowly back to the locker room after the practice, Quin’s lungs burned again and his shoulder was very sore, but even he had to admit that he felt somewhat happy.
Towards the end of the very slow jog Jack said very conversationally, “Now that was fun wasn’t it coach.”
Quin replied between gasps, “Jack if I weren’t so tired I would kill you.”
He arrived at the mound just in time to hear, “OK now coach Holsten will show you what a real delivery looks like, and teach you how to throw batting practice. Draver warm the coach up, the infield will bat first, outfielders shag flies.”
Pitching batting practice is a good discipline for a pitcher to learn, it helps their accuracy and it helps them remember that baseball is a team game. A pitcher instinctively wants to keep the batter from hitting the ball, but in batting practice his job is to make his pitches as hittable as possible, so that his teammates can hone their swings.
Quin had always passionately hated throwing batting practice. Whenever he had done it at Appendix and at Stanford his teammates had invariably complained that he was throwing too hard. He was very tempted to simply jog off the field and leave Jack to explain to his team that Quin had not agreed to be “Coach Holsten.” But, before he could seriously entertain the idea, Draver was in position and telling him to fire it in there. He did a few of the warm-ups that he had had the pitchers do, and then he began to try to throw with a little bit of heat. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was still pretty accurate and that even as he approached forty he could throw the ball with some pace. He knew instinctively that he was not throwing as hard as Mullen had been, but then he was at least throwing strikes.
While he was warming up somewhere from deep within himself an unbidden thought came, “Quin you’re becoming part of a story.” As quickly as the thought came it was pushed back down and drowned, by a thought much closer to the surface, “Oh, no I’m not because I’m not ever doing this again after today.” He pitched batting practice without much effort, and felt a bit of sympathy for Preston, because with the possible exception of the Catcher Draver, there was not a whole lot of hitting talent on the team. He was surprised, though by how well they all seemed to field.
After the last batter had taken his swings, Jack said, “OK, we’re going to play three quick innings. Team two take the field behind Coach Quin. Team one you’re batting.
By this point in the practice Quin was completely accustomed to Jack making pronouncements about what he was going to do without consulting him. Once again a thought from the deep of Quin’s soul came with bass melody “You’re excited that you get to throw hard now. You wonder if you still have it. He’s pulling you in. You’re a part of this now.” The surface thoughts responded quickly again. “If I am excited that’s pretty damn pathetic, I’m throwing to a bunch of teenagers, and I’m not doing it again.”
He struck the first batter out on four pitches, and felt alive each time the ball left his hand. He struck the second batter out with a beautiful change-up. Team two was hooting it up behind him. Encouraging him and making catcalls to the two batters he had struck-out. Draver was on deck, as he struck out the third batter on three pitches. The strike-out pitch was a nasty curve that had buckled the poor kid’s knees before hitting the mitt for a strike.
The kids from team two managed two hits off of Jack, who was pitching for team one, in the bottom of the first, but they didn’t score. In the top of the second Draver, fouled off the first pitch, a fastball, and then took the next two pitches for balls. Quin decide that he wasn’t going to even let anyone put the ball in play, so he semi-intentionally threw the next two pitches way outside walking Draver. Then he struck-out the next three batters. He felt a little bit like a chickenshit, but mostly he felt good. Once again team two got a couple of hits, but didn’t score.
Quin struck out the first two batters in the top of the third. The third batter finally put the ball in play grounding out weakly to second. In the bottom of the third practice inning his team managed to push a run across the plate with three singles Quin got so caught up in the moment that he yelled, “Dig, Dig Dig,” like a madman as the winning runner rounded third and headed for home.”
As Jack and Quin jogged very slowly back to the locker room after the practice, Quin’s lungs burned again and his shoulder was very sore, but even he had to admit that he felt somewhat happy.
Towards the end of the very slow jog Jack said very conversationally, “Now that was fun wasn’t it coach.”
Quin replied between gasps, “Jack if I weren’t so tired I would kill you.”
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