Month: May 2020

Where I Attempt to Explain Humanity to a Dog

~ beachbumpoppy ~ 3 Comments

Mimsy is only truly content when she knows her humans are nearby. She doesn’t feel the need to be right next to you, she’s not a velcro dog but wants to know that you are nearby. Mimsy is a Japanese Chin. They were bred to be companion dogs and Mimsy is true to breed.

My daughter was gifted an Australian Shepherd puppy. The dog was beautiful and smart, but my daughter had to find a new home for it because it kept trying to herd the kids by nipping at their heels. This dog had never seen a sheep and I’m willing to bet that you would have to go back generations and generation in this dog’s linage to find an ancestor who actually herded sheep, yet she was hard-wired to herd. She was true to breed.

Humans don’t come in breeds. We come in different sizes, colors, and shapes, but we don’t come in breeds, we are not hard-wired to any behavior. Instead, we are given this terrifying thing called free will. We can be taught behaviors and attitudes directly and by example, but we have the choice to keep or abandon those behaviors and attitudes. There are individuals who were taught to be racist and intolerant, but have abandoned those attitudes and chosen to be tolerant and loving. It works the other way also. You may have been taught to be generous and caring, but make the decision to be selfish and self-centered.

We humans have a tremendous range in which we can operate, we float between angels and demons. No one is 100% good or 100% evil, but history provides examples of those who have gotten pretty close to either extreme. We have examples of those who have sacrificed their lives to save others and examples of those who have destroyed lives with no thought given to their victims.

Every day we are provided opportunities and scenarios, interactions with other travelers where we make decisions which direction on that angel-demon scale we want to move. Most of us will never come close to either extreme, but there is a lot of latitude in which to engage. We can respond to a sleight or insult with equal rudeness or choose to offer forgiveness and care.

Terriers were bred to hunt and chase vermin, they are true to breed. If I see an Airdale terrier, with good accuracy I can predict how that dog will respond if a rabbit runs across its path. I can identify most dog breeds on sight and knowing the characteristics of that breed can make predictions on how that dog will respond to certain situations.

Since humans don’t come in breeds, I can’t predict any potential behaviors based on how someone looks. I have to get to know them. After time spent with them, I may discover that they are much closer to the angel side of things than I am, or I may discover the converse, but I can’t tell on sight.

In the beginning, God made one version of humans and we are still on 1.0, you will find no examples of people operating on Humanity 2.0 or even 1.3, we are all equal and operating on the original software, no one has gotten an upgrade that others haven’t. Some of us are smarter or dumber than others. Some are more caring and giving than others. Some are crueler than others, but in God’s eyes, we are all equal and all his children. I would be well served if I could get to the point where my first thought, upon seeing a fellow human, is to think, “Oh look, another child of God.”

Mimsy quivers with excitement when she sees someone coming toward us on our walks. Bred as a companion dog, Mimsy loves everyone she sees and assumes that they will return that feeling in kind. I can’t explain to Mimsy the complexity of humanity. I can’t explain that while most people will pet her and tell her how pretty she is, there will be others who will view her as a dirty animal, a carrier of germs and dander.  I can’t explain to Mimsy, though as small as she is, there will be people genuinely afraid of her.

I can’t explain humanity to Mimsy and in truth, I don’t understand us myself.

Poppy

 

End of Day

~ beachbumpoppy ~ 1 Comment

Without fanfare, almost apologetically the sun retreated to another hemisphere. Tonight there would be no dramatic sunsets, no palettes of gold and magenta, just cool shades of grey and blue. The beauty was there, just understated and that’s okay, if every evening produced a dramatic sunset it would become common, even forgettable.

Our little family … Mrs. Poppy, myself, my grandson, and of course Mimsy went for an evening stroll. Though not in a traditional sanctuary, I believe it could qualify as Vespers. Vespers is sometimes referred to as “Evensong,” and that was the case tonight. The cumulus clouds billowed and the distant rolls of thunder played the part of the pipe organ, the night birds called back and forth as violins and violas. The frogs could only be the piccolos, raising in chorus then suddenly quieting to the wand of an unseen conductor. The sound of a train in the distance was the only mechanical contribution but somehow fit as the bass drum in this concerto.

It may be the curmudgeon in me, but I fear we are losing the art of being still. Somethings can only be discovered and appreciated by becoming quiet. It is against our nature to reduce and become small, but I believe our God-given senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing) need as much exercise as our muscles.

I have discovered that I’m most at peace when I’ve distanced myself from my electron driven devices (and yes, I understand the irony that I’m posting this on social media).

It’s easy to be anxious. Media outlets still need clicks to survive and fearmongering seems to have replaced the merely sensational. Pundits, talking heads and experts offer their opinions, which shift and change from day-to-day.

I’m reminded of this verse from an old Gospel song …

Many things about tomorrow
I don’t seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

The rest of the family has gone to bed. I step outside one last time. The temperature has dropped, the sky has cleared, revealing just a sliver of the waning moon. The birds are silent, leaving only a few insects and the frogs to carry on nature’s symphony. I turn and go back inside to things I know to be true.

Poppy

A Cleansing Rain and Remembering Jackie

~ beachbumpoppy ~ 2 Comments

I started recording this brief video clip 30 seconds too late.

April 2020 was close to a conclusion. The evening brought a prototypical spring shower, no blowing wind, thunder, or lightning, just a good steady rain. I sat on the first concrete step of the narrow porch, “soaking” in the view before me. I had completed a few small landscaping projects earlier in the day and was grateful for the precipitation.

If I had started recording earlier you would have heard the sound of a locomotive’s horn in the distance. The train must have been going through a series of intersections because the mournful blast sounded, again and again, reverberating through the rain-sodden air, each wail becoming a little fainter until it finally faded away. The last notes left only the rain rushing down the aluminum gutters and the chorus of frogs competing in the soundscape.

The damp soil exuded the scent of fertility and new growth. The rinse cycle of spring had washed away any dust or detritus from the previous day. It was a season of new beginnings, rebirth, a season of hope and promise.

I needed this rain as much as the flowers, trees, and shrubs in front of me. I felt the stress, cares, and tears of the day melt away as if they had joined the rain gushing into the drainpipe, swept away into streams, creeks, and rivers to eventually join the sea.

We lost a valuable and much-loved member of our design team this week. Jackie had begun her service at Concordia Publishing House on July 24, 1967. I started to refer to her as a matriarch, but that would be inaccurate. Matriarch implies someone in a position of power and control. Jackie was none of those things. She possessed the quintessential servant’s heart.  With Jackie, it was all about the mission.  Her dedication to Concordia Publishing House, The Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod, and her local congregation, Trinity Soulard was the driving force in her life.

In her almost 53 years of service, Jackie had witnessed multiple revolutions in the publishing industry; hot type, phototypesetting, desktop publishing. Through each phase she adapted, she learned, and she kept up. I believe it was her desire to always learn new things that kept her young at heart. She knew she was not as fast as some of the “whippersnappers,” but she was more than willing to work long days or weekends to make up the difference … its that dedication thing.

We are working from home these days. The technology makes it doable, but we are reminded at times like this that we were not designed for social distancing. We bounced memories and stories back-and-forth about Jackie as best we could through chat channels, but there is a need for physical hugs and shared tears.

Jackie died by herself, but she was not alone. Never married, she had few blood relatives, but she was part of a large family.

I was not able to record the horn of the locomotive as it rumbled down the tracks, but the memory is clear and sharp in my mind. My memories of Jackie are equally clear; her hearty laugh and mighty sneeze. Her recollection of past projects, illustrators, and fonts that we all relied on. Her quick wit and dry humor. She took pride in her craft without any self-pride. She possessed the perfect balance of spunk, humor, work ethic and humility to be the perfect coworker.

‘Well done, good and faithful servant! …”

Everyone loves the sound of a train in the distance.
Poppy