happy thanksgiving...

For the past two weeks I have been down with what I'm calling"senioritis" - the foreshadowing of the aging process yet to come - an experience that totally wiped me out. While driving home from Canada, I was afflicted with the dreadful bronchial bug currently laying waste to many in our area. Such is par for the course at this time of year, so I am not complaining. It goes with the territory. What I hadn't anticipated, however, was how low my resistance to infection had become until waking up on Sunday morning with a full blown albeit highly concentrated case of shingles. Shades of Job. Simultaneously, a dear old friend from my former parish was moving towards the end of her life and finally gave up the ghost just as my local band mates and I were performing in a benefit concert for the immigrant initiative of our regional social justice network. There was a cosmic irony in this as Bonnie loved our music. And it left me played and exhausted.

Then, just to add insult to injury last night, while I was starting to feel healthy and strong again, I took a whopping fall on a rain drenched deck, walloping my backside and shoulder in the cold and dark. Talk about dazed and confused. Nothing was broken, thanks be to God, just sore and bruised. Which is to say, I finally got it: no one gets out alive. The reality of my chronological age can no longer be escaped. Last week's photo challenge posting pictures from 2009 next to one from 2019 was illuminating. But crashing on my ass yet again on that hard wood was the real teacher. If by the grace of God I am to grow older still, I need to start making some changes. The first being the purchase of some no skid shoes!

Looking backwards there were a lot of mini-epiphanies through the past two weeks. While playing a jazz show at a local elementary school we discovered that the cartoon anthems included in the middle of the lesson as examples of modern jazz were virtually unknown to these little ones. They vaguely recalled "Super Mario," but we're playing version 1.0 and there are now 32 more advanced levels. What's more, they had never even heard of the Flintstones! (NOTE: the chord structure of that theme song is a sly, upbeat reworking of Gershwin's "I've Got Rhythm," changes that be-boppers like Charlie Parker had a field day with as it became the foundation for their own grooves. For more background check out the NPR link: https://www.npr.org/ sections/ablogsupreme/ 2011/02/19/133590208/evolution-of-a-song-i-got-rhythm) Also take a listen to Parker totally rework it on "Dexterity."

It took me back to a realization I had during the closing years of parish ministry: so many of my spontaneous cultural examples were so outdated that it took too long to explain what I thought might be a quick shared reference in film, TV or music. Let's not even go to the reality of my diminished hearing (something I hope will be addressed when my insurance changes after the first of the year.) Mix in the various aches and pains - and death - and it would be safe to say that the end of November was truly a thin time for me between this realm and the next. 

Not as lament, mind you, but gratitude. For life. For all that is still real and still possible. For children. And grandchildren. And a lover. And aging but decent health. And warmth. And Lucie. And dear friends. And sweet music. And a chance to quietly feast as the evening ripens. Later this weekend we'll go with the little ones to get a Christmas tree to mark the start of Advent. But that is still to come. Today feels like this poem from W.S. Merwin he called "Thanks."

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

After breakfast, before the crew headed out for the hill towns, Louie and I made a turkey and a Thanksgiving card. Life does not get much better than this. Happy Thanksgiving.