“In times of deceit,

telling

the truth is a

revolutionary

act.”

—– George Orwell

“The truth shall

set you

free.”

—— Jesus of Nazareth

Jesus, free of deceit, is the

revolutionary who tells

the truth.

The victory of life and love

over death and hate

in the experience

of the aliveness of Jesus

after being crucified,

is what gave

courage

to the followers of

Jesus

to be revolutionaries

who

told the truth in

the ever-present

times of deceit,

and in our ever-

present

times of

deceit, we the

successors of

apostolic succession

in its most

generous interpretation

need to stop, and ask,

“In times, these times

of deceit,

are we free enough

in Jesus to participate in

a revolutionary

act?”  And on

Jeopardy, Alex Trebek presses

the question,

“What is your

answer?”

.

A classmate went missing from his class

reunion only to be discovered later dead.

A response from a classmate reflecting on

the dead who he hadn’t seen in let’s say around

fifty years, in part, “A handful of us always seemed to be

competing. Good practice for the next 40 years.

The only competition left is who will outlive the other…..

and of course, who has the

brightest and best looking grandchildren……….need I

say more.”  (He must have forgotten in his

old age that that was a question requiring a question mark

and there were way too many ellipses.) —- hmmmm,

probably written jokingly, but hmmmm…so…does shallower than a

kiddy pool in a drought  come to mind,

and after fifty years no less?  And when the last person living

reflects on his situation and what he has won

what will he  have?  Oh, yeah, loneliness.

Good Lord.

Fifty years and still counting… still competing.

“Hey, guess what?  I beat so and so and so

and so and so and so and so and old

whatshisface… and ….”

So what?

And if that classmate is the only one left standing

and cries, “Hey, I won!” into the void

will there be the sound of victory or just the sound of silence

from back in the 60’s? Oh, yeah, the most

beautiful  and brightest grandkids:  “Bye, bye

Grandpa,” as they go off to their futures without

much as a thought of him as he sits by himself

surrounded by all of his trophies.

Need he say more into the void (leaving only the question mark

he forgot the first time around),

about that shallow-as-a-kiddy-pool comment

on the death an old high school

classmate? Oh, yeah, in all fairness, he said it brought a tear

to his eye, too.

The seventy-five pound, one-hundred-twelve

Year-old Chocolate Lab needs help getting up

On the bed at night.  His mom lifts his front

Legs and then his hind-quarters onto the bed.

He snuggles at the foot of the bed and as

The temperature drops he inches up till his

Rump and his dad’s bump. The old dog can’t

Run anymore with mom and dad as they

Jog down the trail, but in his sleep he runs like

The wind, chasing the neighbor’s cat past the

Pine Grove around the pond and through the

Dune grass till the cat climbs the big blue spruce.

He kicks his dad as he chases the tennis ball across

The sand of the Lake Michigan beach.  He kicks,

Pushes and pants and then quiets down, breathes

Deeply and slowly as he rolls on his back in the

Grass in the afternoon sun of his dream. His dad

Turns on his stomach and dreams he is running

Into the arms of an old girlfriend and just as they

Are about to touch, the dog kicks him again and

He wakes only to remember that she died a

Dreadful death from a disfiguring disease. He

Catches his breath, shutters and slips his hand past

The sleeping dog and rests it in the small of his wife’s

Back and then he too breathes deeply and slowly in

The afternoon sun of another dream.

The church lady doesn’t like contraceptives.

Being obedient she prefers the rhythm method

With a calypso beat, in and out and in and out, cha

Cha, cha while she watches the calendar and while

She has a watch, she watches the phases of the

Moon.  The sun is the father and the moon is the

Son and once a month the moon drips blood from

Its craters and disappears for three days

And then is born again and when the full moon

Appears, drivers veer into the wrong lane and every-

Body is a bit off kilter and every once in a blue moon

There is a blue moon and everyone just goes a bit nuts, but

The church lady remains steadfast and contends that

The tomb was empty and the spirit was very neat

Because the linens were folded very nicely where

The head had been.  The man in the moon smiles

Down on her in her beatific state and she

Feels the warmth radiating from the sun to the moon

To the spirit to her and comforting her when she

Thinks about the ins and the outs of rape and how

Politicians are pronouncing ex-cathedra that legitimate

Rape doesn’t result in pregnancy and that women’s

Lives are safe as safe can be and never at jeopardy

In pregnancies that result from rape because God

Wills it and the church fathers just look quizzical

And don’t say a word and the nuns shake their

Heads and the church lady feels she’s on morally high

Ground because some Indiana politician pontificated

And so she continues to reject contraception, and after all

She does have the man in the moon to help her with the

ins and outs of the whole bloody mass of a mess.

I know

it’s just the

tip of it,

dear,

but your

gushiness

gets

to me.

Bust up the tree huggers,

Bust up the unions,

Bust up the police,

Bust up the firefighters,

Bust up the EMT’s,

Bust up the nurses,

Bust up FEMA,

Bust up the Fed,

Leave the shore shoreless,

Level the levies,

Stoke the fires,

Bulldoze the buildings,

Spend big bucks and

Buy cans, lots and lots of

Cans to be handed out

Way out in Ohio,

Safe from stormy Sandy

Just to be handed back for

The photo-op with the

Church lady who just

Wants to

Bust up the Red Cross

While kicking the can

Down the road.

Bring on the cans —

Cans of beans, black beans,

Pinto beans, refried beans,

Green beans, lima beans, any

Old beans, just bring on the

Cans.

Bring on the cans –

Cans of apple sauce, salsa,

Hot, medium and mild,

Tomato sauce, diced tomatoes,

Stewed tomatoes, tomato paste

Any kind of tomatoes, just bring on the

Cans.

Bring on the cans – cans of

Oysters, cans of salmon, cans

Of shrimp, cans of sardines, cans

Of herring in wine sauce or mustard,

Cans of caviar, just bring on the

Cans.

They’re gathering cans and

Lots of cans at the political

Rally turned canned

Privatized, emergency,

First-aid station photo-op,

so just bring on the

Cans.

The candidate rolled up his

Sleeves and went to work

In his own inimitably

Entrepreneurial free

Enterprise, capitalistic style

(Just bring on the

Cans)

Showing the feds that his

Solution to any disaster of

Any size is the right size, so

just bring on the

Cans.

And if they figure out a way to

Tie all the cans together before

The Red Cross kicks all the cans

Back to Ohio, they can build a boat of

Cans

To carry the

New Yorkers, New Jerseyans,

And Marylanders to Ohio

To vote for the guy who gets a

Kick out of the

Cans

And likes to kick others in the

Can and knows how to can jobs

Here, there and everywhere, so just

Bring on the

Cans.

His wife says there is still time to

Save the US of A, so forget FEMA,

The National Guard, Coast Guard,

Merchant Marine, fire-fighters, police,

And EMT’s;  just bring on the

Cans.

Call for the Church Lady and

Just bring on the

Cans.

One degree, two degrees, three degrees,

Four

Five degrees, six degrees, seven degrees

More

And there goes the

Shore

And there go the farms to

Drought, flooding and

For

Those who keep

Score

The cities have switched places

Minneapolis is now Miami

And Detroit is on the eastern

Shore

Boulder is at sea level

Phoenix is the lost city of Atlantis

And Atlanta is no

More

And for those who keep

Score

One degree, two degrees, three degrees

Four,

It’s still 50/50 not one percent

More

On whether or not global warming is

Knocking on the

Door.

A new human baby came into

The world via a tub of hot water

Just like his sister two years earlier.

Momma dropped brother in forty-five

Minutes from the time she swung her

Second leg over the rim and climbed in.

Sister took three hours which isn’t anything To

Sneeze at preferably in the inside corner of the elbow

At but at five-pound twelve ounces brother just popped out.

The mid-wife suggested contacting the Guinness

People for a question about a water birth record

And three beers, one for the midwife and two for dad.

Fatigue hangs around like the next door

Cat ready to pounce, in the act of pouncing.

Fatigue hangs in the air like millions of

Tiny dumb bells falling on ones back.

Fatigue surrounds muscles and

Joints, seeping like bone chilling

Dampness into and through the muscles,

Into the nervous system to cause the

Muscles attached to the bones to shiver.

It all weakens the body politic till it can

think only about bed, sleep and the dream

of a day off, way off, so far off, it might never

get here.  The neighbor’s cat’s perpetual, midair

pounce is always here.