He sits staying dry
under an umbrella while
rain refreshes earth.

Instead of just being humans in grief,
White evangelicals have a scripture
Verse for everything — even the horrible,
Unfortunate death of a child, “I give thanks
For the verse that says fortunate is the
One whose children live in the truth.” Why
Do they always have to mute the bare
Bones, gut-wrenching horror with a
Scripture verse? Is it Christianity
Or just good, old pagan stoicism in
Disguise? At least he said he had a
Hard time making the connection
Between head and heart and my heart
Went out to him as my head tried to
Make sense of denial by scripture verse.

His wife is of Irish heritage.
She has Scandinavian blood.
His late wife was Frisian Dutch to the bone.
She had Scandinavian blood.
He’s mostly Scandinavian with English blood and Indian blood
From India.
Black descendants of black slaves from Africa
Have white blood.
How did this happen?
We know.
We are descendants of ancestors of dubiious distinction.
Is this what the Representative meant?
Unfortunately, he takes a historical reality
And turns it into a screed and
Everybody jumps the gun
And nobody faces reality.
Are we the children of violence?
Yes, a lot.
Does this justify violence?
No.
Is this a legitimate position?
Of course not.
It was just a stupid rant about a historical reality
used for bogus, ideological purposes.
Now in America, by the grace of God, most
People just make love and have babies by choice.

He drove along each lane at the local
state park. He and his wife often do
this because they are campers and
like looking at the rigs, tents, etc.

and occasionally chatting with campers.
This time he was alone. A woman sat
next to a big motorhome and strapped
a brace to her knee. He slowed the car

to a stop and called to the woman who
walked up to the car. He wanted to tell
her about his stem cell treatment for
his knees. She had a story of her own.

She was having trouble with her knee
because the prosthesis below the knee
on the other leg caused her to put too
much pressure on the other leg causing

knee pain. She lost the lower leg in an
auto accident thirty-five years ago. She
then told him that she was widowed
twice, her second husband just having

died a few months prior. He said that
he and his wife were both widowed also.
She saw him looking at the thirty-five
foot motorhome and said, “Yup. Don’t

look for a man. I drive it all by myself.”
A voice came from the next campsite,
“Ingrid, we are heading to the party
store. Do you want anything?” “Hold

on, I’m coming along. I gotta go. Nice
chatting with ya, mister. Keep looking
up.” As she walked off, he called after
her, “Ingrid, Thanks for the inspiration.”

The following is a note I sent a friend who had sent me an article linking gun violence in America to a societal lack of purpose particularly among young, white males :

I keep thinking about how the white, evangelical church in America has failed to give youth a “sense of purpose for good.”

From the time I was a little boy, I wanted to follow Jesus in word and deed. As a child, of course, that translated into moralisms, being a good doobie, no smoking, etc. As time passed that understanding matured into doing peace, justice, mercy, etc.

The white, evangelical church has failed to inspire youth to follow Jesus. Without a vision, the people perish and the white church has no vision.

The white, evangelical church doesn’t follow Jesus. It has no purpose except to be resentful, angry and sew the seeds of division regarding race, economics, sexual orientation, abortion, etc.

Part of this, I believe, has to do with the Civil War. Americans hate to lose at anything and that was a HUGE loss. The South lost; whites lost.

White, evangelical Christianity could only offer the bogus, non-biblical game “Christian Monopoly” — Individual salvation in Jesus Christ, Pass Go, Do not go to jail/hell, Collect $200, go to heaven.

They bought into cultural capitalism and the myth of the shoot ‘em up American West. As a result, there is no vision, just resentment and hatred toward those who “are beginning to catch up and may even, one day, get ahead.”

Thus, the signature below my name,

Bob

As a character in Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters” puts it, “If Jesus came back and saw what was going on in his name, he’d never stop throwing up.” — Frederick Buechner

Being cyclists themselves,
they always look for cyclists
on the streets and try to get

a look at the make of the
cycles. “Oh, look, dear, cyclists,”
he said to his wife as the car

came to a stop at the light.
“What are they doing?” The
couple, dressed in lycra

and spandex cycling jerseys
and shorts and wearing
helmets stood rummaging

through the boxes of
pre-processed donations
at the drop-off door of the

non-profit donation store.
There wasn’t an employee
in sight. They were filling

a garbage bag. The man
wondered, How will they
get the garbage bag of

goods home? Seriously,
are they stealing from
the Salvation Army?

How low can you go?
There’s got to be
another explanation.

With that, the male
cyclist slung the bag
over his shoulder and

the cyclists rode off.
The man said, “At least
they are wearing helmets.

Did you get to see what
kind of bikes they were
riding, dear?”

Where did you go Richard Beymer? Retirement?
Did you duck out because you gave yourself a
Bad review? Richard, you
Were fine.

We need you, Tony, to stop the fight.

Russ Tamblyn, where did you go
After West Side Story? Retirement?

We need you, Riff, to stop the fight.

Natalie Woods where did you go?
We know.

We need you, Maria, to stop the fight.

George Chakiris where are you today? Retired?

We need you, Bernardo, to stop the fight.

Rita Moreno, where are you today?

We need you, Anita, to stop the fight.

Have you all gone away?
But the problems stay.

Tony, Riff, Maria, Bernardo, Anita, can you save us?

We need you today to stop the fight —

To stop the fight.

Please come back and stop the fight.

Aren’t we tired of all the slime?
Wouldn’t you say it is about time
To get out the vote
And strike a better note
To save our democracy
And claim victory
For racial and ethnic unity
And unity in every other kind of
Diversity?

The next-door neighbor
Entered the yard through the trees
And saw the fish pond
And the waterfall and said,
“It’s Japan in Michigan.”

I live in a Midwestern com-
munity that revers handy-
men —guys who can work
with their hands like their

fathers before them. I live
in a neighborhood with really
handy guys. They love home
projects. I went to a party

in the neighborhood last
evening. The new owners
wanted to show the neigh-
bors all the things they have

done to upgrade the house
making it into a stylish,
beach cottage appropriate
to where we live. The handy

guys attending the party
gathered on the upper, back
deck to talk. They were in-
spired by the handiwork of

the new owner. They regal-
ed each other with tales of
measuring, cutting, sand-
ing and whatever else it

is that handy guys do.
Another neighbor stood in
the kitchen telling me that
he had had a water leak

which required sanding
and refinishing the entire
main level wood floor.
He had the work done.

He then told me that there
was a significant amount of
painting that needed to be
done to the walls, also. Every-

day he sat in a chair and said
to himself, “Get up and get
the paintbrush and paint and
do the job.” Day after day.

And then in a tone of com-
plete resolve he said that he
called a house painter, paid
him the $850 and got the

job done. “I’m really far be-
hind in my reading,” he
said. Finally, my kind of
a guy.