Just Sing It to the Choir

Yes, this old crow is part of the choir. I think it’s because male voices are so scarce and because they take pity on me that I am allowed to stay. I know I often have trouble staying on pitch, partly because most of the hymns and music the director uses calls for sopranos, altos, and baritones. There are not enough low pitch bass voices. My part would be a virtual singing alone solo trying to mesh with the other voices. I can understand the reasoning; however I often struggle to reach the higher notes without gong into a falsetto voice.

This year for the Christmas program our choir will be presenting a newly written score and lyric song of Christmas and the real reason for the celebration of the season. There are those who will argue the real birthday of Christ is unknown, but that doesn’t change the fact that Jesus WAS born, that He IS the one and only begotten Son of God, and that He came to earth in the form of a man to pay the price and bear the punishment for mankind’s sins against Father God.

The lyrics and score are both really beautiful. The program is free, open to all. All are welcome to anyone who wants to attend. The service will be an hour long and will be held on Sunday evening at 6:00 PM on December 11, 2022. Our church is the Mt. Zion Community Church located at 159 Kreinbrook Hill Road. For directions or more information, visit our website: mtzionacme.org to check us out.

Even with my caterwauling, the music will be great. Our congregation is very friendly and you may even meet old friends there. The singing is only a small part of the program. A short play by our members will be presented and our pastor will share a short message. I’ve been assured that everyone will be back home by bedtime. The program is titled, “What I Love About Christmas.” I’m sure that you will enjoy the evening, even with me in the choir. 

Hunting and Seeing New Beauty

Each day that I do my daily walk I’m drawn to the beauty I see around me. I try to capture some of the things I view as I walk to share. This past Saturday, I didn’t walk as much as I normally do, even though I was out on the first day of deer season. Much of the time I rode from one hunting spot to another in my brother Ken’s four wheel drive vehicle. We covered more deal distance than I’d care to walk. The first place we stopped was at a nearby farm where my brother has permission from the farmer to hunt. While we were there we saw a herd of does charge across a hilltop. There were probably ten of them, but none with antlers. I was slow on the draw and didn’t get the safety flicked off on my rifle in time and although they came very close, I didn’t get a shot.

I did catch a few photos of the sunrise and the distant vistas of the mountain ranges of southwest Pennsylvania as we waited there. The varied blue of the far mountain range made a beautiful backdrop for the closer green and brown hills and valleys.

Next we drove to another place where he has permission to hunt. The land belongs to a close friend and school classmate. They’ve always lived close to each other and yet managed to stay out of trouble on their youthful escapades. The land is the abandoned Boy Scout Camp called Camp Wildwood. Much of it is either grown up grassland or pine woods, although his friend does keep a camping area cleared beside Indian Creek that flows through the property.

There were so many fantastic places of scenery, but I didn’t ask my brother to stop. We were hunting and with Ken, that came first. When we were driving through an area of high grass, Ken spotted two deer. They poked their head above the grass. He pointed them out to me. He loves to hunt more than I do and allowed me to get one of the does. He said later, “If I shoot one now, I won’t be able to hunt later.” Me, I just like to know there is meat in the freezer.

We drove down to Indian Creek to wash our hands after disemboweling the critter. When we stopped, I was able to take a few photos of the trees, water, and what was left from the old dam at Camp Wildwood. Later this week, I hope to butcher the doe. I prefer to do it myself, then either to can or freeze the venison for later. 

Carousels

Can anyone remember the carousels that once graced the lunch counters of many department stores? I’m not talking about the ones that stood outside of the store and entertained children on wooden horses, giraffes, or lions or the merry-go-rounds in amusement parks. I am talking about the carousels that held skewered hot dogs and sausages that rotated in a continuous circle over a heat source to roast. The savory aroma would fill the stores with a warm, mouth-watering scent of the bubbling hot meats. The aroma enticed customers into making one last purchase before they left the store. Pungent and spicy smells of onions, catsup, and mustard added to its allure. It was an intimate part of making mouths water for the exotic taste of such common fare.

Brown skinned and beautiful, the hot dogs moved in a sultry circle displaying their darkly tanned skin for all to see. The vendor behind the counter would answer the customer’s call by removing one of these luscious lovelies from its perch and place it into a heated soft bun. Wrapping the entire purchase in a paper napkin, the counterperson would pass the flavor filled bundle to the hands of a waiting patron that would then hurry to the condiment containers to cover the warm frankfurter with their favorite toppings making the hot dog even more appealing to their palate. Often bags of recently purchased items circled at their feet almost forgotten, the patron would close their eyes as they relished the first bite. They chewed slowly to mix the chosen toppings into an anticipated mélange of tongue-tingling flavors.

Stores have gotten rid of the carousels, going to a grill that rolls the hot dogs up and down by way of oscillating metal fingers. The aroma was still there, but the visual excitement of those rotating, ever-circling tubes of tastiness has disappeared. The stimulation of rescuing one of those slender beauties from a speared captivity no longer exists. The need to pay the ransom to free a lowly hot dog has disappeared as well. The knight riding the aisles of the store pushing a shopping cart has been swallowed up. 

Thinking of Thanksgiving at Home

As I look back, I can’t remember any special moments or memories that stand out in my mind when we celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday at my parent’s house. I am unsure why, but I imagine that it’s because there were no major events or rituals attached to it. There was no giving or receiving of cards as on Valentine’s Day. There were no displays of fireworks or picnics as on Independence Day. There weren’t any scary costumes or passing out of treats like at Halloween. Then there came the celebration of Christmas and New Year’s Day. New Years Day included a meal of oyster stew, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream at my grandparent Raymond and Rebecca Miner’s place.

Thanksgiving is tucked between Halloween and Christmas. Retailers have now pushed the Christmas sales so close to Halloween that it almost smothers the “Let’s be thankful holiday.” I’m sure that retailers’ promotion of other more profitable holidays has something to do with the reason that Thanksgiving is becoming more forgotten and a less appreciated holiday.

The necessity for thankfulness is the belief in the Divine Being as the provider of all of our blessings. Without a belief in God, to whom should we be thankful, do we thank ourselves? Or should we be thankful to agencies or the government for a free meal and handouts? When a society isn’t thankful to the Lord and continue to make demands, the nation will not long survive. God judges the nation that pushes Him aside and is not grateful for the things He provides, for the freedoms that they have, and for all He continues to do for them.

I believe the reason I don’t have any outstanding memories of Thanksgiving is because they’ve all blurred together. The warm feelings of food, family, and fellowship have melded into one pleasant memory. Those feelings of sitting around a table laden with food are now combined with the memories of my family and continue to strengthen our family ties. Laughter still fills the house as full as the aromas of turkey, dressing (Mom always called it stuffing whether in or out of the bird), and the spices of the pies and cookies. 

We are warm and safe for another year. It isn’t that I’m not thankful for my blessings, but the celebration of Thanksgiving was always a low-key joining of our hearts and those memories have blended into one. Thanksgiving celebrations have connected one with another. Each year becomes another building block for me and my family and love is the cement that binds these many years into one. Happy Thanksgiving. 

Sometime You Just Have to Push Back

There were several times in my past that I was at the end of my tolerance and pushed back. One time occurred while I was stationed in the in emergency department of the Naval Hospital, Orlando Florida. One task I always enjoyed was suturing cuts. I took extra care to cleanse and numb the laceration before I started. My claim to fame was that I rarely had to harness a child into a papoose board to sew them up. The papoose board is a contraption with Velcro bindings that holds the child while being sutured. It didn’t stop the kid from screaming. Much was because the child hated to be immobilized. If the child was old enough I could explain the procedure to them in simple terms and they knew what was happening. I could work without a problem.

I was suturing a child when a man said, “I’m Lieutenant so and I have a sick child that needs to be seen.” He entered the room and should have seen I was busy, then came farther into the room. When I stood up, my bloody gloves were under his nose and he stepped backwards. I took another step and backed him out of the room and into the hallway.  Responded by giving him my name and rank, then said, “I happen to be busy at the moment,” and kicked the door shut in his face. I was surprised that he didn’t file a complaint.

I was working in the emergency department at Frick Hospital when a man brought in his sick wife. We asked him to give the information for a chart while we took her back to an examination room. After taking her vital signs, we helped her get undressed so our physician would be able to examine her.

I just stepped out from behind the cubicle’s curtain when the husband accosted me. He asked “What had we done for his wife?” I explained exactly what we’d done and were getting the doctor to examine her. “In other words, you’ve done nothing,” he roared in my face, I noticed the strong smell of alcohol and his demeanor supported it.

I tried to direct him to the waiting room until his wife could be examined, “Sir, You’ll need to wait in the waiting area until she’s seen by the doctor.” He became more insistent and I told him to go to the waiting area or I would call the guard to escort him out. He acted more belligerent and I said, “Sir you’ve been drinking and if you don’t go to the waiting area I will call the police.”

He turned to the ward clerk and shouted, “I want that young man’s name!”

I stopped in my tracks and pushed my name tag under his nose saying, “It’s B-E-C-K, make sure you spell it right.” The guard arrived and escorted him out before it could escalate further.