In the early days of the Summer of '69 I was as close to being on top of the world as any small town 14-year-old kid from Ohio was likely to be. Not only was I approaching the promised land of High School - they had built us a new High School. It was not just a new building, it was a completely new school. The towns of Seven Mile & Trenton, Ohio, had consolidated to form a single district, and Edgewood High School was to open that Fall.
I was part of a good circle of friends, and I was well thought of in my community. Beyond that, a new school held a special appeal for me, since I was a little brother - and so in my days as a Seven Mile Spartan, I was primarily known at school as the little brother of Dave & Paul. Now, though, as I stood on the brink of becoming an Edgewood Cougar, I was preparing to enter a school where the majority of folks had never heard of my brothers. I was signed up for a college-prep track - no small thing in a day when far fewer people attempted higher education. New possibilities and improved options stood waiting for me, and I was getting ready to be part of the first class ever to spend all 4 years of its High School career at the brand new Edgewood School. The possibilities were, if not endless, really, really good.
That's when the Earth shifted under my 14-year-old world.
My Methodist-Minister father got "the call" from his Conference office, which meant that he was being assigned to a post in McComb, Ohio - 2 & 1/2 hours away from Seven Mile, where I would attend a small, old High School that didn't offer any of the classes for which I had been signed up by my principal at Seven Mile. (The fact that I would eventually love McComb seemed incomprehensible to me at the time. Only after surviving a Fall where just about every imagined terror of being the new kid actually happened did I begin to have any appreciation for the place).
New building and old friends - gone.
The security of the familiar - gone.
Being known - traded for the anonymity (& simultaneous spotlight) of being the new kid in a small town.
When Apollo 11 landed that Summer, I watched it sprawled on the wooden floor of a not-yet-unpacked house, and not with the friends with whom I had watched countless other NASA missions as we wondered aloud if there would ever, really, be a moon landing.
I didn't know at the time that I was in mourning for a life I had lost.
When the rope that tied me to the world I had known was cut, though, one tiny strand remained intact.
A few weeks after the moon landing, Dad drove me back to a Church Camp where I got to spend a week with kids from my old Church youth group. I was so excited to be back on familiar ground with people who knew me that it took me a day to begin to notice the other campers who were there. When I did notice them though, the one whom I noticed the most was a red-haired girl who 'spoke my language' - who shared the same interests and sense of humor that I had. I didn't realize yet that this one thin strand connecting me to my "old" life was also going to tie me to my life's future. Through a series of events too unlikely & lengthy to recount here, I married that girl less than 7 years later. We're the parents of 3 of the best people on the planet.
Sometimes our whole world does shake. Relationships end. Jobs evaporate. Friends & loved ones die. Disease robs us of the illusion that there are no limits on our time or abilities. We are betrayed, or find ourselves ignored by the world.
In the Summer of '69 (when big parts of the world were shifting for lots of people), it was almost impossible for me to see past the life I had lost. I didn't know the rich possibilities that existed in the life that I was actually living (as opposed to the one to which I wanted to cling with all my might). The mourning was real - so were the new possibilities.
I'd love to say that I've gotten a lot speedier at realizing the new, living, possibilities that exist when my world gets shaken apart, but human nature is strong, and I just don't like it when the Earth shifts under me. When has your world shaken apart? Do you feel tremors (or actual earthquakes) right now?
When it happens (not if, but when), the tiniest strand of hope can link us to whatever connects with new possibilities. It doesn't work if we use it to tie ourselves to the past, or to the life that we demand - but if we allow it to, it can connect us to the real, surprising futures awaiting in the life we're actually living.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
A Thanksgiving Parable - and a Search
How do you give thanks when your life bears no resemblance to a Hallmark(r) card?
As surely as Mr. Scrooge is due to be revisited soon by the Christmas ghosts, there is a modern Thanksgiving parable which haunts me each year at this time. I'll recount the Parable below, & you can find out more about the Search at the end (and see how you may be part of resolving a mystery).
"Behold the preacher mounted his pulpit and to him 100 faces looked up. They were just as all the sons and daughters of the Earth - Billions of faces captured in those 100. And the preacher placed a lozenge on his tongue so that his voice became both sweet and oily, and smiling the smile of those who see but do not understand, he said, 'Let us give thanks.' And 100 voices murmured, 'Amen', but without much conviction.
'Let us give thanks', said the preacher, 'for the wholeness of our bodies; for legs that walk and run, for ears that hear the song of the bird, for eyes that see beauty in flower, fruit, earth, and sky, for arms that envelop and hands that hold.' And sadly, without a word, there arose from the congregation those who were blind or paralyzed, and some who had lost limbs, and they led out the deaf with them, & 10 people made their way out of the church.
But the preacher continued, and said, 'Let us give thanks for health itself; for lungs breathing in soft air, for enjoyment of food and drink, for the firm tone of a skin that radiates soundness.' And others rose and departed - some with damaged lungs, and others with dread diseases of the skin or blood. Some who were fighting cancer - and others who no longer could even receive solid food, and who received pain with the food they could get - and behold, 10 more had left the congregation.
Still, the preacher continued in his rhapsody, and said, 'Let us give thanks for our earthly benefits, for the comforts that this world has to give, and for the prosperity we have received.' And at this word there departed the poor, who had watched their children die of malnutrition, and their parents die from cold and want, and 10 more were gone.
But the preacher's eyes were raised in contemplation of comfortable thoughts, and he saw none of this, and so he continued, 'Let us give thanks for home and hearth, for the families in which we dwell.' Then there departed from the congregation some who were refugees, and teenagers who no longer felt any welcome in their homes, and some from rest homes and even cities who lived alone amongst many - in all, 10 more had gone.
And still the preacher persisted, saying, 'Let us give thanks for our friends.' Then those whom society had forgotten, who lived in the corners of life, or who were painfully shy, & some who lived hard-working but isolated and almost invisible lives, got up to go. With them went others, who were considered odd, or of the wrong race or background, and 10 more slipped quietly away.
Still, the preacher was drawing from his lozenge comfort and smoothness of speech, and so he continued, 'We give thanks for the beauty of our lives. Oh surely no exceeding beauty, for we are after all humble folks, but for that which makes us graceful, gracious, and good to be with.' Then George, who felt he didn't have a strong chin, and Sally, whose eyes didn't seem just right, and Frank, who was losing his hair, and Louise, who knew that she didn't resemble the women on TV, they all arose, & 6 more besides, and departed their places.
And still the preacher carried on: 'We give thanks for the gift of intellect, through which we receive the blessings of art & science, literature & history, and with which we can probe the mysteries of the universe.' Then several people of average intelligence blushed, and as they left they were joined by others who faced challenges of mental ability or illness, and 10 of them walked to the door.
And without a downward glance, the preacher fairly sang as he called forth thanks for '... virtues - that make the path of life pleasant, as if bedecked by flowers.' Then those who were tortured by bad tempers, or wracked by jealousy, or who felt the stab of envy, or whose lives were made miserable by more private vices, all arose - and those 10 were no longer any part of that congregation.
And as the preacher went on (and on), he said, 'We give thanks for justice.' And at that a Jew from Cairo, and a Palestinian from Israel, and a child in desperate need who was not served by the system of justice, and others deprived of recourse to law, or medicine, or education - 10 in number, all left.
Then, finally, the preacher came to the end of his Thanksgiving litany, and prayed simply, 'Let us give thanks for peace.' And the final 10, victims of wars in distant lands and battles as close as home, casualties of new wars and ancient conflicts alike, rose and left.
When the preacher at last looked out on the congregation, behold, no one was there. Then he cried out a real prayer, 'O Lord, where have they gone?' And a still, small, voice spoke from Heaven in answer, 'Because you have exalted what I have not promised, and since the human heart knows well the taste of bitterness, they have departed from your congregation.
When have I promised you wholeness of body, or health, or earthly comfort? When have I promised you unbroken bonds with family or friends? When did I promise you continued possession of any gift: beauty, intelligence, or virtue? When have I ever told you that in this world you will always know justice or peace?
And the preacher cried out again, 'Then Lord, what WILL you give us?' And the Voice replied, 'Myself.'
Then the preacher ran to the doorway of the church, and in the shadows of the great pillars and lofty spires, he saw the 100. Their eyes were cast down - those eyes in whom could be seen all the billions on the Earth. And he took his box of lozenges with all their comfort and hurled them into the outer darkness (which was a good place for them), and then he cried out to the people, 'O my friends, I have deceived you. We MAY have friends, we MAY have justice, but all we are sure of is God. In olden days Job said - Though he slay me, yet will I trust him - and in his dying, Jesus said - Into thy hands I commend my spirit - For this is all that is sure: God gives to us himself. And that is all that matters.'
And a blind woman wept. And a friendless man grasped the hand of a neighbor. And many who had been denied justice knew that their struggles were not in vain. And they all came back inside.
Then the preacher mounted the pulpit again (for that is the nature of preachers), and 100 faces, the faces of all the world, looked up. And he said, 'Let us give thanks that God himself is with us.' And 100 voices thundered back, 'Amen.'"
+ + + + + + +
NOTE FROM THE LEAVING NADDERBY BLOG: I first heard this 30 years ago where it was used as a portion of a sermon by Rev. Robert Lovell, one of the finest preachers ever produced by the West Ohio Conference of the United Methodist Church. Years later, at my request, he sent me a copy of his notes, where I learned that the author (of the Parable cited in the sermon) was someone named Richard Hunter - HERE'S WHERE THE MYSTERY, AND THE SEARCH, COMES IN - I have not been able to further identify Richard Hunter, or the original form of the Parable. I would be indebted to anyone whose Searching Skills exceed my own, who could shed light on the origins of this piece.
Meanwhile, although I know that some of the language is dated, I hope that those who hear/see this version will be (as I am) pulled away from the God of man's invention, who tends to reside in a land of comfortable blessings, and towards the presence of the God who is with us through bane as well as blessing - the God who may greet us when we are in our Sunday best, but who will also be standing with us when everything else seems dark.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving.
As surely as Mr. Scrooge is due to be revisited soon by the Christmas ghosts, there is a modern Thanksgiving parable which haunts me each year at this time. I'll recount the Parable below, & you can find out more about the Search at the end (and see how you may be part of resolving a mystery).
"Behold the preacher mounted his pulpit and to him 100 faces looked up. They were just as all the sons and daughters of the Earth - Billions of faces captured in those 100. And the preacher placed a lozenge on his tongue so that his voice became both sweet and oily, and smiling the smile of those who see but do not understand, he said, 'Let us give thanks.' And 100 voices murmured, 'Amen', but without much conviction.
'Let us give thanks', said the preacher, 'for the wholeness of our bodies; for legs that walk and run, for ears that hear the song of the bird, for eyes that see beauty in flower, fruit, earth, and sky, for arms that envelop and hands that hold.' And sadly, without a word, there arose from the congregation those who were blind or paralyzed, and some who had lost limbs, and they led out the deaf with them, & 10 people made their way out of the church.
But the preacher continued, and said, 'Let us give thanks for health itself; for lungs breathing in soft air, for enjoyment of food and drink, for the firm tone of a skin that radiates soundness.' And others rose and departed - some with damaged lungs, and others with dread diseases of the skin or blood. Some who were fighting cancer - and others who no longer could even receive solid food, and who received pain with the food they could get - and behold, 10 more had left the congregation.
Still, the preacher continued in his rhapsody, and said, 'Let us give thanks for our earthly benefits, for the comforts that this world has to give, and for the prosperity we have received.' And at this word there departed the poor, who had watched their children die of malnutrition, and their parents die from cold and want, and 10 more were gone.
But the preacher's eyes were raised in contemplation of comfortable thoughts, and he saw none of this, and so he continued, 'Let us give thanks for home and hearth, for the families in which we dwell.' Then there departed from the congregation some who were refugees, and teenagers who no longer felt any welcome in their homes, and some from rest homes and even cities who lived alone amongst many - in all, 10 more had gone.
And still the preacher persisted, saying, 'Let us give thanks for our friends.' Then those whom society had forgotten, who lived in the corners of life, or who were painfully shy, & some who lived hard-working but isolated and almost invisible lives, got up to go. With them went others, who were considered odd, or of the wrong race or background, and 10 more slipped quietly away.
Still, the preacher was drawing from his lozenge comfort and smoothness of speech, and so he continued, 'We give thanks for the beauty of our lives. Oh surely no exceeding beauty, for we are after all humble folks, but for that which makes us graceful, gracious, and good to be with.' Then George, who felt he didn't have a strong chin, and Sally, whose eyes didn't seem just right, and Frank, who was losing his hair, and Louise, who knew that she didn't resemble the women on TV, they all arose, & 6 more besides, and departed their places.
And still the preacher carried on: 'We give thanks for the gift of intellect, through which we receive the blessings of art & science, literature & history, and with which we can probe the mysteries of the universe.' Then several people of average intelligence blushed, and as they left they were joined by others who faced challenges of mental ability or illness, and 10 of them walked to the door.
And without a downward glance, the preacher fairly sang as he called forth thanks for '... virtues - that make the path of life pleasant, as if bedecked by flowers.' Then those who were tortured by bad tempers, or wracked by jealousy, or who felt the stab of envy, or whose lives were made miserable by more private vices, all arose - and those 10 were no longer any part of that congregation.
And as the preacher went on (and on), he said, 'We give thanks for justice.' And at that a Jew from Cairo, and a Palestinian from Israel, and a child in desperate need who was not served by the system of justice, and others deprived of recourse to law, or medicine, or education - 10 in number, all left.
Then, finally, the preacher came to the end of his Thanksgiving litany, and prayed simply, 'Let us give thanks for peace.' And the final 10, victims of wars in distant lands and battles as close as home, casualties of new wars and ancient conflicts alike, rose and left.
When the preacher at last looked out on the congregation, behold, no one was there. Then he cried out a real prayer, 'O Lord, where have they gone?' And a still, small, voice spoke from Heaven in answer, 'Because you have exalted what I have not promised, and since the human heart knows well the taste of bitterness, they have departed from your congregation.
When have I promised you wholeness of body, or health, or earthly comfort? When have I promised you unbroken bonds with family or friends? When did I promise you continued possession of any gift: beauty, intelligence, or virtue? When have I ever told you that in this world you will always know justice or peace?
Remember my servant Job.
Remember my Son, Jesus.'
And the preacher cried out again, 'Then Lord, what WILL you give us?' And the Voice replied, 'Myself.'
Then the preacher ran to the doorway of the church, and in the shadows of the great pillars and lofty spires, he saw the 100. Their eyes were cast down - those eyes in whom could be seen all the billions on the Earth. And he took his box of lozenges with all their comfort and hurled them into the outer darkness (which was a good place for them), and then he cried out to the people, 'O my friends, I have deceived you. We MAY have friends, we MAY have justice, but all we are sure of is God. In olden days Job said - Though he slay me, yet will I trust him - and in his dying, Jesus said - Into thy hands I commend my spirit - For this is all that is sure: God gives to us himself. And that is all that matters.'
And a blind woman wept. And a friendless man grasped the hand of a neighbor. And many who had been denied justice knew that their struggles were not in vain. And they all came back inside.
Then the preacher mounted the pulpit again (for that is the nature of preachers), and 100 faces, the faces of all the world, looked up. And he said, 'Let us give thanks that God himself is with us.' And 100 voices thundered back, 'Amen.'"
+ + + + + + +
NOTE FROM THE LEAVING NADDERBY BLOG: I first heard this 30 years ago where it was used as a portion of a sermon by Rev. Robert Lovell, one of the finest preachers ever produced by the West Ohio Conference of the United Methodist Church. Years later, at my request, he sent me a copy of his notes, where I learned that the author (of the Parable cited in the sermon) was someone named Richard Hunter - HERE'S WHERE THE MYSTERY, AND THE SEARCH, COMES IN - I have not been able to further identify Richard Hunter, or the original form of the Parable. I would be indebted to anyone whose Searching Skills exceed my own, who could shed light on the origins of this piece.
Meanwhile, although I know that some of the language is dated, I hope that those who hear/see this version will be (as I am) pulled away from the God of man's invention, who tends to reside in a land of comfortable blessings, and towards the presence of the God who is with us through bane as well as blessing - the God who may greet us when we are in our Sunday best, but who will also be standing with us when everything else seems dark.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
What is the plural of "hiatus"?
This is especially for any Facebook friends who find "Leaving Nadderby" (and for one other person: see below).
Whenever I remember, I include a note in the Blog entries suggesting that anyone new to "Leaving Nadderby" go to FEBRUARY 2008 in the Archives & scroll down to the title "LOOKING BACK".
There you will find an introduction to the site (& an explanation of the name, although veterans of "Out of the Silent Planet" may already recognize its origin).
You will notice also, that there have been a couple of very long hiatuses (hiatusai-?? - what is the plural of hiatus?). That's all part of the ongoing story. My hope is that the Facebook connection may actually help Leaving Nadderby.
2 Final notes:
1) When this began, I was gathering information for RSS and other ways of notifying interested parties that something was here. Anything anyone knows about such things would be greatly appreciated as we gear up again.
2)These last 2 posts are especially provided for Mr. H. - an elderly teacher from Springfield - but one of the greats.
Whenever I remember, I include a note in the Blog entries suggesting that anyone new to "Leaving Nadderby" go to FEBRUARY 2008 in the Archives & scroll down to the title "LOOKING BACK".
There you will find an introduction to the site (& an explanation of the name, although veterans of "Out of the Silent Planet" may already recognize its origin).
You will notice also, that there have been a couple of very long hiatuses (hiatusai-?? - what is the plural of hiatus?). That's all part of the ongoing story. My hope is that the Facebook connection may actually help Leaving Nadderby.
2 Final notes:
1) When this began, I was gathering information for RSS and other ways of notifying interested parties that something was here. Anything anyone knows about such things would be greatly appreciated as we gear up again.
2)These last 2 posts are especially provided for Mr. H. - an elderly teacher from Springfield - but one of the greats.
Let's see how long it takes you to find them - ha!
P.S. - If you click on the "Follow" button at the top of the page, you should be able (in some mysterious manner which is not immediately clear to me) to keep track of Leaving Nadderby.
P.S. - If you click on the "Follow" button at the top of the page, you should be able (in some mysterious manner which is not immediately clear to me) to keep track of Leaving Nadderby.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
It is the real me that God loves
Como me siento en realidad? Bien? No tan bien?
Puedo estar my en paz, feliz de estar aqui ... Tambien puedo sentir frustracion, preocupacion, o enojo ...
Asumo como estoy en realidad.. ES EL YO REAL EL QUE DIOS AMA.
IT IS THE REAL ME THAT GOD LOVES.
I love these words from a Devotional that I often use - "How do I really feel - good - not so good? I may be at peace, happy to be here [attempting to pray] - but also I may feel frustration, be preoccupied, or angry - I accept how I really am. IT IS THE REAL ME THAT GOD LOVES."
This comes from [what is for me] an unlikely source - a prayer site run by a bunch of Irish Jesuits [speaking as a life-long Methodist/United Methodist]. It's called SACRED SPACE [o ESPACIO SAGRADO - it exists in over 20 languages], and I highly recommend it to all of the computer types who have not found ways or time to pray regularly, or who just need a reminder that God loves the real you - the one that friends, or family [or even you] may not always approve of or understand.
It's a pretty powerful thought.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
"I thought it was God, but it turned out to be Michigan"
Walking throught the living room in mid-commercial I had an interesting experience.
The TV was on and a commercial showed many Lighthouse images, and although I wasn't listening closely, the voice-over seemed to be in favor of light over darkness - good, positive, imagery.
At the close of the commercial, when the viewer is being invited to experience the light, I was expecting the name of a Church, or the Latter Day Saints, to come up - when instead it turned out that this was a tourism ad for MICHIGAN!
Not sure what to make of that shocker - mainly it was good for a laugh. It was about the 100+ actual lighthouses in The State Up North. Even though I bear the same last name as legendary tOSU Coach Wayne Woodrow, I can actually say some good things about the place. I have known some very fine human beings who originated there - many of whom still have a fondness for the place.
But if this commercial wasn't going to turn out to be about God, couldn't it at least have been about - oh, I don't know - Wisconsin?
My quandary over the lack of a lesson in this scenario reminds me (as SO many things do) of a Peanuts cartoon. Once Snoopy found his water dish empty and there were no humans around. He picked up his dish in his mouth and went and stood under a faucet (which was turned off). As he stood there, it began to rain, & his bowl filled up and he got his drink. In the last panel, Snoopy's thought balloon says, "I'm going to have to think about that one for a while."
Same here.
Also, of course, the title of this piece owes some debt to the classic Children's Sermon story, where the minister asks the kids, "What has a cute fluffy tail and scampers up and down trees and hides acorns?" One kid, obviously a veteran of the front Sanctuary steps where these encounters take place, responded, "Well, it sure sounds like a squirrel, but since this is the Children's Sermon I know it's Jesus."
God - Michigan. Way different.
When I figure out a lesson here, I'll get back to you.
[As always, if this is your first visit to "Leaving Nadderby", I suggest that you click on February 2008 and go down to "Looking Back" as an introduction to the site. I hope soon to figure out the intricacies of RSS & to again let the world know that this is online.]
The TV was on and a commercial showed many Lighthouse images, and although I wasn't listening closely, the voice-over seemed to be in favor of light over darkness - good, positive, imagery.
At the close of the commercial, when the viewer is being invited to experience the light, I was expecting the name of a Church, or the Latter Day Saints, to come up - when instead it turned out that this was a tourism ad for MICHIGAN!
Not sure what to make of that shocker - mainly it was good for a laugh. It was about the 100+ actual lighthouses in The State Up North. Even though I bear the same last name as legendary tOSU Coach Wayne Woodrow, I can actually say some good things about the place. I have known some very fine human beings who originated there - many of whom still have a fondness for the place.
But if this commercial wasn't going to turn out to be about God, couldn't it at least have been about - oh, I don't know - Wisconsin?
My quandary over the lack of a lesson in this scenario reminds me (as SO many things do) of a Peanuts cartoon. Once Snoopy found his water dish empty and there were no humans around. He picked up his dish in his mouth and went and stood under a faucet (which was turned off). As he stood there, it began to rain, & his bowl filled up and he got his drink. In the last panel, Snoopy's thought balloon says, "I'm going to have to think about that one for a while."
Same here.
Also, of course, the title of this piece owes some debt to the classic Children's Sermon story, where the minister asks the kids, "What has a cute fluffy tail and scampers up and down trees and hides acorns?" One kid, obviously a veteran of the front Sanctuary steps where these encounters take place, responded, "Well, it sure sounds like a squirrel, but since this is the Children's Sermon I know it's Jesus."
God - Michigan. Way different.
When I figure out a lesson here, I'll get back to you.
[As always, if this is your first visit to "Leaving Nadderby", I suggest that you click on February 2008 and go down to "Looking Back" as an introduction to the site. I hope soon to figure out the intricacies of RSS & to again let the world know that this is online.]
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
We have no King (of the dogs) but Cesar
One of the great discoveries in my life in 2009 is Cesar Millan.
For those who don't watch the National Geographic channel, his name might be a mystery. To those who do watch, you might recognize him as "The Dog Whisperer".
My family is weary of hearing me extol his virtues, but when someone has had a positive effect on your life, you should bear witness. Toby (7-year-old Lab/Weimaraner mix) & I can now take walks in town together - something impossible for most of Toby's life due to his enormous strength and insatiable curiosity (coupled with my lack of strength and/or patience).
Now he will walk beside me with a slack lead. Now he is willing to suspend his lifetime agenda of saying 'hello' to every person/dog/animal on the planet one being at a time. Now he doesn't strain and cough and choke. How is such a miracle possible?
For those who don't watch the National Geographic channel, his name might be a mystery. To those who do watch, you might recognize him as "The Dog Whisperer".
My family is weary of hearing me extol his virtues, but when someone has had a positive effect on your life, you should bear witness. Toby (7-year-old Lab/Weimaraner mix) & I can now take walks in town together - something impossible for most of Toby's life due to his enormous strength and insatiable curiosity (coupled with my lack of strength and/or patience).
Now he will walk beside me with a slack lead. Now he is willing to suspend his lifetime agenda of saying 'hello' to every person/dog/animal on the planet one being at a time. Now he doesn't strain and cough and choke. How is such a miracle possible?
The Dog Whisperer.
Cesar has a mantra that he repeats over and over to the owners of the dogs with which he works:
- Exercise
- Discipline
- Affection
IN THAT ORDER.
He points out over and over that American dogs get plenty of affection, but their main needs are for Exercise & Discipline (knowing who the "pack leader" is [me] and who the pack leader is not [him]). You can check out Cesar at http://www.cesarmillaninc.com/.
Not a bad approach to life in general. My kids can laugh at me all they want. Since I've been able to walk Toby more easily (without the need to head for the woods), I've been able to increase my own excercise & discipline.
Toby is irresistible - he will always get tons of affection. It is not true affection, though, to let dogs think they are in charge - they're not really up to it. My fond hope is that America (and the world) will discover the Dog Whisperer and apply his tenets to life in general.
It could result in much better kids.
[As always, if this is your first visit to "Leaving Nadderby", I suggest that you click on February 2008 and go down to "Looking Back" as an introduction to the site. I hope soon to figure out the intricacies of RSS & to again let the world know that this is online. ALSO, stay tuned for more wisdom from Cesar in future posts (I'll go ahead & apologize to my family in advance - sorry guys).
Friday, March 20, 2009
Shhhhhhhh -
Keep it under your hat, but I'm going to post something here - broken keyboard and all (but that's another story). It's been a whale of a year, with enormous peaks and valleys, and it has seemed like too much to even put pen to paper (so to speak).
Oddly enough, the first post here, the one that pretty much created "Leaving Nadderby", spoke to just the kind of year this has been. If anyone else sees this post, I will as in the past recommend that you find the original "Looking Back" from February 2008 as an introduction to what Leaving Nadderby is all about, when I'm able to do it.
The year has not all been bad news, and even in adjusting to new directions there have been whispers of new beginnings & possibilities.
My deepest apologies to anyone who has checked by at this site over the past year. This is the first day of Spring (at least since 7:44 EDT), so maybe it really can be a new beginning. I stopped making rash promises about what I would be able to do a long time ago, but there is hope. [BTW, when people talk about "opening a Pandora's Box" in reference to unleashing a torrent of evils, they often forget that the storyteller said that there was still one thing remaining to be unleashed after Pandora's curiosity had turned loose all of the world's evils - Hope. (Storytellers, paradoxically, often know the most about telling the Truth)].
If I can get going again, I will look into the RSS possibilities (about which I was enlightened last year - thanks to a reader) as a way to get word around, but for today it's just about seeing if I can manage to both type AND hit the "publish post" button.
Stay tuned.
Oddly enough, the first post here, the one that pretty much created "Leaving Nadderby", spoke to just the kind of year this has been. If anyone else sees this post, I will as in the past recommend that you find the original "Looking Back" from February 2008 as an introduction to what Leaving Nadderby is all about, when I'm able to do it.
The year has not all been bad news, and even in adjusting to new directions there have been whispers of new beginnings & possibilities.
My deepest apologies to anyone who has checked by at this site over the past year. This is the first day of Spring (at least since 7:44 EDT), so maybe it really can be a new beginning. I stopped making rash promises about what I would be able to do a long time ago, but there is hope. [BTW, when people talk about "opening a Pandora's Box" in reference to unleashing a torrent of evils, they often forget that the storyteller said that there was still one thing remaining to be unleashed after Pandora's curiosity had turned loose all of the world's evils - Hope. (Storytellers, paradoxically, often know the most about telling the Truth)].
If I can get going again, I will look into the RSS possibilities (about which I was enlightened last year - thanks to a reader) as a way to get word around, but for today it's just about seeing if I can manage to both type AND hit the "publish post" button.
Stay tuned.
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