SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Mt 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Remember the movie “Arthur” starring Dudley Moore, Liza Minnelli and the always scene-stealing actor extraordinaire, Sir John Gielgud?
That was a pretty funny flick. I was 11 when it was released, so I do recall having to wait to watch it until several years afterward when it finally made its way to broadcast TV in a heavily edited version.
Yes, wee ones, back in the 1980s when dinosaur roamed freely about, it took many moons for a movie to make its transition from big to small screen. Like, longer than it takes to send a text on your Grandpa’s flip phone. Either way.
It’s a snappy, farcical comedy about a spoiled, drunk rich man (Moore) who falls in love with a heart-of-gold waitress (Minelli) even though he’s supposed to marry a snotty, stuffy heiress. Ergo “how the rich get richer” and what not.
Through all the silliness and hilarity, always at Arthur’s beck and call, is his faithful butler, Hobson (Gielgud)—and ever with a clever-witted chide. The latter is Arthur’s best, if only, friend in the world.
In repayment of his loyalty, Arthur makes Hobson perform menial, often degrading, tasks. These include dressing him and curing his hangovers. In a now iconic scene, which is abbreviated so as to keep this space G-rated, Arthur insists Hobson draw him a bubble bath then sit beside him whilst he wrinkles. The dialogue goes:
Arthur: Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to take a bath.
Hobson: I'll alert the media.
Arthur: Do you want to run my bath for me?
Hobson: It's what I live for.
Ya gotta love Hobson and I do…but I hate a bath. Well, I used to, anyway. Or so I thought.
Growing up in a household of five people and equipped with only one bathroom --that did NOT include a shower- made me sorta, well, hate baths.
Not so much because I do hate baths as the concept of a shower sounded so much better, right? Bing bang boom, lickety split, in and out.
Lather up and go versus sit in a soapy soup. Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get my head under that spicket for shampooing. I had no Hobson massaging my tresses, you dig?
You want to hear something even more hilarious than the “Arthur” scene with the mounted moose head? I never shower now. Ever.
Unless I’m in a hotel room, ‘cause ewwwww otherwise, am I right?
But I much prefer my little bubble bath. Every.Single.Day.
Why? I think it’s soothing. I think it’s comforting. Most of all? It reminds me of some of the happiest days of my life.
Yep, “stuck” in the same room with my sister; huddled around the kitchen table every night (EVERY one) for a home-cooked meal; getting hand-me-downs, and being relegated to the “hump” seat on long car rides…these are some of my most treasured memories -- bar none. Prior to the arrival of one Kyle Kimerer, natch.
Looks like “Arthur” and I both learned a little something about what matters most in life. You don’t always like what you think you want…and just might appreciate the things you once took for granted. #Gratitude
I wouldn’t trade in those times with my fam for anything. Not even a quadruple showerhead.
I know it’s crazy, but it’s true. (Wink to all my homies who get it.)
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist who once got caught between the moon and NYC. Forgive her bad jokes at www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Assumption Thursday: Mary is taken up to heaven; a chorus of angels exults. Ps 136: Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endures forever.
I have a new pal. He's got my utmost respect.
Frankly, he's a national hero and everyone should be as grateful for him as I.
No, not that cretin Bernie Madoff.
Blech and Shudder.
Um, not the gentleman running for President again; though I'd take him over that crazy, madcap Hillary any day of the week ... and twice on Sunday. Aw, I dig him okay but he's just not a top pick for me. Still, props in my own way to Bernie Sanders.
Then there's the football star Bernie Kosar. Of course I love a kid from Boardman who does good! But, uh, I wasn't talking about that one, either.
I am referring to Mr. Bernard Jackson.
I met him quite by happenstance...just in passing.
When he walked by me the other day, I noticed his baseball cap that read "Viet Nam Veteran" a little too late to give him a proper THANK YOU.
So I chased him down, literally.
Poor guy probably wondered why the heck I was tailing him throughout the casino until I finally caught up to him (he's very tall and takes long strides) but he couldn't have been kinder to this total stranger.
"I saw your hat," I said pointing to my own mop of unruly hair, "and just wanted to say 'Thanks ... & that I pray for all our troops, past and present, every day.'"
He smiled widely and told me how much he appreciated someone stopping him to say such. I told him that's the least I could do, after all he did for me.
So, thanks again, Bernie, from the bottom of my heart. I'll keep my promise to say "Hello" if we bump into each other again.
BT Dubs, he sure is making that name proud, Capisce?
#Gratitude #GodBlessOurMilitary #ThankYouVeterans #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Mt 11:29ab Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart. MT 18:"...For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."
It happened so innocuously that I nearly didn't notice. Nearly.
I rather wish I hadn't, really, because it ruined my day. My week, actually. Eh, who am I kidding? My month.
With no offense intended to those with birthdays in the 8th month, I say we petition congress to make it last, say, 17 extra days or so? Look, I have a love/hate relationship with August, anyway. I mean, who doesn't?
On the one hand, we LOVE August for being summer's homestretch.
It even gives us a full 31 days, which is more than I can say for that slacker summer kickoff month of June. At least July's on our side. Hmpf.
Anywho, we hate August for the obvious reasons:
-Back to school.
-Unofficial end of summer.
-The harsh reality of shorter and shorter days...and longer and longer nights.
Then again, without it, where the heck would we be? GASP.
And just as I was see-sawing toward a kind August sentiment during a recent morning drive, a big orange leaf fell off a mighty sprawling oak along the roadside and blew onto my windshield.
I hate you, August.
I should've realized how much the word looks and sounds like "Autumn" a long time ago. Grrrrrrrrr.
To be clear, it isn't Autumn I detest. It's what comes so quickly afterward...and hangs around far past its expiration date; sort of like that carton of eggnog at the back of the fridge you forget about until Groundhog Day. BLECH.
Goodbye warmth. Goodbye bright, sunny, lazy weekends at the lake. Goodbye suntan. DANG IT!
Worst of all, so long college sophomore. HARD, HARD GULP.
Ah well, perhaps we'll have an "Indian Summer" and maybe it'll be so hot we'll have to keep the boat out of storage until November...and shoot, that kid might just come home for Labor Day weekend? And the one after that...and -- sigh.
#HoldOntoSummer #AugustStinks #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Thes 2:14 God has called you through the Gospel to possess the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
I can't watch old movies in my house.
Well, not typically, anyway.
My husband detests anything old.
He hates Victorian homes (my fave), despises antiques (I love 'em), and out-rightly rejects movies not filmed in color.
Not sure why he sticks with such an old gal? Better not tug on that thread too hard. Moving onto the kid.
A story's got to be truly riveting or downright terrifying for Kyle to agree to sit down to anything, say, pre-1980s. To be fair, those are "old movies" to him, I suppose.
Either way, whilst both of them were otherwise occupied last night, I watched a movie my folks have been raving about since I was old enough to talk:"The African Queen" starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn and directed by John Huston.
That's all-time Hollywood royalty FYI, whippersnappers. And you, too, Kerry. I digress.
All I can say about "The African Queen" is, Mom and Dad, as usual, were right.
A wonderful story, masterfully written, and superbly acted and directed, with just the right flairs of drama, action, heartbreak, and comic relief.
Here's a brief summary ala IMDB:
At the start of World War I, Charlie Allnut is using his old steamer, The African Queen, to ferry supplies to villages in East Africa. When the Rev. Samuel Sayer (who is performing Methodist missionary work there at the time) dies, Charlie agrees to take Sayers' sister, Rose, back to civilization, taking on the Germans at the same time.
Of course Charlie and Rose are polar opposites; so you know what that ultimately means. Did I mention it's fairly wholesome (given the backdrop, heightened by the actions of some pretty horrendous German soldiers--and well, Bogart's character being a wee bit of an alcoholic) and rather sweet?
Heck, it's not even some ridiculously long-drawn out affair; clocks in at less than two hours.
Best of all, it's got a happy ending; I think it's safe to offer that spoiler? The film was made in 1951, after all.
When it all comes down to it; it's an inspired film with a strong yet simple message, probably best explained during the exchange between Bogart and Hepburn as he defends his drunken behavior the night prior.
Charlie Allnut: "A man takes a drop too much once in a while, it's only human nature."
Rose Sayer: "Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put into this world to rise above."
Indeed. They do...and so can we.
Here's to films from bygone eras offering hope, faith, and relevancy in (nearly) 2020. I absolutely love "The African Queen" --but then again, I'm just an old soul in a modern world, I suppose.
Either way, watch an old movie, read a classic novel, or crack open the Good Book every now and again. You might just be pleasantly surprised by the blockbuster you find.
#OldMoviesRock #Hope #Faith #Love #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Hebrews 11: Only faith can guarantee the blessings that we hope for, or prove the existence of realities that are unseen...
I'm certain I've mentioned at least once already.
Hey, I'm getting up there, bear with my foggy memory.
Back when I was a senior in college, I had a part-time job as a telemarketer.
I was, how do you say? Abysmal.
I seem to recall most of my paycheck going to Olan Mills' studio toward portrait packages, which is, of course, what I was ostensibly "selling.". And by "selling" I mean begging my Mom, sister, and closest friends to buy 'em.
Not sure of good old Olan's still has locations (I think they do within JC Penney's stores?) but I need to check, since I'm fairly sure I've got at least four outstanding sittings paid in full.
Either way, I've always, always been very conscientious in acknowledging that the person on the other end of that annoyance call is a human --just trying to get by in the world by making an honest living. Therefore, I am NEVER rude to telemarketers.
But even I have my cap, Capisce?
Based on what I can only describe as the absolute worst attempt at a phone solicitation in the history of history, including my own pathetic performance, I give you my crash course in "How to be a Really, Really Bad Telemarketer 101."
1. Don't address a callee by name. Or worse, use the wrong name. That was a click you just heard.
2. Pretend you're NOT a telemarketer and that you and the callee are acquainted. This goes hand in hand with using the name of one of their friends, colleagues, or associates as bait, stating "Mary asked me to reach out to you." Hard click.
3. Call a cell number 14,742 consecutive times from the same phone bank and don't leave a voicemail. Dead giveaway.
4. Connect to someone via social media and upon acceptance of your invitation, immediately try to sell them something. You are now blocked.
5. Call someone's home at 8AM on a Sunday, 9PM on a Wednesday. Or like, ever. JK.
6. Forget that you just called someone, even though you spoke to them at length and pitch them again. Yikes, what are you, like, my age? Come on, kids; try a little.
7. Leave this message:
Begin with a heaving, disgusted sigh. (Guess she thought I was screening? I was truly in a meeting. Either way.)
Then say, in the most irritated tone known to man since Archie Bunker learned his 'little girl' married 'the meathead': "Hey, this is Adrianna if you could call me back, I'd appreciate it."
Well, Adrianna (such a beautiful name for such a bitter young lady, BT dubs), I might take you at your word if your attitude didn't scream:
"YOU ARE SO IGNORANT FOR NOT TAKING MY CALL AND YOU CLEARLY WON'T CALL BACK BUT I HAVE TO COMPLETE THIS RIDICULOUS FARCE TO GET PAID."
Finish up with: "My number is 325-203-****. Thank you." (Probably would've been wise to say where you were calling from and why?)
FYI, that last line was delivered sans sincerity but with the same inflection as another dual-word phrase ending in " you" -- typically followed by an exclamation point. I don't mean the post-sneeze courtesy, either.
Let me tell you something, little miss Adrianna, you are pretty darned lucky that my editor won't let me print "your number" in its entirety.
"But thanks for your call. I appreciate it." Kinda like a canker sore.
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist who thinks Adrianna would ace her course. Check out PK's plethora of useful tidbits at www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Mt 16:18 You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
Some days are so bright, ya "gotta wear shades," as Timbuk 2 crooned in 1986.
They were a one-hit wonder, obvi. I digress.
Other days, that bright light seems to disappear faster than Timbuk 2's fame, Capisce?
But the light is there. Sometimes, we're just back-lit and don't know it.
Sometimes, it's dim -- so we'll learn focus.
Sometimes, it's sporadic, ensuring that we become keenly aware of it's presence.
Sometimes, it's just that perfect balance -- not so stark we hurt our eyes trying to see it but beaming enough to light our paths.
Regardless of the wattage, rest assured it's out there; sustaining, warming, comforting, and guiding us. Always.
The Light of the world. Yep. It's there...it's always there.
All we have to do is remember to seek it out.
#HaveFaith #HangInThere #BadTimesPass #HesGotUs #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/joseph-joe-ledford-03407421/ Mt. 17:5c This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased; listen to him. LK 7:16 A great prophet has arisen in our midst and God has visited his people.
I don't want to brag or anything but, I did it!
Oh yes I did, too; my FIT BIT CHARGE 2 told me so; so it can't be lie. It's kind of like reading something online. Wait, no...strike that.
Anyway, anyone who knows me at all understands that not only do I have horrible sleep patterns but they often mirror those of infants.
You know, asleep for two hours, awake for an hour, asleep for two and a half hours, awake for 45 minutes...and so on, and so forth. On a good night, I get a little more than five hours of sleep; typically, it's a bit under 5.
But, for whatever reason two weekends ago, I slept for SEVEN HOURS IN A ROW both Friday and Saturday night! As my FBC2 proclaimed the next morning: You did it!
Sigh. My FIT BIT was giving me the same enthusiastic inspiration you give a six-month-old for not crying himself and you awake at 2AM...or the sort of sympathetic-yet-encouraging support a human gives a puppy for choosing the OUTSIDE to, um, go outside.
Shoot. The well-meaning but almost condescending YOU DID IT!! kinda made me sad.
An "Attagirl" just for sleeping well for two days...out of the past --eh, give or take 22 years or so?
What's next; an ice cream sundae for making a 'happy plate' or a dollar for brushing my teeth?
That's when it hit me. The Good Lord could be trying to tell me something...stop and smell the REM stage sleep, girl.
Sometimes --okay, most times-- we earth dwellers are in such a frenzied state.
Gotta answer my emails, gotta work on that presentation, gotta schedule a doctor's appointment, gotta start another load of laundry, gotta plan dinner, gotta hit that column deadline, gotta shop for back-to-school supplies, gotta grab a birthday gift card (or ten), gotta color my hair, gotta pay the tuition bill, gotta run to the grocery store (8,492 times) gotta, um, oh yes, get that load outta the washer and into the dryer. WHEW; that's a lotta gotta, no?
Wait, I know I'm forgetting something? Oh right. Breathe. Eat. Smile. Rest. Enjoy the other humans. PRAY. Repeat.
Your FIT BIT could just be sending you a message from that Big Tracker in the sky. He blessed us with life on the third rock to be lived well and good; not harried and haggard.
Slow down. Be present. Check out the sunrise. LOVE LIFE, especially the other peeps on the planet... or it could just end up being the winter of life before we even take the tags off our new flip flops, Capisce?
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/keithverescpa/ Mt 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
You can tell a lot about a man by ________.
That blank has been filled by many a famous human.
German Jewish philosopher and essayist Walter Benjamin said: You can tell a lot about a man by the books he keeps – his taste, his interest, his habits.”
Well that’s logical.
Obviously, you aren’t likely to house a library full of murder mysteries if you’re terribly squeamish and not, at least a little bit, suspiciously minded. And, no one’s hanging onto scads of sci-fi novels if they’re all about mushy love stories. I suppose Benjamin’s theory makes good sense.
“Letters from North America” columnist Peary Perry --oh, and no jokes about the U.S.-based satirist’s name, please; by now, he’s heard ‘em all and likely even wrote a few--, anyway, he said: “You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his dog.”
True. Let your dog sit on your lap? The furniture? The bed? Feed her the best dog food known to canine-hood? Take her to the vet for well-baby visits? You and I are compadres, you dig? Mistreat your pup in any way shape or form and I.WILL.CUT.YOU. I’m not kidding, yo.
British Harry Potter mogul J,K. Rowling said, “If you want to see the true measure of a man, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”
Truth. Nothing uglier on a human than the penchant for equating socio-economic status, job title, net worth, or otherwise coveted positions with a person’s right to be treated well. Oh, hex no.
I detest an earth dweller who opens the door for the CEO but lets it slam in the face of the cleaning staff members. Or some schmuck that falls all over himself to laud the chef of a five-star restaurant but treats the waiter like yesterday’s stale baguettes. NOT COOL. People are people; everyone matters EQUALLY. If you only befriend those of a certain circle; you and your brown nose can get in line with the Fido hurters. I don’t want to know you.
For my money, Maya Angelou, American poet, singer, civil rights activist, devout Christian, and novelist said it best:
“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way (s)he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.”
First of all, Maya is the only one (I found, anyway) addressing the fact that these rules apply to both the male and female species. Good on ya, Maya. #GirlPower
Clearly, we are talking about men AND women in this ---and all--- discussion(s), thank you very much.
Secondly, she’s right. A human’s ability to remain happy amid storms or calm when she goes to Miami and her clothes head to Tacoma or chill when the strand is strangling his fingers --- well that’s where the rubber meets the road, am I right?
Speaking of the road, I’m just relieved that none of these equations is based on one’s potty mouth in busy traffic. Hard, hard gulp. Guilty. I swear I’m fab in all the other categories, promise!
Understanding that people, all people, are what matters in this all-too-short life – and that every day is a gift to be opened, shared, and enjoyed; well, that, my friends, indicates the real measure of a man…or a gal.
That and a willingness to spoil their dogs, Capisce?
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist who prays to the Lord above that no one (especially He) will judge her too harshly on her actions behind the wheel. Check her out when she’s on her best communicative behavior at www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/keithverescpa/ 1 Pt 1:25 The word of the Lord remains forever; This is the word that has been proclaimed to you.
I see it there.
Every weekday morning, nearly without fail, there it is.
It can be freezing cold, pouring buckets of rain, sweltering (rare, natch), or sitting neatly above --or buried deeply beneath-- inches of snow.
But every morning, when I arrive at my day job between 5AM & 5:20AM, I will find, like clockwork: the morning paper.
It's just the first of our several subscriptions to arrive, but there it lies.
And every morning, I pick it up.
Some days, happily and with much consideration of those who will enjoy reading it later in the day. Other days, begrudgingly because I'm running late. And though it's not the paper's fault, per say, I do tend to deflect my frustration down at it.
Then there are those mornings when, four bags in each hand, arctic wind whipping through my body, and snow dumping onto my head, I'm downright peeved to see it there.
"DANG PAPER!" I always think, followed by, "LET SOMEONE ELSE GET IT TODAY!"
Then sure enough, I sheepishly stoop over, spilling 18 items from the four overstuffed bags, nearly cussing as I dust off the snow and drop them back in wherever they'll fit and scoop up the paper.
Did I mention I always need a free digit or two for the key fob and the door knob?
Sigh. But here's the point: I invariably pick up that paper. Every day. Why? Because I'm the first one to encounter it. The longer it sits out there, the greater the likelihood it gets ruined or swiped or ---worst of all--- trips someone.
I pick up the paper because it's the right thing to do. And I don't need or want a pat on the back for it; but sometimes I do need a reminder, Capisce? Pick up the paper.
#BeKind #DoTheRightThing #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/keithverescpa/ Ps 103: The Lord is kind and merciful. Merciful and gracious is the LORD, slow to anger and abounding in kindness. He will not always chide, nor does he keep his wrath forever.
You are very, very important. You are.
Maybe you just forgot? Or perhaps some of the more dastardly of the earth dwellers in your part of the globe have convinced you otherwise.
You are here -- and not just to take up space and occupy matter. You are here for a reason.
Could be that you're going to cure a disease?
Might be you're going to lead a nation someday?
There's a chance you'll unearth a rare relic or invent a new element ... or like, a really cool app ... that changes humanity for the better.
Maybe you're going to give birth to the next Eisntein? Sorry, I think I already checked that box. Wink.
You might be a world class athlete or pianist or baker or gardener or professor or astronomer...
Then again, maybe you're gonna be the guy or gal that makes other people smile -- and have courage -- and believe.
Guess what? Every single one of these talents, skills, attributes, and characteristics is equally important. I take it back; the latter most tops the list. Why?
Because small gestures can make big differences on a planet.
Just ask the elderly woman who's so grateful for the kindness of a parking lot attendant's assistance, or the man with the broken leg who wasn't sure how he was going to carry his briefcase, maneuver his crutches AND get on and off the elevator without the helping hand of an empathetic passerby, or the small child who accidentally got separated from but, with the aid of a forthright stranger. found his way back to his Mommy.
Better still, ask the Mommy, Capisce?
You're capable and relevant and you contribute in a way that impacts others. Whether that way is grand or minute belies the point ... it's your capacity to and willingness to give and care that make you the wonderful, fabulous YOU the world needs.
Somebody up there liked you enough to put you on the best of all the planets we know of, you dig? So don't let any Neanderthal tell you you're less than.
You are very, very important.
#BelieveInYourself #HaveFaith #Smile #Pray #Peace