dreaming of Dad

 

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Last night I dreamed about my Dad. We were arguing about whether drinking was immoral or not. He insisted it was. Most of the dream consisted of him and me going back with silly comments “You’re wrong!” “No! You’re wrong!” Then I said “Jesus drank!” But this didn’t move him. Finally I yelled at him, “I don’t care what you think!” Then in the dream I immediately retracted this and said tearfully, “I DO care what you think!”

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Instead of blogging yesterday I continued putting my books in order. I now have several shelves in alphabetical order upstairs in the loom room. While doing so I came across a stack of stuff I thought was Eileen’s, but discovered it was a mishmash of my own stuff. I began sorting through it. Some of it was my parents’ stuff.

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I ran across a folder marked “Memories/Experiences.” In it were clips from my Dad’s sermons with anecdotes on them.

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Here are a few:

“I remember Roy, whose anger was making a living hell for his wife and children…
His anger would seek refuge in drink, which only made matters wores…
When he arrived home, everyone was sorry to see him come until that day
when the voice of God called, “ABOUT FACE!”
And the anger seemed to go out of Roy…
A new love came into his face, and a new life-style was his possession.
The family felt it—right down to the family dog….
Where hate had been so strong, now it was love and controlled feelings…
Roy did an about-face!”

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“Four times, I have crossed the Atlantic ocean … twice by ship (and I got seasick both times), and twice by airplane…
It was on my first ship crossing that I was privileged to go into the Captain’s
quarters and stand at the Captain’s wheel as if I were guiding that great ocean
liner, the HS Seven Seas, myself (I have a picture of myself at the wheel of
that ship…. not that I was doing anything but posing….but it sure looked
great in the picture)
While we were in the ship’s wheel-house or bridge, we saw the ship’s
radar, a device which provided the ship with a far seeing “eye’/At
night, or in fog and storm, this radar could keep the captain informed
so that he could avoid shore lines….so that he could avoid collision
with ice-bergs or other ships.
We marveled at this wonderful instrument which has saved so many
ships from disaster.
On my second crossing of the Atlantic by ship, one day we were caught in a
storm.. Huge 40 & 50 foot waves were tossing the ship like a toy.
My wife and I were in the dinging area of the ship when the storm hit,
and suddenly all points of reference were lost.  Tables and chairs went
skidding across the room. Fortunately the crew had seen the storm coming
and much was tied down, but everything that was not tied down was a wreck.
Up was suddenly over there, and down was over there …..For a landlubber
(with a landlubber’s stomach) it was awful.
But in the storm, with everything thrown about, and people everywhere
terribly upset…it was comforting to know that the radar was still
functioning…IT WAS ONE OF THOSE HELPFUL DEVICES that made it possible
for the captain to bring us through safely.”

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“I listened to a very intimate confession in a small group one day, as a grown man
with tears streaming down his cheeks, told of his anger with a father who played
God in a miserable fashion…
He told the group that as a boy, he would be given the task of raking
leaves…..’And, I would try…Honest, I would try
I remember, I would rake the leaves into a pile, very carefully,
not missing a one of them. I would have the lawn completely clear
of leaves…but by the time Dad arrived home, a few more leaves
would fall….and I would get the dickens…..’
And th pain of having disappointed his father was still there with him as
he wept some thirty years later…..’I couldn’t please my Father’
Oscar Wilde once said, ‘Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow
older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them…’”

Gee, I wonder why I dream about my Dad last night.

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Maybe I’ll put up a few more of these. I will definitely keep them for the fam.

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movies and books

I learned of Christian Marclay’s 24 hour movie/art installation In Zadie Smith’s essay,  “Killing Orson Welles at Midnight” (pdf of the essay)

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If you’re interested I recommend reading Smith’s essay before looking at clips of the movie.

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It’s great fun. it’s designed to play in real time so that the minutes that click off in the movie clips would represent the actual passing time. It’s a cool idea. There are tons of clips online. I’ll leave it you, dear reader, to explore them if you want.

The actual installation will be at the Tate museum in London from 14 September 2018 to 20 January 2019. When I pointed this out to Eileen just now, she said, “I’m game.” Maybe we could work it in with Lucy-Sarah-Matthew visit. Who knows?

Hey. A new movie that looks like I might enjoy it. Cool. It’s only playing in Grand Rapids locally.

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So yesterday was John Clare’s birthday. I heard about it on the vestigial version of Garrison Keillor’s post sexual harassment Writers Almanac. He sounded a bit familiar. Sure enough he ended up at St. Andrew’s  asylum in North Hampton.

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Then I recalled his walk on role in volume 3 of Alan Moore’s Jerusalem in the difficult chapter 8. Perusing his wikipedia entry reveals that Moore has used him in another book, his first novel, Voice of the Fire. I’ve already ordered a copy of it. Heh.

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Here’s a cool cover of this book:

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I think I’m going to have read everything Alan Moore has written.

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The death of truth: how we gave up on facts and ended up with Trump | Books | The Guardian

Another astute looking article on the current lamentable situation in my country. I’ve bookmarked this one to read as well as the Madeline Albright article. So far I haven’t been able to bring myself to read them. But I will! I will!