Take The Yes
So yesterday morning Martha, Sarah, Jeffrey, and I were in church. We're the only ones from our family there because her parents Robert and Sharon were getting ready to head for a veterans' reunion in New Mexico and taking their time getting there (they stopped last night in Belle Fourche, South Dakota, the city nearest the geographic center of the 50 United States), her sister Mary's at work, her sister Malesa I'm presuming was with her family unit, and her other sister Margaret and her daughter Josceline were in the process of moving from Robert and Sharon's into their new place, a spacious second story apartment which we went to see, even though Sarah and Jeffrey had already seen it, after church for Martha and I hadn't seen it ourselves.
Borglum, Lincoln. My Father's Mountain. ISBN 0913062022
There's many books I've read in the last few weeks alone, so a one-sentence snippet between paragraphs, like this one that the book's written by the Mount Rushmore sculptor's son will have to work for now. So before church started yesterday, Val who was one of the Faith and Care coordinators this month (which ends today, convenient) asked me who had already signed up as a communion assistant to be an usher as well. I was spacing on that, confusing ushers who collected the offering with greeters, until Martha said something and I knew I was going to do it anyway. But Val was saying two or three times I didn't have to do it -- there's more than enough people in church to do all that needs doing, especially in this combined service (we'll revert back to 8:15 and 10:45 am services the Sunday after Labor Day) -- and I said, "Val, take the yes."
Bierce, Ambrose. The Devil's Dictionary. T487
Also known as The Cynic's Dictionary, it collects a quarter-century's worth of the author's witticisms and as far as I know is not (too) diabolically inspired. (Example: egoist, n. A person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me.) And proof of my aphorism that if a book can make you laugh when you read a piece of it, it's worth investing your time in reading the whole thing. Overall, the weekend was pretty relaxing for us, minus Martha having to work a day shift Saturday at Burger King on Broadway, but soon after she got home we headed over to Roosevelt Park on the other side of town for DaySun's Day of Giving, an until now annual tribute to a local young man who died fifteen years ago in a drunk driving accident. He wasn't drunk, his driver was.
Humber, Paul G. (Ed.). Reasons to Affirm a Young Earth, Booklet II. ISBN ISBN 9780985516994
Cogent enough argument(s), all sixty of them, but I don't see how they are heaven-or-hell issues. And since then every year just before -- in the case of this year, just after due to rain -- school starts DaySun's uncle Bob has organized a free backpack and bicycle giveaway for all the kids of Minot. And a local restaurant makes free food for the even because the publicity helps. But this is the last year Bob's said he'll be doing it, and the reason (to me) is not entirely clear. From the clamoring of people who are truly less interested in a tribute to DaySun and accompanying entertainment programme (I just wanted the British spelling for some reason) than free food and a free giveaway, I have an idea that Bob might be sick of doing it. I can't say I blame him; there's only so much any one person, even with corporate sponsors, can do. And resurrecting a memory every year with something that big (for where I live, about 1500 people's big) has got to tax anybody.
No disrespect meant, I'd take the yes.
David
Borglum, Lincoln. My Father's Mountain. ISBN 0913062022
There's many books I've read in the last few weeks alone, so a one-sentence snippet between paragraphs, like this one that the book's written by the Mount Rushmore sculptor's son will have to work for now. So before church started yesterday, Val who was one of the Faith and Care coordinators this month (which ends today, convenient) asked me who had already signed up as a communion assistant to be an usher as well. I was spacing on that, confusing ushers who collected the offering with greeters, until Martha said something and I knew I was going to do it anyway. But Val was saying two or three times I didn't have to do it -- there's more than enough people in church to do all that needs doing, especially in this combined service (we'll revert back to 8:15 and 10:45 am services the Sunday after Labor Day) -- and I said, "Val, take the yes."
Bierce, Ambrose. The Devil's Dictionary. T487
Also known as The Cynic's Dictionary, it collects a quarter-century's worth of the author's witticisms and as far as I know is not (too) diabolically inspired. (Example: egoist, n. A person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me.) And proof of my aphorism that if a book can make you laugh when you read a piece of it, it's worth investing your time in reading the whole thing. Overall, the weekend was pretty relaxing for us, minus Martha having to work a day shift Saturday at Burger King on Broadway, but soon after she got home we headed over to Roosevelt Park on the other side of town for DaySun's Day of Giving, an until now annual tribute to a local young man who died fifteen years ago in a drunk driving accident. He wasn't drunk, his driver was.
Humber, Paul G. (Ed.). Reasons to Affirm a Young Earth, Booklet II. ISBN ISBN 9780985516994
Cogent enough argument(s), all sixty of them, but I don't see how they are heaven-or-hell issues. And since then every year just before -- in the case of this year, just after due to rain -- school starts DaySun's uncle Bob has organized a free backpack and bicycle giveaway for all the kids of Minot. And a local restaurant makes free food for the even because the publicity helps. But this is the last year Bob's said he'll be doing it, and the reason (to me) is not entirely clear. From the clamoring of people who are truly less interested in a tribute to DaySun and accompanying entertainment programme (I just wanted the British spelling for some reason) than free food and a free giveaway, I have an idea that Bob might be sick of doing it. I can't say I blame him; there's only so much any one person, even with corporate sponsors, can do. And resurrecting a memory every year with something that big (for where I live, about 1500 people's big) has got to tax anybody.
No disrespect meant, I'd take the yes.
David
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