The Lyrics Of The Song Tugged At My Heartstrings

It was by happenstance that the General and I became familiar with Celtic Thunder, the Irish singing group, through a PBS performance on television. Interestingly, it was their first broadcast performance. The year was 2007. We were drawn to the music like a hummingbird seeking nectar. In terms of age ranges, the oldest member of the group was George Donaldson (age 40), and the youngest member, Damian McGinty, was only fourteen.

My favorite solo artist would be difficult to choose. They were all exceptional. However, the most powerfully impactful song was one sung by George Donaldson. It was almost as though the song was autobiographical. It was the song about a man who lost his father.

The lyrics seemed to be a perfect fit for the man expressing his heart and soul through music. Donaldson’s facial expressions, his countenance, and the sense of emotion coming through his voice made the song seem personal and private.

It had only been a couple of months since my dad died, and the lyrics tugged at my heartstrings, filling my eyes with tears. The thoughts being expressed accurately identified my thoughts and emotions. I suspect, many of you would have thought the same. The story Donaldson sang was, “The Old Man.” I think of the song and listen to it every Father’s Day.

George Donaldson was a self-taught musician who grew up in Scotland. Interestingly, he was one of nine children. In addition to being a solo artist, he also played the guitar and flute. Prior to being selected to perform with the Celtic Thunder, Donaldson had already established himself in a successful singing career. He had a lifelong passion for Celtic music, which was inspired by his late father. It is said that he often told others that one of the greatest thrills of his life was the day he performed for his dad and 65,000 other fans at Celtic Park for the 2000 Season Opening Match.

George Donaldson was the only married member of the group. He had a wife and one daughter. He died very unexpectedly from a heart attack at the age of forty-six.

It is said that whenever George met fans while out on tour or on a promo trip, they would often have a story about how his songs resonated with them, reminding them of a special person or time in their life, an instance or a regret.

He had a great love and affection for meeting people all around the world. He loved to find out what their life stories were, he thoroughly enjoyed talking with them and believed there was a song in everybody that he met. That was part of George’s magic – his ability to touch others through his music and his performances. No matter what he was performing, George’s talent, warmth and love of music always shone through.

If today, you celebrate Father’s Day and are separated from you father because he is on the other side of eternity, I suspect the words of “The Old Man” will resonate with you.

Of course, I’d never refer to my dad as “the old man”, but the content of the song is not one of disrespect. In fact, it beautifully expresses a connection that equips one to move forward with love that is unbroken.

All My Best!
Don

Are You Focused and Unhurried?

A small booklet used to grace the shelves of one of my bookcases. Interestingly, I purchased the book before I even had a bookcase.  It subsequently graced the shelves of the first bookcase I ever built. I was a newly married student at the time.  The General and I got married in the summer of 1968.  I graduated from college the following May.

For the record, I still have the same wife and I still have the bookcase. Across the years, the bookcase has been stained, painted, stripped and re-stained.  I tend to prefer wooden surfaces that are unpainted. 

I suspect you might be hard pressed to find that at IKEA.  That may not be true.  I said that only because I have two friends that bought kitchen cabinets from IKEA. Both friends chose white cabinets.  I have only been in an IKEA store one time.  An hour later when I emerged, I promised not to go back. Once you are inside the store, finding you way out is a challenge.

For the record, having a wife was good for my GPA. My senior year in college, I made straight As.  I could say that explaining something other than As to my parents was easier than explaining my grades to the General. Truth be told, my college courses my senior year were all dedicated to subjects I enjoyed.  I can assure you that physics and algebra were not part of that year’s curriculum. Had they been my grades would have been significantly different.

In 1967 Charles Hummel wrote a small thought-provoking book entitled: “The Tyranny of The Urgent.”  In a nutshell he suggested that our lives are out of whack because we allow what we perceive to be urgent to replace things that are important. He maintained that life was intended to be lived unhurried and focused.  Can you imagine?

As I recall the book only took a few minutes to read. What I remember most about the book is Hummel’s assertion that the telephone was the most intrusive invention to negatively impact our lives.  This was decades before cell phones were even a consideration.

Today I have many friends who have family cell phone plans so that all their children can have one.  For the record, each kid was issued a cell phone while they were in grade school. 

I had a difficult enough time keeping up with a Big Chief Tablet and #2 pencil. I can’t imagine being in the fourth grade and keeping up with a cell phone.  Getting back to Hummel’s book, would you describe your life as focused and unhurried?

Focused and unhurried are two principles it would serve me well to embrace. 

All My Best!

Don

Mayday – Mayday – Mayday

I collect stories. An illustration shared in a post-resurrection sermon delivered by Dr. Stacy Conner, Senior Pastor of First Baptist Church, Muleshoe, TX caught my attention.  The illustration came from The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan who served as the 11^th Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama.  Reportedly, Kee was ordained a priest in 1982 and became a bishop in 2008.  He is now retired. Kee grew up in Vicksburg, MS. He is now retired. He and his wife live in Birmingham, AL.

When I heard the story about the blind man who jumped off a high diving board, I knew that I wanted to know more. My search for the illustration led me to a trilogy of books written by Kee Sloan (The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan). The included: Jabbok, Beulah and Prodigal.  I was fortunate not to find the illustration until mid-way through the last book.

Had I found the illustration in the first book, I could have concluded that I found what I was looking to find and may have chosen not to read more.  Had that been the case, I would have lost out.  The trilogy of books (all fiction) are about an Episcopal priest named Buddy. Yet, in the introduction of his first book, Kee says of Buddy that his story is a fictional autobiography.

Throughout the three books, Buddy always chooses to tell people to call him Buddy. He preferred that over Pastor Buddy or Priest Buddy. I can’t imagine that he would ever have been comfortable as the Right Reverend. He was the kind of man that gave priority to relationships. Being called by his first name carried the kind of comfort you find in a well worn pair of jeans.

The illustration I was hoping to find related to the funeral message for a nine-year old girl.  She was walking across the street to get in the car with her mother who was picking her up from school.  In so doing, she was hit by the car and died instantly.

Reportedly, when Buddy first learned of the tragedy, his immediate reaction was his desire to go visit with the family.  I can imagine the thoughts that filled his head as he made his way to the family’s home.  In fact, he had not quite sorted out what he was going to say and subsequently, drove past the home. He gently redirected himself and eventually made it to the family’s home.

Sometimes, preachers, extended family members and close friends often feel obligated to share something thoughtful to explain away the kind of pain and sense of loss that a family is experiencing.  With few exceptions, I suspect the words do more harm than good. There are some things for which no explanation is satisfactory.

Consequently, I most often let my presence and the tears in my eyes do the talking for me. There is nothing one can say surrounding the untimely death of a nine-year-old that will provide an aha moment. 

During the interim between news of the death and the subsequent funeral service, Buddy sorted and resorted his thoughts. It weighed heavily upon his heart.  Shortly before the service was to begin, Buddy’s wife told him he’d do great.  He said something closely akin to: “You don’t understand, I have nothing to say.”  Recounting a recent conversation with Buddy, she suggested the story of the blind man jumping off the high diving board. Buddy was filled with gratitude. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

As he stood to speak, he briefly shared about the special camp for adults with disabilities and that he had paired Edward, a blind man with Zach, a 16-year-old camp counselor that was kind of a knucklehead. On the last day of camp, someone rushed in his office to tell him that Edward was about to jump off the high diving board.

He hurried to the pool! He saw immediately that Zach had followed Edward up the ladder and surmised that he had provided Edward step by step details associated to what he could not see. Can you imagine the trust it took for Edward to let go of the rail?   Can you imagine the sensation of the sandpaper like surface of the diving board and walk forward until he sensed his toes wrapped over the edge? It would take absolute trust of the counselor on Edward’s part to jump into the darkness.

Buddy suggested: “Faith is not about understanding. Faith is about who you trust. So here we are, up here in the dark. And all we can do is let go and jump in, or stand here for the rest of our lives. But we are not alone – we are never alone. The One who’s up here with us has been through all of this before.  That’s what Good Friday and Easter is all about…Even when we don’t know, even when we’re lost, we have each other. Even when we are filled with doubt and we’re afraid, we’re not alone: our Lord Jesus is up there with us in the darkness saying: ‘Let go, step out, jump in. Even when you can’t trust yourself, you can trust me!

Of course, Buddy’s message had far more than this, but this is the story I wanted to find and I will keep it because it resonates with me.

All My Best!

Don

Stories Are Powerful

Sunday after church, I spent the remainder of the day finishing reading the book I started the day before.  The book is fiction, but the writer said the fabric from his own life was woven into the script. The book was well written. At least it held my attention from start to finish.

As a rule of thumb, I seldom put a book down until I finish reading it. Of course, some books cannot be read in a day.  But if I’ve invested several hours in reading, I will stay with it until I’ve read the book from cover to cover.

Years ago, when I traveled an appreciable distance to work, I often filled the time with audio books. More than once, I delayed pulling into my driveway late at night until I came to a good stopping place in the book. That simply substantiates the kind of hold a book can represent.  Stories are powerful. 

Yesterday, Amazon delivered three books I had ordered a couple of weeks earlier.   Actually, paperback versions of the books were available to ship my direction immediately, but I wanted hardback copies. In my warped sense of what’s important, there is something substantive about a hard-back book.

The General prefers to read on her Kindle, but I want a real book to hold in my hands.  Reading should routinely be a part of my week, but sometimes I fail to remember the importance a book can represent.

When I was a little kid in elementary school, during the summer months when school was out, my mother took us to the library once a week. It was her expectation that we read during the week instead of devoting every minute of the day to playing.

This past Friday when I was flying from Tampa to Austin, on my way home from Washington, the man sitting in the middle seat to my left on the airplane read from the moment he sat down until the plane landed.  I noticed the paperback book he was reading because it was well-worn and the pages had yellowed with age.  I was curious about the book, but didn’t get an opportunity to ask any questions because he never looked up.  However, I was bold enough to take a picture.

Periodically, someone will ask me, “Have you read any good books lately?”  I always answer truthfully. Yet, I find it a source of embarrassment if I don’t have a book on the tip of my tongue that I could recommend.

How about you?  Have you read any good books lately?

All My Best!

Don

I Want To Go To California

Our pastor always garners my attention. Yesterday morning he mentioned that during the week, he flew to New Mexico to attend to a medical emergency involving his dad.  His flight on Southwest Airlines took him first to Phoenix, AZ.

Despite his intent to call early enough to get in the A-boarding group on Southwest Airlines, he disappointingly found himself in the C-boarding group. That significantly reduces choices of seating. Yet from the story he shared, I’d say he got lucky. 

The precocious 4-year-old sitting in the window seat on the aisle he subsequently found to sit, was seated separate from his family. The four year old broke out in song as soon as the plane broke through the clouds. He made the melody and song up as he went along, but the words were repetitious: “We are on our way to California. I want to go to California.” 

By the time he changed planes in Phoenix, our pastor was certain that everyone on the plane wanted to go with that little boy to California. The joy in his anticipation was contagious.

I immediately thought of my grandson Jake. At the age of four, he likely would have done the same thing. He was a musical kid and that age, and he sang all the time.  Jake has never been at a loss for words either while talking or while singing.

I, too, found myself wanting to go to California. The most scenic stretch of roadway that I’ve ever driven on is in California. It is the stretch of roadway that goes past the Pebble Beach Golf Course. There is a toll for taking that road, but it is well worth the price of admission. The views of the Pacific Ocean are amazing.

I found myself momentarily lost in thought and my thoughts had to do with California rather the content of the pastor’s sermon. I probably shouldn’t say that, but it is true. In my momentary day dreaming, I envisioned the General and I were looking through antique stores in Carmel, California. That too is a most wonderful Pacific Coast setting and we have been there several times. 

The pastor drew me back in when he asked: “What is the song of your life?” His message carried a post resurrection theme and the peace and joy that is available to us. During his message, he mentioned a book that I intuitively knew I wanted to read.

Pastor Lonny reads good books, and he always has stories to share. Where he finds the time to read, I don’t know. At the same time, isn’t it true that failure to find the time to read is a waste of one’s time?

The book he mentioned is about a kid from a hard place who grows up hearing the message that he is no good. The character in the book goes by the name Nub Taylor. He ex-wife said he was no good. His daughter has the same perception. He is watching a party at his daughter’s home. He is parked across the street and looking through binoculars. He isn’t welcome.

I gathered from what I subsequently learned about the book, “Kinfolk”, written by Sean Dietrich, is that although the book is fictitious, in many respects the story of his life is woven in the pages.

His father committed suicide early in Sean’s childhood. His father’s death had a profound impact on his son’s life. His self-image was that of an underprivileged child. As a kid, he loved music, and he used music to negotiate dealing with getting through the rough spots in his life.

It is said of “Kinfolk”, “Beloved Southern writer Sean Dietrich, also known as Sean of the South, once again brings people and places to life in this lyrical song-turned-story about found family, second chances, country music, and the poignant power of love and forgiveness.”

I’m ordering the book today.

All My Best!

Don

It Takes An Act Of Congress To Get Something Changed

Memory is an amazing gift. The General just told me a story that seemed unbelievable. I say it seemed unbelievable, but I’ve witnessed it myself this week and simply glossed over the impossibility of it. It is the story of a six year old and his ability to read. Did I mention that he just finished pre-school? He starts the first grade when school begins. His story reminded me of one of mine from 1952 or 1953. It, too, had to do with the question, “Do you know how to read?”

The General and I virtually left the grandkids unsupervised on Saturday afternoon. I probably shouldn’t put that in writing. It might not set well with their parents. Our neglectful supervision wasn’t intentional. I’m telling myself that it wasn’t shear exhaustion related to having a house full of children all week, but we both took a nap. I simply couldn’t keep my eyes open. Consequently, I was out-for-the-count after lunch when my head hit the pillow. I obviously was counting Zzzz’s before the General dozed off. Actually, I don’t know where she napped, but I did it the right way. I stretched out on the bed.

At any rate, when Treva awakened, Jake was holding her cell phone. He turned to her and said, “Gram, Aunt Dre want’s to know if you’re asleep. She sent you a text and wants to know, “Is sleeping beauty awake?” Gram responded, “Tell her “yes”. He did so and continued to carry on the written conversation with her through texting.

In telling me what she observed, Treva said, “He’d phonetically say out-loud what he was writing. After telling Andrea that  Gram was awake, he responded, “Come on over.”   Andrea asked if we were going to eat dinner and he responded, “Yes”. He then added, “Are you going to come over here or are we supposed to come to your house?”

Andrea responded, “We’ll come over. Feeding pups first.”   Jake replied, “Ok I’m waiting. Jake”  Until then, Andrea did not know it was Jake who had been responding to her texts.  She was back at him, “Hold on little dude. Ready for a movie?” He replied, “Yes I am come on over   We are going to watch home alone” Andrea countered, “Awesome!  Dogs are eating” He replied, “Good but it o most time to start the movie to start.”

I’m not making this up. How did he do that? I remember learning to read in the first grade. Anyone in my peer group can tell you about the “Dick and Jane” reading books. They were illustrated with word pictures that characterized the story line. Those in my generation learned to read through the look-say method. Any of us can tell you about Dick and Jane, their sister Sally, their dog Spot and their cat Puff. Pardon the pun, but they were a household word.

In the 1950s, we weren’t taught to read phonetically. We associated a word with a picture and the story line was repeated. It was an association by sight or “look –say” method rather than phonetically sounding words out. What I didn’t know until now is that in 1955, Rudolf Flesch wrote a best selling book entitled, “Why Johnny Can’t Read” in an attempt to gain support for changing the methodology. “Flesch argued that the whole word method did not properly teach children how to read or to appreciate literature, because of its limited vocabulary and overly simplistic stories. Other phonics advocates in the 1960s echoed Flesch’s arguments, calling for new primers that focused on phonics and introduced students to real literature”.

I read somewhere once that it is fifteen times more difficult to change something once it is in place than to get it started. Perhaps that leads to the concept: “It takes an act of Congress to get something changed”. That certainly was true related to the desired methodology to teach children to read. An act of Congress in the mid-1960s helped phonics advocates end the Dick and Jane methodology. President Johnson is credited with advocating for better primary education, particularly for underprivileged students. Implementation of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act eventually lead to abandonment of the look-say method of teaching children to read.

My amazement that Jake, who has not yet entered first grade, can read anything reminded me of a story from late 1952 or early 1953. It was before I started the first grade. I know the time line because of the car my parents had at the time. They had just bought a new 1953 Chevrolet. I’m sensing that it was when they first came out in September 1952. It was a light blue Chevy with a dark blue cloth interior. The first order of business after purchasing the car was to have seat covers installed. That strikes me as strange. Why wouldn’t you use the new seats the way they came? For whatever reason, we didn’t. Apparently it was accepted practice that you buy a new car and immediately have seat covers installed.

At any rate, one of my dad’s cousin’s came to visit. I don’t remember his name or where he was from, but while he was there we “took him out of on the town.” Actually, we drove him through Odessa to show him the town. I remember as we drove, I articulated the name of every store we passed. He expressed surprise.  He asked me, “Can you read?” I responded, “Not really. I just know the names of the stores.” Why I would remember that for over 62 or 63 years, I don’t know. But the memory put a smile on my face as I thought about long ago.

At any rate, kudos to Jake for his love of words and reading ability. However, to suggest there is a better way than the Dick and Jane primers could be met with opposition. The General has a love for reading and for “Dick and Jane”. The picture I included with this blog is a primer that belongs to her. She would be the first to refute any negativity related to the way we learned to read. At some level, I’m with her, but I have to admit that I am impressed with Jake’s ability.

What I don’t understand is why so many students now struggle with reading and with reading comprehension. It is a very real problem that contributes to a multiple of deficits in learning. Obviously, it is a complex issue. I don’t really get it.  For the record, I did ask Jake why he doesn’t read my blogs.  He responded, “They are too long.”

All My Best!

Don