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Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #899

yeah I know you did not ask!

I posted a random thought yesterday that read, “Sometimes when I am listening to really good music that moves me, I think, if life has any meaning at all, it is music.”

To which one of my muchísimo subscribers responded, “For me, it’s the music of nature. Sitting on the deck this morning, no one is mowing and all I hear all the birds and the rustle of leaves.”

For me the sound of suburbia has always been the drone of gas engines on lawn mowers, and the 2-cycle engines of  weed eaters and leaf blowers.  Of course, that is getting a bit better as more and more folks are adopting electric lawn mowers and other electric yard tools… at least around here.

The latest “sound of suburbia” for me is the all too many delivery trucks driving much too fast on the shady, tree lined streets of our neighborhood full of children and old folks.

During the pandemic the sound of this neighborhood actually reminded me a bit of my youth as I could hear children playing outside.  Apparently, now they have all gone back inside with their video games.  Oh well.

But when it is quiet, I love sitting on our patio listening to the chirping of the birds, watching the antics of the squirrels and chipmunks and marveling at the acrobatic aeronautics of the humming birds and bumble bees.  And let’s not forget Princess Lily keeping us safe from those same squirrels and chipmunks.  It is good to have a purpose in life.

Occasionally, life really is good.

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Post Reunion Letter to Carr Family from Crew Member USS Carr

This is a letter sent to the Carr family from a former crew member of the USS Carr a few days after their inaugural reunion in Checotah, Oklahoma, the home of Paul H. Carr and much of the Carr family a couple generations ago.

Click the letter to open in new tab. It will be bigger and easier to read.

Click the letter to open in new tab. It will be bigger and easier to read.
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Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #9,809

yeah I know you did not ask!

Way, way back in the day, but not quite Mr. Peabody way back, I used to have a t-shirt that had written large upon on it, “Nuke a Gay Whale for Christ.”

I loved it because it satirized multiple  tropes current at that period of time. I always wondered, though, why they did not get the ubiquitous milk of this time period in there somehow…Got Milk?

What brought this up is that I saw a bumper sticker today that I have seen a few times before.  It reads in large letters, “JESUS LOVES YOU“, and below that in a smaller font is “But I am his favorite.”

I have never quite figured out if the folks displaying these bumper stickers are evangelizing, satirizing or both. Or perhaps, given the epidemic of narcissism in this country, they really believe they are the favorite of one branch of the Christian trilogy.  Going even further afield, perchance, the bumper sticker is referring to that well known playboy, the Mexican Mac Daddy, the gardener named Jesus.

On so it goes upon the highways and byways of the metropolis known as St. Louis.

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Quote of the Day – David Marrs Rush

“The job is not done until all the tools are put away.” ~~ David Marrs Rush

I am sure this quote is not original with my father, but it was one of his favorite sayings.

The picture of him is from 1948 at Navy boot camp.  The uniforms were a bit different back then!  He would have been all of 17 years old in this photograph.  I am not sure of all of the story as to why and how he managed to join the military so young. He always said he grew five inches and put on 25 pounds in boot camp as it was the first time in his life he got three squares a day.  A bit of an exaggeration I am sure, but there is some truth in there.

To see more Quotes for Day, visit this link: Quotes for the Day

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USS Carr Crew Reunion with Carr Family

This last weekend Señora and I went to Checotah, Oklahoma. On the very long shot chance you do not know about Checotah, it is the birthplace of yours truly.  Way back in 1952 there was actually a three bed hospital in Checotah on 3rd street where I was born, delivered by Dr. N. E. Cornstubble.  It is also the home of Carrie Underwood and the Steer Wresting Capital of the World, having many champion steer wrestlers from around Checotah.  When I was a kid there was a rodeo arena within walking distance of my grandmother’s house, and we used to walk down there to watch them practice.  If you are a fan of cowboy clothes you will know about the line of cowboy shirts from Wrangler named Checotah.

My great grandparents and grandparents farmed/sharecropped in this part of Oklahoma, ending up in Continue reading “USS Carr Crew Reunion with Carr Family”

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5783.172

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”

It is tough being married to a Yankee.

I have what I suppose is a bad habit.  At least I have been told it is a bad habit.  I see it as a way of releasing stress.  When I get upset with other drivers for whatever reasons I have a tendency to call them a**holes.  Of course, I am in my vehicle and they are in theirs so they cannot hear me, but if Señora is in the vehicle with me it upsets her that I do this.

A while back I discovered an older Canadian sitcom, Corner Gas that I fell in love with and  binge watched every episode.  I strongly identified with one of the characters, Oscar Leroy, played by Eric Peterson.  He called everyone he was upset with jackass.  I’ve adopted this habit a bit, and use Oscar’s word in place of a**hole at times.  Señora finds it only marginally better.

Señora is not much on name calling, but she has certain Yiddish words that she applies to me when she is upset with me.  Yeah I know, hard to believe.  One such word is schmaltz, others are putz and shlemiel. She has another pejorative that I find immensely humorous, that  she uses very rarely but with great effect.  She has even used it in reference to me on occasion… pubic hair. In the scales of name calling it probably weighs in around the same as a**hole or jackass, but it has the mitigating trait of being comical.

We were driving back from Tulsa Sunday and I had used my pejoratives a couple times in reference to bad drivers.  At some point Señora, mainly to pick at me, called one of these freeway fanatics an a**hole.  I quickly informed her that she could not do that as that was my word.  “But,” said I, “let me give you a word.  You can call them meadow muffins.”

Yankees… I spent the next five minutes explaining to her what a meadow muffin was. Just in case you do not know, alternative terms might be cow piles, cow patties, dung cakes or from western literature, buffalo chips… to keep it somewhat clean.

I do not think she took my gift to heart.

And so it goes.