A BLAST FROM THE PAST

Years ago . . . while in seminary in Washington DC . . .
I was standing on a corner with a gang of inner-city
youth in the, then infamous, Second Precinct.

At the time, it was the city's most crime-ridden area.
I was meeting with black, junior-high youth who
lived in the area's run-down tenements.

A helicopter flew low overhead. It blared out:
"President Kennedy has been shot."

The gang shouted at me, don't leave - stay.
They ran off, soon returning with scrapbooks filled
with newspaper clippings and photos of Kennedy
and Cassius Clay . . . their two heroes.

I will never forget standing there with Oliver, Donny,
Sonny, Charles, and their leader JT. Tears were shed.
We hugged.

A tragedy beyond imagination.

F a k e r s

Twaats can be fake,
     tweets are fake, but
          twiits are not fake -

                most of the time.

There can be
     fake twoots . . .
           fake twuuts.

I know all of the above
     for sure,
            because
                I've seen a
                     thing or two.

One thing is for sure . . .
     and Rene' Decartes*
             would never lie,

I think, therefore I am.


                     *Rene' Descartes (1596-1650), philosopher and
                                  mathematician, is regarded as the originator of
                                  modern philosophy and for defining a starting
                                  point for existence . . .
                                                      I think, therefore I am.
                                               

Why Breathe?

Breathing in,
     breathing out.
          28,800 cycles
                on a good day.
Not boring -
     in the least.

Minnesota Fat Cat's Annual Column / Rant

It's that time of the year again. But, this year is so
unprecedented, that if I wrote it up and tried to
publish it, no publisher would touch it. I'd be told
no one would believe it because it was too . . .
       you pick a word for it.

Now, I know it is my public duty to emerge and
check out my shadow. But if you think I am going
to even stick my paw out, you are crazy. It clearly
is not safe out there.

Besides, if you looked out the window this morning,
there was so much sunshine . . . there is no question
about shadows. There is a very large shadow looming
over the land -- the man I wrote about last year -- the
one with the orange hair.

I have been watching TV, at least some of the time.
Don't want to make myself sick (or crazy) over what
is on. Instead, I have put in place some precautionary
measures. I have a new back exit, enough food so as
not to starve, and have stopped my newspaper delivery.
I keep my cell phone fully charged.

Punxsutawney Phil, a couple of DC cousins who live
in Rock Creek Park, and I were going to head south
to Cancun for some winter relief. You know, laze around
on the beach getting a good tan, and sip on margaritas
and those little coladas with the cute umbrellas. But we
decided to cancel the trip. Being brown and not white,
we were afraid of being detained at the border as Mexican
rapists and drug dealers.

Going north into Canada, where sanity prevails, trades the
beach for skis and snowshoes. Not my cup of tea.

So, I have kept my bag all packed in case I need to make a
quick getaway.

As best as I can figure, the administration strategy is to make
even money by being King of the World, alienate all of
America's allies, and use the GOP before they catch on that
they are being used. And climate change is a conspiracy
concocted by all those scientists.

I had been thinking of visiting the West's national parks.
But, I understand that they will be used for mining oil and
other minerals.

So . . . I will hole up, watch snippets of news, and wait for
the house of cards to collapse.

I MAKE LISTS . . .

I make lists, therefore I might be.
                                   -Renney Dee Shopping Kart*

A question from the next room:
                Did you remember to empty the cat boxes?
      Response: Have't done it yet.  An aside: I'd better
                                                          put it on the list.
                                                           
A wonderment:  Do I have enough vinegar to make the salad
                          dressing for the salad we are taking tonight?
      Response:  Yep! Just enough. Good!  An aside: Got to
                                                                   make sure to put
                                                               it on the shopping list.

              A comment:   Aren't lists wonderful !?







                                  *Rene Decartes  "I think, therefore I am."
                                    (1596-1650)

Can I Believe It?

Whoda thunk it! Those lasting words of singer/songwriter Greg Brown echo through
my mind yesterday, as I sat in front of the TV . . . watching the Women's March. (I'm way beyond marching anymore in terms of putting one foot in front of the other. But my heart marches along
with the multitudes.)

Last night, Elizabeth and I gathered in the home of friends, one of whom had been one of the
Parade Marshalls. She wore her pink hat for us. How proud we are to have her as a longtime
friend. A person of like mind, she is.

I remember walking just behind MLK in the March on Washington a mere 54 years ago. And, then the awareness came to me that yesterday . . .

              Our granddaughter was a part of that Women's March,
                          along with her family and friends!
                       Oh my . . . will wonders never cease?

                                       I HOPE NOT!

YOU HAD TO HAVE BEEN THERE . . .

       I had the privilege to have been in the March On 
         Washington. Not only that - but I walked right 
       behind Martin Luther King. I never spoke to him 
     but could have reached out and touched his jacket. 
              We were packed together in solidarity.

No one quite knew what would happen. The Washington, DC
police had been mustered and posted at crucial locations along
the supposed route. The fear was that it would all escalate into
a massive riot.

      Instead, it was an event that changed my life forever.

Two hundred and fifty thousand souls showed up for this March
on Washington, along with me, a rural, midwestern young man.
I was mesmerized by being a part of such a mass of humankind.
As more and more people gathered, movement began near the
front steps of the Capitol. People began to flow toward the Mall
and the Lincoln Memorial. I found myself walking just behind
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Standing near the steps to the Memorial, we listened to songs
sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Dylan,
Joan Baez, Odetta, and Marian Anderson.

King began to speak from a prepared manuscript. At first, his
speech was lackluster - not very exciting. That was until . . .

Mahalia shouted, "Tell them about the dream, Martin!" King
put aside his notes and delivered one of the most famous
speeches of the century. Coming alive, he thundered the words

                                I have a dream.

The rest was history.

It doesn't take much to trigger in me vivid recollections of that
Wednesday, the 28th day of August, 1963. Memories pour forth
as torrential flash floods in a desert.

I had been trying to make sense of what was happening in this
time in history. A student at Wesley Theological Seminar in
Washington, DC, I was so aware of all the protests, boycotts,
marches, and the actual naming of racism. I so wanted to make
a difference.

         That day, social justice became a focus of my life.

                                   *   *   *   *   *

         Having grown up in the 50's and 60's in an all-white
         community . . . only once had I seen a person with
         black skin-color. He was a player on another team
         during a state high school basketball tournament. His
         particular team came from a town just 24 miles away
         from my home.