The Graying Of America

 

The Graying Of America

I received a Facebook message from one of my favorite former students today. His mom has Alzheimer's and his father is suffering because of it. With my mother's situation, I know what that family has endured. I wrote this on January 26, 2006.

We live in an aging population. Half of news broadcasts contain stories on Medicare or Social Security funding. Daily I see the effects of getting older. I live in a complex defined as a senior apartment community. A certain percentage of the leasers must retirement age. One of our faculty last spring was denied in her application because, due to the current age makeup of the population, she was too young- you know women love that! There are advantages to living here. The maintenance staff is wonderful and fast. Some problems, like air conditioner breakdowns, could become life or death for some of the aged. It is also VERY QUIET! Some of the amenities don't apply to me- bus rides to the grocery store or weekend bingo games in the clubroom. What bothers me is watching the aging process devastate my neighbors. Wheelchairs and walkers are standard equipment at the community mailbox. Oxygen carts accompany some residents wherever they go. One of my favorites is Louise. Every time I pass her apartment, the door is open and she calls out my name. I passed her apartment last week and for the first time, her greeting was muted and disconsolate. I backtracked and checked on her. In my eight years in Houston, Louise has never been less than feisty. She told me of unrelenting pain. There is nothing that can be done for her condition, a growth on the esophagus that curtails swallowing. I asked her age and found out she is eighty-four. Louise told me she is resigned to life in a nursing home even though her mind is sharp. I left with a feeling of profound sadness.

At age twenty-seven, Paul Simon wrote and sang an odd song with his partner, Art Garfunkel. We didn't have many records so we played this one to death, etching haunting words in my memory vault. (Shoutout to Dave for helping shape my musical tastes!) The album was Bookends, the song was Old Friends:

Old friends, old friends
Sat on the park bench like bookends.
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fears.

I wonder if Simon's perspective has changed in the thirty-eight years since he penned those lyrics? I observe the elderly and discuss the reality of aging with my students. Today, I had my sophomores write in class. Two paragraphs were required; What I Would Enjoy About Being Old and What I Fear About Being Old. The standard of old we used was between seventy-five and eighty years. The second paragraph for most was longer than the first and it seems girls look forward to retirement more than boys. I would guess their views are colored, by their relationships with grandparents. Enjoying life with family was included in the paragraphs of positives along with travel and relaxation. Death, disease, loss of independence, and loneliness were fears associated with their distant future. I was surprised not to see more mentions of financial insecurity and senility. The kids did a very good job. They can be wonderfully reflective when given the opportunity.

Several days ago, I received an e-mail from my first cousin, Marsha. Her dad's aunt just died as well as another first cousin's father-in-law. At our Chesshir reunion this summer, it became obvious the torch is being passed to the next generation. I don't feel prepared to accept. So many memories flood back during get-togethers on our grandparents' peach farm outside Nashville, Arkansas. Like my siblings and cousins, it's where I grew up, even if we only were present one week per year. I never knew Grandmother- she died young and I think Mom, in spite of Alzheimer's, still misses and mourns her. Grandpa was a classic, a true Southern gentleman. He was outwardly different than my mom but I can tell by the way she turned out that he was a terrific father. (Dittoes for the finished products of Aunts Evelyn /Jerry and Uncle Bill!) I was eighteen the last time I saw Grandpa. At Christmas my freshman year in college, I spent several days with him. He'd moved into town and it just wasn't the same as seeing him in his element, the farm. It hit me- he was old. That's tough for a teenager to come to grips with. I went through a Jerry Jeff Walker stage in college. Although I could never endorse his hard-drinking lifestyle, his songs choke me up. My favorite is Desperadoes Waitin' For A Train, penned by Guy Clark. One verse in particular IS my last memory of my Grandpa Chesshir:

One day I looked up, he was pushing eighty.
He got brown tobacco stains all down his chin.
To me, he's one of the heroes of this country,
So why's he all dressed up like them old men?

Both my grandfathers did what I will do, Lord willing, and that is grow old. I don't like to think about it. The scriptures never make false promises about our earthly bodies. Our flesh deteriorates even while there remains a beating heart and breathing lungs. But, we are also promised rewards for a productive life in the service of God: wisdom, honor that comes with silver hair, rest from labors, and a new home in a far away place! What could be more exciting than a retirement home with no wheel chair ramps or nurses on call? I am no prophet but I would guess there is no AARP in heaven. No need of senior discounts or prescription drug plans! And no more sad songs to make me cry!


Applicable quote of the day:
"To me, old age is always ten years older than I am."
Andre B. Buruch

To listen to Old Friends, click or copy-paste the link below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snVOxz6fjbA

God bless,
Steve (#2 chronological grandson of Jord and Ruth McClure Chesshir)
Luke 18:1

Back Home Again

 

Back Home Again

I returned from Vietnam one week ago today. There are always mixed feelings after a mission. This entry, from July 24, 2006, explores these emotions.

It was over as soon as it began. My eight day mission trip to Honduras with sixty-nine fellow Christians was too short in time but left me with an eternity of memories. My ninth trip was unique, as the other eight were, but contained the constants that have me plan my summers around this Central American pilgrimage. We laughed, we cried, we worked, we played, we loved, we taught, we helped, and we served. And in the end, we were the ones most blessed.

The day after is the hardest. The euphoria is overwhelming as I prepare for the trip and during its duration but I'm semi-depressed when it's over. There's always one more lesson to teach, one more child to hug, one more mouth to nourish, one more smile to cherish. You never finish; you hope you lay groundwork for blessing those who have less materially but ironically, seem to possess much more joy than their North American counterparts. I got dinged a bit. Mission trips can be physically demanding, especially when your role is one of manual labor. My right arm bears two new scars where flesh rubbed raw was coated with powdered concrete and allowed to bond. Skin was torn from toes on both feet as I continually crossed a mountain stream in my Nikes- I discounted the pebble factor. And, I took the worst fall of my life as I disembarked from the back of a flat bed truck. What I feared was an ACL tear in my right knee appears to be nothing more than a scare but visions of surgery with months of rehab flashed through my mind. We are promised help for our service from the maker of the universe in 1st Peter 4:11 and I survived. For six days, I mixed concrete on the ground with Honduran men who get paid two or three dollars per day for backbreaking labor. They looked much older than their years but they never complained and never stopped. They are thin but tremendously strong. We are heavier but weaker. We are rich but they are content. We pity them. Maybe they should pity us.

Only fifty-one weeks until my next mission! The battle Jesus described in Matthew 25's Sheep and Goats Parable is still being waged on many different fronts, though. Sometimes in Honduras, we quiz each other on the first thing we want to eat when we arrive in our native land. (My favorite all-time answer came from Trina Agee- KOOL WHIP!) My meal of choice on my return to Texas is two Whataburgers chased by two pints of Blue Bell Ice Cream. As I walked back to my apartment with my bag of burgers, only scant hours after our plane touched down, a man stopped me as I prepared to cross West Bellfort. He told me he was diabetic and hungry. He asked if I could help and he asked me to pray for him. I just happened to have some extra money. Leaving Honduras via the airlines requires paying a exit tax of thirty-two dollars. Chad Hedgepath, our terrific mission leader, gave each of us forty dollars for the fee with instructions to keep the change for lunch. It seems the rich just get richer. Chad's generosity paid for my passage onto the Continental jet as well as my new friend's supper. Poverty apparently does not recognize borders or nationalities. It's an equal opportunity curse. The cure is complicated but in any equation, it requires love...and Jesus.

Applicable quote of the day, # 1:
"Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little."
Edmund Burke

Applicable quote of the day, #2:
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
Margaret Mead

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Always Faithful

 

Always Faithful

I'm no astronomer but there have been times when I have been entranced by the moon. This is from September 8, 2009.

Even though it was a holiday, I still did my running in the pool yesterday morning, predawn. The maintenance man in charge of our pool vacuums it on Mondays-Wednesdays-Fridays and he says it takes an hour for the water to settle after use. Since he comes in at 7 AM, I had to be out by 6:00. If you like solitude in your workouts- and I do- five in the morning is perfect. Monday morning, I was transfixed by a clear Houston sky and the moon above which, if not full, was nearly full. Dad always made us get up for the space flight takeoffs and maybe as a result, I still picture myself walking on the moon when I see its splendor like I did on Labor Day. I've always loved the song Moonshadow by Cat Stevens, which imagined the moon looking over his shoulder as he went through life. We all have songs that lift our spirits; Moonshadow is one heading my list. (You can click at the bottom if you want to hear Stevens sing his classic.)

In the Genesis account of creation, the moon is referred to as the lesser light (in contrast to the greater light, the sun) and is given the authority to govern the night. In Moonshadow, Stevens calls the moon the faithful light. That's not totally Biblical but close. In Psalm 89:37, the psalmist, quoting God, christened the moon as the faithful witness. I really like that concept. That same orb of matter that Neil Armstrong stepped on watched over Abraham, David, Jesus, Cat Stevens...and me! But the moon was not alone in being titled the faithful witness. God, Jesus, and the martyr, Antipas, also bore that title in scripture. Not much is said about Antipas; he's only mentioned once in the Bible, in Revelation 2:14. This is what we know about him: he lived in Pergamum and he died for the Lord. Yet even with only that scant information, we learn that he is called by the same name only attributed to the Father, the Son, and the light that rules the night, no matter where we call home. The timeless beauty of the moon reminds me of the Power that spoke it into being and the promises made to believers. Antipas reminds me that believers can be just as faithful and that amazes me.... and scares me.

Click below to hear Cat Stevens perform Moonshadow:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag4NhsfemvE

Applicable quote of the day:
''The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.''
Carl Sandburg

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Day One

 

Day One

During the two major holidays, I spend my time in Wichita with my brothers, Dave and Scott. Whenever I go somewhere with Dave, we invariably run into one of his former students or players or multiples of them. What a blessing that comes from the profession the three of us share. It's good for me to remember when we have to deal with the frustrations that sometimes pop up in our profession. This is from August 12, 2006 and it's about one of the blessings from my classroom at Westbury Christian School.

Day One is in the books: only one-hundred-seventy-nine to go. You might wonder why we have the first day of school at Westbury Christian on a Friday. There is a logical explanation. The first day inevitably includes a myriad of schedule changes for our middle and high school students so Monday, we will have a fresh start. I'm teaching three sophomore Bible classes (with several juniors and seniors sprinkled in) and two sections of eighth grade Bible. My curriculum in tenth grade is Matthew-Mark-Luke-John while our eighth graders spend all thirty-six weeks on the gospel of Luke. I'm excited- this looks to be a wonderful year. At our Open House held several evenings before Day One, I met many parents of new students and universally, they were thrilled about allowing us to work with their children. That partnership is so vital if education is going to be successful. By May, some of these faces that I can't put a name with yet will be some of the favorite kids I have ever taught and will have a life-changing impact on me as their instructor. On Monday, we hit the ground running by memorizing Jacob's Sons (and the accompanying song to better learn it by.) With many of our kids coming from overseas, I have to lay some very basic groundwork and explain the link between the Old and New Testaments. It will be a fun ride although there will be some bumps along the way. Lord willing, we will make inroads with some young people and help them make the greatest decision of their lives, the choice to become a Christian.

I had a visitor yesterday when school dismissed. It was Ariana. In both ninth and tenth grades, she was a student in my Bible classes. In three days, her family will be moving to Canada, the result of a wonderful promotion her father received. It's tough- she has lived her entire life in Houston but she'll make it. She wanted me to sign a sweatshirt for her and she wanted to tell me good-bye. When she hugged me, her hair was wet. Ariana had just come from our church building where Steve Lehman, our youth minister, had baptized her into Jesus Christ. It was the best news of a good day. It didn't happen all at once. An eighty-five year old widow from our congregation has brought her to worship services for several years and Ariana was listening. She sat in the second row in my Bible classes for the past two years and she was listening. The scriptures speak of the seed taking time to grow but first, it has to be planted. That's my job and Lord willing, there will be more Arianas in Room 258 this year. I pray, like Ariana, they will be listening.


Applicable quote of the day:
"Too often we give our children answers to remember rather than problems to solve."
Roger Lewin

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Jesus In The Background

 

Jesus In The Background

We made it back to Vung Tau this July! This is from August 7, 2018.
I'm still in the recovery mode. I've been back in the US for a little over three days but it takes awhile to get your legs back.  I am still waking up disoriented. I never believed in jet lag until it happened to me. As soon as I land in Vietnam, I hit the ground running but the reverse has never been true. To make it tougher, we started in-service yesterday so no rest for the weary. I'll be back to normal in a few days, Lord willing. I choose when to come home so there is no one to blame but the guy I see in the mirror.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was a two day excursion to see the Cu Chi Tunnels, part of the history of the Vietnam war. After the tunnels, the seventeen of us drove four hours away to one of the best beaches in Vietnam at Vung Tau. It was amazingly affordable by US standards but out of the reach of the kids in our group. On day two, we made the five minute drive from our hotel to the Christ The King of Vung Tau statue. Built in the 1970s by the Catholic Church and modeled after the Jesus monument in Brazil, this statue sits atop a very steep hill. The climb to the top of the mountain is difficult- many tourists fell along the wayside! Ascending the hill, one passes a number of beautiful statues and carvings like Jesus with the Samaritan woman, the twelve apostles, Moses and the Ten Commandments, etc.  When we reached the statue at the top of the mountain, five of us (My, Dat, Minh, Thuy, me) decided to take the stairs, all 133, to the top. The problem is that there is two way traffic and the staircase is three feet or wide or less and it was crowded! Not for the claustrophobic! Plus, you could see straight down a hundred feet in the stairwell. When we crawled outside at the top, it was so windy I felt unsafe. Going down was worse than coming up because I had the fear of falling down the stairwell! My' was so tired at the end she collapsed on one of the pillars but she's eleven and one tough girl!

Almost everyone making the climb to the top of the hill had some  sort of photographic device. No wonder- it's a memorable occasion! What I found fascinating was how many of those on the mountain were taking selfies, the art of shooting your own portrait which has become a mark of the younger and not so young generations. Even more fascinating was how many focused their profile with Jesus posed over their shoulder. Me in front, Jesus somewhere in the distance. Jesus is in the picture but I'm the center of attention. He's in the cast but my name is on the marquee. I'm the lead singer but I'll let Him handle the backup vocals.

Part of that was tongue in cheek or maybe most of it. But I think it does somewhat reflect our culture to a uncomfortable degree. Easy for me to rail- I can't take pictures with my phone! The scriptures from the beginning preach putting the Lord above all. What was it Jesus said? "Follow me." That's pretty hard to do when we want to be out in front. John the Baptist, when speaking of the Savior, told the crowds that, "He must become greater and I must become less." John never had to deal with Facebook or Twitter but he did deal with the issue of who has to come first if we want to please God. And it wasn't him. And it isn't me. Jesus told Peter to, "Get behind me, Satan!" I'm not Satan but I'm not the best at having my spiritual life in the correct order at all times, either. It's just like that old hymn we used to sing:
"All Of Self(ie) And None Of Thee."
Maybe we need to put it back in the order of worship as a reminder.

Applicable quote of the day:
“A good selfie is when you successfully capture the feeling of that very moment!” 
Anamika Mishra

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Dining And The Lord's Supper

 

Dining And The Lord's Supper

Each year as I return from Vietnam, I immediately jump back into inservice. This is from August 5, 2014.

Good afternoon from Jonesboro, Texas where we've stopped at the One Stop store for gas but they didn’t have coffee! Oh well, we’re stopping again shortly because they didn’t take our gas card. We’re on our way back from Abilene and the Texas Christian School Association beginning of school conference. We usually take all of our faculty but we this year, we started a rotation. It was terrific as it always is. Hosted by Abilene Christian University, it featured meaningful worship, wonderful presentations, and renewed friendships. One other thing- they fed us well. Lunch and dinner were both provided and both were amazing. Lunch was barbecue and all that goes with that delicacy. Supper was chicken and beef along with salad, scalloped potatoes, green beans with almonds, rolls, and pecan pie for dessert. We ate a continental breakfast this morning at the La Quinta Inn; yogurt, muffins, orange juice, apple, coffee or a breakfast that is pretty typical for the US.

The first question I’m asked about Vietnam is predictably about food. I love eating in Vietnam but I’m always glad to return to my normal foods here at home. One reason is breakfast. As I noted earlier, what I ate for breakfast today was distinctly different from what we had for lunch and supper yesterday. That was not the case for the most part in Vietnam where the three meals of the day tend to be interchangeable. The food I eat in Vietnam is not all that much different from one meal to the next with the exception of pho' several times was waiting for me when I got up and fish was never served at the morning meal. It was always delicious, no matter what it was!

But while the dietary habits of Vietnamese and Americans vary, there is one place where the two are the same. When American Christians and Vietnamese Christians take communion, the meal is identical. Both eat the bread representing the body of Jesus and drink the cup representing His blood. There is a oneness as we remember the Savior, just as He taught us, with cultural differences keeping their distance. Nhi was baptized last Monday in the Mekong River. Late that night, a number of us took her to eat down by the same river where her sins were washed away hours before. But while that was her first meal as a Christian, it wasn't her first Christian meal. That came last Sunday as she for the first time communed with her relatives who are now also her brothers and sisters in Christ. They ate just what we ate in Houston twelve hours later. The family that eats together.....well, you know the rest. Welcome to your second family, Nhi!


Applicable quote of the day:
"Clothe yourselves with meekness and be renewed in faith—that is, the flesh of the Lord—and in love—that is, the blood of Jesus Christ."
Ignatius (Letter to the Trallians 8)

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Monkee Business

 

Monkee Business

The following is about something I once heard Michael Nesmith, one of the Monkees, say in an interview and it made an impression on me. This is from June 18, 2007. 


The Monkees were the precursors of the music video generation. For several years in the late 1960's, the quartet that was assembled as a band to be the backdrop for a television show churned out hit records even though many believed they were, as a group, possessing dubious music credentials. Davy Jones, Mickey Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Michael Nesmith became stars as actors in thirty minute spoofs, silly but appealing to American kids. The success story, as seemed to be the norm for the era, began unraveling as the foursome began demanding more control of their musical career. In 1970, the group that gave us Last Train To Clarksville and Daydream Believer disbanded, living on in syndicated television and the rare reunion concert. My favorite of the four was Michael Nesmith. A skinny Texan who wore a green stocking hat, Nesmith was an interesting character on and off the screen. A noted musician in his own right, he penned Linda Ronstadt's mega hit, Different Drum. His mother, Bette Nesmith, was the inventor and patent-holder of Liquid Paper, leaving her son an inheritance of close to $25 million when she died. Nesmith is also sometimes credited with being the creator of MTV which forever altered the culture of American pop music. After the dissolution of The Monkees, he fronted several bands and continued to write and perform music. One of his finest efforts was the beautiful, Joanne. I found it on You-tube, paired with a collage honoring long-time husband and wife, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. In the same category, I found a live recording of Joanne, presumably on American Bandstand. There was no accompanying film, just a flashing of Nesmith photographs. When the song was finished, Nesmith was interviewed by Dick Clark (I think!) about his career and tastes in music. The question was asked how Nesmith came to make such a lovely and successful record as Joanne, with its country music overtones, while professing not to like country music in the first place. He admitted that the twang and structure of the country style was not his cup of tea. But he followed up that pronouncement with a remarkable statement:

"What I like about country music is that it represents a lifestyle with which I am extraordinarily comfortable.''

Doesn't that describe a number of Christians? We might not actually embrace the essence of Christianity- the sacrifice, the carrying the cross part- but we are at ease in the lifestyle. It may be, like Nesmith being exposed to country music as a child, what we have grown up with. If we are raised in a Christian home, it's seamlessly woven into our childhood. Remember the Commodores' song, Easy Like Sunday Morning? That can describe some of us if we aren't careful. Our religion might be non-threatening on the level we practice it. But Christianity should not be the refuge of the comfortable. Comfortable implies predictable or stagnant, not necessarily relevant. Maybe a little dose of chaos would keep us on our toes. Not too much- just a little!

Applicable quote of the day:
"The Monkees are like the Mafia. You're in for life. Nobody gets out."
Davy Jones

To watch and listen to Michael Nesmith singing Joanne, click or copy/paste: 
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbKI4-uga60&list=RDVbKI4-uga60&start_radio=1

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1