Posting

I reread my posts and deleted any that were unsatisfactory.

Two of the reasons for being unsatisfactory were:

1. The post was incautiously worded.

2. The post was incautiously personal.

I hope to have a sober & compassionate blog.

Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell

Johnny Cash as a guest on Glen Campbell's TV show, "Live Goodtime Hour", the two of them together playing 'Folsom Prison Blues'. It's the best recording of this song that I know of. A few years ago, I looked up the date of this show. I think it was 1970. Both look so vibrant and young.

"Play it, Glen!"

Queen of Hearts by Juice Newton

Really fun YouTube video for Queen of Hearts by Juice Newton, done as an Old West spoof with what I think is classy clothing. Wikipedia says the song was written by Hank DeVito and released in 1979 by another singer, but its greatest success came with the release of the 1981 recording by Juice. 

On Not Being Baptized

I'm the only one among my three siblings and me who hasn't been baptized.

My mom baptized my older brother and older sister when they were young. She was also planning to do so with my next older sister and me. She would remark periodically that we hadn't been baptized and that it ought to be done. However, life got in the way; people were busy; there were too many things to do. Eventually time passed and I was old enough that doing so would seem to require my consent, which I withheld. 

My next older sister has since gotten baptized and become a Christian. I'm truly glad for her. Her life has been entirely too difficult. I hope beyond anything that she finds peace through it.

I tried at various times to practice Christianity, and during those times now and then the subject of getting baptized would come up, but each time I balked; somehow it was a step too irrevocable. 

I would argue otherwise, but someone could argue convincingly that if I wasn't willing to take that step, then indeed I hadn't tried hard, not deep down in my heart, to become a Christian.

In any case, because Christianity--as beautiful as it is--is not I think the most likely account of how reality actually works--as opposed to the Religion of Numa--I'm relieved that I did not. 

Even Emperor Julian himself was baptized, by his mom. 

He Walked by Night

I saw the 1948 film noir, He Walked by Night. It was very well done. 

It stars Richard Basehart as Roy Martin, a former police radio specialist who becomes a burglar in post-war Los Angeles. It also stars Jack Webb, as the police lab scientist, and a very convincing performance by Whit Bissell as Paul Reeves, the owner of an electronics leasing business through whom Basehart is leasing his stolen goods. 

The film opens with Richard Basehart attempting to pick the lock on the door of an electronics shop. He is discovered by a police officer returning home. A confrontation ensues in which the police officer is shot and shortly thereafter dies from his wounds. 

This film was the basis of all the incarnations of Dragnet, which Jack Webb was instrumental in the creation of. There was apparently a 1950s radio version of Dragnet, as well as a 1950s television version, prior to the 1960s series starring Harry Morgan. 

The entire film is here on YouTube.

I Love a Rainy Night

I went hiking today in a place near my house. 

I live on a triangular peninsula that points south. The peninsula is formed by the ocean on the eastern side, and a bay into which a large river empties on the western side. Portions of the peninsula--along the waterfront--are densely urban and densely industrial. This industrial and urban zone is somewhat wider on the eastern side. On the western side, it occupies only a narrow strip of land along the lowest elevation. The remaining portion of the peninsula--the western central part--forms a large park, with peaks and valleys, wide hiking trails, narrow footpaths, lookouts, and so on. I would guess it is about 10 square kilometers in size--pretty big for a city park. It abuts an even larger tract of undeveloped land to the north, perhaps twice as large. 

When I set out, I could see a large, rather majestic-looking cloud bank over the ocean, to the east. When I finally got up on a lookout on one of the small peaks within the park, there was the most wonderful rainbow arcing down between the cloud bank and the water. It was much brighter than my cell phone camera is able to show, but this is the picture I took:

To be privy to this view--the combination of pure blue sky above, the detail in the cloud bank, and (what it looked like with the naked eye) vibrant rainbow underneath--was like a gift.

Later, just after sundown, as I walked along the path that runs down the western side of the peninsula, looking out over the bay, the cloud bank had finally arrived over top of me, and it started to rain, a little bit at first, then more heavily. I was able to stop and take this picture:

You can see the leading edge of the cloud bank at the top of the picture. The view was enchanting--the lights from the ships, the shape and texture of the cloud along the horizon, the lights from the oil refineries on the far shore, and the whole scene cast in the special quality of diminished light that only dusk can produce.  

I walked back an hour in the dark, in the chilly rain. When I was young, sometimes my mom, dad, and I would have an outside chore to do on a cold winter afternoon. Our hands would get pleasantly numb from the cold. We would often finish well after sundown. Then we'd go inside to the warm kitchen to eat a delicious meal together, listening to big band or country music on my mom's cassette recorder--tired and cold, but happy.

When I got back home this evening, I made myself a tasty omelet with onions and Laughing Cow cheese. I turned on Eddie Rabbit's "I Love a Rainy Night".

Me, too--I love a cold, rainy winter night!

People from the South

In an earlier post, I wrote that I was thankful to my mom for teaching me not to "engage in any kind of regional negativity". This is actually more abstract than what she taught me. Her specific point was not to think or say things that would hurt the feelings of people from the South. For some reason, when I was writing that post, I abstracted it in my mind to a broader principle, perhaps because things don't seem valid unless they are an application of a universal idea. But abstracting it and generalizing it could make it sound unclear, possibly judgy, like I was condemning expressions of regional pride or something, which I was not. I hope there aren't any misunderstandings.

Simple Home Altar

I made a home altar--a lararium. It isn't exactly right, but that's okay. My primary concern was that it not be grand, that it be simple. 

The picture is a representation of Vesta that I found on the web. It's not clear if it incorporates a photographic image of a real person. I don't mind if it does or doesn't. She's sitting by a fire in classical architecture.  There's a tree in full blossom outside. It's beautiful. My initial thoughts were to include Janus and Jupiter, but, as I said, I wanted to keep it simple, so just Vesta. 

One of the dishes is for receiving a food, milk, or wine offering. The other dish is for burning incense. I'm not sure I like that big candle next to the wallpaper. I'll have to watch that. 

The lararium will be a good place for a morning prayer to start the day and an evening prayer before going to sleep. Prayers for the well being and happiness of all humans. 

Lateness and Procrastination

Tarditas et procrastinatio odiosa est!

Debates with My Sister

When I was a little kid, my sister and I would always have debates. Long, extended debates that took place over months or years about things we liked. They were good natured and friendly, but sometimes intense. 

I always lost. 

One of our debates was between my preference for Paul McCartney and her preference for John Lennon. Another of our debates was my preference for Rome and her preference for Greece. This segued into Rome versus Carthage after she became interested in the Carthaginians. I had books on Rome from the elementary school library, and I loved to draw Roman architecture, but when she went and borrowed an adult-level biography of Hannibal from the town library, there was just no way to compete with her factual knowledge! I remember once riding with her in the back seat of our parents' car. To annoy me, she looked out the window, stared into the distance wistfully, and said in a quiet voice, "Hamilcar Barca". 

She also challenged me to a reading race through a set of books called The Junior Classics. I was thoroughly trounced. I actually gave up before the finish because she got so far ahead of me so quickly.

Now my lovely sister is sick. I hope I can be a good sibling for her and take care of her. I must try harder.