20161116 (filial devotion)

"1990: A father chides his son for playing too much 'Tetris.' 2016: A son packs his father's possessions into a truck with nothing left behind on the curb and no room left in the truck for the holy spirit (as they say). So it goes." Nathaniel on Facebook, commentary about helping his dad move cross-country.

     
Were Leif Erikson and his crew

Sick the day before they hazarded

Sailing west beyond "Where 

Dragons be?" Did they all have

“Nervous stomachs”as my mom

So cautiously and so motherly

Euphemised? I had. More I was

Concerned that I might never

Wear pants again lest henceforth

I might not remove them in time. 

Moving day found me with

Worries enough about movement

And exertion as to slow me

Down if not totally disable me.

I’d lost a day of preparation

Which caused even hastier

Packing—the box labeled

“Drills” took on scattered

Office paraphernalia which

Led to an inability to find

Scissors on arrival (all my

Utility blades are still hiding

In sympathy), my travel bag

Contained sufficient briefs 

But only one pair of socks. 

My youngest, Nathaniel, had

Completed a two-and-a-half

Year project at Google and had

The chance to take time off 

For rest and relaxation. Why 

Instead he chose the physical

And mental stress of helping

Me get to Olympia, I’ll never

Know. Perhaps that was the

Otherworldly rationale of 

Having my first two house

Sales fail—to delay my leaving

Until he could aid unencumbered

By responsibilities at work— 

Another one of those clouded

Serendipities that a good

Statistician could whisk away

With a couple formulae and

An appeal to flipping quarters,

Thereby draining the mysterious

From life and leaving us with

No providential overseer to 

Thank other than dumb luck

And a sincere desire to see

Meaning where none may be.

Since I had done nothing 

Special to make my progeny

Paragons of charity, I chalked

Their beneficence up to the 

Guidance of their loving mother, 

Since departed, no longer in the 

Picture to shout, “Great shot, Nat!”

“Good going, Andy,” “Terrific,

Emily!”  I have often told

Others, if you see my kids doing

Something laudable—music, science,

Literature—that’s Jean. But if 

They’re picking their noses or

Their butts and telling the latest 

Dirty jokes, you know the source.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016    

20161109 (farewell to Forest Hill Church, Presbyterian)

Youth Sunday at FHC - forming and empowering the young

I will miss you very much my

Brothers and sisters in Christ.

Thank you on behalf of myself

And my family for the welcoming

And sustaining love you have so 

Many times selflessly extended 

To us in our joy and in our grief.

Since 1977 we together have with

Fervent worship and majestic artistry 

Celebrated and praised our loving

Creator, Who made us in His image

And likeness that we might share

In His life forever, and His Son,

Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who became

One of us and suffered ignominious

Crucifixion and death to sever

The bonds of evil which held us

Captive, and the Holy Spirit Who 

Guides and protects us every 

Moment of our lives. Grateful for 

Courageous and learned ministers 

Who have led us in worship 

And instructed us in sacred study,

We are also blessed with gifted 

Artists and talented singers to

Help us raise our voices in praise.

With Jesus as our guide we are 

Today pulling from our hearts 

The thorns of historical and 

Institutional racism. With Jesus

As our guide we must challenge

The systems which keep the many

Poor and make the few obscenely 

Rich. With Jesus as our guide we

Strive against the fear and hatred

That preclude our hospitality to 

Strangers. With Jesus as our guide

We must struggle to save all 

Nature from ruin out of greed.

But above all I must alert you

To the peril of placing our

Trust in violence, weapons, 

And war instead of in God Who 

Alone is our defender from

Those insane with power who 

Can unleash the stockpile of hell,

Putting an end to all of God’s good 

Creation on this earth forever.

Fearful and ungrounded we have

Sickly lusted for dominion

Among the nations which is

God’s alone. It is the root of 

Our genocide, slavery, racism,

Inequity, and imperialism. 

God commands us not to kill, 

Yet much of our national wealth

Depends on the manufacture, use,

And sale of deathworks to other

Nations. We could instead lead

Those others out of the shadows

Of death and destruction, whom 

We now prefer to subjugate by

Ultimate terror, by an example

Of forsaking war, disarming,

Alone if necessary, and 

Trusting in God, our Maker,

Our Savior, and our Protector.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, 

For they will be called 

Children of God.” Matthew 5: 9

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20161103 (winning)

Well paid to play well but still more fun to win

No joy in Mudville tonight.

But if, like I, you don’t give

A fig for sports, you probably

Sailed through those hours

In bed getting a good night’s

Sleep of a warm fall evening.

Can’t claim though that I was

Totally unconcerned. I did try

To find some coverage once I

Learned that Cleveland had 

Caught up to Chicago in the

Eighth inning by a young

Mr. Davis performing a miracle

Bringing in the two runs to

Make the match. Sadly for the

Home team such lighting strikes

Occur only once in a storm and

They failed to walkoff by not 

Earning a homer in the ninth.

Tearful nature intervened and

The rain which dampened the

Home spirits energized the

Visitors who nailed two runs

In the tenth. Our boys of

Summer delivered too little

Too late. The cheering subsided,

Quickly replaced by curses toward 

The Big Sister on the other lake.

Curses for the team management.

Curses to the Illinoians who had

Flown in for the seventh game who

Were rejoicing wildly, laughing

Uncontrollably that their competitors

Will be saying, “There’s always 

Next year,” assuming the role

Of eternal butt of sports’ stories.

If I could diverge momentarily 

Into ethical theory (like who’s 

Going to stop me?) last night

Could serve as an eminently

Teachable example. Cleveland

Played Epicureans who stinted 

Themselves no joy, who reveled

In every victory on the way

Dreaming of dominance—

A sorry, misbegotten assemblage

Lusting after what the fates 

Ultimately denied them.

Can’t say the Cubs fans were

Stoics by comparison for they 

Too drank the heady brew of 

Unrivaled success and,

Since they actually got it, can

Anyone say they didn’t earn 

It fairly and squarely? Of course

Many can and will replay and

Refashion events to their favor

More so with the consumption

Of additional draughts. The

Cubs had practiced for failure,

Years of practice. Were they truly

Stoical, on winning there would

Have been carefully controlled

Admissions of relief moderated

By realizations that it all could

Have gone otherwise. The fools

(Cleveland’s fans) who had let

Themselves imagine glory

Suffered grievously when in

A trice it was clutched aside.

Hey, guys! Remember? 

It’s only a game.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016