I cry for the people and places that were there, but here no more.
https://leeduigon.com/2016/12/04/home/
Only God can fill that hole. Only God can regenerate Creation. Only God can heal us: and Christ Our Lord will cast out death.
Tag: my family
Back from the DMV–Already?
We estimated at least three hours at the Motor Vehicles office, to get Patty’s license renewed; and that couldn’t happen till after I got back from the vet’s. It looked like a great opportunity for the whole day to go up in smoke.
And yet here we are!
The DMV has set up a mobile unit outside, just for processing licenses, and the whole business was over in a matter of minutes. The state employees were friendly and cheerful, the customers were all jollied up, people making jokes and having fun–at the DMV??? Really? Are you kiddin’ me?
No lie–that’s how it was. Not what we expected!
Oh, and Robbie’s OK, too. She may need the strength of her medicine slightly reduced.
Anyway, I now have several hours back that I thought I’d lost. This calls for a cigar.
‘Feeling Sick? See Your Cat’s Vet’ (2015)
I’m not the first to suspect that our pets are getting better medical care than we are.
https://leeduigon.com/2015/01/22/feeling-sick-see-your-cats-vet/
I’m sure the reason is because the government hasn’t gotten around yet to interfering with veterinary medicine.
While you’re reading this, I’m getting ready to take Robbie to the vet.
Tomorrow (*sigh*)
Well, I won’t be here for much of tomorrow. First I have to go to the vet’s for Robbie to have a checkup, which we didn’t expect to do quite this soon; and then I have to take Patty to Motor Vehicles to have her driver’s license renewed. They need to make sure she didn’t turn into someone else since the last time they renewed it. Here in glorious New Jersey, unless you’re an illegal alien, you have to prove you’re you before they let you drive.
I’ll try to put up a few early posts before I go, and I hope you readers stay with me. If I can’t manage much that’s new, I hope you’ll take the opportunity to browse among the archives. There’s all kinds of stuff to read.
Meanwhile, we’re getting a torrent of paperwork demanded by the state regarding Aunt Joan’s microscopic estate. You’d think she left a million dollars. I expect myself to die of old age before this work is finished.
I’m tired.
How to Keep a Toddler from Going Up the Stairs
My grandma had an original turn of mind.
I stayed at her house a lot–she was always available to baby-sit–and one thing she didn’t want me to do, when I was very little, was to climb the stairs. In case I fell. So she kept me from doing that by telling me that the Mick-Mock lived up there, but was never there if a grownup went upstairs. Not ever.
Here’s the cool part: she never told me what the Mick-Mock was. She left it all to my imagination, which was fully up to the challenge of terrifying me. I imagined the Mick-Mock as a ferocious collie, probably because one of the neighbors had a collie dog that used to go into a berserk rage if you walked past on the sidewalk. I was very afraid of that dog; but I knew the Mick-Mock would be worse. Much worse.
But because I was told the Mick-Mock was scared of adults, I was just fine with the upstairs if one of my aunts took me there. That’s where their own rooms were, and I could even sleep peacefully up there at night because they were there, too, and so the Mick-Mock wouldn’t dare show itself.
Later on, Grandma worked the same–I don’t want to call it a scam: let me call it “psychology”–on my brother. He, three years younger than me, imagined the Mick-Mock as a malevolent stick figure. I’ve got to hand it to him: that was cooler than my imaginary killer collie.
We grew out of our fear of the Mick-Mock. Grandma set it up in a way that allowed you to grow out of it. I guess raising six daughters taught her a few tricks over the years.
Memory Lane: Trying to Get Neanderthal Man to Stand Up
I was so pleased when I came upon this picture! You see, I actually had this model, way back when Neanderthal Men were but a recent memory. In fact, I had it twice: got it once for Christmas from my folks, and then again for my birthday, from my uncle.
And that was a good thing: although the finished model looks easy enough, I made a real hash of it, the first time. The guy with the club was no problem, but the skeleton gave me fits. Pieces of it just kept falling off. I understand now that my big mistake was attempting to assemble him from the feet up, thus running afoul of gravity. I should have put the skeleton together piece by piece, leaving plenty of time for the glue to dry before going on to the next piece, and keeping the poor guy lying on his back until the job was finished. But that much insight was unavailable to me as a 12-year-old.
Second time out, I speeded up the process instead of slowing down, and in practically no time at all, I had a whole skeleton standing there. Proudly displaying it to Uncle Bernie, I continue to salute him for not guffawing when the skeleton suddenly fell apart. Just like that. Like suddenly the glue just didn’t work. Fanabla.
Well, I sort of gave up after that, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the plastic skull. I used it as a decoration on the floor of my lizard cage, where it remains to this day.
And the moral of the story is… Successful model assembly requires patience. Something not always easy to come by in your early teens.
‘Sweet Hour of Prayer’
This was a hymn my mother used to sing, or hum, as she did her housework. You heard it a lot around Grandma’s house, too: Sweet Hour of Prayer. I wish I knew who was singing it in this video.
I don’t know which moves me more–the beautiful singing, the beautiful lyrics of the hymn (by William Walford, 1845), or the beautiful places in the pictures. We used to have beautiful places around here: I am sure I didn’t dream them. But if I did, the waking-up is cruel.
A Memorial for Ray
My poor brother-in-law! I can’t tell you why, but he received no funeral, no burial, and there’s no obituary in the paper. So I wish to provide what little I can by way of a salute. I wish I could give him a New Zealand haka, like the one in the video above. Ray was a college professor. It would have blown his mind, to be honored by his students in a way like this.
Anyway, he was my friend. And a lot of fun to be around. He’d come over for the weekend, and he and Patty and I would laugh ourselves dizzy, playing Mad Libs or just cracking jokes. I’ll miss him. I already miss him. He and I played an awful lot of chess together.
He was ill and, in effect, lost to us for I don’t know how many years. Five? He was still able to carry on a coherent phone conversation back in September, but we soon afterward lost that, too.
He may be remembered for his two books about the Jersey Devil. Those were labors of love, and I freely recommend them.
Ray, old boy, you didn’t get a funeral, but you are not forgotten, nor will you be. You deserved a haka. But by now you will have already been welcomed by Our Lord Jesus Christ into His everlasting Kingdom–where, behold, He makes all things new.
My Brother-in-Law Has Died
The Lord did not see fit to grant our prayers for him: Ray, my brother-in-law, has died. We just got the phone call a few minutes ago. He died in hospice after a very long illness. It would be improper for me to say more.
We prayed very hard for him. I know some of you did. Thank you.
I don’t know why God said no. I can only trust in His wisdom and His love.
Last Call: Prayer Request for Ray
My brother-in-law, Ray, was taken to the hospital yesterday, where he is expected to die. I’ve been praying for him, and so have some of you, but it doesn’t look like God will grant those prayers. But until all is lost, I’ll keep asking. There is nothing too hard for the Lord. Please join me in prayer.
O Lord our God, in Jesus’ name, I pray you to deliver my brother-in-law from death, give him back his life, and restore him to us. If you will, you can make him whole. I ask it in Jesus’ name, Amen.