a digital commonplace book
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When you live in the same neighborhood for 30 years, and are moderately outgoing, you learn who’s pleasant to chat with and who you’d rather avoid. Racism is a huge turnoff, as are complaints like “the neighbor’s sprinkler is getting my grass wet.”
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In a short video that I watched recently, Neil deGrasse Tyson explained how it is that there are spots on Earth’s surface that are farther from the center of our planet than the summits of our tallest mountains. The continual spinning of Earth has caused its equator (actually, a latitude south of the equator) to broaden out. The result is that our planet is now pear-shaped.
More recently, a friend was demonstrating the security footage that his Tesla recorded as we were approaching the car upon returning from a hike. There on the dashboard screen was this fellow approaching the car on my side and getting in. He, too, was a bit pear-shaped. Let’s just say the camera adds ten pounds–I’ve got to spin it somehow!
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Hopefully I don’t need to comment on this one. Right?
I’ve participated in a pancake toss once or twice. It was at Family Camp at Horn Creek Ranch in Colorado. Out on the porch of the cafeteria, the chef stood behind a griddle scooping perfectly cooked pancakes and tossing them out to us campers. We were supposed to catch the pancakes on our paper plates. I think we were successful 80% of the time. But we laughed 100% of the time.
By the way…. Log Cabin is what I grew up putting on my mother’s perfect pancakes. It’s what I like. Susan’s folks were from New England, so maple syrup is the only reasonable topping to her way of thinking. Oh well… you can’t be right all the time.
(background image adapted from a photo by Яна Тикунова on Pixabay)
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I don’t really have much to say about this poem. The image of waves licking the world’s shores simply jumped out of my waking mind one morning. I’ll blame it on my silly muse.
Here’s a simpler version:
I awoke from a snore
With this curious thought:
The waves are licking
The melting shore.
(background image by Alexa on Pixabay)
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I don’t have the energy right now for yet another essay on the frustrations stemming from my leaky memory. But here are some bullet points. Is there a pattern?
How about you? I’d love to hear your bullet points!
(background image by Andreas Lischka on Pixabay)
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I keep thinking about what I was trying to communicate in this poem. It may be this: we all have a different tolerance for assumptions. I have trouble with people who jump to conclusions with hardly any thought (the first stanza).
Others are better about checking their assumptions (the second stanza), but they still skate over many facts without considering them. Such people are efficient in their thinking (think of Daniel Kahneman’s “thinking fast”). Still, such people can get irritated when their assumptions are questioned. They don’t want to slow down to consider weaknesses in their thinking. I get along fine with such people… for the most part.
How about the third stanza? One cannot live without making millions of assumptions every day, so nobody REALLY lives fully in the third stanza. But some of us come closer than others. Just ask my wife. When something goes missing in the house, I am methodical in my search; I look in places where she doesn’t bother looking. She’s being efficient; I’m being thorough. I once found something valuable that was missing (keys, if I remember correctly) IN THE TRASH BIN IN THE ALLEY. Yeah, remember that? Boom! I’ll always have the keys in the trash can story to excuse my slow thinking!
(background image cropped and tinted from original by Albrecht Fietz on Pixabay)
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When this book cart rolls across the concrete floor of our cavernous library, it creaks and rumbles so loudly that I have to put my fingers in my ears. Somebody please send me soundproofing tape. FOR THE CART.
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PRACTICAL POETRY
When it comes to pleasures in life
The perils and pitfalls are rife
The proper preserving of cheese
May help you avoid some of these
In case you can’t imagine what I’m talking about, here’s a picture of me making a sandwich with sliced deli cheese that was frozen. Notice how crumbly it is!
(background image by Matthias Böckel on Pixabay)
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In my crawl through the book of Acts, I’m to chapter 20, and I hit this passage:
On the first day of the week we came together to break bread. Paul spoke to the people and, because he intended to leave the next day, kept on talking until midnight. There were many lamps in the upstairs room where we were meeting. Seated in a window was a young man named Eutychus, who was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked on and on. When he was sound asleep, he fell to the ground from the third story and was picked up dead. Paul went down, threw himself on the young man and put his arms around him. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “He’s alive!” Then he went upstairs again and broke bread and ate. After talking until daylight, he left. The people took the young man home alive and were greatly comforted.
Acts 20:7-12 (NIV)
What’s the point of Luke’s account? Don’t sleep in church? God’s power was displayed through the Apostle Paul? It’s probably something along those lines, not the supposed “moral of the story” I suggested in the last stanza of my poem. But I couldn’t resist. I sent the poem off to three of my preacher friends. So far, they haven’t responded. They’re probably busy crafting succinct sermons. Good luck, I say!
(background image by Peter H on Pixabay)
#acts20 #eutychus #homiletics #longsermons #workingbackward #keepitshortstupid
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It was a rainy, rainy day. I was home, sitting on the couch with two of my three lazy cats and reading a good book when this poem came to mind.
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For now, I’ll just copy what I wrote on Facebook:
Susan tells me she’s glad I find comfort in writing. I think it’s called lament.
I don’t know about that last line. How can death be a disease? I tossed down this whole poem almost intuitively, not thinking deeply about my word choice. When that happens, I tend to trust my subconscious. There may be more there than meets the eye.
#changeordie #resistingchange #preferringdeath
(background image by Fernando Zhiminaicela on Pixabay)
I wish I felt free to comment on this. It’s a complaint, and it has to do with why I am so exhausted these days. Don’t worry… not family-related.
In my crawl through Acts, I’m to chapter nineteen. When you look up “Is there humor in Luke’s writing?” you’ll often be pointed to Acts 19 and the story of Sceva’s seven sons. Yes, there are serious considerations…. But in the context, this does strike me (no pun intended) as a story that amused Luke.
OUT FOR A WALK
Why didn’t I think to knock?
Perhaps I would have met
A genteel sort of squirrels
Who curtsy when they talk!
— Brad Hepp, 3/25/2024
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On two or three recent occasions, I have needed the word “extrapolate,” but couldn’t think of it. So, I had to resort to “compensate.” This morning, the word I was seeking popped into my mind, and I was so happy I wrote a poem.
It is said that Peter Mark Roget (1779–1869) made lists of related words partly to combat his persistent depression. Which of us hasn’t benefited from the resulting Roget’s Thesaurus? As you can probably guess, he was a brilliant and accomplished man. He also lived a long life. He was deaf by the time he died at age 90. I didn’t know that yet when I attributed my own prayer to him in the title of this poem.
Read more about Roget: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Mark_Roget
#roget #thesaurus #hayakawa #usetherightword #synonyms #extrapolate #compensate
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The only comfort I feel when it comes to automated phone support is knowing that I’m not alone in despising it. Maybe I need a new perspective.
Maybe next time I make one of those calls, I’ll remember who God says I am, and why I’m here.
#representative #customersupport #human #human #human #humanbeing #forgodssakehuman
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Yesterday I read an article exploring why lay people often insist that we should not end sentences with prepositions. Linguists say we CAN do so in English, and that the rule came from a wrong-headed attempt to conform English to Latin.
I like French and other Romance languages. But I don’t like silly rules, such as the one that says you can’t end a sentence with a preposition, or that you can’t start a sentence with “but.”
#grammarnazis #sillyrules #romancelanguages #linguistics
(background image by Denis Doukhan on Pixabay)
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Okay, okay! I’m on my way!
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On my way to church this morning, I was listening to “A Way With Words” on the car radio. One caller was asking about the interjections “Say!” and “Hey!” It dawned on me that my imagination has always shut down when someone says “Hay is for horses.” In my mind’s eye, I spelled out the homonyms: “hay” and “hey.” That’s when this poem was born.
(background image based on one by “12019” on Pixabay… with a little generative fill behind the horse)
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Slow music, even slow dance
Are sometimes great
But I’m sure you can relate:
They’re not for me
When I get up early
And the night before,
I stayed up late.
(background image by Eddy Camejo on Pixabay)
#slowmusic #sloth #dance #worship
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Once, long ago a hospital chaplain told me that the hospital is extra busy when there’s a full moon. I believe it. That’s why I looked up the moon phase when I wrote this poem. I was seriously thinking that maybe there was a full moon out there. But there wasn’t. So that’s not it!
Here’s a confession. That first line–My brain’s on patrol–is a clue that the real problem is in my mind. I went to work today dreading the return of a difficult patron. I’ll spare you the details so as to keep my job. Don’t worry…. I maintained my professionalism… on the outside.
It’s a good thing that Monday is a federal holiday, and that I work at a place that observes all holidays….
#learningpatience #dingdongs #lunacy #waxingcrescent #waxingpoetic
(background image by Robert Karkowski on Pixabay)
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Merry Christmas! And forgive me for being anachronistic and for making it so hard to know whether you’re supposed to laugh or cry.
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What else can I say? Let’s not be in denial. The buttonhole obviously needs to be made smaller.
#buttons #buttonholes #denial #butter #sweetbutter #deliciousbutter #plugra #kerrygold #landolakes
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In my crawl through Acts, I have just about made it through chapter 8. Once again, Luke is telling a story that contrasts GENEROSITY (God’s generosity, reflected in selfless servants) with GREED (here it is Simon the Magician’s apparent desire to exploit God’s generosity).
Question: is it possible Simon was a true believer? Was he saved in Luke’s account? Does Luke actually want us to struggle with this question? He leaves off with Simon declining to do the one thing Peter requires of him: personally repent and pray for God’s forgiveness.
#acts8 #simonmagus #simony #greed #exploitation #repentance
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Somebody left the oven on.
The summer of 2023 was brutal in Texas. And it just wouldn’t stop. As late as the end of September, it was still getting up to 99 degrees!
When you go to poke fun
And the response isn’t glee,
Make your very next words
An apology.
— Brad Hepp, 9/7/2023
I have often observed a kind of bullying behavior: a man or woman, girl or boy is easily stressed; less easily stressed jerks take advantage of that person by “kidding” them and then criticizing them when the “kidding” is not taken in stride.
Perhaps this is why I so much appreciate the Geigerism “Kid Up!”
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I sit on a rock on the bank of the stream, by the light of the moon methodically washing my midnight snack.
I’m thinking back to an earlier time, when darkness fell on the farmer’s shack….
Seated on a well-worn balustrade, I watched the farmer through slits in a dusty window shade. He sat on a chair at the kitchen table. By light of a lantern, he methodically penned. Poetry, I suppose.
With far less writing than scratching of head, he’d occasionally put pencil to paper and thoughtful compose.
Finally, he set down his pencil, snuffed out the lantern, and waddled to bed.
My careful ablutions are now complete.
It’s “Good night” to you, and to me, a pensive “Bon appétit.”
— Brad Hepp, 8/9/2023
(image adapted from original by Wolfgang Deckers on Pixabay)
#raccoons #thoughtfulwriting #pondering #poetry #turnthetables #rolereversal
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This is for a friend who likes to pretend I use big words. “Please text me that one,” he said.
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When I posted this on Facebook, I kept having to add comments to clarify my intent:
1. Is there anything more pathetic than an opinionated old audiophile with bad hearing?
2. In my experience, drums can be played in a way that complements the other instruments and voices, or they can be played in a way that draws attention to themselves. That’s just a matter of skill. Additionally, since I’m losing hearing in the higher frequencies, poorly-played drums (with their lower frequencies) can easily dominate and muddy up the whole ensemble. But hey, I torture people in my home with very bad accordion playing, so who am I to talk?
3. I want to be crystal clear…. I have nothing against drums, including as part of worship. As I sit here now, I’m reading theology while listening to one of my favorite Pandora stations. It features electronic dance music by artists like Tiesto, ATB, Armin Van Buren (much of it is built on driving beats). All I meant to say in the poem is “be skillful; be aware of how your instrument complements—or detracts from—other instruments.” One of my nephews is a top-notch drummer. I think he studied under a jazz drummer. When I talked with him about this, he expressed opinions very similar to my own.
(background image adapted from one by Carlos Rocha on Pixabay)
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No longer can I say, “You’ll recognize me by my floppy hat.”
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I sent this poem to a dear friend, saying “I think of you when I write this, with thankfulness that you use my guilelessness FOR me, and not AGAINST me.”
Having strong emotions is a blessing. Not being able to fully control them or mask them can be a curse.
MY FRIEND’S RESPONSE
My friend wrote: “You are allowed to have feelings and initial reactions. I would hope people would understand that and give you time to process.”
“That said, stay away from the poker tables. 😂 “
ALSO MY FRIEND’S RESPONSE
My friend also sent this shirt…
(background image by Stefan Keller on Pixabay)
#pokerface #guileless #masks #facialrecognition #emotions #proverbs29v11
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You can’t be good at everything.
My friend, David Lewis suggested that “The arch never occurred to them. So perhaps we can’t refer to anything built in their time as architecture.”
I checked a dictionary and then responded, “I’m a fan of creative etymology. That one almost sounds plausible.”
David allowed that “Almost” is closer than I usually get.”
I have clever friends. Hopefully they don’t realize how easily they could pull one over on me….
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I did actually meet a Zeff today. We talked about the origin of his name (Hebrew?), tools one can borrow at the library, and turning every lawn into a meadow. He didn’t seem to think I’m crazy, so maybe I have a new friend. Just don’t tell him about this limerick.
EDIT, 2/1/2024: Although I haven’t gone back and worked on this new friendship, I have since learned from someone else that the Zeff in question is a brilliant young man.
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I’m always amused by the bravery of cats… except when they’re scared.
#doggerel #caterwaul #underdogs #overcats #dogsandcats #catsanddogs
(background image by StockSnap on Pixabay)
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How I wish I had my father’s self-control. The man could stop at half a slice of bacon!
#healthyeating #weightreduction #selfcontrol #whosegodistheirbelly #philippians3v19
(background image by jackmac34 on Pixabay)
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FIRST, MY STATE OF MIND IN WRITING THIS POEM
Occasionally, I lie awake for hours, struggling with the consequences of being an obvious sinner. Then, the sun rises and I must go forth, in hope that the Spirit will channel this expressive energy God gave me.
The sins of some people are obvious, going before them into judgment, but for others, they show up later. Similarly good works are also obvious, and the ones that are not cannot remain hidden.
1 Timothy 5:24-25 NET
NOW THE EXCELLENT FEEDBACK OF TWO WISE FRIENDS
First, from Jim Powell: “You probably already know this, but Tony Campolo famously began one of his sermons by saying: ‘I have three things I’d like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don’t give a shit. What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night.'”
Jim added, “For the record, I do not use profanity, though I occasionally will quote it if there is a reason to do so. I probably wouldn’t even use it the way that Tony Campolo did, however, he is right about his priorities. While we sleep tonight, thousands of children will die of hunger, malnutrition, and curable diseases. And we don’t get as energized about doing something about it, because we don’t see any angle in which we would be fighting against sin. In fact, too many Christians would turn away those very children if they showed up at our southern border. Because right-wing news media have convinced many that they are a grave threat to our national security.”
Then, this from David Lewis: “I read in a (now out-of-print) book a line about a woman who was poisoning her husband little-by-little. She distilled the poison out of sweet words, loving words, gentle words, all of them withheld.”
#1timothy5v24 #stoneswillcry #luke19v40 #whenwordsaremany #proverbs10v19
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Less than two months into my new job at the library, and I’ll be getting a new manager. I wrote this poem for Jennifer’s going-away party (I also sent it to the Dallas Public Library Director and to the relevant District Manager). Back when I was hired, I had marveled with a friend that Jennifer has a background that’s ideal for the areas in which I want to grow. I think the two months DID set me on a good course. We’ll see what a new manager brings into the mix….
February 2024 update: We did get a new manager a couple of months later, and he has been SUPERB!
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From worldhistory.org: “Sisyphus (or Sisyphos) is a figure from Greek mythology who, as king of Corinth, became infamous for his general trickery and twice cheating death. He ultimately got his comeuppance when Zeus dealt him the eternal punishment of forever rolling a boulder up a hill in the depths of Hades.”
#icestorm #determination #sisyphus #drivingonice #slippingaway
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Live long enough (or thoughtfully enough), and we all have to consider the words Jesus spoke shortly before his own death:
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
John 12:24-25 ESV
(background image by “jplenio” on Pixabay)
#john12vv24-25 #eternallife #seeds #flourishing #dandelions
Long before I needed to shave, I felt this desperate need to be creative. The trick was finding the right outlet. I’d imagine all of us have this affliction… though some without beards.
