A Great Place to be From



The Clock Tower



I grew up in a small town in Michigan.  Those of us who hail from there can laugh about the single stoplight that blinks after midnight, but we don’t like it if anyone else does.  Actually there is a second stoplight, but that one blinks all the time except during school hours.  I remember that when I was little, there wasn’t a need for a stoplight at that corner because we had Mr. Ward.

 Mr. Ward was the quintessential crossing god…uh, I guess that would be guard.  He had a uniform and a policeman’s hat that to me meant security and safety.  In the winter he wore a long navy blue wool uniform coat that made him seem even bigger and stronger than he appeared in the warmer months.

His grandson was in my class in school and I remember being so envious that everyone knew his grandfather and that he was so special and important.   The kids who lived in town got to know Mr. Ward really well.  I was a country student and rode a school bus so the only times I really got to see him was when I was spending the night with one of my town-living friends. 

As the gaggle of us would approach the corner, one of the gang would take a running start and let Mr. Ward catch him or her with a strong arm and a wide swing.  We all had total faith and confidence that he would keep us safe...and he never let us down.

One time I got to be the one he let run.  I can still remember the total faith I had he would catch me and the feeling that for those few moments I was flying.  I also felt special that I got to be a part of the town kid group, if only for a little while. 

I got thinking about this old memory after a mini high school class reunion a couple of weeks ago.  Visiting with my brother and sister-in-law, driving around the old homestead and visiting with classmates, some of whom I started out in kindergarten with, gave me the opportunity to relive the fun times.  I also had a chance to very briefly reflect on the not-so-good times and realize that they weren’t nearly as bad as they seemed at the time.  I'm grateful that experience, time and hindsight have worked wonders to smooth out the bumps and potholes of my experiences. 

What’s Zen got to do with this?  Partly it’s about how perspective has a way of leveling out the ups and downs of life so we can see them for what they are…part of the process and not permanent. Partly it’s about being able to let go of the past and be free to experience the moment in all its simplicity and joy.

Good people, good food, conversation and laughter.   The experience was as old as our friendships and at the same time as new as today.   

Sunrise or sunset?  It doesn't matter...it's sunshine.

Old Books New Lessons



Old books can help you see today with new eyes.

Part of what I have enjoyed about my old books, is that I can see characters go through difficult times, but have confidence that in the end, all will be well.  A favorite author is Grace Livingston Hill.  She wrote at the beginning of the 20^th century, and her stories were mostly centered in the Pennsylvania and New York area, with a few excursions to the shore

I enjoy her books so much that I have collected nearly all of them.  The ones I don’t have seem to be so totally out of print that even major searches don’t uncover copies.  Her key premise comes from her very strong Christian faith.  That in itself might seem to remove her from my favorite list, as, while I was raised in a home where the church was a Christian one, I have never carried high the banner of Christianity.  I respect the spiritual aspects, while not being comfortable with the dogma of most organized religions.  What I have found in her writings is a sense of principles that transcend most organized religions and reach a spiritual level with which I can identify.

I have to admit that all of her stories end happily.  The boy meets the girl and while there are many tribulations, they eventually find each other and fall in love.  But there are other aspects of her writings that also appeal to me on a much deeper level.   She tells stories about renewal that somehow strike a chord with me. 

 Many of her books were written in the years just before, during and after the great depression of the 1930’s.  There’s something quaint and frankly comforting for me to read about a time that one could live on $5 a week.  It was a time when grocery stores were a new invention and working in one was a “come down” for a man or woman who had been raised on Park Avenue in New York.  But because the bank closed its doors and “failed” the woman or man with the silver spoon had to go to work.  It was in many ways a simpler time, but one that we might learn from even, or maybe especially today.

One of my favorites was about a young woman who had to go to the big city, (Philadelphia) take a job in a department store and live in a boarding house.  The boarding house described in the book was horrible.  It was a dirty place, providing poor food badly cooked, (that's the boarding part of the house) and was depressing for all of the inhabitants. 

 Miraculously, (I say that because it’s a Christian book after all, so it wasn’t a magical thing but the hand of God and I am not making fun here,) the young woman was left money by an uncle she didn’t know she had.  That "fortune" of $5000 enabled her to bring her dear aunt to Philadelphia and buy the boarding house and transform it into a wonderful, clean and spiritual home for the people who lived there. 

 I love that kind of story…taking what is ugly and dirty and making it beautiful and nice again (remember my deck?  I’m still working on it.)  She has several books with this kind of a story line and I love them all...I even reread them on occasion.  

What’s Zen got to do with this?  Buddhism is less of a religion than a philosophical way of living life.  One of the challenges that organized religion poses for me is the sense that one must believe in their way as the only way.   Whether it’s about getting to heaven or living “right,” it needs to be done through the lens of that particular religion.  In Buddhism, there are principles to live by that do no violence to any organized religion.  Buddhism can be embraced along with other spiritual traditions and neither is damaged.

I can appreciate the Christian tradition of Grace Livingston Hill and the kind of living and choices that her faith demanded of its followers.  I can respect how it helped her in her life and writing and my own soul resonates with many of the beliefs.  My faith in Buddhism is not damaged by my appreciation of her Christianity.  I wonder if she were here in this time, if she could feel that same kinship?

 I like to think that she could.