ART IS DIFFERENT FROM ART

I remember Tiger Jack Traver teaching those very words back in Juco. When I echoed those with my own response weeks later that "beauty is different than beauty", he yelled "Eureka". He had found an English disciple.

Actually, he had many in those days. Of course, he was spot on. Art is different from art and art is what you can get away with. But why? What makes a mature person want to get away with anything?

Whether visual art or the arts, referring to stage productions, literature, movies, et. al., it should make no difference. What barriers are there left to break? And why?

Decades ago a playwright, famous but forgotten by me, wrote a play entitled "Birth". I think it was on Broadway, but I'm not certain. I do remember seeing it on tv.

The crowd was all decked out in play-going attire, which back then meant suits and fancy evening dresses. As the play began, there was silence. Then the curtain opened about five feet. A baby in a cradle lay there crying. Whether the baby was really crying or it was canned, again I don't know.

After about two minutes, the curtains closed, the baby stopped crying and the play was over. That was it. Now whether it was a one-show performance or not, it was a colossal rip-off. But was it art?

Tiger Jack would have answered in the affirmative. He might have enjoyed the uniqueness, the brashness, the brass-ness. But only for the irony, only for the satire. Only for the satirony, a word he coined back in the 60's.

HEY, WHY SUCH A LONG FACE

At least she's not long in the tooth, too.

But I think I know what irks her, besides the present leadership in our country. Despite the fact that while Obama claims to have created 625,000 jobs, there's unemployment nearing 11%. Despite there being little more than a pulse on the moral meter of our country.

I think she's really upset about the sports scene these days. When baseball has left us. When the usuals are tearing up the NFL (what parity?) When the NBA players and college basketball players look like race car drivers with all their advertising. Well, tattoos are a form of salesmanship. When college football still has the BCS or BSC; frankly I prefer the SBC, standing for Screwy Bowl game Choices.

Oh, sure, there are a lot of other things to be unhappy about. Tv shows for one thing. How in the world can I have 75 channels and there's nothing to watch? I also have On Demand which provides pay for view movies. Again, rarely do we purchase or attend movies in the theatres, one thing we really used to like to do.

Finally, why do I creak? When I get up from sitting, I'm the Tin Man from Oz. When did my joints stiffen? I don't recall a little bit of stiffness--it just all came at once. On Sunday morning at the tail end of the service when we passed the collection plate, I had to get up from my seat and do my usherly thing. I nearly limped up the aisle to get to my plate. Once there, I was fine, but the walk was not a thing of beauty.

Sports, tv, and joints. Yep, they're enough to make any old face long.

HOW TO RUIN A GOOD THING

I've heard it said that alcoholics can drink 12-24 beers in one evening. That is astonishing to me. Some, I suppose, drink that much nearly every night.

My drink of choice is diet coke in a bottle. Since I can't find those, I go to diet coke, the 8 ounce size, in plastic bottle. Also, bottled water, Dasani is my water because their bottle doesn't fold and buckle when I unscrew the lid.

In addition, diet orange Sunkist, unfortunately in a can, and diet root beer from Hansens. Also in a can.

Once in awhile a full pop Fanta orange that reminds me of the orange drink we served when I worked at Burger Chef in the day.

But I cannot under any circumstance imagine sitting down and drinking even two in a row. Oh sure over the course of the evening. I might even have 3, but I doubt it.

Once at Sundance, a golf course half the way to California, they served up chicken wings for free. After our front nine, I tried to drown my sorrows in a dozen or so wings. I may have underestimated how many I took, but that lasted through most of the back 9. My buddy Bob, tripled my number and polished them off before I finished mine if memory serves.

We've played maybe a half dozen times since then at Sundance, and they've never offered them again. I point to that day, to that time, as the end of that perk for playing golf there.

One of my favorite foods on the golf course was at Green Hills in MTV. When it got cold, they would serve up some great chili in large Styrofoam cups. With a lid on it, the chili would last quite a few holes on that back nine. On the front nine, too, for another buddy of mine, Sam.

Whether alcohol, soda, water (recently a woman died after drinking too much water to try to win a contest), chicken wings, or chili, too much is simply too much. But you already knew that.

HE STILL WANTS YOU

The poster pictured is a duplicate of the first Uncle Sam poster. It appeared in Leslie's magazine July 6, 1916. It didn't say "Uncle Sam Wants You". Instead it poses the question "What are You Doing for Preparedness?" It may not have the same ring to it, but it still is a good rhetorical question.

And that question has so many applications on so many different levels. But for today, I'll leave it at one. Are you prepared to thank a veteran today? It is 11/11 Veterans Day. Everyone knows a vet. Thank at least one today for his/her service to our country.

We have two WWII veterans at our church that I know of. Our pastor formed a committee of three of us to interview, write up a script, and create a video to be shown on Sunday's service before Veteran's Day. It slipped right through the cracks. We agreed to do it, we agreed to give our time, and never had one meeting.

Since that time, one of the veterans had his wife of 61 years pass away. His health is failing, too, and the family is not sure how long he can continue to live by himself. So I'm feeling some remorse today for not doing due diligence, not doing my part.

I have a neighbor who was a colonel in Viet Nam; actually he was promoted after being award the Silver Star in Viet Nam. You can rest assured that I will thank him today for his service.

Not that it will make up for my overlooking such an important task at our church, but on Veterans Day 2009, I intend to honor at least one vet. Please join me.

I NEED A TUNE

I don't recall with clarity the first song I remember liking. It was one of four: The Tennessee Waltz, How Much is That Doggy in the Window, Jesus Loves the Little Children, or Mr. Sandman.

I'm sure I heard three of them on the radio. But I've always liked music.

I've always liked the Top 40. In high school, I would usually buy the Number 1 song of the week as posted at Featherstun's. Even in Typing class, a good friend of mine and I would type out our Top 10 lists and exchange them. (I'm surprised I don't Letterman any more than I do with his Top 10 list, but Hoobie and I had ours first). I can still Name That Tune with practically any 60's song, though I might garble a lyric or two if my feet were held to the fire.

Once in awhile I'll go to YouTube and hit Pitney or some other old rocker group like The Doobie Brothers or Tears for Fear or Fears for Tears--I told you I garbled, and just zone out with them.

A few nights ago I caught Paul McCartney on Palladia and watched it all, even though it stretched my bedtime. I just realized that only the young and the old have bedtimes, forced or out of habit. When I was younger so much younger than today, time meant only opportunity. Now it's a fence, a wall, a self-imposed restriction. My OP curfew. (Old Person).

So to anger a few, I offer these tidbits of wonderment to me. How has rap lasted this long? What was wrong with the traditional hymns sung in church? How can anyone like twangy country music? And why oh why do DJs on the radio think people want to hear them talk and tell inside jokes to their partners?

SHE'S NOT RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU KNOW

The lady pictured is not my wife. Yet she is in my wife's favorite position with one leg extended straight up in the air. Why? I'm not sure, but her oldest sister also likes this pose.

When we would be sitting at the airport awaiting a flight, my wife would tell me to sit (bow wow) with my feet propped up on our carry on bag. I did for awhile until I wizened up and thought it not very comfortable to me. My wife still sits that way. Not me. I prefer my feet on the floor.

As a kid, I ate cottage cheese quite a bit. At least for me, who had a terrible childhood diet. But after we got married, my wife put pepper on her cottage cheese, so I did, too. For a few decades, I declined eating cottage cheese because I hated it with pepper. My wife peppers nearly all food to the max. When I ate cottage cheese the way it's supposed to be eaten without black dots on it, I re-discovered cottage cheese.

I have a plethora of other things she's not right about. Gum chewing, volume on car radio and surround sound tv, not getting good and angry at bad calls in any sport, and not liking Victoria Secret commercials. Ok, I was kidding about the last. Well, that's not right; now it sounds as if she likes them. Although I've never really discussed them with her, I'd err on the side of wagering she doesn't like them.

But, hey, she's right on so many other things that I'm certainly not going to quibble about the few I don't embrace. And, no I'm not saying that to butter her up. For you see, another fault she has--she doesn't read On The QT.

YOU DON'T SAY

At least not enough. We act as if we don't want to ruffle, don't want to offend, don't want others to know that we love the Lord.

We say we are lucky instead of we are blessed. We say we were gone from home instead of when we went to church. We say when we were at a friend's house instead of at Small Group. We have gone underground.

Normally, most of us don't even tell our our children that we've been praying for them, for that particular problem in their lives. We don't pray together at home, instead dropping our heads as we privately and silently bless our food.

I had to pick up my car at the service department last week. When I asked how late they were opened, I added that I had a bible study that night in the area and wanted to wait as late as I could to save a trip. I should have gone one step further adding, "It's Bible Study Fellowship. Have you ever heard of it?" With an invitation to join me. But I didn't. I pray next time I will have the courage. Now, isn't that a strange word--courage--to simply talk about my faith to a service rep I see twice a year? Why should that take courage? It should be as simple as saying ,"Good morning".

I'm rolling around an idea that I kinda like. But, well, here it goes. When I get one of those sales or survey calls, tell the caller that I'm on the no-call list and that he interrupted prayer time. Tell him I'll pray for him and ask his name. And do it as soon as I'm off the phone.

The part I don't like is the white lie that I was in prayer when he called. If I don't use it, feel free to. But please pray for the caller if you do.