GO FIGURE

Chip Shank is a friend of mine. He's a golfer.

Ed Beheler lives next door to me. His last name is pronounced Be.Healer. Of course, he's a doctor.

Imogene Book was the school librarian at MTV High and Rend Lake College.

One of our cooks was named Sara Lee. Naturally.

Jose Cardinale played for the St. Louis Cardinals. Red Schoendiest has been with the Redbirds for 66 years this season.

I don't know if Mrs. Ruth Body taught health, but she was a Home Ec teacher for years at MTV High.

But then again Vernon French was a math teacher, so go figure.

I've always been interested in the study of onamastics and names and origins. Our son gets some of that from me. An attorney, he loves words as well. He doesn't share with me a lot about his work and clients, but he did remark the other day about his closing argument to the jury where he kept repeating, "What does your common sense tell you?" after he had dissected major points in the case.

And if you're not convinced, his name is Scott and he calls our city Me'sdale.

TIME BACKWARDS SPELLS EMIT


You know, I've never heard that before. Somehow it must mean something. Maybe by the end of this entry, it'll come to me.



One of my favorite Yogi Berra-isms is when someone asked him "what time is it?" Yogi's response, "You mean right now?"



Recently when I wished a friend of mine a happy birthday and reminded him of some of our neighborhood times growing up, he replied "How can something that happened 50 years ago be so fresh in our minds making it seem like it was only yesterday?" I agreed.



I can recall with clarity where I was sitting in my second grade classroom and where a cute little blond, Julia Marlowe, was sitting two rows away from me. It was only the second time I had taken notice of a cute girl. I was staring at her instead of Mrs. Smith when Julia looked at me with an expression of "What!?" I quickly glanced away. I'd say I returned my attention to the teacher, but that would only be conjecture on my part. I just remember feeling as though I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have.



So that time, I emitted a blood rush to the face, probably. Notice how I worked in emit with time? I knew I could do it.

To send forth, a discharge, to utter, to voice are all definitions according to my Random House Webster's College Dictionary. And that is very apropos, for time does each. It sends us out, maybe way too early. I still have trouble, for instance, with kindergarten graduation complete with robes and diplomas. Eradication of childhood is a real peeve of mine.

Discharging, oh yeah. We are relived of obligations at every stage of our life. Some, of course, are added on as we age, but the discharges are there in force.

Uttering. You bet. Time utters a lot to me these days. I'm slower to get up from my chair. Time utters "stiff as a board" that echoes from my parents' lives when I was still at home. Time tells me more and more that I can't stay up late anymore. Or it redefines late for me.

Time also allows me to voice more now. There was a time when I ignored a lot of things that were offensive to me. No more. Twice this Summer I've confronted people in public about their language within ear shot of my wife and me. I guess the teacher in me still tries to educate those about respect and decency.

Time and emit really do go together. I think radar does, too when spelled backwards.

"and his name is Mr. Machine"



Why I can still remember the little jingle including a reference to sponsorship, "For you he is Ideal"--the name of the toy manufacturer is somewhat puzzling. Because, you see, I didn't have one, never even knew anyone who did. Only lots of kids who wanted ones.

So how does saturation permeate our noggins and last a a lifetime? Yet some of the good sense we were taught over and over again as youth, doesn't sink in. Doesn't seep into the gray matter. Or is rejected.

"Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, on a sesame seed bun." But you knew that. Even if you haven't had a Big Mac for years.

Something about jingles that stick. I didn't even know they still made Tressemme, Tressemme, Tressemme until just about a year ago. I didn't know what it was when the commercial aired and aired back in the 60's. I just knew that it was repeated several times a day on radio stations I listened to. If I were a woman, I'd have bought some just because it sounded cool back then, and I guess, still does.

On the other paw, advertisers have ruined songs for me. The Kellogg's Raisin Brand that used "I Heard it Through the Grapevine," so turned me against that song that I left a great spot watching Credence Clearwater Revival at Super Bowl 2002 in New Orleans, who can keep track of Roman numerals? I couldn't stand the song and when they started it up, I told my accompanying son to come with me. Until the commercial, I could at least tolerate the song.

One of my favorite commercials now is "There's a Summer Place" Subway feature showing the effects of heftiness. (Why do they have to go back to my generation to get a good song? What do they play at '80 and '90 reunions anyhow? Generations who had no songs.) That is one funny commercial, even though it reeks of realism.

I did hear a good song this week: an update to 2010--"we didn't start the fire". But it is sung at such a fast pace that I couldn't recall much. Maybe because I'm not a Mr. Machine.

BACK TO ISRAEL WITH NO APOLOGIES WHATSOEVER TO HELEN THOMAS





The Eastern Gate is the only gate in Jerusalem that has survived since Jesus' time. It is also the only gate built by Herrod. The rest of the walls of the Old City were built under the direction of Suleiman, the Turk in the 16th century. Between the gate and the church is the Valley of Jehoshaphat (translated--the judgment of God.)





No trip to Jerusalem would be complete without seeing the Tomb of David at Mt. Zion (translated--where the Word of God came to the people.) There, a covering adorned with a crown, harp, violin, and shopar sat on top. Connected to the Upper Room, although it may not have been the actual spot, it was certainly close to it. It is part of the Byzantine constructed church including the Chapel of Mary destroyed by Muslims and rebuilt after the Crusades.





The Upper room experience, I'd heard about and studied all my life. It was simply overwhelming to experience. To be able to stand there and visualize the Last Supper. To be there was indescribable, even though it may not have been the actual place.



From there, the Temple Institute sits inside one of the four quarters inside the city gate. The Temple Institute, along with David's Tomb and the Upper Room lies inside the Jewish quarter. There is also the Arab quarter, Armenian quarter, and Christian quarter.



The only remains of the Temple left and closest to the Holy of Holies is the Western or Wailing Wall. Many Jews lament their grief there as a symbol of destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians and Romans. It represents the return of the Jews to the Promised Land.

We witnessed Jews bobbing up and down in prayer indicating "with our whole bodies we praise you Lord in love". Prayers are written and folded and stuck in the mortar crevices every open place in the Wall.

There's no better place to end my discussion today of Jerusalem than at the Wall, reminded of the city Jesus wept over because He knew of the destruction to come. Where He "wanted to gather you like a chicken to its chicks".

(The photo below is of the crucifixion flower)

THE STAKES
Belmont,that is, produced another winner for a co-owner friend of mine from high school and college, Kenny Troutt. What a race it was!

I didn't see Kenny there, and I missed his
thanking God for his victory. Especially in the midst of all the hoopla and excitement. But these days he has his focus right where it should be, and I'm very proud of him.

A few nights earlier and a subsequent day later, I was again reminded of why I'm attracted to sports. This incident was the bid for a perfect game by a pitcher named Armando Gallaraga. It was much publicized because an umpire, Jim Joyce, not James Joyce though ironically the author's second most famous work--A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, would have fit perfectly, blew a call at first base and cost the 28-year old pitcher his gem.

The reaction of Gallagara was beautiful. He took the toss from the first baseman, squarely planted his foot on the bag, and the throw beat the runner, very similar to a botched call by another umpire 25 years ago that cost the St. Louis Cardinals a World Series. When the ump cut the night air by spreading his arms indicating safe, the pitcher, merely looked puzzled and smiled at the umpire.

No screaming, stamping, cursing. All class.

The umpire, to his credit, admitted that he had "cost the kid a perfect game," and was truly sorry. It's so good to see total honesty in a world today that thrives on spins and blames. (When I heard a news report this week that Al and Tipper's marriage break up was George W. Bush's fault for winning the 2000 election, I nearly choked.)

The next day, Tiger manager sent Galarraga out to turn in the line up card to umpire Joyce. Both exchanged pleasantries and male bumps or slaps. It was again classic.

From one who expects to get every call, to receive every break on an errant golf shot, it was something to remember. You see, we're never too old to learn and to experience the way it should be. Thanks Kenny and Armando for the reminders.

FASHION SINCE

Rifling through clothes on hangers, she knows what she likes. No hesitation. Then she spots it. She studies it for all of seven seconds. I think, "Good; she'll look great in that." Or I think, "Finally, maybe now we can leave."

But before making the final decision on said accoutrement, she glances at the rack next to her and starts re-thinking or neo-thinking about purchasing another item not even in the same category.

What I mean is when I think she is focusing in on a blouse, she suddenly starts examining a scarf across the aisle. Now I'm really confused. Keep in mind there was no accessorizing of the two items at all. My thought now is "How does she know what she wants?" Or, "Is she stalling?"

And more than one time, she doesn't buy either. In fact some days when I'm not around she doesn't buy anything. It's called shopping.

Never in my life have I entered a store with the intent of not spending any money. Otherwise, why would I go? I understand window shopping, but shopping with no intent is worse than looking through the catalogues.

Some of the longest shopping trips was going with my wife and daughter to help pick out Prom and Homecoming or Sweetheart Dance dresses. I remember once that the very first dress our daughter tried on was the choice. "Oh, boy!" Was I elated. Only briefly. For I think to accessorize that dress took longer than any two dance dress shopping trips we ever took.

Usually I was invited/told to attend this spree to drive to other burgs, because it was impossible to find anything to wear in MTV and to carry all the purchases. Dutifully I went. Sometimes I'd offer suggestions but I'd have to be very careful. I couldn't seem to eager to end the process or I would seem to be borish. Plus, to me, they both look good in almost anything.

Ever once on awhile I still get dragged along. They seem to buy more now. Somehow I don't seem so rushed. Or maybe it's because businesses got smart and put chairs in the womens' departments where I can take a load off.

AND MY FAVORITE CITY IS...

Forty-five states and maybe even a few more countries, I've lost track the total number, but needless to say, my wife and I have traveled a lot. I won't denouement you here--my favorite city is Jerusalem.

I'd love to return and walk where Jesus walked. In 2006 when we visited for 4 days, we, too entered Jerusalem from the east as He did. Not on a colt, but in a bus. We started at the top of the Mount of Olives just like the Lord did, too.We walked the path where Jesus rode the donkey down to the Garden of Gethsemane.

Sitting across from the Eastern Gate where He will come again.(John 3) Some of the 20 or so trees in this grove, which may or may not have been "the" garden, are 1,500 years old. Yet the roots are from the time of Jesus. Once olive roots are cut, their shoots renew themselves. Details like that amaze me, and I hope they always will.

One simply cannot visit there and not reflect on the night Jesus spent there praying, when he was pressed as the olive is pressed and bleeds red. The Garden lies just above the Kidron Valley, the place of Christ's transfiguration and Peter's declaration of faith.

The Church of Nations or the Church of Gethsemane is just across from the Eastern Gate, called the Golden Gate by some, the only gate that has survived since the time of Jesus. The church was erected on top of the rock where Jesus grieved. Traditionally, its altar is called the Rock of Agony. Re-erected in 1920 by 24 Catholic nations, it has a beautiful mosaic depicting Jesus. On the right were those adoring Him, and on the left, those ignoring Him.

And that's only the start of our journey there. Though words cannot come close to painting the sights and emotions, the spirituality I felt there, I'll continue in the next few entries to detail why I love Jerusalem.