Language As Story

My new neighbor, Joel, owns a construction business.  He has a wife and three girls.  They are Hispanic.  All of his workers speak Spanish, with half being bilingual in English.  I am bilingual, and I speak Hoosier.  At the end of the workday, they huddle at his house to talk about the day and shoot the breeze.  I like to venture over to tell them a story or a joke.  They listen to me because I often give them some mint candy.  The great part is the punch line. At that point, the bilingual guys laugh. That’s the first wave.  Then they tell the others in Spanish.  That is the second wave. Not every comedian gets a two-wave laugh.

In college, I had a choice of taking Greek or Spanish.  I felt Spanish would be more practical.  What a year that was!  It was a struggle for me and at times it made me frustrated.  Do you know how far a Spanish-language book flies across a room?  It would have gone further if it hadn’t hit the wall.  It was probably at that time that I learned to cuss in Spanish!  I shouldn’t complain.  Most people say English is the most difficult to learn.  English doesn’t make sense.  They have different rules that contradict each other.  One word means many things and we have idioms. 

Language is a gift.  Without it, our stories could not be shared unless we used stick figures. That would leave much to be desired. Kind of like a Rorschach ink psychological test.  That’s the test where they show what looks like ink spilled on paper, then ask you what comes to your mind. People have different ideas as to its meaning.  Have you seen the movie, “What About Bob?,” starring Bill Murray. He is in a mental hospital, sitting on a cafeteria table with several patients and staff around him. 

“I saw a doctor who showed me an ink spot and asked me, “What comes to your mind?”

I said, “sex.”

He showed me another. “Sex.”

A third time, “sex.”

The Doc announced, “It seems you have a problem with sex?”

I told him, “You’re the one with the dirty pictures.” 

Some may think that God didn’t do any favors when he destroyed the tower of Babel and caused people to speak different languages, yet the nuance of the language brings such wonder and beauty to a story.

You can tell a story in a different language, but it doesn’t seem to have the same effect.

My wife and I are from different galaxies. We communicate differently. I’ve often thought we should try out Google Translate to get our ideas across, but I don’t think it works. “No comprenda.”

Language is important to storytelling.  I have gained an appreciation for stories through the ones that communicate, and translate them.

LEARNING FROM LIFE’S DETOURS

I try to embrace new technology.  I have found that sometimes new technology gets it wrong.

When traveling, we use GPS to get to our destination. Sometimes, we run into detours, taking us longer to get there. We were to meet another couple for dinner. We put the address in the GPS and headed out. We found ourselves in a sparsely populated area. While driving by an empty field, the voice said, “You have arrived.” 

Sometimes, detours lead to a street full of potholes, which is not the quality of the original highway. Had we stayed on the original road longer, we would have reached our destination earlier. Yogi Berra said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

That’s a metaphor for life. The roads we take make up the material of our stories.  Without journeys, we have no stories. 

I think God looks at detours differently.  It’s probably because of His viewpoint; His perspective is broader and more complete.  Have you walked through a junkyard?  Put that on your bucket list.  Bent metal, broken glass, rust.  It’s not exactly a scene you want to paint.  Now, fly over that junkyard on a sunny day.  You discover a mosaic of colors surrounded by sparkling flashes of light.  The yard hasn’t changed, your perspective has.

As younger people, we haven’t traveled long enough for many detours. When you reach my age, well let me say, I’ve seen more than I can count.  What are some of the detours of life? Detours of addiction, estrangement, betrayal, health, grief, loss.  Not all detours are bad.  I was working in a church when I was handed a detour.  The next thing I knew, I was a police chaplain.  I didn’t see that coming, and neither did the officers.  That department never had a chaplain before and I never worked with cops.  We cautiously looked at each other for a while, until I had opportunities to show my value.  As a result of that detour, I have had lifetime experiences that most people haven’t.

When reaching our destination, the detours don’t matter when destinations are places and people we love.  They are valuable installments to our stories.

Ultimately, heaven is my destination.  Until I get there, there is still a lot of material, and detours, to teach me about life.

CHRISTMAS WITH A PURPOSE

 

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Each Christmas time, we kids in the neighborhood would go caroling.  It was a fun and constructive time, and it got us out of our parents' hair.  We lived up in Indiana near Lake Michigan, so there was snow and cold.  Often, when we performed at a neighbor's house, they would give us candy, cookies, or hot cocoa.  We appreciated the cocoa. It kept us going to our next gig. 

One year, we heard about a family from France who moved into the neighborhood at Christmas time.  They were professionals in balancing and juggling.  They had recently appeared on the Bozo the Clown TV show.  We also heard they were on hard times.  The cost of moving and little work added up to a sparse Christmas.

We had an idea.  When we went caroling, we could ask for money for this family rather than the other treats.  We collected a big chunk of change and got the goodies anyway.

We planned our last stop at the French family's rental home.  They opened the door very cautiously.  As we began to sing, they opened the door wider.  They enjoyed the music and the very idea that we would come and sing to them made them smile.  After we finished with, “We Wish You A Merry Christmas,” we handed them the card with the gift funds.  They had smiles and tears.  Their gratitude was evident, even with the language barrier.

Somehow, it didn’t seem so cold outside as we made our way back home.  I’m sure it was the warmth we felt in our hearts as we gave to others in need.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

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Please...consider sharing your own Christmas story.  Click the pencil below to reply.

 

 

Dysfunctional and Blessed Thanksgiving

 

Thanksgiving is a time for families.  That can be good or difficult, depending on the situation.  When I was working as a law enforcement chaplain, I often saw families at their worst, especially during the holidays.  The Norman Rockwell painting of the family gathered around the Thanksgiving table doesn’t fit for all Americans.  We want to think it applies.  

I have been watching a series called, “The Secret History of Family,” produced by the BBC.  The episodes are based on three young women sisters who grew up in East London in the 1800’s.  It is not a nice place.  You wouldn’t want to rent a B&B there.  They live in poverty and all end up spending time in prison for their imaginative ways of making money that happen to be illegal.  

The story is a look back from the perspective of their decedents.  Some ended up well-to-do and others much dysfunction and estrangement.  It is a journey into story as one views each episode and realizes how knowing one’s story can bring understanding and healing.

My family has a long and short story in America.  My grandfather on my mother’s side, came to the U.S. in the late 1800’s.  My mother’s other side were Pilgrims who came on the Mayflower in 1620.  My father’s family came from before the American Revolution.  At least one was a Patriot who fought in the Revolution and his son in the War of 1812.  So I guess you could say they had plenty of  time to mess up!

What is your story as you gather around the table this Thanksgiving?  Mine includes estrangement, addiction, betrayal, chronic illness, along with other challenges.  It is also mixed with love, blessings, and hope.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  No gifts or expectation of gifts are needed.  It is simply time for families to gather and be thankful.  If it becomes a gripe session or political wrestling match, that isn’t being thankful.  Let’s put all of that aside and breathe a sigh of thanksgiving.

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What are you thankful for and why?  Please share with us all by clicking on the pencil icon below to reply.  We look forward to hearing what you have to say.

CAR CONNECTIONS

 I have driven different types of cars over the years.  Most of my cars were either given to me, or I bought used.  Used cars come with a certain activity we call “repair.”  

My Dad was old enough to have learned to drive in a Model T Ford, most likely the one with a crank start.  He didn’t keep up with the times.  When my wife and I were first married, we drove a car her father gave us as a wedding present.  When my dad got into it, he exclaimed, “With all of these knobs and contraptions, how can you make this thing go!”  Trust me, it was a standard model from the 1960s or ‘70s.  By the old standards, the cars of today look like the control panels in a rocket ship!

My Dad was a Rambler car man.  His first Rambler was a 1960 American.  I never understood his fascination with them.  Our air conditioning was a 4-40 (4 windows down while going 40 miles per hour.) When it was time for Dad to buy me a car, you guessed it…a Rambler.  We pulled up the front of the seller’s place, he said, “Now that’s the car for you!”  I knew I was going to get stuck with it, but I had no choice…he was buying.  It was a stick shift on the column station wagon.  Later, I bought my car, a Chevy Belair.  I was moving up in the world.

My older brother, Dave, was the mechanic in the family.  I never bothered to learn to work on cars, I had him around until I headed off for college and seminary.  It was time to learn something about car repair.  This was pre-YouTube, so I had to rely on a printed repair manual.  I think my first adventure was replacing brake pads and shoes.  With the mission accomplished, I had fellow students saying, “Hey, I hear you work on cars.”  “Sort of” I replied.  I was willing to take a stab at other repairs, under the condition they bought a repair manual and any tool I needed to get the job done.  That is how my tool inventory began.  Fifty years later, I’m still helping others with repairs.  I recently worked on a car belonging to my friend from Tanzania, Africa.  

Cars seem to take on the characteristics of their owners like couples who grow old and start to look like each other.  I guess you can tell a lot about a person by seeing how they decorate and treat their automobiles.  We also associate certain vehicles with people we know.  Before they get close, I know who is coming.  Sometimes, I only know new neighbors by their vehicles.  Next door is “White Van.”

I see my friend, Dean, every few years.  Out of the blue, he wants to go to breakfast.  Last week he picked me up.  I wasn’t sure what vehicle he was driving.  He sent me a text, “I’ll be there in a few.  Wear a jacket.”  While I was standing outside waiting, I saw this nice, new black pickup as it turned the corner.  He looked like he was going to pull over.  I took one step forward and he continued.  Coming from the other direction was Dean, driving a blue shoe box on wheels, with no windows.  Hence, a need for a jacket.

Cars can be a gift of encouragement.  While living in Santa Monica, California, I served on a church staff.  I held a Bible study for employees of City Hall.  I started this with my friend, Jim.  Jim knew I didn’t make much money.  Perhaps he learned about the time I pulled up by City Hall.  While parking the car, it started to roll back.  Some officers came to my rescue.  I said, “Hold it,” while I reached under the seat to grab a brick and place it under a wheel.  I said, “Sorry.  My emergency brake doesn’t work, so I use this emergency brick.”  One of the officers replied, “Chaplain, you need a new car.”  I couldn’t agree more, and that is where my friend Jim comes in.  He asked me, “Are you taking a vacation this summer?”  I said, “Well, we are just going to stick close to home.  Maybe a day trip.”  The next week at Bible study, he handed me a check and said, “I had a used car I was going to sell and felt the Lord wanted you to have this to help you out.”  We had that vacation.

A lot of memories are created in cars.  As a family, we usually took a driving vacation each summer.  In doing so, we had some wonderful experiences of seeing many of the U.S. States.  Jim, my kid brother, and I had some great adventures.  

The most important things in life are experiences.  We didn’t have to have a lot of money for us neighborhood kids to ride with my dad on a fishing or camping adventure.

What memories do you associate with or without cars?  Consider sending them in so others can enjoy the good times with you.  Send an email to journeyintostory@google.com. 

 

Purpose With A Passion!

 I  sometimes regret not having learned a second language.  I had one Spanish class in college, but I didn't do very well.  Somehow I don't think being able to say "Hi, Ola" qualifies as a second language. I make up for it in other ways.  For example, I tell others that, "I'm by-lingual.  I speak English and Hoosier."  Many young people don't understand the term "Hoosier," but for those more enlightened of us, we know a Hoosier is a person from the State of Indiana.  You are probably surprised to know the reactions vary.  Yeah.

As a child of Indiana, I remember a certain woman named Phyllis.  It seemed her goal in life was to kick rocks off of the two-lane highway near us.  You could tell she was a professional.  When she saw a rock, she got that determined look on her face, briefly check the traffic...sometimes, and kicked that sucker off of the road.  She should have carried a cane with her so she could notch in every time she kicked a rock.  Imagine how many canes she would go through.

I never spoke to Phyllis.  She seemed a little odd and I wasn't brave enough to make an attempt.  Was, or had she, ever been married?  What events shaped her life?  Did she have a loved one who died hitting a rock on the road while driving a motor vehicle?  Sadly, I'll never know the answers to those questions.  I feel like I missed an opportunity to know her story.

What did Phyllis have that some people don't have?  Purpose.  She had the satisfaction of helping others avoid an object and possible injury.

What is your story, your purpose?  Perhaps you don't feel like you have much to offer.  When you think that way, remember Phyllis.

(Please hit the pencil icon below and let us know about your story.  Perhaps someone needs to hear from you.) 

Not The Mama!

 

My mother loved the TV show, "Dinosaurs."  It was a show about an everyday dinosaur family made of up costumed characters.  The brother and sister were teenagers.  The baby would usually sit in a high chair.  When addressing his father, he would say, "Not the Mama!"  Mama would be the foundation for the home, and dad was a dufuss.  Do you notice in comedy shows that the father is often portrayed as an appendage to the family, appearing not to know much?  

Men have been taking the wrap for a long time.  First, there was the Women's Lib movement.  Women felt they had to be as good or better as a men.  They were taught that women didn't need a man. Right.

I have the unfortunate situation that my granddaughter and me have birthdays just a few days apart.  My son, her father, told me a few years back, "You know Pop, who is getting the attention in August?  Yep, your granddaughter."  It came as no surprise to me, because I'm not the Mama or Grandma!  By the way, my wife and I own a house.  When my son tells anyone that he is coming over, he says he is going to "Mom's house."  Hello!

I actually don't mind the birthday thing.  If I have to share birthday limelight, I don't mind the other celebrant is my beautiful granddaughter. There has been mostly boys in my family, so we secretly hoped our first grandchild would be a granddaughter.  We got what we hoped for and now she is the "Princess" of the family.  Her younger brother, who was smart to have his birthday in July, is her understudy to royalty.

When in comes to family, we really do need each other!