My Singing Career

When I was in the fifth grade a special teacher “Mr. Wren” came to our school for a brief time. He was a music teacher. He gave piano lessons and had a class in choral singing that included some music basics like how to read some of the notes.  Almost nobody paid much attention to that part. I was always curious about how someone could look at notes printed on a piece of paper and decipher a tune or melody. I still do not understand how they do that. Mr. Wren left suddenly before school was out. I didn’t know why, I didn’t take piano lessons.

I did enjoy the choral singing. Mr. Wren taught us more sophisticated songs than “Farmer in the Dale” and “London Bridge” but gave up on sophisticated songs like “Santa Lucia” or “O Sole Mio” although he did try; he settled for “Row, Row, your Boat” as our main song. For this rendition he separated the class into two groups and directed the second group to start singing the first line when the first group started the second line. It was fun singing that way especially after some of the high school boys changed the words to:

Row, row, row your boat,

Gently down the stream.

Throw your teacher overboard

And listen to him scream …

After which Mr. Wren changed our main song to “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” I didn’t know anyone named Bonnie, but I liked the song, sometimes after class it would run over and over through my mind and I would find myself humming it.

My daddy used to read to us on those winter evenings. That day we were standing around the pot-bellied stove waiting for Daddy to continue reading Robinson Crusoe. We were anxious to hear more about Friday who had just joined Crusoe at the last reading session. As we were warming and waiting my sister sang a little nursery rhyme tune, to fill the lull, I burst out with my rendition of “My Bonnie …” which had been running over and over in my mind. Perhaps it surprised everyone, they were all looking at me; then Daddy said “Lord son, you couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

Daddy could sing, play a guitar, play a harmonica, and as far as I know he never lied to me. I gave up singing that day. Some say he shouldn’t have said that; perhaps that’s true but it don’t change the fact that I can’t carry a tune and should only perform musicals in my mind for my own amusement and nobody’s endurance. –CP

Christmas Memories

We have a box of odds and ends that we retrieve from the attic each Christmas. Many items have been placed in the tattered but sturdy old box over the years.

There’s a string or two of Christmas lights that haven’t worked in this decade; it’s a good place to look for spare bulbs. There are many odd looking parts left over from assembling the kid’s toys on Christmas Eve. Amazingly, the toys seemed to work okay without them.

There is an unused 1976 calendar commemorating the U.S. bi-centennial. And a roll of exposed film, long ago expired, that still sparks speculation about the images it might contain.

There are two Christmas cards all sealed up and ready to mail — except for the incomplete addresses of friends who have moved far away. And some old decorations we don’t use anymore but can’t bring ourselves to throw away.

Rummaging through the old box each year stirs up memories of Christmases past and it usually prompts our annual discussion on the correct way to pronounce Poinsettia.  Then we talk about the way Grandma Hester always used to holler, “Christmas Eve Gift!” when she first saw you on Christmas Eve. Presumably, in her day when two people met on Christmas Eve, the first one to offer the greeting “Christmas Eve Gift!” was to receive a gift from the other.

During this season, a simple thought can bloom in to intricate memories of singing along with the Christmas music playing on the radio, the aroma of cakes, pies and other goodies in the air, and the elaborately tinseled Christmas tree in the living room.

There were no artificial trees in those days. We always cut our own from the woods somewhere nearby.  Mom and Dad could make even the ugliest tree look beautiful. It sparkled and gleamed although there were no colored lights. Many of the decorations were old and homemade. Wonder and mystery surrounded the packages under the tree. Some were bound in last year’s boxes with wrapping paper recycled by ironing out the wrinkles.

We had apples wrapped in purple paper, oranges and nuts; even a coconut which when held a certain way looked like a monkey’s face – or as someone always remarked, “a lot like uncle Jess.”

I know these words and phrases do not reflect the true meaning of Christmas. Nevertheless, I believe playing “Christmas Eve Gift” and the joy of remembering happy moments at Christmastime are yet more gifts from God for saints and sinners all. Merry Christmas!

In Their Defense

A scotoma is a visual defect or blind spot. People with this condition cannot see objects that fall within the affected area in their visual field. It’s as though the objects are just not there. Fortunately, in most cases, slightly shifting one’s point of view brings the objects into view.

The term scotoma is also used in psychology to refer to an individual’s inability to perceive, often bothersome, personality traits in themselves that may be obvious to others. They are blind to these; they do not exist.

I believe that there is yet another condition; a powerful ideological scotoma that presents its victims with a distorted view of the world. Facts and truths that fall outside the bounds of their ideology do not exist and are not processed as part of their reasoning and logical thinking. This condition, suffered by many Right-Wing and Tea-Party Conservatives, is a kind of mental illness giving rise to their illogical behavior and the creation of elaborate campaigns filled with fabrications and sometimes cleverly stated misinformation.

It’s not their fault; we have to be tolerant they just can’t see what is right before them. Confronting them with credible facts furthers their disillusionment resulting in more bizarre fabrications.

I do not know of an effective treatment for this condition; for friends and family; perhaps time and achieving a higher degree of personal maturity will alleviate some of the symptoms. Asking questions is risky but in a private forum sometimes allows them to get a glimpse at how out of touch they are and lead to a shift in point of view. Searching for common ground is hazardous but sometimes an effective strategy. Otherwise it is always best to keep your mouth shut, hide your pain and pray.

I wonder and worry about our world often – but then sometimes I just wonder what’s for supper; these are the best times. –CP

“The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.”  – Flannery O’Connor

All About Joe

It’s hard for Joe to be angry with anyone. He can’t be aggressively physical or, except for a brief moment, hurl a hateful verbal attack; this does not mean that he likes everyone, or loves them. It’s just that somehow there is a piece of himself in their place… he feels their feelings, or thinks he does.

He has a strong need for harmony. Conflict in his personal world paralyzes him; this is especially true when it involves those near him and those he loves. He is unhappy and frustrated when he cannot bridge the gaps with respect and reason to relieve conflicts — the conflicts that interfere with dreaming dreams and building memories.

He recognizes that today connects as much to the past as to the future. Failure of a relationship destroys a heritage, sours memories, and invalidates achievements while it makes worthless all the trials, hardships, and sacrifices endured throughout. Even worse, the scars discouraged future effort and their nagging memories burden future contentment.

Joe believes that only death can be as bleak as a final declaration of rejection. In fact, without recourse or hope of appeal, it is worse than death because it holds the spirit captive and robs the mind of any conscious worth.

He understands the feelings of inferiority and the frustrations created by those who watch the gates from a superior position. It’s a feeling akin to rejection but enhanced with a sense of being restrained in a small place, freedom is in sight, yet unreachable. He doesn’t blame these gatekeepers, for unless they are bitter, they are simply savoring their moments, indifferent, and probably unaware — not really trying to hurt or take pleasantness away.

Therefore, he will continue to confront each encounter in search of sweetness – leaving bits of his soul as necessary until he is finally used up. -CP

Good Citizenship – Write your Congressman

Although they do not often write back, it is important to email, write or call your congressmen with your concerns and encouragement. If you appreciate what Congressman Paul Broun is doing for America you should tell him; tell him that although Georgia’s 12% unemployment is a problem he should continue to fight to lower the nation’s debt limit even to the point of allowing the government to default on its bills; he should again shout that proposal from the House floor – jobs can wait.

Encourage him to stand firmly on his no-tax pledge because preserving the tax loopholes for gas and oil companies is certainly more important to America than preventing the layoff of 280,000 teachers and keeping cops and firefighters on the job. Don’t forget to remind him that preserving the corporate-jet tax benefit is preferred to helping our service veterans find jobs when they return from war.

Tell him to forget about modernizing 35,000 schools and instead fight to cut taxes for the very rich. Also, say to him, don’t give much thought to maintaining or improving our roads, bridges, and airports. They are good enough and we don’t need to put thousands of construction workers to work. What we need to do is lower taxes and to eliminate all regulation; free enterprise industry can take care of public safety and protect consumers. Besides, everyone should look out for himself, government regulations just get in the way of profits.

I’m sure that Congressman Broun will be happy to hear that you are in favor of these items; after all we elected him and have remained silent while benefiting from all that he has done. We expect that his politics will provide great benefits to our children and grandchildren for generations to come.

Then again… if you disagree with him you need only write six words: “Pass the President’s Jobs Bill now.”

Charles Prier

Brownout in Georgia

As citizens of the Georgia 10^th Congressional District, it is good to know where we stand with our Representatives in Washington. During recent weeks Representative Paul Broun has demonstrated that the wellbeing of “we the people” is a very low priority with him. His participation in the gridlock, national frustration, and actions resulting in lowering of our country’s credit standing is certainly jeer-worthy.  The troubling fact that he actually proposed lowering the debt limit, putting the government immediately in default speaks loudly about his priorities. In my opinion he ignored the first item of his four-way test when considering how to act concerning the debt limit crisis. He apparently believes it would be morally right for the country to default on the debts incurred by money already spent by Congress. He devoted a lot of negative energy to this issue and no positive energy toward JOBS or anything else worthwhile.

On a broader scale, it is apparent that because he signed the Grover Norquist Pledge he is incapable of being a competent legislator. By signing this pledge he became accountable to Grover Norquist not to the citizens of Georgia. It is time he renounces that outlandish pledge and instead pledge to listen to all sides of the issues with everything on the table, compromise while working toward balanced tax reform, jobs, and the benefit of everyday citizens. Our elected officials should be able to rely on their intelligence to assess the merits of any proposal encountered instead of being blackmailed into goat-like following dictated by Norquist’s pledge.  Any idiot can stand in the crowd and just say NO to everything; we need elected officials to actually represent the interest of the country not just their political party. CP

What could be wrong with Bob?

I once knew a guy who talked about building a machine using an electric generator and an electric motor connected in such a way that the motor would spin the generator and the electricity it generated would power the motor. He further suggested that through a belt and pulley arrangement the wheels on a go-cart could be turned to move the go-cart along. He was adamant that his theory would work. Unfortunately he did not have the manual skills or financial backing to build a model.

Bob has stopped talking about his perpetual motion powered go-cart. Today he is a Tea-partier proclaiming that reducing taxes for everyone making more than $400,000 a year, continuing corporate welfare to the oil companies, and cutting Medicare while privatizing Social Security will end unemployment, eliminate the deficit, and fill the government’s tax coffers.

Bob elects and blindly supports legislators that make foolish pledges that limit any innate intelligence, judgment, or problem-solving ability they could bring to their job. Bob is too busy and ill-equipped to understand or keep up with the political issues. He is easily confused and will likely continue to fall prey to the Tea Party blather and vote against his own best interest.

The debt problems facing our nation are serious, yet Bob’s heroes, in blind defiance, are refusing to take a balanced approach to dealing with the issues. If they keep this up we all lose, even those making more than $400,000 a year will suffer significant loss.

(Originally published as a Letter-to-the-Editor The Hartwell Sun July 7. 2011)

Imperfect Solitude

No one spoke to him; indeed no one looked at him. He was virtually invisible to the shoppers and shopkeepers as he sat motionless at a table in the corner of the mall food court. His self-imposed solitude was well practiced, a skill developed and perfected during years of homelessness. He was as unaware of those around him as they were of him. They were just mobile blobs aimlessly blown around by a random breeze. His senses, heightened by a nagging hunger were focused on the small space around a waste receptacle positioned only a few footsteps from his mooring.

A mobile blob placed an item in the receptacle. He moved with a confident cadence to retrieve the deposit. His actions appeared ordinary and so natural as to go un-noticed except by an astute people watcher who remarked, “did you see that?”

I didn’t see his unsuccessfully search for discarded food in the Chick-fil-A bag; however he was no longer invisible to me. I watched as he returned to his table and resumed his solitude.

“Should I give him some money?”

“No, but perhaps we could buy him something to eat, he would probably like a Chick-fil-A.”

I stepped to his table and stood close by. He didn’t notice.

“Hello bother, are you okay?”

Startled, he looked up and said, “No.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like a Chick-fil-A sandwich?”

“I rather have some rice.”

We moved to the Asian food counter and I bought him a plate of rice and chicken, wished him God’s blessing and left him alone to enjoy his food.

I remembered an inkling of a quote by someone who said “Sometimes walls are put up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”  I walked away that day with a good feeling. –CP

Eggs and Issues An Introduction to Georgia Politics

A letter to the editor of The Hartwell Sun – Hartwell Georgia

Dear Editor,

Saturday morning I attended the “Eggs and Issues Breakfast” sponsored by the Hart County Chamber of Commerce. I am new to the area and attended as a guest of a member. It was a good introduction to the political lineament of Hart County. I enjoyed the experience. The program presented pertinent information delivered with a friendly wit and limited arrogance. I was disappointed that the seat reserved for the Mayor of Hartwell was conspicuously vacant.

Unfortunately mine was one of the questions not addressed during the Q and A part of the program, perhaps because of limited time; however, I suspect that the prevailing ideology was at least a minor factor.

My question was directed to those speakers who advocate repeal and replacement of The Affordable Healthcare Act passed by the last congress; I asked, “since the introduction of a new healthcare bill will result in protracted congressional debate and distract from other important issues such as the economy and jobs, why not just fix the things that are wrong with the current bill?”

There are easily identifiable good features of the current bill which actually includes many items initially advocated by those who now want to repeal it. The cost and drama associated with the “repeal and replace” mantra is foolish.

Charles Prier

Bowersville, GA

The Duck That Thought He Was a Dog

Back in the early 1970’s our kids were small and we lived in Tennessee. Each year around Easter a local establishment offered baby chicks and ducklings in various artificial colors for sale. These cute critters were sold for the amusement of the youngsters whether or not they had the means or aptitude to take care of them. I believe this practice has since been abandoned.

Often these pets would die before the Easter eggs were all gone. Henry, our Easter duckling, didn’t. In fact, he thrived in our unfenced backyard and by summer was a full grown, swanlike duck. Henry had no role models except for the miniature (and ugly) bulldogs that lived in the fenced yard next door. Henry believed he was a dog. He imitated their mannerisms, from trying to growl and bark to running to us when we went outside.

By early fall Henry’s welfare had become a constant concern and his increasingly competent canine impersonations were becoming a little embarrassing. After a somber family meeting we decided to take Henry to a nearby lake that was inhabited by other ducks. Henry was curious but his uncharacteristic quack frightened the other ducks. For his own good, as soon as he was slightly distracted we made a beeline for the car. I’ll never forget the sad but amusing sight of Henry in my rearview mirror, running behind our car barking as we sped away.

Here’s to you Henry (or Henrietta) you are a pleasant memory that will live here for a long, long time.–CP