Showing posts from September 14, 2008

A perfect day

A perfect day!
I was up and at it early (as usual) yesterday, and had my morning walk before awakening Joyce. After breakfast she came with me to Resurrection House for the weekly prayer service. Happily enough we had a record attendance, with sixteen of us crowded into the small Chapel. Of course my homeless friends loved Joyce!
We met Ben after his volunteer morning at the Ringling Museum of Art and drove off to “Bamboo” an incongruously named South American restaurant, where we met up with my pals Orlando Gonzalez and Jim Detlef. Orlando and James have been partners for 52 years! One and all were enchanted by Joyce, whilst my heart was beating fast every time our handsome Venezuelan waiter “Jesus” was in the area. (Surely it’s O.K. to be crazy about Jesus!).
I am sure that the whole world has known about “Arepas”, but I discovered them only last week. An Arepa is small bread made of very finely ground corn meal. Arepas are the comfort food of choice in Colombia and Venezuela.
I usually…

Pathetic Little Blog

My dear Joyce arrived last night from Scottsdale, Arizona. She’d had good flights via Atlanta, and her plane arrived on time.

Of course we stayed up way past my bedtime, “yakking away” and drinking red wine. So this is a pathetic little blog today.

But do check out and then click on “Image Directory”.

This is a great source for all manner of photo’s - it’s the site from which I found the recent pictures of Ford cars.

Poltical Cartoon, and a welcome visitor

My dear friend Joyce Vidal-Thornburg will arrive from Phoenix tonight, for a one week visit. Joyce is the widow of the Revd. C. Michael Thornburg at whose funeral I preached.

But “widow” sometimes misleads us into thinking “very old”!

Joyce is a vivacious, charming, funny and very bright 50 something. I am truly excited that she will visit. We’ve not seen each other for three or four years.

What a brother!

Brother Martyn remembers that my first car was a white Ford Anglia Estate. (I could have sworn that it was greay, but such are the tricks of memory. I trust Martyn’s memory more than my own)

Huma from Martyn

Martyn: “I wish that I had listened to what my grandmother said”

Friend: “Why, what did she say?”

Martyn: “I didn’t listen”

Sunday, lovely Sunday

I hoved down to St. Boniface on Siesta Key yesterday for the 10:00 a.m. Eucharist. This is where I warm a pew when I am not assisting in other congregations.

I always sit with Adrian and Anno Swain. Anno is a volunteer at Resurrection House. Adrian used to do this too, until a stroke incapacitated him. It’s good to have a “regular” pew with good people alongside one.

St. Boniface is a singing congregation, so I can boom out my baritone harmonies without getting stared at!

The Rector, Ted Copeland preached a sermon which was “over the top”. He reflected on what had happened at St. B’s 7 years ago on the first Sunday after 9/11. He asked us to think about what “might have happened” if our nation had engaged in a period of reflection and forgiveness, and not rushed to wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

It was a courageous sermon, delivered with great grace. After service I said “you are alright Ted”. He replied “not everyone thinks so”. So I countered with “but I do, and that’s all that matters!”

Delayed blog for Saturday 13th September 2008

I usually write my blog at night. But I get so tired in the evening. So in future I will “blog” in the early morning.

The following is what I intended to write last evening. I’ll write again in the a.m.

BLOG for Saturday 13th September 2008.

Just because a person has a title, or an honorific, before or after his or her name it does not mean that that person is wise, or has something worth saying.

In Britain we have “Lord”, or “Sir”, or “Prince” or “Queen” in front of names.

In America we have “President”, or “Senator” or “Representative” in front of names.

In both lands we have titles or honourifics such as “Bishop”, “the Revd”, or “The Honourable” before names.

In England we might encounter “M.P”, or “O.B.E”, or “C.B.E.” etc., after names.

(O.B.E. stands for “Order of the British Empire”. It is often awarded to long serving, and senior Civil Servants. My Dad used to say that it stood for “Other Buggers’ Efforts”)

The Press, T.V. and Radio pundits often give great weight to folks with …