Povey Prattle

I walk for about an hour most days at 6:00 a.m. or even earlier. This means that I start my walk in the darkness, leading to morning twilight, and then to the light of day. Last Wednesday as I walked into morning twilight, the street lights were still on. I saw a faint shadow moving alongside me. I turned to see who was behind me. Then I realised that it was my own shadow, moving from behind me to before me as I walked passed a street light. When we walk towards the light the shadows are behind us. When we walk away from the light the shadows are ahead of us. I suppose that this has something to say about the notion of sin. Whe we walk away from the light (of G-d) the shadows are ahead of us. This (for me) means that we are always walking into the shadows of our past - the failures, disappointments, hurts and miseries of yesteryear. Repentance is to turn 180 degrees, and to walk towards the light (of G-d). Then the shadows are behind us. Those failures, disappointments, hurts a...

============================================================== I was supposed to have a tooth extracted yesterday. My good Dentist decided that it was a job for an Oral Surgeon, and not for him. The tooth broke off today. Only the root is left. I am in no pain, and the Oral Surgeon will take care of the root in a couple of weeks. =================================================================== I spent some time with “William” this morning. He is still very sad, but he loved it when we prayed together. We’ll get together for lunch on Saturday 27th =================================================================== Ben and David will join me for dinner tonight. I have prepared a “Fish Soup” (a new concept and recipe for me). It includes leeks, sweet onions, green and red peppers, mushrooms, and canned tomatoes, with catfish and shrimp. I like to try new recipes. ============================================================ The developed world is in a mess. Our “economies” are in a me...

NAN FREEMAN (1953 - 1972) On the morning of January 25, 1972, at about 3:00 a.m., UFW pickets were positioned at the entrance to the Talisman Sugar Plant on US HWY 27 , about 20 miles north of Belle Glade, Florida. The Farm Workers strike had been in progress at Talisman for two weeks . The plant is situated about 300 feet off the main highway with a side road leading to the main gate. Trucks hauling the sugar cane from the fields made a turn off the main road onto the side road and then pass through the plant gates. The trucks are large semis pulling two "cages" of cane - a double trailer. Loaded, the trucks weigh about 70,000 pounds. The trucks had been a source of concern to pickets because most of the drivers were dangerously inexperienced scabs, who weren't used to handling the 70,000 pound loads. And the Company was overloading the trucks in an effort to make as few trips as possible because the regular drivers were among the strikers. For several days pickets ha...

This is the 366th entry on my blog. So I have been blogging for over a year. Last Sunday Joyce and I drove back from Boca Raton to Sarasota. Rather than taking the interstate we chose to drive over Route 27 which runs South East/North West. This is the route of the belly of southern Central Florida. It is the route of Cattle ranches (yes we have many of them in Florida ); of Orange Groves; and of Sugar Cane plantations (the latter using up far too much water, thus causing the impoverishment of the Everglades). It is the Florida which is unknown to tourists: it is the Florida of rural poverty; rednecks; small towns and hamlets. We drove through three of these towns: South Bay (on the south bay of Lake Okeechobee); Clewiston; and Arcadia. In Clewiston we stopped at McDonalds (practically the only show in town) and encountered the most dysfunctional staff imaginable. They were having a loud and protracted “fight” even as we waited for our food. The Manager made things worse by entering t...

William (not his real name) is in his mid-twenties, and is a volunteer at Resurrection House. He is possessed with great charm and friendliness, and the guests like him greatly. I often drive him to and from Res. House, and from time to time we have lunch together. William is a recovering drug addict, and has been clean for two years. He lives in a safe house for recovering addicts. Few know, or would even guess that he struggles with mental illness. He grew up with a violent father and an alcoholic mother. He was sexually molested by a neighbour man when he was fourteen years old, and was threatened with death if he ever “told”. This coincided with the onset of his illness: “schizoid affective disorder”. William is faithful to his regime of meds., but they are often out of balance. Yesterday, whilst I was at Bible study with other Clerics at St. Boniface Church, William took a long walk with my dear Joyce on Siesta Beach. I sensed that he needed some healthy “mothering”, and that...

Waldorf Towers Hotel, South Beach Whilst my friend Joyce was in Boca Raton (upscale) with her stepmother, I stayed in Pompano Beach (downscale). The Hotel was on the beach front and I awoke early on Saturday to catch the sunrise. Just before Old Sol emerged the clouds on the far horizon were bathed in pink, looking like a gorgeous forest of wild and wonderful trees on a distant island. Pompano Beach is litter strewn and was badly in need of a cleanup and grooming. The Hotel also rested in a former magnificence. It was dated, and shabby. I took extra care to check for bed-bugs! I drove the 35 or so miles south on Route A1A towards Miami. A1A hugs the coastline, but you would never know it. I drove through endless miles of high rise condos and hotels both sides of the road. There was some relief in Fort Lauderdale where there was no “development” on the east (coastal) side of the road, with easy beach access. The City of Dania Beach was another exception. (Dania was named by i...

Joyce and I spent the weekend on the east coast of Florida. Joyce was with her step mother Theresa Vidal in Boca Raton, and I stayed in a Hotel at Pompano Beach. On Saturday I drove south to the Miami area. I’ll write more about this tomorrow. But for today I’ll relate that I went to “Little Havana”, the heart of Cuban life and culture in Miami. I was there during the hot early afternoon – siesta time – so the streets were not exactly hopping with life. I had imagined narrow streets and alleyways, such as one would find in an old European or South American City. That was a bit of foolish imagination for Miami is very much a twentieth century City. So Little Havana is an area of straight avenues and streets, laid out in a grid. I wandered around for a bit, and when I returned to my car I noticed that I was parked outside a Cuban barber shop. I need of being shorn I entered the shop, only to be greeted with surprised looking faces - surely this gringo had entered the shop by mista...