Povey Prattle

He sat almost stiff backed in his wheelchair, at the end of a long and well lit corridor. As we drew nearer he smiled.  I asked him if he would like to meet Zion.  He did. Then he said  "I met Jesus Christ".  I thought it to be an unusual statement in a Jewish assisted living facility. "Tell me about it" I said. He told me.  "I got out of Trump's helicopter and I was in Jerusalem. Jesus Christ was there. And there were lots and lots of children, very young. And then an army came in.  The soldiers were very short, so I knew that they were Chinese, and very dangerous." I knew that this was not the time and place for deep conversation, so I made polite comments. I reached out my hand to bid him farewell.  He gripped my right hand between his two hands and said  "I am ninety four years old, and I am very strong". He was.  I could not pull my hand away from his tight, very tight grip.  Yes, I was a wee bit afr...

My brother Stephen died suddenly and unexpectedly two years ago today  (June 22nd),  aged 63. The shock of his untimely death has been a wee bit mitigated by the passing of these twenty four months, but our grief and sadness persists, and will always persist. "Our Steve" as we always called him was the least complicated and most direct of the five Povey men.  What we saw and knew was a dear brother who was utterly without guile or pretense, (and he had a wicked sense of humour). His  rai·son d'ê·tre was pure and unalloyed.  He worked,  lived and loved for the very best interests of Angela his wife, of Lee and Nicola their children, and of their grandchildren.  Their grief two years on has not been smoothed by the sands of time.  Why should it be? Steve had a particular  close friendship with our brother Martyn.   For a while he did not know quite what to make of me, a somewhat snobby brother who was nine years...

All those years ago when I was a minister in Fitchburg, MA there was a small threat one year that a Hurricane would come up the east coast, cross Long Island sound, and move up through central Connecticut and Massachusetts. My friend and mentor DeWolf Perry advised me to fill my bath tub with cold water.  I thought that it was some kind of mystical and cultish ceremony to ward off bad weather until he explained that if the worst came to the worst and power was cut, the water would be more than useful to flush toilets. Well that hurricane fizzled out and I never did have to live through a hurricane in New England.  I endured my fair share of blizzards. I moved to SRQ in 2006 and after a year or so I know that I had to get ready for a possible hurricane. So I put together my emergency supplies in an air tight and water-proof container. I've never had to use it, but each year I inspect it.   I did so today. Coleman camping stove, working well, wit...

I am weary.. partly because of the enervating temperatures.  My dog and I are getting our walks, but they leave us to be exhausted. partly because of the U.S. President's "apparent" turn about on the policy of separating minor immigrant children from their parents is not so simple and straightforward as it seems: -  see this:  https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/affording-congress-opportunity-address-family-separation/ I am so weary  that I could not focus on a follow up posting about the Bristol district called Easton, and what happens when an Interstate or Motorway is extended into the heart of a City.  Hint:   It's always the poor what suffers. So here is the cute I settle down to work on my computer.  Zion had other things in mind.  He slides down my left leg, then flops belly up.  It is my job to tickle his tummy with my left hand as I try to type with just my right hand.  If I ease up on the tumm...

Back in 1980 when I was being interviewed for a new job one member of the interview panel asked me "just who exactly is Michael Povey?" The question threw me off guard.  Then I realised that I was not being asked about my skills, knowledge, accomplishments and experience.   I was being asked about my soul. 'Twas a rare question.  When being interviewed for a job, or when in retirement meeting a new person one is much more likely to be asked "what did you do?", or "where are you from?" "What did you do?"    That's easy for me.  My confession that I was a parish Priest in the Episcopal Church speaks highly of my respectability.  (If only they knew). "Where do you live?"  That's a subtle and class based question in Sarasota. Should I reply with Bird Key, or St. Armands, or Lido Shores, or Siesta Key, or even "west of the trail" ( homes west of the Tamiami Trail and close to Sarasota Bay)  my interlocutor...

I cheated a bit, but it was delicious. Frozen corn, frozen meat balls, frozen pasta with broccoli -  heated up/cooked in mango salsa. Not gourmet. Not entirely healthy. But it hit the spot. It hit the spot so well that I do not need  dinner/supper.