When God closes a door…

…somewhere he opens a window. Postulant Maria, in The Sound of Music, claimed to have learned that adage from the Reverend Mother. I suspect that the line is a quip created by the scriptwriters Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse. The original proverb promises that when God closes one door, he opens another. Although that saying is not taken from the Bible, it is inferred by a reading of Acts 16:6-10 and II Corinthians 2:12-13.

About a year ago, a certain job became open, and the person who told me about the opening also said that he would recommend me for the position. He assured me that I am perfect for the job. The process is lengthy; a self-study had to be completed before the committee in charge of finding a new worker could gather nominations and try to find the best match. Around the end of December they published seven names that had been recommended to them and promised to gather biographical data and other suggestions from the parent organization.

Meanwhile I had all this time to learn more about the job and its location: to see what houses are for sale in the area, to check out stores and restaurants, to read about the community and its history, and get a sense of what people do there for fun. The Internet makes such research ridiculously easy.

At the end of March the committee had received requested information from the parent organization and promised to winnow the list to the most promising candidates, contact them, and arrange for interviews. Every time the phone rang in April and May my heart jumped, thinking, “This might be them.” Finally this week the committee published the three finalists they have selected for the position. My name was not on the list.

During these last two months, I was also recruited for a similar position closer to home. The biggest problem with this position is that they are not able to offer both a full-time salary and health insurance. They are seeking someone who is willing to work two jobs, and since I am currently working three jobs, they thought I might be willing to make the change. After I learned that my name was not on the first list, I agreed at least to talk with the men who strongly want me to take this part-time position.

Here is where it gets complicated. The parent organization for the one position I had hoped to be offered and the parent organization for the one position I have been offered are in parallel branches of the same larger entity. During a half-hour conversation about the part-time position, I was able to ask if my information had been requested from the head of the other branch. The answer was no. So, apparently, the branch head declined to obtain up-to-date information about me for the committee that was seeking to fill a position. It may have been a clerical error or something more sinister; the head of my branch knows nothing about me that would disqualify me for such a job, which is why he is trying so hard to persuade me to take the part-time position.

This part-time position is located an hour’s drive from where I live. I told them that the commute would be a problem. They hoped that I would keep the full-time job I have (with its health insurance and other benefits) and drive that hour once or twice a week to fulfill my part-time duties. I replied that I thought, in order to do my job well, I would need to live in the community. (I am performing a similar job while driving half an hour each way once or twice a week, and I think that is too great a distance.) Eventually, I placed before them something like Gideon’s fleece. If a full-time job can be found for me in or near the community, I am willing to move there and take both jobs, but the full-time job would have to be something comparable to the one I have now. I had already checked. There are no such openings in the area. But they are using what connections they have to check again.

As I see it, if the Lord wants me to take this part-time job, he will provide the full-time job nearby. Otherwise, he has a different plan for me and for that position. That different plan may involve me staying where I am for many more years. It may involve another opening at yet another place. It might even happen that the three finalists chosen at the first place I mentioned will all prove unsatisfactory or will all be unwilling to take the position. Wishing for such a thing to happen is having faith by virtue of the absurd (as Soren Kierkegaard would say). Yet, more than twenty years ago, I was offered a job after a similar committee had selected two finalists and then found itself to be dissatisfied with both.

Meanwhile, I accept with resignation (Kierkegaard again) that the door is closed. I continue to trust the Lord’s planning. And when I find the window he has opened, I will jump through and run as fast as I can. J.

 

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Holy Communion (part three)

The Bible says: “For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (I Corinthians 11:26).

Luther explains, “How can bodily eating and drinking do such great things? Certainly not just eating and drinking do these things, but the words written here: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’ These words, along with the eating and drinking, are the main thing in the Sacrament. Whoever believes these words has exactly what they say: ‘forgiveness of sins.’”

Salvageable adds: Christians are saved by grace through faith. Faith is not something we do for God; faith is something God does in us. Faith is a relationship that trusts God’s promises. Without God’s grace, our faith would be pointless. Without faith, God’s grace does not reach us and we remain in our sins.

Our faith comes to us through the Word of God. Whether that Word is spoken as an absolution or read from the Bible, whether it is accompanied by water in Holy Baptism or by eating and drinking in Holy Communion, this Word creates faith and strengthens faith. These ways of delivering the Word of God are the gifts of the Holy Spirit by which he enlightens us and brings us into Christ’s kingdom.

A mental illness called anorexia causes a person to deny himself or herself of nutrition needed for the body. This disease is devastating toward the person who suffers from it, and his or her condition is agonizing for family and friends to see. We take spiritual anorexia far more lightly. A person says, “I’m a Christian—I believe in God. But I don’t have time to read the Bible or pray or go to church. God understands. I don’t need church to be a Christian.”

Luther wrote about such a person this way: “But what should you do if you are not aware of this need and have no hunger and thirst for the Sacrament? To such a person no better advice can be given than this: first, he should touch his body to see if he still has flesh and blood. Then he should believe what the Scriptures say of it… Second, he should look around to see whether he is still in the world, and remember that there will be no lack of sin and trouble, as the Scriptures say… Third, he will certainly have the devil also around him, who with his lying and murdering day and night will let him have no peace, within our without, as the Scriptures picture him….”

Because we sin often, we need forgiveness often. We eat and drink at the Lord’s Table, receiving his body and his blood from the cross for the forgiveness of our sins. The Ten Commandments tell us why we need forgiveness. The Apostles’ Creed expresses our faith in the forgiveness of sins. In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask for forgiveness and promise to share forgiveness. The Christian Church is all about forgiveness, and the Sacrament of Holy Communion is likewise all about forgiveness. J.

“Your dreams are within reach” “Yeah, right”

“Your dreams are within reach.” So promises a sign outside a church I pass every morning on my way to work. Some days I like to think this wish is true. This morning I rather hope that my dreams remain out of reach.

The earliest part of my dreams last night that I remember featured Elvis Presley berating me for the condition of my body. But afterward I was outside my house, trying to set up the grounds for croquet. (When I dream about “my house,” it generally resembles my childhood home, even though that building is no longer standing.) I found that I was unable to place the wickets as I wanted. From that I concluded that the house must have shifted, making the yard smaller. I then tried to hammer one of the stakes into the hard ground. My effort broke open a hole that led to the basement of the house. My father was in that basement, trying to fix the sump pump and not succeeding. The dream concluded with me driving to the grocery store, only to have the car stall at the entrance to the parking lot. By pressing the accelerator while turning the key, I was able to get the car to move forward. With considerable effort, I twisted the steering wheel and coasted into a parking spot. I went into the store and asked to use the phone to tell my family the car was broken. When I dialed, I got the voice mail message, which had been changed by a relative who does not live in our house and had no business messing with our message.

Why would I dream about so many things going wrong in my life? I was jittery yesterday over a number of small reasons. My daughter, who hurt her foot last month in a freak accident, was to have surgery yesterday morning. Her driver took her to the office early in the morning and they waited for a while, only to realize that the surgery is scheduled for Wednesday the 23rd, not Wednesday the 16th. My daughter called home to tell me about the mistake. While we were talking, I heard another voice in or around the house. At first I assumed that two neighbors were having a conversation near the house. When I returned to breakfast, it struck me that the sounds did not resemble a conversation between two people. (You can tell that I was not trying to spy on my neighbors.) For a while I considered that it might be one neighbor talking on a cell phone, but that still didn’t seem to match the sounds I was hearing. When I went into the living room, I found a cell phone on the table that was taking, repeatedly saying “hello” in several different languages. Last weekend my daughters recharged several old cell phones, prior to turning them in for a refund. They did not realize that alarms were still set on these phones. So I’ve been turning off music every morning this week. Hearing unfamiliar voices in the morning, though, left me with a very unsettled feeling.

Feeling unsettled made me overreact when I went on Facebook that morning. I don’t often visit Facebook any more, but sometimes I like to see what family members are saying. One of the first things I saw was a post by my sister which told how to cope with toxic family members. Because I was feeling jittery, my first reaction was to think she was putting me in that category. I know that is not the case; she tends to share things she thinks will help somebody somewhere, whether or not they are relevant to her own life and circumstances. In fact, when I went back later to read the entire article, I could see that it had nothing to do with me. But that’s the frame of mind I was in yesterday, ready to believe the worst about myself from even the slightest and vaguest suggestion.

One reason I am feeling so unstable is uncertainty about my career. I have two or three possibilities before me. One is that things remain as they are. Another is that I might be offered a full-time job in another state. The position has been open for nearly a year, and the committee in charge of hiring has had my name suggested to them, among others. I have yet to hear from them to arrange an interview, but I have good reason to believe that they have not quite reached the step of interviewing anyone yet. If I were offered the job, I would almost certainly take it. Some days I feel certain that it will happen, and I just have to trust God for the timing. Other times I feel as if it will certainly not happen. This winter when I saw cars with license plates from that state, I treated them as a secret message that the job will be offered. But on other days I rolled my eyes and said, “Yeah, right,” when I saw those license plates.

On one of the second kind of days I got a phone call with a new offer. This would be part-time instead of full-time. I would have to keep my current full-time job to have health insurance, but the net pay would increase, even though I would have to drop one current part-time job. The drive to this new position would be about an hour each way, but I wouldn’t have to do it more than twice a week, most weeks of the year. This offer is on the table, mine if I want it. But I don’t know whether to accept, particularly while the full-time possibility remains hanging in unknown territory.

For those of you who are so inclined, I would appreciate your prayers. I could use some wisdom, but also a lot of comfort and inner strength. Also, please pray for both these positions, that they would acquire the servants who are best for them. And while you’re at it, please don’t forget my daughter. She would really like this foot problem to heal, and to do so correctly. J.

Lyin’ with the liars

Is it wrong to lie to someone if that person is lying to you?

One day last week I was working at home when the telephone rang. The caller identified himself with a certain electric power company. He told me that technicians were coming to my house within forty-five minutes to shut off the power because we were behind on our payments. I let him know that this confused me since our electricity does not come from the company he had named. (That part is true; we’re part of an electric cooperative.) He verified my name and address and insisted that the power would be shut off unless I called his company at another number, and he demanded that I write down the number.

I did write it down, then I typed it into Google. Not getting any useful information about the number, I typed the name of the company and the word “scam.” I was led to a page that described his call and said that the follow-up call would be demanding that money be wired to keep the power from being cut.

A few minutes later he called a second time, apologized, and said he had given me the wrong number. He gave a different number that was one digit higher than the first number. I said I understood, told him good-bye, and hung up.

Then I thought of the lie I wish I had said. “I need to warn you that this conversation is being recorded,” I wanted to say, “and is being shared with law enforcement officials in your area as we speak.” If scammers want to scare me, why shouldn’t I give them a scare in return?

The next time a live person (not a recording) tries to convince me that the power is going to be cut or that something is wrong with my computer or that my credit card has been compromised, I will let them know that they are being recorded and can expect the police or FBI to be knocking on their door in the next forty-five minutes. I just wish I could see their faces when I tell them that lie. J.

A little bit of science on the occasion of a college graduation

This weekend I was out of town to attend a graduation. The night before the ceremony the family was gathered, visiting, and the graduate shared a recent event from her physics class. The professor described a scenario, asked the members of the class to make a prediction of the outcome, told them that they were all wrong, but was unable to explain why they were wrong.

Here is a scenario: a container of water has an ice cube floating in it, and a pebble sits on the ice cube. The ice cube melts. The pebble drops to the bottom of the container. Does the water level in the container rise, fall, or remain the same?

Along with most of the other family members, I predicted that the water level would rise. I had pictures of Archimedes running through the streets shouting “Eureka!” after realizing that the volume of a solid object could be measured by dropping it into a container of water and measuring the displacement of the water. Moreover, it seems that the water level should rise because of the melting of the ice. The graduate said all the members of the class had made the same prediction and it was wrong, but she still did not understand why.

One family member, an engineer, said that the professor was correct, and he explained why. The explanation puzzled most of the family members, although I caught on after a couple times through the scenario. The engineer wanted to produce a mathematical explanation with paper and pencil, but the rest of the family assured him that would not be necessary. We did try to experiment by creating the scenario with a measuring cup, an ice cube, and a pebble, but we could not find the right size ice cube or pebble to conduct the experiment.

The next day there was a party in the same house after the graduation ceremony. In addition to family members, several fellow graduates and other college students were present. To fill a lull in the conversation, I reintroduced the scenario from the physics class. One of the college students, a mathematician, insisted that the water level would rise. The engineer again countered that it would drop. This time the two of them did resort to pencil, paper, a laptop computer, and information from the internet, including the density of water and ice. The engineer was able to convince the mathematician that the water level would indeed drop.

It happens that the classic form of this scenario involves a boat and an anchor rather than an ice cube and a pebble. When the anchor is removed from the boat and dropped into the water, the water level drops, even though it seems that it should rise. The reason for the counterintuitive answer is that the boat with the anchor in it displaces some of the water in the pond. When the anchor is removed from the boat, the boat rises and the water level falls. When the anchor is dropped into the water, some water is displaced and the water level rises, but not to the height that it had been when the anchor was in the boat. The reason this happens is that the anchor sinks because it is denser than the water. (If the anchor floated and did not sink, it would not be an anchor, said the engineer.) Because of its density, the anchor displaces less water than its weight alone displaced when it was in the boat, being supported by the water.

By the same token, ice floats because it is less dense than water. As it floats, it displaces some of the water. When it melts, the volume of the water that was previously frozen is less than the volume of water displaced by the floating ice. Therefore, the pebble-ice cube combination displaced more water when the ice was frozen and floating, supporting the pebble, than the pebble displaced after the ice melted; even the melted ice did not add enough water to raise the water level to the height it had been when the ice was still frozen.

The rest of the weekend, including the graduation, was also nice. J.

Untitled

A bumper sticker forced me to smile yesterday—not so much because of its humor, but more for the sense of perspective it provided. “I had friends on that Death Star,” it said. Somehow life’s problems don’t seem so big when they are compared to the big problems other people have, whether in real life or in the movies.

I’ve been in an emotional trough this winter and spring. Several things have contributed to this low, some under my control and others not. Most of them I’m not inclined to share at this time. But two specific events this week have tested my spirit. We speak of “first world problems” and compare them to the violence, poverty, hunger, disease, and abuse that other people endure every day in this world. I’m not asking for anyone’s sympathy. (Prayers are always welcome.) But today I’m feeling stressed and blue, and I just thought I’d share a few things.

Wednesday I had the oil changed in my car. Thursday when I started the car, the “Service Engine Light” came on. I happen to drive past the service garage on my way to work, so I pulled in there and waited twenty minutes for them to open. A young man looked at the car quickly, said that rain water had gotten on the spark plugs, and the car was good to go. I got to work and back and to school and back without any problem. Then, Friday the light was on again. (Don’t sing to me about Paradise by the Dashboard Lights. Dashboard lights are always bad news.) I didn’t want to lose another twenty minutes, so I drove to work, and then stopped at the garage on my way home. The manager didn’t have a mechanic to spare—they were all in the middle of big jobs, so he suggested I stop by first thing Saturday morning. I did that, and after waiting half an hour, I was told that there is a small oil leak by the cam. It will cost about $100 to repair and will take about an hour. I didn’t have that hour today—I am scheduled to work all day—but the mechanic said the car will operate safely through the weekend. So I will stop by the garage again for that repair Monday morning.

It’s stressful driving a car with a warning light ablaze. It’s stressful not knowing what is wrong and how dangerous it might be and how much it might cost. It’s only slightly better knowing those things.

But now the plot thickens. When I got home Friday afternoon, I was told that my youngest daughter was at one of those clinics that have popped up around the city to replace hospital emergency rooms. Details were sparse, but she had hurt her foot. So I drove to the clinic. Her foot was being X-rayed when I arrived. She had been at the final run-through for a play in which she was scheduled to appear Friday night and today. She had spent hours rehearsing with the cast, singing, dancing, assembling costumes. This was to be a really big deal. The last two years her love for live theater has grown, and this was to be her first time on stage in a show for an audience. Career plans may be in the works.

Anyhow, the mother of another girl her age had driven my daughter home from the rehearsal, and my daughter realized that she had forgotten her house key. No one was home, and the front door was locked. She told the driver and the daughter that she could get in through the back door. Evidently this has been done before; no one ever told me. Our house is two stories, with a deck on the back that enters the upper floor; the deck is surrounded by a waist-high rail. There is no stairway to the ground. But my daughter said that with a boost from the other girl she could get to the rail and over and then get into the house. (Yes—we often left that door unlocked, because I didn’t think anyone could get to the deck from the ground. That has now changed.)

Instead of getting onto the deck, my daughter fell and landed hard on her foot. Then they proceeded with what should have been their first plan: they drove to the mall where another of my daughters was working and borrowed her house key. When my daughter came home from work and saw how much her sister’s foot was swollen, she knew medical help was needed and took her sister to the clinic. I met my daughter there, and soon the doctor was with us after seeing the X-rays. He said that no bones are broken but there is soft tissue damage that will need two weeks or more to heal. Meanwhile, she is to keep off the foot—no sports, no dancing, and definitely no performing in this play.

My daughter burst into tears. I felt heartsick myself. The doctor tried to lighten the mood, but to no avail. As we drove home, my daughter repeatedly berated herself for doing such a stupid thing. Though I was tempted to agree with her assessment, I was a good father and spoke more kindly to her, saying that accidents happen and there will be other shows in her future and anything else that came to mind to try to ease her burden.

Again, these events are on top of other stuff going on that I may or may not share. In the grand scale of life it’s small stuff. In fact, as I was driving to the pharmacy to fill a pain medicine prescription for my daughter, I saw a car ahead of me pull to a stop. The driver then turned into a driveway, stopped and got out of her car. I saw her begin talking with an older woman who was wearing a sweat shirt and what appeared to be pajama pants. The older woman had a confused look on her face. My mind supplied the rest of the story—perhaps accurate, perhaps not. Mom has dementia and went wandering, and her daughter had to drive around town searching for her. Impulsive teenagers and their fathers have no monopoly on life’s problems.

I hope your weekend is going well. J.

 

The Lord’s a Shepherd I don’t want

When I was a little boy, I misunderstood the meaning of Psalm 23, verse one. When we read, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want,” I thought that we were saying that we did not want the Lord to be our Shepherd. Only later did I come to understand that the verse really means, “Because the Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.” Rather than proclaiming the goodness of the Lord and the sufficiency of his blessings, I thought we were confessing the depravity of our own hearts, our likeliness to wander away from the Shepherd who is caring for us.

“We all, like sheep, have gone astray,” the prophet Isaiah wrote. We are not content with the blessings provided by our Shepherd. He makes us lie down in green pastures, but to us the grass seems greener on the other side of the fence. He leads us beside still waters, but we have more exciting beverages in mind. He leads us on paths of righteousness for his name’s sake, but we want to strike out on our own and blaze a new trail for ourselves.

He teaches us to pray for daily bread, but we desire a larger supply and more variety; like the Israelites of old, we would soon grow tired even of the miracle of manna. He tells us to be content, forbidding us from coveting what he has given to our neighbors, but we covet all the same and try to keep up with their worldliness. He warns us against earthly treasures, vulnerable to rust and moths and thieves. He promises us heavenly treasures that cannot be stolen and will not spoil. When we talk to him, we tell him much more about the earthly treasures we want and say much less to him about the heavenly treasures he wants us to have.

Jesus describes the hired hand who abandons the flock. Undoubtedly, one of the temptations Satan offered the Lord was the opportunity to forsake the flock, to permit us to wander, to stop trying to care for rebellious and wayward sheep. Jesus said no to this temptation as he resisted all the devil’s temptations. He continually explores the wilderness, finding his straying sheep and carrying us back home. He even lays down his life for us, taking upon himself the penalty we deserve so we can belong to him forever.

If Jesus abandoned us in the wilderness, we would be lost forever. Instead, he provides for us in every way we need. He gathers us into his one flock, the Holy Christian Church. He guides us with his Word in the Bible and in the teachings of the Church. He blesses us in the Church, preparing a Table for us and blessing us with his anointing. He has blazed a trail for us across the valley of the shadow of death, assuring us that we are not alone even on that journey. Instead, we will dwell with him in his house forever. Meanwhile, his grace and mercy accompany us every day, for Jesus is our Shepherd, whether we want him or not. J.

The true beginning of spring

The beginning and end of the seasons are matters for some dispute. Makers of almanacs and calendars  proclaim changes of season on the equinoxes and the solstices. The spring equinox this year will take place at 11:55 a.m. Central Daylight-Saving Time. At that moment, the earth will tilt in such a way that the sunlight will strike directly upon the equator. As a result, on that day all parts of the earth will experience twelve hours of daylight and twelve hours of nighttime—hence the term “equinox.”

Yet in the United States the social calendar does not reflect the calendar of equinoxes and solstices. Summer traditionally begins on Memorial Day weekend and traditionally ends on Labor Day weekend. A holiday season begins when stores start displaying their Christmas decorations and advertising their Christmas sales—recently, this has happened around the end of October. The same holiday season ends with the celebration of the New Year, and then comes a dark and dismal season punctuated by a series of minor holidays including Dr. King’s birthday, Super Bowl Sunday, St. Valentine’s Day, and Presidents’ Day.

But when does winter end and spring begin? One theory holds that winter ends if the groundhog emerges from his burrow on February 2nd and does not see his shadow. If he sees his shadow, he returns to his burrow and we have six more weeks of winter (putting the start of spring shortly before the equinox). Still other people make the celebration of Easter the beginning of spring, putting the start of the season anywhere between March 22 and April 25.

For three reasons, I place the start of spring at the beginning of March. First, this division nicely breaks the year into two halves. From March to August we write the full names of months, using three to six letters. From Sept. to Feb. we abbreviate the names of the months, using three or four letters. In my opinion, that distinguishes the times of the year as well as any other measurement.

Moreover, this plan provides nearly three full months of spring before the summer social calendar kicks in on Memorial Day weekend. Following this pattern, summer ends on Labor Day weekend, and the start of winter can be placed around the beginning of December.

But the best way to identify the beginning of spring is to consult the lyrics of Lerner and Lowe’s classic Broadway musical Camelot. In this idealized world, as young King Arthur assures his future bride Guinevere, even the weather is subject to royal decree. Among the commands that the weather must follow are these stipulations: “The winter is forbidden ‘til December, and exits March the Second on the dot.” Following this command of the king, the Salvageable household invariably acknowledges the beginning of spring on the second day of March.

Blessings to you on all your spring activities. J.

Memories, like the corners of my head

My memory is not what it used to be.

Then, again, it never was.

Somehow this winter I’ve wandered the internet chasing through rabbit holes about memory. The news is not good. According to various studies, human memory as not as reliable as we would like to believe. In fact, our memories can be changed merely by the way people ask us questions about what we have seen or heard.

Example #1: Show a film of two cars colliding to various individuals. Afterward, ask them several questions about the filmed collision. Ask them to judge how fast the cars were traveling when they collided. But ask other people who saw the same film how fast the cars were traveling when they crashed. Those who hear the word “crash” in the question generally will remember the cars moving faster than those who hear the word “collide.”

Example #2 is similar. Ask people to study a photograph of two cars that have collided. After taking away the photograph, ask them several questions about what they saw. Ask if they remember seeing broken glass by the cars. (There was no broken glass in the photograph.) Those who are asked about the cars that crashed are more likely to remember broken glass than those who are asked about the cars that collided.

Example #3: Show individuals a group of photographs of various people. Afterward, ask them questions about the photographs. When you ask how tall the basketball player was, the average answer will be several inches greater than when you ask others how short the basketball player was.

Can it be that we were both so simple then?

Most people are willing to admit that their memory is less than perfect. Some people go to great lengths to deny faults in their memory. Fiona Broome is an extreme example of this tendency. She was surprised to hear that Nelson Mandela was still alive in 2010 because she remembered his funeral taking place in the 1980s. When she asked other people about Nelson Mandela, a few others agreed that they thought he had died in the 1980s. Rather than confessing that their memories were wrong, Broome affirmed that they were remembering the death and burial of Nelson Mandela correctly—they had somehow traveled from an alternate reality to this reality while keeping a few memories of the former reality.

I am not making this up! The Mandela Effect is considered proof of alternate universes and jumps between them. Billy Graham’s funeral is remembered by some people as having already taken place in past years. They have vivid memories of television and internet coverage of his funeral, and they insist that this funeral must have happened in an alternate reality. In addition to funerals, people remember variant spellings of certain names and different corporate logos that have never existed. There’s nothing wrong with their memory, they say—they are merely victims of the Mandela Effect.

I remember noticing twenty years ago that most people misspelled the Berenstain Bears. But some people insist that, when they were younger, the name was spelled Berenstein. They insist that their bologna’s second name is M-E-Y-E-R, whereas I thought the commercial of the little boy singing about his bologna’s name would help people remember that it’s M-A-Y-E-R. There has always been a “k” in Chick-fil-A, no matter what people say they remember. And the United States has never had more than fifty states, even though some people remember learning that there are fifty-two.

Apparently the Mandela Effect has also relocated New Zealand, which some people claim used to be west of Australia. I have had the same experience with Japan, which I picture being much closer to Taiwan than to Korea. But I don’t believe in an alternate universe where island nations are relocated.

As if the Mandela Effect was not already far-fetched, some people go a step further and insist that the Mandela Effect is the result of CERN’s experiments to understand subatomic particles. If I follow the argument correctly, the work with high energy particles has either caused alternate worlds to begin existing or has increased unintended travel between alternate worlds. People really believe these theories, and somehow they also believe that the world of Berenstein Bears and New Zealand west of Australia is a better world than the one we live in now.

At least I think I remember someone making that claim. J.

Close My Eyes

I wrote yesterday that I’ve only addressed one Cathy by name in a song. I chose my words carefully. A person bearing one of the names in the first sentence of yesterday’s post has been the subject of a song I wrote, but the song does not include her name.

We were co-workers for a while—more than four years—but more days have passed since I last saw her than took place while we worked together. Both of us moved from desk to desk in the company for various reasons, but there was a long stretch of time when our desks were close enough for us to talk with each other (and for me to overhear her conversations with other people). Suffice it to say that she was (probably still is) a nice person, a thoroughly competent and efficient worker, a ray of sunlight in the workday. I was stunned when she announced to the company that she had taken a job with another employer. After she left, I missed her even more than I had expected. From that experience, though, I did come to write a song. It has a bouncy tune, reminiscent of Boyce and Hart. Without any further ado, here it is:

 

Late at night I’m lyin’ in bed/                                      And I close my eyes

Pictures of you crash through my head/                 And my heart cries; my heart cries

I can’t believe you left me here/                                Each day or night I dream of you, dear

And since you’ve gone, I only bring you near/      When I close my eyes; I close my eyes

 

I’m sitting outside on the ground/                            And I close my eyes

And thoughts of you crash all around/                     And my heart cries; my heart cries

The birds can flutter, chirp, and sing/                      And joyfully announce the spring

But thoughts of you block everything/                    When I close my eyes; I close my eyes

 

You didn’t have to leave, you know/                        My love for you would only grow

And ever since you went away/                                 I fight to make it through the day

And night or day I always seem/                                 To picture you as in a dream

I reach for you and my soul tries/                              To draw you near when I close my                                                                                                       eyes; I close my eyes

 

I’m driving down the road, you see/                        And I close my eyes

I crash my car into a tree/                                          And sirens cry; I hear sirens cry

I should have kept them open wide/                        And paid attention to the ride

Instead of wanting you by my side/                          To close my eyes. Please close my eyes

I should have kept them open wide/                        And paid attention to the ride

Instead of wanting you by my side/                          To close my eyes. Close my eyes

 

J.