Twilight Twitches

Dear Family,
Tomorrow is Labor Day. The celebration finds its origins in the late 19th century as a way of acknowledging the role of labor and labor unions in our society. The Labor Movement and its leaders were powerful forces throughout the 20th century. (I still remember John L. Lewis’s eyebrows.)

From a gospel perspective, Labor Day can become a moment when we look at the state of working people today. The word ‘labor’ really means ‘heavy lifting.’

There are a lot of people who labor now in very difficult circumstances, and many are becoming victims of the pandemic because they risked themselves for others (us.)

Dear Family,
In my office is a ceramic plaque which I received many years ago. It’s one of my favorite ‘objet d’art.’ If I told you about it before, forgive the repetition. Right now, it seems very relevant.

The special piece I’m looking at portrays two rather scraggly-looking buzzards sitting on an equally barren tree limb. One says to the other, “Patience hell. I’m gonna kill somethin.” Thanks to Annie, here it is.

I don’t know about you, but there are moments...

Dear Family,
Who was that masked man? Who knew after all these years that ‘masked’ would be redefined? Tonto’s friend, Kemosabe, had eyes masked up. Now we “masked people” are masked from the nose down.

I guess I didn’t realize how significant COVID-19 really is; imagine challenging the Lone Ranger’s title ‘masked man’ and changing it to ‘masked multitude.’ COVID-19 is scrambling our eggs.

Speaking of masks, are you discovering that you read lips much more than you could have imagined? I find myself saying – far too often – “Sorry, what did you say?” My hearing aids are working pretty well, but I still can’t distinguish the blurred nuances of speech as they try to make it through the super-duper Elimstation Reusable PM2.5 Filter Face Mask. (I got that off the internet.)

Dear Family,
Thanks to so many of you for your great birthday cards and good wishes. I remember years ago writing about how interesting it is that people play hide and seek about their ages for much of their lives. Then there comes a point where they cross some invisible barrier and all of a sudden, it’s okay not only talk about your age, but actually boast about it.

I don’t know if I’m ready to boast about 79, but I must say it doesn’t feel too bad at all. There are some of us who are contemplating having a big blowout for our 80th. There are a few of the class of 1941 floating around, and the ones I know are party types. Come on 80! (By the way, we’ll make sure that the little herd of you who are nonagenari¬ans will get a special invite, too.)