Comedians and Pastors

If any one would ever ask who I admire most, it probably would not be someone, but comedians. I once heard the story of a comedian walking into a theater amonst all the people prepping for a variety show. Stage hands, musicains, singers, etc. He comes in with a small brief case. He opens it, and pulls out a microphone, hooks it up and tests it. He then looks around for a chair and finds a folding chair. He then puts away his mic and walks out. That was his preparation. But that is not his only prep. It is years of standing in front of people, some drunk, most not paying attention, trying to make them laugh with words. And it is not just the craft of takign his observations and constructing his material to deliver, but also the timing of delivery. As a college youth, my hobby was watching televison preachers. They to me were the equivelent of comedians. Crafting a message for a certain reaction. Each had their own style of delivery. Where I am going with this, is that most preachers concentrate on the message, similar to a teacher. They study and prep to ensure their message is delivered and hopefully received. Some take a little different approach. The old time Nisei preachers always started their sermon with a joke. No kidding. That joke would seque way into the message. A lot of preachers supplement their preaching with the prep of worship songs to set the mood and music to enhance or manipulate. Did I say manipulate? Somehow, in these times, I am waiting to hear a preacher that delivers similar to a comedian. One of my favorite shows is Comedians driving cars and getting coffee. It is just comedians talking to Jerry Seinfeld. One point that comes across for each comedian is that their craft is based off of truth. At times it is absurd, at other times it is painful but cuttingly accurate. My proposal is that we start Pastors driving cars and getting coffee. Maybe then, we can better understand where they get the jokes and how it ties into their mission in life. Their craft is based of of truth, and at times it is absurd, but hopefully always accurate.

Memories

Three years and I still remember the following: The walk from the ER parking lot to the emergency room is longer than it looks. Call 911, you get immediate medical attention. I have been told a lot of folks don't make it from home to the hospital when driving themselves. Excuse me sir, please take a number and wait for it to be called.....It was a good thing there was no line at the ER desk. Paramedics will take you right in, no waiting in line When you tell them you think you are having a heart attack, they whisk you in fast., Uh I need to wait for my wife, she is parking the car, you don't want to see my health insurance card? They don't take away your phone, You can text while laying down in between tests. I had to text people that I couldn't fulfill some obligations the next day.  Nonchalantly mentioning I'm in ER. You are where? Word spreads fast. ER as in hospital? Relatives with similar history A cousin had a heart attack two weeks earlier. Uh Oh, maybe it is in the genes... Stress test is not a sure thing. Had one six months earlier, no problems or indications of problems. The Internet is not always correct. I looked up symptoms on heart attacks and met only one, kind of. A will in case of unexpected death vs. trusting the courts to take care of your family in probate. A friend comes by and draws one up while waiting for bypass surgery. Still not sure what I signed. By the way, did I sign a DNR? Critical Care Nurses are Angels You lay there and trust their care. "You want to do what? OK." Friends will always find a way to sneak in. "He didn't want visitors? That's OK, I'm a relative" Physical Therapists are the gym teacher from middle school. You want me to walk how far? Now? Technology is amazing. Couldn't keep track of the number of machines and tubes hooked up to me. Just hoped they had a good back up generator in case of a power outage. Night was the worst. Quiet, dark, and alone. Listening to the other patients moan and cry out for help. Waiting, not sure for what. Listening for that rumble of the portable xray machine and the cold plates 5am each morning. Breathing tube the worst. Gayle had to climb on the bed to get me to breath enough to allow them to remove the damn thing. It is worse when you wake up and realize it is down your throat. Withdrawing the catheter was worst than inserting it. Could be the drugs. Family members are invaluable Prayer essential Wife always there, giving me that look of "you better not leave me, get up". The white light at the end of the tunnel in the afterlife is the light above the operating table. Note: the stainless steel operating table is not heated. Attendants are like the New York City Taxi drivers, they maneuver the hospital beds through the aisles, corners and elevators with skill and ease with no bumps. Sheets are for moving patients from bed to where ever, lie still, one, two, three.......... Walking becomes like a toddler, wobbling down the hall while everyone watches carefully. Realizing that 56 is kind of young to have a heart attack and bypass surgery. Hospital food is ......hospital food. My apologies to the dietitians. Oh wait, I forgot I need to get diapers and make the care home payment for the stepdad. Get me the checkbook. Quadruple bypass surgery, pills, kiloid chest scar, but the constant daily reminder is the leg where they took out the vein. Being able to see my Grandson, looking forward to seeing all future Grand children (You guys paying attention?)

Empty Nest and socks

Everyone talks about the day they become Empty Nesters. The day where you no longer have kids at home. #2 is up in Seattle entering his first year at University of Washington Law, #3 returning for his sophomore year at Westmont. What do we do now? Sort socks. We are going through years of assorted socks from the laundry and throwing them out. It finally dawned on us that the cost of replacement was minimal compared to keeping piles of them tucked away. Of course the wife has been caught digging some out of the trash. But really, socks? Then there is the Costco Chicken. For five bucks, you can get a whole chicken, but now it lasts, and lasts and lasts all week. Juices, apples, toothpaste, I end up splitting and sharing with the grandson. A pot of rice (2 cups) usually ends up spoiling before we eat it all. A pound of coffee lasts forever now that #2 is gone. And if you think that an empty nest means getting rid of things, it actually means you add more stuff. Anything reminds you of those no longer at home. You can't throw that out, that was his fourth grade report. Or that was the trophy he won for participating in class. Then you purchase stuff that they would like, but never send. Oh he can use those thermal socks that have sitting there since last winter. Actually my strategy is to leave stuff at ground level, so the dog will bury it in the back yard. Eventually the lawnmower will chew it up and dump it in the trash can. Empty nest just means you find less objectionable ways of disposing of things. Hey, anyone see my classic Nikes?

Rolling Oldies

Time goes on. I turned 60 not too long ago. At one time, I was barely eligible for senior discounts, now I easily qualify. It does have an affect on you mentally. Realisticly, 3/4 of my life has been lived in Wada men years. I recognize my limitations more, or at least forced to recognize them. My projects take longer as I have to break them up into smaller time frames, I can not longer tolerate extreme weather, and I am not able to keep up with the grandson without sharing nap times. The most telling indicator of my age is that my mental filter has exceeded its capacity. I am more prone to say what is on my mind. That in itself is what scares the wife more than anything. My views on life are based on experience (old man stories) and have trouble understanding the young ones. Then I find myself repeating what I just said. You can tell by the expression of the younger folks faces. But the most disturbing fact about getting old is that my music has faded from the airwaves. At one time the local oldies played 60 and 70s music, then it was the mid seventies, and now the 80s. As time goes on, they just keep cutting off the older years and adding the next decade. If I want to listen to music of my youth, I now have to watch PBS and sit through those damn pledge breaks. When I go to church, I don't recognize the worship songs. The songs of my youth in church have all but disappeared. Even the hymns that I found antiquated are dearly missed. The old question of if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a noise? Well if they no longer play the songs, did they ever exist? Only in my memories. Did I mention that it exists in my mind?