a traveling man

Murdoch was a fellow who enjoyed traveling, yet didn't own a car.  He used public transportation and his two feet to get him anywhere he wanted to go.  If a nephew or niece ever wanted to spend real quality time with him, you'd have to tag along.  You'd find him in his garden or heading out the door.

Many decades ago, when I was around ten or eleven, Murdoch asked me if I'd like to walk downtown with him.  I had no idea what I was getting myself in for.  We walked down to Columbia's Five Points, going to several grocery stores.  Murdoch kept up with every penny (literally) and made every penny count (literally).  He always had a little ledger in his pocket that kept up with every dollar, every cent he had in his pocket.  If he could walk four blocks to save a few cents on the cost of bread or coffee, he'd walk it.  He spent so much time walking around downtown through the decades, that the people downtown referred to him as 'The Mayor of Five Points'.  No kidding.

Many times Murdoch would make his trip to Gadsden on the Greyhound.  We'd pick him up at the station.  There were times he'd ask me if I'd like to go to town with him.  We'd walk from one side of up of Broad Street and down the other, pretty much doing nothing but window shopping.  Each time I recall, he always went in to The Coffee Cup for a cup of coffee.

Murdoch moved around, usually kept himself busy, even when he was visiting.  He spent a good bit of time outside around the house inspecting our plants.  When we had a garden, he'd spend many afternoons working on it for his brother.

Dad always talked about what a teaser Murdoch was in their youth.  He remained a troublemaker in a harmless funny way.  He'd say little things that he knew would stir up his sisters and quietly watch with a hint of a grin on his face. He knew how to push buttons in a subtle way.

Ol' Murd was a funny fellow, but I don't ever recall seeing or hearing him laugh.  He would chuckle, and I do remember that grin.

look, there's dad

Several years back I ended up with my uncle's slides.  He was an avid picture taker.  There was such an influx of images and things after his death that I didn't have the time to go through it all. This week I thumbed through some of his old slide boxes.  He's got some real gems in there.

It's fascinating going through uncle Pat's old photos, I am seeing people I knew and love, through Pat's lens.  The above photo is of my dad, H. Westbrook Finlayson.  The car looks familiar. I think it's our old Kingswood Estate Wagon...69-71?  I don't recall him wearing those black frame glasses, but I sure do recall that man.

It's something running across a picture of my dad, a picture I had never seen before.  It's a new photo to me.  It's picture of a very familiar face in a very familiar scene.  This visual is typical, dad arriving home. Perhaps we just came home from church, or from work.  His brother Pat took the picture, so I'm guessing it's a Sunday afternoon and all the Finlayson kids (6 of us) had already escaped the car and already in the house.

This photo of Pat's captured a typical scene at a familiar place, seeing dad there.  That was a long time ago.  It's good to see his face again anew.  We all say to each other that we take everything and each other for granted.  It's true. Every little moment we have with each other is a precious gift.

Moments are fleeting and so are we.

where dad grew up

This was the home of Burruss and Jennie Wait Foster Finlayson in Cheraw, South Carolina.  The house is located in downtown Cheraw, on Hwy 1 (Market Street), directly across from the United States Post Office.  There is nothing there now but a vacant lot. 

The picture below is the only image I have of it's interior.  Sitting around the table are siblings, Rutha Finlayson Dyal, Jennie Llew Finlayson Guyton and James Murdoch Finlayson.  Their mother (my grandmother) Jennie Finlayson (standing) and long time family friend Evelyn Bland are present and ready for supper.  Evelyn lived with the Finlayson family for years, having been loved as a second mother by the Burruss and Jennie's children.

hero ship

I found out Friday afternoon that USS LST-325 was on display in Chattanooga until Wednesday.  The 325 is on her Tennessee River Cruise.   I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity, seeing how I was probably never going to get up to it's home at the LST Ship Memorial in Evansville, IN. 

I told Gina that I was probably going to take off during the weekend to check it out.  The 325 is the last ship of her class in existence.  I was surprised that Gina wanted to come along with me.  As we drove up, Gina found herself excited about seeing one of the ships her father, Walter Clifford Hale, served on in the Pacific Theater of Operations.  Her father served on LST-479 as a cook.  Gina was very curious as to what the ship's galley looked like.

As mentioned many times here on the Long Journey Home Blog, my Uncle Pat (Patillo Ainsworth Finlayson) served as a Lieutenant aboard LST-312 in the European Theater of Operations.  We were not permitted to check out the Radio Shack or the Officer's Living Quarters.  These are areas that I would've liked to have visited.  I did get to see the Officer's Wardroom, where officers ate and hung out.

I thought of Uncle Pat throughout the day. I would have loved to have had him along on this little venture. I'm sure it would've stirred many forgotten stories of his service aboard his ship, LST 312.

15 things

Awhile back on facebook, a challenge went around asking for people to share things about themselves that their friends might not know.  I usually don't participate, but found that it was kind of therapeutic. 

1) I speak fluent faux-French. 

2) I am an introvert in disguise.

3) I take laughter seriously.

4) I realized I am a dancer late in life.  My feet won't let me now.

5) The first song I ever wrote spoofed a toothpaste commercial (Ultra Brite) 'How's Your Love Life'.

6) I could get my father up a flight of stairs in his wheelchair about the time I was 14. It was usually a hindrance for people to try to help. They would often insist, and I would thank them for helping, but they usually threw me off balance and made the task more difficult.  It's more about balance than lifting.

7) It still irritates me when people without disabilities take up handicapped parking spaces for convenience sake. Do these people not have a conscience?

8) Black is beautiful.

9) My middle name is my paternal grandfather's name. It's an odd old name that I didn't like as a kid. Over the years I've taken a liking to it.

10) I avoid places and events where culture snobs gather.
 
11) My eyebrows hang low and I guess I look mean when I am concentrating/thinking. Since Katie was little she'd ask me, "Daddy...are you mad?" I understand why this is confusing because I also look mad when I am mad.

12) I do not fear my own death.  I just don't look forward to the actual process.

13) I am selfish in that I hope I die before Gina.  I can't imagine life without her.

14) One way God reveals to us His fatherly love for us is when we become parents ourselves. We get to love children first and they learn love from our first loving them. When I became a dad, I understood God's love for me even more.

15) It's not that I don't like tattoos. It's just that there's no illustration that I'd care to have permanently inked upon my glorious naked body. I don't care if it's Michael Angelo himself doing the tat, I'd get tired of it. I would think it humorous to have Moses holding up his staff parting the Red Sea over my buttocks. "DIVIDE!"

a verse for America

  

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

~William Butler Yeats~
First verse of The Second Coming

I am concerned that many Americans don't understand their enemy, or realize we have an enemy.  Islam is the enemy, and ISIS is it's sword.  We have not as a whole realized that it is 'kill or be killed'.  The oldest evil has come to our doorstep and too many people are still stuck in the politically correct spin mode.  Too many are simply not paying attention.

Obama thinks ISIS is something that can be contained and managed.  America has a mortal enemy, and this enemy cannot be contained.  This enemy is coming for us in ways that will overshadow what we experienced on September 11, 2001.  There are 9/11s to come. The next event will more than likely be worse than 2001.  Our leaders, our government have failed us.  We have been invaded, ISIS is here.  There are many methods in which we will be attacked.  I believe we'll experience a series of tragic events throughout the country.  It's not a matter of 'if' but 'when'.   ISIS is a black swan event that will fundamentally change our country.I may be wrong. I pray I am wrong.  I believe I am right.
 
Don't look to Washington, don't look to our leaders. They have chosen to serve themselves. They have turned their backs on we the people. I don't give Obama any benefit of the doubt regarding his well-being for America; our laws, our freedom, our very lives.  He has no respect for our laws, only manipulates and uses the system by any means possible to achieve his ultimate ends.  His dream is to usher in a globalist utopia. I'm pretty sure his idea of utopia is death to our Constitution, our very way of life, and force America into a new world order ruled under sharia law.

Obama doesn't have a strategy to defend the United States of America because his strategy has always been to take America down, strip us of our sovereignty and liberty.  He does not see ISIS as the enemy, but as a means to his end. Obama has done everything he can politically do to weaken America's standing in the world, and strengthen our enemies. He is more akin to our enemy than to the American people.
 
Obama has a strategy and it IS working.

As citizens, our hands are tied politically, yet our answer isn't political.  Yes, eventually we will be forced to fight a very real enemy. With Islam, we will be forced to fight or die.  Soon our nation as a whole will be humbled and taken down to our collective knees. Our answer doesn't come from politicians, but from God alone. Our answer can be found in a single verse of scripture.  Even by having our hands tied, and humbled to our knees, this does not restrict God's people from doing what must be done!

"If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land."
~2 Chronicles 7:14

old ghosts

Junior High turned out to be a routine of being dropped off at Hell every day.  What made it unbearable was the racial tension that most of the school staff seemed to ignore.  Public schooling for me sucked big time.  I remember bleeding ulcers in seventh grade, and the taste of barium for the x-ray that the nurse called a milk shake.  I also remember the chalky taste of Maalox that I would swig right out of the bottle between classes.  Sure it tasted like minty chalk, but it seemed to ease the internal pain.

I remember fights that I didn't want to fight, but had to if I wanted to stay out of future fights.  With whites bullies,  you fought them one at a time and they usually wouldn't pick a fight with you in the future if you drew a little blood.  Bullies like easy victims.  It didn't matter if you lost, you just didn't make it easy for them.  With blacks, you were going to have to deal with a pack of them, and you would lose because you were always outnumbered.  It was never fair, and that's how I learned life wasn't. 

Nevertheless, if you didn't fight, you were going to remain a perpetual victim. I wouldn't show fear, not a tear.  I would internalize it and bury it with humor.  The worst times were when the kids were left idling in the classroom while a teacher was smoking one in the lounge.  I discovered as a Christian boy, I had only two cheeks to turn, and defending myself a necessity.  I came to terms with it, I grabbed hold of the perspective that even though I had to fight, I would not hate.  

I dropped my eleven year old at school this morning for her first day of middle school.  I couldn't help it, those old ghosts come back to haunt me just like they did when her older sister Katie entered those doors.  I assure myself that she'll be okay and that her world will be nothing like my world.  Her big sister came out fine, and I am glad and relieved that they've enjoyed their school experience.  My eyes and ears are keen to it though.  So far so good.

this old house

It's a blessing, but a responsibility nevertheless.  There's lots of work from ground to roof.  We've been cleaning and cleaning and cleaning.  We've been fixing and fixing and fixing.  When finished, we hope to reap the rewards, but such rewards will take time to experience the benefit.  For now, we move forward and keep our shoulders to the wheel.  We've often felt this gift a burden. It is a responsibility in which we must invest time, money and labor to experience a return.  It is a responsibility, but a blessing nevertheless.  

In all toil there is profit, but mere talk tends only to poverty.
~Proverbs 14:23

Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.
~Proverbs 16:3

RE: Paul's Epistle to the Americans

 

Dear Paul (the so-called "Apostle")

When you fell off your horse on the way to Damascus, did you fall on your freaking head?  How dare you write to us and condemn our individual lifestyles choices here in America!  You wrote that God did not call us to uncleanness, but in holiness.   Well aren't you special! How dare you say that no fornicator, unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, will have an inheritance in the kingdom of Christ. You also wrote (and I quote) "Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God."  Why don't you pull the thorn out of your own damn side before you preach to us you hypocrite!  It is written to "JUDGE NOT LEST YOU BE JUDGED!"  Enough of this sowing and reaping CRAP! NOBODY'S PERFECT!  The God I serve is all about LOVE, ACCEPTANCE, and TOLERANCE!  My congregation are all OFFENDED and APPALLED that you wrote such a closed-minded and judgmental letter.   We were expecting a letter filled with hope and loving encouragement.  You are making God unhappy by your INTOLERANCE and JUDGEMENT. Your letter to us proves you are not only a HOMOPHOBE, but A HATER as well!  Next time you write us another letter, it's going straight in the trash can without even opening. The nerve that you wrote that letter under the guise of love and concern for your brethren here.  Some Christian you turned out to be!  You need to wake up and get with it.  Haters like you deserve to be in prison, so don't expect us to try to help get you out of there.

Sincerely,
Dr. Ichabod Wormwood
Pastor of The Emerging Church of Acceptance and Inclusiveness
6660 Progressive Way
Anywhere, USA 

PM Sunday Services Only.

P.S.  I have instructed everyone I know to un-friend you on facebook.  

Hey Lord

'You Remembered Me' is one of my earlier songs.  I wrote it when Michael Bynum and I were playing around as DREAMER back in the early to mid-80's.  So I've been singing it for 30 some odd years now and it's still a HOOT to sing.  I've sung it solo and sung it with bands. It one of my most requested numbers and I don't think I'll ever get tired of singing it.

My daughter recorded this song down in my studio about a week ago.  The sound quality from her camera mic did alright.  The best this song ever sounded was when Brook and I sang at a coffee house down on Bourbon Street in New Orleans back in the late 90's.  There were about five black men from a mission up the road that got into singing the 'Hey Lord' chorus and I sure wish I had that moment recorded.