Pandemic experiences

A Life with the beauty of Friendship

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was always there. A loss, not even known for what it was. An emptiness that fell upon every thing that I experienced through my life. Empty of love and lost it when I was a child. I weep now when I realize what I felt that time when the emptiness took hold of me. I always thought it was abandonment. A memory that diffused relationship with everyone.

I tried to cope with that memory, not even aware I was doing that. Clever words spoken and written. There were many times when that empty feeling would diminish and it was always the same thing. Smiles and words that promise embracing mutual friendship. I needed to forgive the people that it seemed I was abandoned by. My family did not know me nor did I know them. Relatives that should have known those things too. Inherited behavior, perhaps cultural.

Music was soothing then and a smile inside at a moments of beauty got me hooked into that beauty. Songs and orchestral creations still work well. I remember some of those songs. that I played. the phrases of praise momentarily fill the emptiness. ”I loved what you did” or sometimes just a few notes spoken of. It always makes the emptiness fade. I still crave approval and contact. Applause was nice but fleeting, Playing Ashokan Farewell on the violin perfectly, without an accompanist on guitar for example. Fulfilling for a moment. List, Chopin and Beethoven are soothing time and again. A perfect den of pleasure, even listening while driving alone.

It was a coldness in my very core that drove me to play well, and now, to write well. A romantic spirit. Those moments are when the emptiness would back off. Approval and love of just me. I did not know why those times of contact and praise satisfy. It seems selfish to enjoy a secret pleasure in being alone.

Isn’t it like that for everyone? Seeking smiles and laughter from people and amazingly, an interest in us that might be a friend! There are few friends that I can contact anytime for their care and seeing me and they for what we are. An empty man, perhaps like they are. Leaning on one another like an unmovable roof truss. Solid wood. With knot holes and defects but Oak. A trust able to withstand bad storms.

I was overcome with this angst, self pity really this afternoon. A Sunday where the message hit home. You know the quote that was sung by the Byrds. There is a time for grieving and time for joy in Ecclesiastes wisdom.

Many of them are Gone now from the inevitable event we all must experience. They died. How inconvenient of them to do so. I still love them dearly and I know they still do. Friendship and love is eternal. I lean on Jesus often when desperate.

Most of those friends were the kind we all need. A phone call or even showing up without calling, just showing up. Not even a hint of inconvenience from the open door. You were in the neighborhood? That’s over a hundred mile trip! Tell me what’s going on! “I felt that you need encouragement and a good hug so I dropped by”

The day of the wall phone is gone. Now we have Facebook and posts telling us what’s right with us. All neat and clean without any tears or embraces of understanding. Isaac Asimov’s robots now have cell phones and good internet. We edit conversations akin to open book exams.

The last two years of isolation and fear have reduced our civilization to rubble. No smiles seen from many. The old game of keep away. The deadly bat flu made it fearful to come near and we were so much poorer, even crippled by it. We all lost, the stats and graphs and zoom meetings were just party favors for the worthless messages of untimely death. It’s always untimely for everyone. covid left but it left damaged people. Masks are now in our favorite aisles when we shop. No one smiles as with masking, smiles are not visible.

I an not alone in my quest now. The world needs good friends and we must learn again how to do it. Smiles. Waving from the mailbox at lake people seen in season. I have noticed that a slight smile and a nod are beginning to make a difference. Laughter rings out as bells from the steeple.

Come. Gather together and be thankful for blessings and deliverance from evil. Look upon the world as a small child’s smile at an adoring adult. It opens our hearts as we look upon our world. Not through rose colored glasses but with clear vision. We take off the disguise of indifference and reveal ourselves and see them.

This is who we were created to be. I’m not afraid of you. It’s civilization 101. I have been hiding for most of my life and I have began to offer myself to my best friend who is nearby. Close as my heart beats in synchrony with His. Asleep while I am dreaming, He tells me stories of romance and adventure.

The creator of us all, different and beautiful. Loved and embraced as we listen and the world becomes pleasant and we enter into the joy of the Lord. Well done good and faithful. Well done.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator Photo taken from our east porch

With thanks to Frederic Buechner and Henri Nouwen

Dancing Alone, Written During the Covid Debacle

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I wrote and copy-wrote a song decades ago when I thought the world was my burger to devour (with fries) and songwriting and performing were my destiny. Only the title of the song now makes perfect sense in the situations we have found ourselves in. Anxiety, fear and restlessness abound.

{Dancing alone.} The original column was written during the Covid19 scare and so called pandemic. Most of us remember the dystopian and totalitarian government actions during that time. The death tolls were not even close to the Spanish flu. None of the draconian measures worked. Masks, isolation, closing everything except for big box groceries and bars. The vaccine did not work either. What a disaster.

We were indeed dancing about. Whizzing down the road, against all declarations of our leaders.

Going somewhere, anywhere, just to once again be free to go somewhere. It didn’t work. Coming home to safety without the plague hitchhiking on us, we did the usual things. Make supper, get the parlor stove laid in and lit. Do the family business out in the shop, get ready for planting and go to one of the few shops down the road deemed necessary by the government. What? We can’t gather with our friends and worship the living God?

We can’t, we can’t, we should not. We are in danger, we are all in danger under a death threat as is the whole planet. Inconceivable! But we accede and say, As you wish. Those who resisted and kept their restaurants open were prosecuted and fined an absurd amount. Especially in Minnesota.

I felt so much disconnect with almost everyone on the planet except a handful or so. The imposed oddness, the imprisonment before imminent execution as we read about in scripture and history. The comfort of my cell, even driving in our car. A cell with bars, not bars of signal from Verizon

I felt the shrug of being rapidly passed. Don’t look at me, don’t get close to me. The hurtling shopping carts filled with toilet paper. Don’t don’t don’t. Please wear a disguise around your face for I know you fear me as I fear you.  Social distancing which our head of CDC at the highest level told us was useless and just made up. Six feet apart. Six feet under. Make your choice while fully masked. The masks were ridiculous and actually caused carbon dioxide buildups and not prevent a 5 micron virus with the 24 micron mask materiel used. Fake news? Reality? The Matrix is a documentary, I just heard it on Fox News.

 Shop till you drop dead and we’ll send the wooden cart for you. Wear the white or yellow or blue mask, it won’t help. Those helped you feel how I felt about you. Isolated and confused. Fearing the plague.

With due reverence, but very plainly, let it be said that God can do nothing for the man with shut hand and shut life. There must be an open hand and heart and life through which God can give what He longs to. An open life, an open hand, open upward, is the pipe line of communication between the heart of God and this poor be-fooled old world.

…S.D. Gordon (1859-1936), 

I am stretching out, looking fondly upon memories of freedom I fought for in the military. My leaders for this time are many and none of them make any sense to me. It is a dream forgotten as I stumble in the dark at 1 in the morning to the bathroom. Walk back to bed and actually try to remember the power and lack of it in my dream. It’s gone with a few remembered scenes. A mission of sorts, confusion and almost palpable in my real life.

The blue pill or the red pill. Got to remember at least to take my pills in the morning. I look upon my desk when I awaken later and cast my eyes upon books, journals and the book with all the answers if I would just open it and read. Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, we are weak but He is strong.

Indeed, I am not dancing alone. I am never alone and David knew this as he danced before the King of Kings thousands of years ago.

It’s pretty good, Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

An account of 2020’s Covid19 World Attack

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was getting dicey and worrisome for everyone. The quarantine was working somewhat, but the death toll was still climbing everywhere. The news-room personalities were beginning to visibly sweat, and it wasn’t the stage lighting. Cameras were fixed and it was obvious there was only one camera and no director for various shots and video inserts. Just one camera, and no one behind it. The ‘personality’ with a rumpled suit was reading off paper in front of him (no prompter) and the weather didn’t have any green-screen and the prognostication was very vague.

Grocery stores had empty shelves, but that was all right because the parking lots were empty too. Gasoline was down to 75 cents but no one was buying except medical and military. Pleasant driving if you wanted to risk it. Roadblocks and interstate driving enforced with the national guard. No one moved unless you have paperwork displayed on the plates, fore and aft. The bridges were secured.

The phones still worked and the power was pretty good. Amazingly, there were still areas where the fiber carried the internet but the load on that pipeline was enormous. Many reliable and local updates on where latest food and scavengers were moving and advice on security measures. Very little panic. Neighborhoods and townships were unifying and assistance grew within them.

Medical triage and field medic people were in big demand and local connections worked pretty well. After the alerts where the looters were predicted, these honorable people were available to friend and foe alike. The locals began to see something they had not seen before. Compassion and a love for their fellow man, almost impossible to understand. When asked about this, the the medics and doctors would smile and reply with an understandable Gospel. Before it all, the immediate response to a faith message was “great, they’re going to tell me how I can be just like them if only I follow the rules” Now there was serious response to the joy found in listening to the Lord.

There was dialogue and questions. Then we began to reveal how much we thought and felt about this similar ‘bad’ behavior in ourselves. Certainly we were not saints but somehow happy and …well, free. No rules given, just paying attention to the hunger for human contact everyone was experiencing.

The somewhat simple explanation from these medical volunteers was easily understood. Many times there was a demand to have them visit again if possible. It was was new. There were no suits and ties, endorsement of connections. No tracts or phony glad handing. Real missionaries. The calmness and strength of these volunteers was what everyone needed. The usual isolation and fear of each other was being replaced with community and trust. After a short while, safe housing was set up for the desperate roaming families and civilization started to come back to stay. There was no doubt that Jesus had done a miracle and there was great hope and strength spreading throughout the land.

Norm Peterson and Jack Gator

The Evers Walz at the Governor’s Ball

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A dance tune that has taken the Midwest by storm has the full endorsement of Washington politicians who have been Biden their time for this musical comedy.

Written by a relatively unknown fiddler in Wisconsin, it has up to now been performed in Madison and St.Paul. The melody starts with a very fast arpeggio which quickly settles in for a downward movement from the right side of the fingerboard to the left (high notes to increasingly low ones)

Accompaniment in the score recommends counter melodies to be played on the bass buffoon with introduction of the passage by left hand pizzicato on the 2 ½ bass. Oddly enough, it was first performed in a closed pizza parlor in Northern Minnesota during a medical theater production in 2020. It was so controversial that the government ordered the restaurant closed along with every restaurant in the state.

Immediately, in support of the closings, the neighboring state of Wisconsin also closed public dining. It caused quite a stir among the populace. There were fines enforced by an attorney general who’s religion forbids the consumption of alcoholic drinks. It was in the first act of the medical theater which began in Washington D.C.

The dance continues to this day and the dancers are soon to leave the stage for ignominy with bad reviews.

It seems that these political satraps are also stirring the ire of the populace that are refusing the continuation of the influence of inept back peddling of the accompanying dancers.

Near the end of the comedy (which really wasn’t funny at all) the main dancers attempted to dance backwards to begin the dance again. The audiences at these nationwide productions began booing and even throwing things at the dancers. The debris began to build and not a few of the performers began to trip and go completely off script in attempting to save the performances.

It did not go well for those shows. They complained that the awkwardness’ and disgust generated were just false impressions of this comic opera. Trumped up and not noteworthy.

History has a way of repeating bad productions which are still seen on the world’s stage today. This reviewer advises to be diligent and read the scores of these dances. Variations of the parody (which began as a musical comedy) have been taken seriously by bad dancers who still believe in awkward, dangerous and foolish moves. There can be consequences to keep buying tickets to these operas. Read the sheet music and know the score.

It’s pretty good to do so. Jack Gator

The Mask of Amontillado

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Before his time, Poe wrote a terrifying short story about a man (Fortune} who is doomed because he is forced to wear a mask for the rest of his miserable short life. Fortune is also forced into social distancing by the narrator of this story, Monty. Of course, Fortune has no idea what is to happen to him until he is forced to wear a fine mask that is supposed to protect him from disease. Keeping away from other people is the other technique that doubles down on the mask. Monty made the masks and forced most of the people around him to wear them. The social distancing enforced upon Fortune was the only way to get him to be ‘safe’

Monty had thought this out way ahead of time and really was anxious to get on with it. You know how it is with a really neat plan you have for a friend or spouse! It’s hard to wait. Gator gets it too. He has a hard time with traffic lights.

Monty was a clever old toad and he really wanted Fortune to feel the isolation and social distance that was deserved in Monty’s mind. Following the national trend in some of the states, it seemed the thing that was necessary to keep Fortune safe, only for Monty and his enjoyment of companionship of sorts.

Monty gave Fortune a mask, a fine mask made of the finest linen. Once again to ostensibly save Fortune from the black death killing a great number of people. As Monty helped Fortune put on the mask, he dribbled some ether upon it and Fortune was soon unconscious and easily moved to a socially distant safe room. There was no one around and Monty began to make the safe room absolutely safe and socially distant from everyone. He left some fine wine in a cask for Fortune to enjoy while he was in a sequestered situation.

Monty went a little over the top in securing Fortune’s safety in sequestered entirety. He bricked up the room, floor to ceiling. Nothing could get in and threaten Fortune and there was a social distance that fulfilled the Governor’s edict to the letter. Shouting through the wall, Monty told Fortune he could take off his fine mask.

All Fortune could say as his situation began to dawn upon him was: “For the love of God Monty!” Dizzy with the Covid19 fear, Monty could only think of himself and how safe he and Fortune were at last. A fine mask indeed. The Amontillado was very nice as comforter. ‘It’s pretty good’ he said.

Jack Gator