Earth Day, 2014

Posted on April 22, 2014 by Doc Arnett

Our dairy and crop farm in Todd County, Kentucky, was on the Farm Bureau “Model Farms” tour when I was growing up. Dad operated a Grade A dairy with a purebred registered Jersey herd. We didn’t have a weedless farm but the pastures were well tended, the row crops cleanly cultivated and the hay harvested in a timely manner. Nearly all of the clutter was kept out of the sight of passersby and I learned at an early age the importance of stewardship and attention to detail. Detail is pretty blasted important when you’re cleaning milk-handling equipment; people’s health and safety depend on it.

All of that care for the condition of the place evaporated in just a few years after Dad sold it in 1967. The new owners simply lacked a deeply rooted sense of pride and devotion, I suppose. After a feed company’s huge blunder killed most of their Holstein herd and a successful lawsuit against said company, they allegedly got enough money that they didn’t need to work any more. So… they didn’t.

I last visited the farm back in the early Eighties; I may very well never go back there again. The fields were full of thistles and the holding lot by the barn had been relocated to where the runoff drained into the pond. Junk cars were parked all around the house and the barns were falling down. Weeds grew to the height of a grown man within twenty feet of the house. Fields had been plowed straight down the slopes and clear to the edge of the creek. The water in that creek was clear and pure enough to drink when I was a boy; now it was dingy and murky.

I wish there was some sort of Legacy Law or something that required subsequent owners to maintain the same degree of care and attention, something to preserve what was good and right about a place, some sort of stipulation that if you cannot maintain good stewardship, you forfeit ownership. But, of course, we all know that in our culture and many others as well, owning a thing often brings no accompanying legal obligation to take care of it.

I believe that one Day, though, we will all have to give an account for our stewardship. I believe that there will be a Reckoning. In the meantime, I’m a bit more careful about what I throw away, what I recycle and what I fix so it can be used a while longer. I can’t control much of the earth and I can’t determine how my children and grandchildren will respond to the things that I pass on to them. But I believe that I should try to assure that those things, including the planet itself, are in good condition at the time of the passing.

H. Arnett
4/22/14

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A Pretty Good Day

Posted on April 21, 2014 by Doc Arnett

A warm, sunny day,
miles of dogwood, wild plum, pear and redbud
in full Kentucky spring,
breakfast with my brother from Ohio
and my sister from North Carolina,
a tire repair that cost three dollars
instead of ten,
grocery shopping with my son,
showing him how to use a froe
to split oak into shingles,
the detail in a colored picture
drawn by my granddaughter,
watching my grandson wearing
his birthday shirt and using
his new magnifying glass
to burn holes in dead leaves,
my daughter and daughter-in-law
making Easter dinner a day early,
nineteen of us having a meal together,
ten grandkids hunting Easter eggs,
holding three new grandsons under six months old,
reading to two granddaughters on my lap,
the adults watching an old favorite movie
after the kids have been put to bed,
and a hundred other fresh memories
that speak of grace and goodness.

H. Arnett
4/21/14

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Deadly Combination

Posted on April 15, 2014 by Doc Arnett

Hatred and stupidity is a damnably dangerous combination. It’s not that either one of them on its own lacks for potential damage or disaster but putting them together takes the risk factor right off the charts. We had another fine example this weekend over at Kansas City in the Overland Park area.

All of the alleged facts in the following allegations are allegedly based on published sources. The opinion parts are my own insertions.

A seventy-three-year-old former head of a Ku Klux Klan unit, after many decades of hating people for one superfluous reason or another, apparently decided it was time for more than speeches and cross-burnings. So, he grabs the guns which should have been pried from his cold dead fingers long ago and heads over to the Jewish Community Center and shoots a grandfather and his grandson. If you’re in the parking lot at a Jewish Community Center, you must be Jewish, right? Surely you wouldn’t just be a couple of Gentiles showing up for a Scout meeting.

That being just a start and it being such a lovely day and all, he then headed over to Village Shalom senior living center and shot a female victim there. What better way than to celebrate Palm Sunday than by going out and shooting a few Jews, right? I mean, just because Jesus taught us to love our enemies and do good for those who abuse us, we can’t let that get in the way of a little religious fervor, right? Never mind that these people weren’t enemies in the first place and had never abused the shooter or anyone else that we know of, demented religiosity can’t be bothered by trivia like that.

As it turns out, and this is where stupidity strips off its raincoat and runs around the stadium completely naked, none of the victims were Jewish. That’s right, folks, our shining white supremacist shot three Christians. Never mind that Christians have a long and proud tradition of killing each other, that’s beside the point here; this guy was supposed to be killing Jews.

When hatred and stupidity infiltrate a religion, or more accurately, use religion to infiltrate our minds and hearts, we turn into monsters. Regardless of who or what we hate. It is no wonder that Scripture warns us to take caution in judging others and to be especially careful about feeling superior to others. Even others as stupid and hateful as Frazier Glenn Cross or F. Glenn Miller or whatever his name is…

H. Arnett
4/15/14

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Dark Changes

Posted on April 14, 2014 by Doc Arnett

On Friday evening, I brought out a couple of our lounge chairs on the patio and we sat out there for a little while, enjoying the evening’s warmth. On Saturday, Randa took her horse to a training clinic near Ottawa, Kansas. I spent the morning and early afternoon doing spring chores and took a load over to the re-cycling center at St. Joseph. Mid-afternoon, it was so balmy that I took a break from installing a door in the garden shed.

I had my friend Neil come over and document me “Taking the Plunge for Landon” in Peter’s Creek. The creek water didn’t feel like a sauna session but it was certainly a lot better than Neil and Katrena’s jump into a cold pond a few days earlier when it was only fifty degrees or so outside. There probably wasn’t a lot of difference in the jumping in part but the getting out part is definitely better when it’s seventy-eight and sunny.

The sunny part ended in the evening on Saturday when a very slow-moving storm moved in with the sunset. We had a really fine lightning show that lasted for three hours or more with more thunder during the night. On Sunday, we had more rain on a long gray day that seemed to drag on forever.

This morning, we have a light covering of snow on the ground and a forecast for a hard freeze tonight. A few days can sure make a lot of difference in the weather in a place where it seems it can be so fickle. But it’s nothing to compare to the changes a few days made almost two thousand years ago in a city halfway around the planet from here.

There, thousands of people turned out on a First Day morning for a huge celebration welcoming a humble prophet from the countryside, a man of compassion and wisdom who had healed thousands. A few days later, they nailed him to a tree.

H. Arnett
4/14/14

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Blessing for a Spring Morning

Posted on April 11, 2014 by Doc Arnett

I hope that the calm stillness
of this day’s slow wakening
stays with you from dawn till darkness.

I hope that some good growing
will freshen in you
like tender buds opening on maple branches.

I hope that grace will flow for and from you
like the gentle waters of the creek
brushing against smooth stones.

I hope that your vision
will be clear and guileless
as a cloudless day.

I hope that you will feel
God’s own love and presence,
warm and reassuring like a gentle breeze.

I hope that you will find goodness and blessing
bringing hope as fresh as slender green branches,
bowing toward earth on the willow tree,

testifying that the work of God
is being born in all creatures,
in all that lives.

And may it find its fullness in you.

H. Arnett
4/11/14

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A Whispered Kiss

Posted on April 10, 2014 by Doc Arnett

Earlier this week, a few of my colleagues and I had occasion to observe short segments of several classes being taught by some of our adjunct instructors at our Wamego regional center. One of those was a math class that was scheduled to begin at five p.m. that afternoon.

When we entered the room a few minutes early, several students were already seated and the teacher was doing some review work on the board. As we filed in, we couldn’t help but notice two small children seated at one of the long tables beside a woman whom we presumed to be their mother.

The little boy looked to be about five and his sister about three. Both were coloring but the little boy was already fidgeting. I looked at the middle-aged woman seated behind them for any expression of annoyance; I saw none. Still I wondered how long it would be before the children became a distraction for the adult students in the room.

A few minutes later, a young man appeared in the doorway and walked quietly in without looking at the teacher. “So,” I thought, “you come in late without a book, a notebook, or any indication whatsoever of any preparation for class.” As I watched, though, my initial impression began to change dramatically. He wore a blue industrial work shirt with a name patch above the pocket on the left. His clothing, face and arms were streaked with dirt and grease and his expression, body language and manner of walking clearly conveyed a man who had worked a full shift on a long day.

He walked silently to the third table. As he knelt beside the small children, their faces brightened; the boy grinned broadly and the little girl beamed at him. He began quietly gathering up their crayons, books and markers and sliding them into a pack. As he was kneeling and busily stuffing away their belongings, the little girl, tiny and bright-eyed looked up directly into his face. Without a word, she kissed her fingers and then patted her kiss onto the side of his face.

I won’t presume to know what that simple gesture meant to him but I suspect that all the tiredness of a long day at the shop suddenly faded away and he knew that every moment of his life was worth all that he had done.

I do know that I felt as if God himself had just breathed on me.

H. Arnett
4/10/14

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Driving Through Pottawatomie County

Posted on April 9, 2014 by Doc Arnett

Somewhere south of US 36
along the line of Kansas 63,
you can see where rolling farmland
begins its transition into the Flint Hills.

On a day like yesterday,
the smoke of the stacks
at the Jeffrey power plant
lays out wind speed and direction:
twin white flumes stretched out horizontal
with only the slightest rise
above the low wide column
of the cooling tube.

Tall tan blades of last year’s prairie grass
bend in our passing,
the greens of brome and fescue
show through the black-ashed slates
of burned pastures and road banks,
the impossible sheen of winter wheat
springing up after April’s fresh rains.

I’ll take this drive any day of the week
over whatever waits
in the folders and files of my office:
these miles of fields and farms,
old frame houses and stone-post fences
blending in the constant changing
of God’s good seasons.

H. Arnett
4/9/14

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Day of Fog and Mist

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Doc Arnett

I like the way a day like this
settles around you,
pulls a comforting shroud of gray
up close
but not too close,

holding back the long endless seams
of trees and ditches
stretching out like a past you can’t forget
and a future you’re not ready to face,

leaving view enough
for what’s coming up close
so that you know
there’s enough open road for passing
but not so much
that you wonder whether or not
you’ve got fuel enough for the journey.

I like the feel of mist kissing my face
like a gentle lover
wanting not to smother me
under some self-absorbed lather of emotion
but reminding me that she is close,

a subtle whisper suggesting promise
of warmer rains to come,
a soothing start for spring’s good planting,
the greening of these gray hills
fading into the fog
as gently as God’s own grace
easing the aching heart,
soothing the scorching touch of ancient memories.

H. Arnett
4/7/14

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Mercy Triumphs over Judgment*

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Doc Arnett

So far as I can remember, and today it feels like I can remember pretty darn far, I’ve never done anything that would have likely gotten me any jail time. I won’t debate which forfeited opportunities for such owed to strength of character and which ones owed to lack of courage; the net result has been a life lived beyond the bars. However, and it’s a very significant however, I have done things that would have resulted in my execution had I lived under the Levitical Law recorded in the Old Testament.

Don’t bother holding your breath or licking your lips in anticipation; I’m not going to offer any hints regarding that particular history. I bring it up only to show some basis for empathy, for understanding, for compassion.

My colleague and friend, B. J. Smith, cannot make the same claim in regard to legal record. He recently pled guilty to a few felony charges, what people generally call “white collar crimes.” Although these things have nothing whatsoever to do with his coaching role at the College, there is no dispute that he broke the law, no argument that he did some things that he should not have done. He has admitted that; it is public knowledge. It is, in fact, quite a bit more public than B. J. or many of the rest of us would prefer; it was on the front page of the Saint Joseph News-Press earlier this week.

I suspect that many of us are quite thankful that our sins, mistakes, errors and faults have never been chronicled in the local paper. That gratitude should not lead us into a sense of superiority but rather humility and understanding. In the words of The Carpenter, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

I cannot say that I am unbiased in this matter; I have to admit that I really like B. J. Smith. Not because of his being named National Junior College Athletic Association-Division II “Coach of the Year,” not because of taking our women’s team to the national championship playoffs two years in a row, not because of the parallel consecutive Jayhawk Conference championships. It’s not even because of the tremendous positive influence to which players, parents and friends testify.

It’s much more selfish than that; it’s because of the way his remarkable positive attitude has helped me. It’s because of the fact that he tells people, “There is always something positive in your situation, no matter what your situation is.” It’s because of the fact that every time that I have a conversation with him, I gain respect for him. It’s because of the fact that the longer I know him, the more I like him.

One of life’s simple and powerful truths is that when you love someone, it’s easier to forgive. When you love someone, it’s easier to choose compassion. When you love someone, it’s easier to choose forgiveness, mercy and understanding.

Perhaps at this point in my life I find it easier than some to choose the path of peace but I did not come to this place easily or quickly. I know that the seeds of mercy that I have sown have produced good fruit. I know that sowing forgiveness yields forgiveness. I know that I owe my soul to God’s good grace, mercy and love.

And on behalf of my friend B. J., I plead with the people of Doniphan County, the much wider circle of those associated in any way with Highland Community College, and the even broader community of life: choose mercy.

H. Arnett
4/4/14

*James 2:13

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Role Reversal

Posted on April 3, 2014 by Doc Arnett

After the mud run at Rocky Hills Ranch near Smithville, the four of us drove over to the town and had supper at a local grill. We ate our meal at one of the outdoor tables and then said our goodbyes. Sam headed back to New Braunfels and we headed to Houston. Sara volunteered to do the driving and Ben and I were too noble to argue, although we did the required token bit of consideration: “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Even with Ben channeling YouTube recordings of our favorite songs into the FM receiver via his iPhone, it seemed like a long trip. Two-and-a-half hours isn’t a bad drive, especially with someone else driving but we were all glad to get home. We left our bags of dirty clothes and muddy shoes sitting outside. Within thirty minutes, I had showered, called Randa and gone to bed.

Sara made a mighty fine breakfast the next morning, with slices of fresh fruit and a really good omelet. We sat in the living room and talked a while. Toward noon, we drove a few blocks over and met a man who had a washing machine for sale. Technically, it was his mother’s, who had just moved to Texas from New York. It looked like it had never been used. He helped us load it into the back of Ben’s 4Runner.

“Will that be okay lying on its back like that?” Ben asked because we were thinking about hauling it around town for a while. “I guess it’d be okay but they sure weren’t designed to lie on their side. Probably be better to just take it on home now.”

Apparently, he thought that was a good idea; that’s what we did. We hauled the washer into the laundry area and hooked up the hoses and drain. When we turned it on, nothing happened, other than the machine making a few funny noises. I re-checked the hoses and took one loose to make sure the faucet worked. Upon a quick bit of spray onto my face and glasses, I reached the conclusion that we did indeed have water.

I reconnected the hose and we tried again. Same funny noises, same lack of water coming into the machine. At this converging of disappointment, suspicion and frustration, Ben opened the lid and read the verbiage on it. Turns out, this machine doesn’t start filling up with water the instant you turn it on, something about a “sensing cycle” that “may take several minutes.” So, we tried yet again, this time adding the step of informed patience. After a series of shakes and rattles, clicks and clacks and another shudder or two, the water kicked on and the machine started filling up. It worked fine.

We ate lunch at a sports bar, watched Kentucky barely beat Wichita State and headed back home. Later, Sara put in the movie “Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?” and we all settled in on the huge couch. Ben went to sleep, Sara started supper and I watched the movie.

After supper, I decided to rest my ankle a bit and set my foot up on the couch. Ben walked by two minutes later and gave me a funny look. “You put your shoes on the couch at your house?” he asked in a slightly teasing but definitely reprimanding tone. “All the time,” I answered truthfully but immediately took my foot off of his couch. I remembered what it was like to spend hard-earned money on nice furniture and then see kids put their feet on it.

It is the nature of life, I guess, that kids turn into their parents and parents turn into kids. Next thing I know, he’ll be telling me to brush my teeth and go to bed…

H. Arnett
4/3/14

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