The One and Only

She was the first woman I remember being truly crazy about. Janet White was the epitome of loveliness. Beautiful smile, shoulder length dark brown hair, clear radiant complexion, full of life. She lived up the road from our house, just past the fishpond and the old train depot. I was elated any time I got to see her. She must have been 16 or 18 years old at the time. I was six. I don’t know if I understood at the time that such relationships are destined to end, and are often short-lived.

Janet was our baby sitter for a time. She had two sisters who would also baby sit my brothers, my sister and me. On at least one occasion they all three baby sat us for an entire Saturday when our parents had to be out of town. I remember my father telling someone about Janet and what a wonderful baby sitter she was. “Yes," he said," the children are crazy about Janet.” I remember being taken aback by that word crazy as it was applied to me (and my siblings) but I knew he was right. I was crazy about her – there was no turning back. I would cherish each encounter, listening to stories, reading Golden Books, riding tricycles while she supervised our play.

Then it all came quickly and quietly to an end. My mother told us that Janet had moved away and gotten married. I felt some sadness that she would not be our baby sitter any more. I wasn’t really prepared, however, for that next (and last) encounter I had with her. Some time had passed – enough time for a six-year-old to move on to other things and gain some emotional distance from those halcyon days. Then one warm summer night she stepped into my life ever so briefly.

It was a Sunday night. We were all at Jackson’s Gap Baptist Church where my father was pastor. She must have been passing through town, or visiting relatives, but Janet came to church that night. I was not aware that she was there until after the service. I was standing on the front porch of the red brick country church. A single yellow light overhead illuminated the area where people talked and visited after church. Beyond the perimeter cast by that light lay the night filled with the sounds of crickets and frogs, and the warm still darkness of a time still haunted by Sabbath rest.

It was into that yellow light on the front porch of Jackson’s Gap Baptist Church that Janet stepped up to speak to me. She was beautiful and glowing as ever, and she held a baby in her arms that was just beginning to cry with restlessness. I was glad to see her, but did not know what to say. I probably gave her an awkward grin, shuffled my feet and clasped my hands behind my back. But what could I say? There she was, with a baby of her own. It drove home to me the fact that she would no longer be there for me when she had her own life and her own child to care for. She spoke a few words and then stepped back. Turning, she walked out of the yellow light that illuminated our gathering and disappeared into the summer night. That is when I truly knew that she was gone from my life.

It was the natural ending of a chapter in life. I had already made the transition from tricycles to bicycles. Life continued to be full of other things: new playmates at school, hikes in the woods, adventures along the creek bank, kite flying, catching tadpoles and crawfish, running through piles of oak leaves in the fall, and chasing after our collie when she spotted a chipmunk diving into an old tree stump. There would be challenges and changes along the way, but there would never be another one like Janet White.



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Three Cheers for Justice Alito

When Justice Samuel Alito was nominated to the Supreme Court, I did not imagine that I would be singing his praises – ever – let alone so soon as this. Last week I was appalled to learn that the Supreme Court had struck down a law that banned videos depicting animal cruelty. Mental health professionals know that one of the early signs of sociopathic behavior in children and teenagers is cruelty to animals. It is unthinkable that the court would strike down this law on the basis of freedom of speech. Justice Alito was the lone dissenter in the 8 – 1 decision. In his dissenting opinion he wrote, "The First Amendment protects freedom of speech, but it almost certainly does not protect violent criminal conduct."

Apparently videos in question included dog fighting and crush videos in which small animals are crushed by a woman’s high heel shoe or bare foot – a bizarre sexual fetish. I only have two questions:
1. Are these Supreme Court Justices completely out of touch?
2. How soon can congress pass a new law that is not “too broad and vague,” as this court claims, so that we can stop protecting such violent behavior?

The last time I commented on a Supreme Court decision in this blog, I said it was not dark yet, "but it's gettin' there." Now we see another questionable decision and this time the single ray of light comes from Justice Samuel Alito. Thank you, Justice Alito, for being that ray of light!



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Wildness vs. Domestication

In wildness is the preservation of the world.
- Henry David Thoreau

One thing led to another last week and I found myself posting blogs addressing domestication vs wildness. After I posted my poem “An Early Time” which had a plowing image, that reminded me of “Shaphat’s Field” which I'd had as a draft for quite a while and never published to the blog, so I decided to go ahead and present it. “Shaphat’s Field” led me to ponder, which is better, wildness or domestication? I found two past essays, “Genie, Jesus; Bottle Book” and “Friendship with God,” both of which gave somewhat different takes on the interplay between wildness and domestication. With that, I remembered my “Dream Train” entry from my dream journal which demonstrated the stuffy, paralyzing effect of domesticity and the appeal of a liberating, creative wildness.

So which do I really think is more important, domestication or wildness? My answer would be a resounding “YES!” We must have the order and restraint found in our social customs in order for society to be secure and predictable. On the other hand, we must all remember the wildness that is in each of us. We must acknowledge that the wildness can break out into society at any time (especially if we deny the wildness for too long). We need that creative energy that leads us to new concepts and breaks us free from structures that are no longer needed. The structure provided by domestication allows me to know what to expect in my day to day encounters at work, at home, and at play. The creativity provided by wildness reassures me that I am alive and convinces me of the endless possibilities that lie ahead. Sometimes I need the quiet structure; sometimes I need the creative fire. I am glad for both.



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