Saturday, August 31, 2024

KISSIN' COUSINS

 4280

I was listening to a song on the radio today. Well, not just any song. And definitely not just any musician.
I mean, who can forget the incomparable Elvis Presley?
And the song?
Well, to back up a wee bit.
Okay, more than a wee bit.
Jean and I first met in the 4th grade; just short of sixty years ago.
She recalls one conversation of ours much better than I do.
“Royce, you know, if it weren’t for women, there wouldn’t be any babies.”
(And knowing what I only thought I knew, I almost responded with,
“Well now, that’s definitely a big duh!”)
But to which I actually responded,
“Well, it takes men too.”
Fast forward something just short of a decade during which we completed elementary school, junior high, and high school together, and enrolled at the same community college. Ultimately, we dated a while, subsequently went our separate ways, and married others.
Fast forward another decade.
By now we were both divorced, ran into one another at her place of business, resumed our dating relationship, and (lo and behold) I proposed marriage, and we “tied the (proverbial) knot;” all in the space of 4 months.
Well, to be sure it was rather quick and all that, but we’d known one another a couple of decades by that time, I’d been the first to enlighten her on “The Birds & the Bees,” she’d once joined me on my walk home from school, and played “Pen the Tail on the Donkey” at my 10th birthday party, we’d interacted throughout the course of primary and secondary schools, and we’d dated after graduation.
Speaking of music, (re. just about where I began this story) during our wedding ceremony I’d sang a solo to my new bride.
“So many nights, I'd sit by my window,
Waiting for someone to sing me her song.
So many dreams, I kept deep inside me,
Alone in the dark, but now you've come along.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
Rollin' at sea, adrift on the waters
Could it be finally, I'm turning for home
Finally a chance to say, ‘Hey, I Love You’
Never again to be all alone.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
You, You light up my life
You give me hope to carry on
You light up my day's
And fill my life with song
It can't be wrong when it feels so right
'cause you, you light up my life.”
It became OUR song.
Fast forward three decades.
I was watching some nature show on television, while Jean sat in the living room researching something to which I was not, at the time, privy.
Suddenly, she spoke,
“Royce, aren’t you related to the Dowling’s?”
To which I responded,
“Well, yes. My great grandmother was a Dowling.”
To which Jean queried,
“Are you related to Jabez and Rebecca Dowling?”
To which I again responded,
“Yes, they were my 4x great grandparents.”
Her next words caught me off guard,
“Uh. …They were mine too!”
“And when the dust settled” we discovered we were 5th cousins. (In subsequent months we discovered two more family connections, and learned we were cousins three different ways)!!!
(Had been all the time).
It gets even more interesting. For you see, simply as the result of our own three fold kinship...
I am my step-son's and step-daughter's cousin. My wife is my son's and daughters' cousin. My children and my wife’s children are cousins. My grandchildren by marriage are my cousins. My grandchildren are her cousins. My wife’s sisters are my cousins. My brothers and sister are my wife’s cousins. My nephews and nieces by marriage are my cousins. My nephews and nieces are her cousins. My father in law is my cousin. My mother in law is my cousin. My father is my wife’s cousin. My mother is my wife’s cousin!!! (Kinda like Ray Stevens’ “I Am my Own Grandpa”).
And that song I alluded to at the beginning of my story?

KISSIN' COUSINS
"Well I've got a gal, she's as cute as she can be
She's a distant cousin but she's not too distant with me"
Etc. Etc. Etc.
Given what it took my wife and I almost seven decades, (including thirty years of marriage) to discover, well, I think,
… It’s OUR new song.
by Bill McDonald, PhD

Friday, August 30, 2024

MOMENTARY MENTOR

 4279

“I think I decided I wanted to be a writer one summer afternoon in my childhood, when the neighborhood pool I was swimming in was temporarily closed due to lightning. I snatched up my towel and huddled on a big porch with the other kids, waiting out the storm.
A man I had never seen before sat down on a plastic lawn chair near me, brought out an illustrated copy of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and offered to read it. Most of the kids left, but two or three of us stayed to listen, sitting cross-legged on the floor around him. As he read, I fell so deeply into the narrative that the thunderstorm around me seemed to be rushing out of the words themselves.
My head was ringing with those words as I walked home. I never knew who this man was, but I never really got over that day.”
Laura Hillenbrand
Author of "Seabiscuit" and "Unbroken"
I think the previous paragraph is almost magical. I found myself weeping as I read it. For this is a marvelous example of what I’ve always called “Momentary Ministry.” And to think that this “man without a name” had the awesome privilege of impacting a child who would become one of the great writers of our time!
“The man with no name” found himself in a momentary time and place to influence a few, and for his great love of literature gave unselfishly of himself, with no agenda other than his love for words, and the audience who could be influenced by them. Even if that audience was just a few children by a pool on a stormy day.
Bill McDonald, PhD

Thursday, August 22, 2024

WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT

 4278

Years ago, over half a century to be more exact, I attended a summer revival at our church in Tampa, Florida. The evangelist, (whose name I have long since forgotten), had a peculiar habit of winding up and kicking one foot in front of him as he was making a particularly important point. After several days, well, nights the revival closed. As his last sermon became history, Pastor Matheny invited the congregation to linger and bid the evangelist goodbye.
A few people rose from the pews, and headed for the lobby. However, the majority lined up and filed past the minister. As I reached "Rev. Jones" and said whatever I felt inclined to say, he looked directly into my eyes, and exclaimed, "Stay encouraged!"
At the time, those two words didn't mean all that much to me. However, in the fifty plus years which have transpired since that moment, those words have become immeasurably precious to me. As a matter of fact, the word "Encouragement" has become my favorite word, and I have shared the foregoing story, and those two special words with countless people. I have no idea if the evangelist is still among the land of the living, but those two words have been a gift that has kept on giving.
Recently, I was reminded of the import and impact of encouragement.
You see, one of my social media friends is a Ukranian woman; who I have not thus far had the pleasure of meeting, (and who I may never have the opportunity to meet).
I will not identify the young lady, nor will I share the exact nature of our communication, but I have attempted to encourage her in the midst of that unjust war, and the terrible onslaught of artillery fire, bomb damage and the immense loss of life there. It is enough to say that "Ursula" made me aware that my written words have buoyed her spirits, and lent her some encouragement during the weary days and sleepless nights her country has been under attack by a relentless foe.
It has been wonderful to learn that I have made a difference in a single life during the midst of that terrible conflict, and have offered her "strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow."
"But day by day, and as long as today shall last, continue to encourage one another." (Hebrews 3:13)
by Bill McDonald, PhD

Monday, August 5, 2024

KAREN, WHITNEY & ELVIS

 4277

Pt. 1

My wife and I were watching a wonderful video related to the life and music of Karen Carpenter on public television last night. This particular documentary has been re-broadcast every December for the past several years, and has an obvious two-fold agenda behind its existence, since it was not only designed for its entertainment value, but as a fund-raising vehicle.

Throughout the program the camera switches to a local spokesman for the network who with well-chosen words celebrates Karen’s beautiful repertoire of songs, and urges viewers to call a particular phone number with their pledge.

Almost half a century hence I managed a Kinney Shoe Corp. lease department in a local Woolco. And it wasn’t unusual for our store to play the latest “elevator music” over the intercom. Karen Carpenter seemed to be a favorite of the powers that be, and I can’t begin to guess how many times I heard, “We’ve Only Just Begun,” and Karen’s greatest hit, “For All We Know.” As I went about my duties in that obscure little department store in north Alabama, I learned to love and appreciate Karen’s music.

Richard Carpenter, Karen’s brother, narrates the documentary, and we follow the progress of the brother-sister duo as they gain national and international attention and popularity.

Petula Clark tells a story about the first time they met.

“I happened to be at an event in which Karen performed on stage, and afterwards I introduced myself with, ‘Hi, I’m Petula Clark.’ Karen was a bit taken aback, smiled her famous smile, and said, ‘Man!’ In retrospect I realize how ‘Karen’ her one word response was that day.”

Pt. 2

Karen preferred to be referred to as a “drummer who sang,” (rather than the other way around). It was common to see her seated at the drums, and banging away, as she crooned into a microphone. As one of her biggest fans I would take exception to Karen’s characterization. She was definitely a singer who banged on a drum.

It is only in the last few minutes of the program that her brother, Richard speaks about Karen’s untimely passing.

“Karen struggled with what we call in modern parlance a ‘food disorder.’ She progressively lost weight, and, of course, I became very concerned. We had an especially contentious discussion, not long before her death, in which I told Karen how wane and pale she looked, and I begged her to get help.” (With this a photograph flashes on the screen. In the picture we see the brother-sister duo sitting a couple of feet apart, staring into one another’s eyes, and wearing rather belligerent expressions on their faces).

Shortly thereafter, at the tender age of 32, Karen sustained a heart attack, and “the rest is history.” One of the most unique voices of the 20th century was hushed that day, and her adoring fans were, no doubt, deprived of a host of unsung songs.

From my perspective there are just no other contenders for their crowns. Two women and one man with the first names of Karen, Whitney and Elvis are the greatest vocalists of all time. And as I watched the PBS program, it occurred to me that each of these gifted performers experienced what might be referred to as a “self-induced meltdown,” and left us before their time. (I hesitate to refer to their passing as, “slow suicide” as something bigger than they, themselves had them in its clutches).

Pt. 3

Whitney Houston was not only an accomplished singer, but an actress. Perhaps her most memorable song was, “I Will Always Love You,” which was included in what may have been her most memorable movie, “Bodyguard.”

Whitney sang in church as a child, and apparently had a relationship with the Creator as a young person. Cissy Houston, her mother, sang backup for her niece, Dionne Warwick, as well as Aretha Franklin and Elvis Presley, (the third of the three vocalists whom I will refer to shortly).

At least for me, the two most memorable performances of Whitney’s life were her magnificent rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” during the 1991 Super Bowl, (which took place during the Persian Gulf War), and her portrayal of “Julia Biggs” in the movie, “The Preacher’s Wife” in 1996. I’m biased, but “for my money” Houston’s rendition of our National Anthem is the greatest of all time. And while “The Preacher’s Wife” may not have won any Oscars, it is one of my favorite movies, and I still watch it two or three times a year.

Sadly, Whitney Houston struggled with drug addiction for decades, and over time her habit began to have an impact on her record and movie careers.

In 2005, Cissy Houston visited her daughter’s home in Atlanta, after her son notified the former that the latter “was in trouble.” Nothing could have prepared her for the God-awful scene inside the house.

“Somebody had spray painted the walls, painting big, glaring eyes and strange faces,” Cissy wrote in her 2013 memoir, “Remembering Whitney.”

She continued.

“In another room was a big, framed photo of Nippy (Whitney), Bobby and Krissi, but someone had cut Nippy’s head right out of it.”

When Whitney appeared at the top of the stairs, the once glamorous vocalist and movie star, who had sold almost 200 million records, more than any female vocal artist in history, “looked like someone I didn’t know.”

(and)

“I knew my daughter was in grave danger.”

The 48 year old Whitney Houston was found dead in a bathtub in the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills, California six years ago. Heart disease and cocaine addiction contributed to what has been deemed an “accidental” death. Strangely enough, Whitney’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina, was found unresponsive in a bath tub three years later. Bobbi was found to have alcohol, marijuana, cocaine and morphine in her system. This dear young lady lingered in a coma for six months, and ultimately joined her mother in death.

Pt. 4

I listen to “Elvis Radio” Channel 19 every time I set my derriere onto the driver’s seat of my automobile, put it in gear, and attempt to fulfill my sundry commitments for that day. This morning, as I drove to a not so distant town to do a safety meeting for my construction crew, I listened to an interview between E.A.P.’s high school friend, George Klein (the primary DJ on Elvis Radio), and Wink Martindale, the 70’s-80’s-90’s gameshow host.

It so happens that Sandy Martindale, (Wink’s wife) dated Elvis ‘way back when’ and she was with him (Wink, not Elvis) in this morning’s interview. Sometime before (or after) the two married, Sandy and Wink developed a close mutual relationship with ‘The King of Rock & Roll,’ and often attended his performances.

And as it fell together, the couple last saw Elvis at a Las Vegas show shortly before his passing. And what they saw left them mortified. Elvis was obviously in poor health, and had gained a great deal of weight. No doubt, they were aware that the greatest male singer of all time had regularly indulged himself with prescription, and possibly other substances. The most disinterested lay person could see it in his eyes. While he seemed to maintain his cognitive abilities, such as his skill with the recall of songs, his countenance and physical condition spoke volumes.

As Wink and Sandy visited in Elvis’ dressing room before the show, they noticed sweat beading on his forehead, and it occurred to both of them that this could well be the last time they would ever lay eyes on the most famous and gifted man on the planet. As the interview neared its conclusion, Wink mentioned that Elvis seemed hesitant to leave them, though his next show was only moments away.

Pt. 5

Ultimately, the couple said their ‘adieu’s’ and departed the premises. On their way out, they stopped long enough to write a note for Elvis, and left it with the King’s ‘right hand man;’ (whose name escapes me at the moment).

The note read roughly as follows:

Elvis

We would love for you to come visit with us in our home for a few weeks.

This would give you an opportunity to rest, lose weight, and regain your health. People tell me (Sandy) that I am a good cook, and I don’t think you’d regret staying with us a while and dining at our table. Hope to hear from you soon.

Love & Prayers,

Wink & Sandy

One might have thought George Klein would have changed the subject, and prevented the Martindale’s from telling the story. But this was not the case.

I must say I have been pleasantly surprised at how open ‘The Elvis Channel’ and its DJ’s have been with the radio public in regard to ‘the good, bad and the ugly’ which transpired during THE American Idol’s all too brief 42 years on earth.

There’s a poignant passage in the movie, “A River Runs Through It.”

In speaking of his father, the main character, Norman Maclean, reminisces.

l remember the last sermon
 
l heard him give;
 
not long before his own death…
 
 
Each one of us here today will,
 
at one time in our lives...
 
look upon a loved one who is in need
 
and ask the same question.
 
 
"We are willing to help, Lord...
 
but what, if anything, is needed?"
 
 
It is true we can seldom help
 
those closest to us.
 
Either we don't know what part
 
of ourselves to give...
 
 
or more often than not,
 
the part we have to give...
 
is not wanted.
 
 
And so it is those we live with
 
and should know who elude us...
 
but we can still love them.
 
 
We can love completely...
 
without complete understanding.”
Pt. 6

At least during this particular interview, Wink and Sandy Martindale never disclosed whether Elvis responded to their offer that he visit with them, lose weight and attempt to regain his former health.

We can be sure, however, that if he responded at all it was not of the affirmative kind; since the well-known gameshow host and his wife

…never saw Elvis again.

 

I think Wink and Sandy were a lot like the kind of people of whom that old preacher alluded in his final sermon, the sort of folks who reach out in love to those near and dear to themselves; though bereft of any understanding.

One can only wonder how history might have been rewritten had Elvis taken them up on their gracious offer. Perhaps the King of Rock & Roll would have given us the gift of a few more years and a few more songs.

 

Like Karen Carpenter and Whitney Houston, Elvis’ career in music, and the stress and allure of international notoriety not only resulted in fame and fortune, but “set the stage” for his early demise.

 

Karen, Whitney and Elvis.

 

The saddest words in any language,


…“What might have been.”

by Bill McDonald, PhD