By G. E. Shuman
Lorna and I sat on the front porch this afternoon, and, for a few moments, watched our brand new neighbors as they came and went, moving things into their new home. It’s fun seeing new folks arriving in the old neighborhood. Several years ago now, a nice young lady bought the home next to ours, and she has become a true friend to us. More recently, a wonderful, young, newly- wed couple moved into the house behind ours. They have also become good friends, and have added two beautiful children to their family since their arrival here. That brood has wasted no time in feathering their ‘love nest’ with new paint, recent landscaping, and other improvements. It is true that tenants come and go in the large apartment building next door, but, with few exceptions, they have also been gracious and friendly to us. Some of our friends wonder why we live in the ‘city’ of Barre. The fact is we have gotten to know many great people here, including Ellen, the sexy single senior two houses up on the next street. (Yes, older single guys, I can get you her number, but be forewarned. She’s a live wire. You’d better take your Geritol, if they still make that stuff.) When living in a city, even if it’s little ol’ Barre City, it’s comforting to know that you have good neighbors.
For years I have tried to encourage all manner of ‘city’ wildlife (except for Ellen) to roost, nest, or otherwise get accustomed to life at our home. I’m unsure why I have done this. I am just as unsure why I have failed so miserably in these efforts, and also why I continue to try so hard each year to raise potted tomatoes and flowers here. My thumbs are not green. Not even a little. I have had no real success with any of this, except for with my efforts at squirrel feeding. Those hungry guys are almost too ‘at home’, at our home. I think they have recently taken up residence in the attic, which is something I must soon deal with, if I cannot find a way to charge them rent. I know, true Vermonters shoot squirrels and hang their tails on the mirrors of their pickup trucks. I’m from Maine, and I don’t own a truck. So, I’m allowed, by law, to feed the squirrels. I have also had some success at attracting the occasional skunk onto our property, if you can call that success. Other forms of wildlife, birds in particular, have always avoided our home. Bird feeders here have remained full until the food rots or my squirrel buddies find it. The liquid in hummingbird feeders dries up long before any hummingbirds get to taste it. Bird houses have always remained empty at our place. Several wild bird -sized domiciles stand unoccupied and in disrepair in the upper reaches of our large maple tree. I have never understood this.
You can, then, imagine how excited I became when I first noticed our new neighbors the other evening. I had just finished hooking the dog out, and looked up into one of the trees on the front lawn. I happened to do this just in time to witness a little chickadee couple enter the fancily-painted bird house Emily gave me last summer. I watched for several moments as they flew into the precisely-chickadee-sized circular entrance, with bits of straw and fluff. Coming home from work this afternoon, I noticed Lorna on the porch, and hurried to tell her of the new arrivals. She was as happy as I was to see them.
‘Less’ has always meant ‘more’ to me. I think I fit the definition of a minimalist, at least as far as personal possessions are concerned. I believe that living simply… is simply best. Shelter from storms, protection from the cold winds of life, privacy, and a safe home for one’s family are what matter most. The rest is all ‘fluff’ for nest stuffing. I quote Lemony Snicket’s definition of sanctuary , which is what a home should be: “a small, safe place, in a troubling world.” Even the chickadees seem to know this.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Other Babies
By G. E. Shuman
I love babies. I really do. Yes, I tease my wife, among others, that newborn babies “look like lizards,” and about their crying, and their pooping, and all of that. But I really do love babies. As the father of five, and the grandfather of ten, how could I not? My wife, of course, adores ‘our’ babies too. “There is no greater sign of innocence and purity on earth, than the dimples on a baby’s hand.” No famous person penned that quote. I am quoting myself there.
Although my wife likely thinks I get along with young kids well because I’m basically on their level, I hope I got these feelings from my dad. My mother is the most nurturing, nearly OVER-nurturing person I have ever met… but Dad was a baby-lover in an almost higher way, if that is possible. I think he not only loved babies, but that he loved the purity, the fragility, the beauty and overwhelming helplessness of babies and children, with some level of insight that I will not be able to describe here. I have seen his eyes well up with tears, just in the viewing of a photograph of some child whom he thought might be in need. I have heard his voice crack, in merely mentioning some ‘profundity’ once softly spoken by one of his (unmatchable) grandchildren. I have seen his face, even while in the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease, smile and simply light up, at the sight of my then-toddler, youngest daughter, as she played on the floor in front of him.
I have always been in great awe of our universe. As a Christian, I see it, even when viewed through the mind-boggling eye of the Hubble space telescope, as more than space, and dust and gas. I see our universe as the totality of creation. I see it as something of great purpose, and nearly infinite intricacy. I understand the galaxies to be not only products of intelligent design, but the products of immense, unmatched, omniscient design. To me, to think otherwise; to imagine that all that is, exists only by chance, is simply impossible.
In case you haven’t guessed, I believe in God. I strive to trust God. I also believe that He loves babies, too, a lot more than I do. After all, He made them. He loves human babies, and, perhaps to a lesser degree, animal babies. He made them too.
In the 1990’s Jodie Foster movie ‘Contact,’ the man who played Jodie’s dad, in scenes when her character was a young girl, loved space, and telescopes, and short wave radio. In those things he reminded me of me, a little. He reminded me of me a lot when he actually said a line in the movie which is one I had been saying for many years. The young actress playing Jodie’s part had asked her dad if he thought that there were people on other planets. His reply was: “If not, it seems like an awful waste of space.”
So, is there life ‘out there’, or not? This question may not be answered in my lifetime, as it was not answered in my Dad’s. To me, it is interesting that we have eyes to see the stars, and minds great enough to wonder about such things. I think this might mean that we are meant to do so. And then, there are the very words of Jesus, in the Bible. In John 10, verse 16, he tells his disciples: “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring,” Perhaps he was talking about his followers in other countries, or even on other continents. Or, perhaps he was talking about his followers on the many other worlds in his creation. Also, to my mind, “other sheep”, must certainly have ‘other babies.’ How cool is that?
The stars that we see at night are not simply points of brilliance in the cold darkness of space. They are billions of suns, shining down on their own orbiting planets. Perhaps, at this very moment, some of those suns are warming the smiling faces of other-worldly, but still beautiful, other babies. If you think of this the next time you look to the heavens on a clear night, you might view the stars a bit differently. Dad would like that.
I love babies. I really do. Yes, I tease my wife, among others, that newborn babies “look like lizards,” and about their crying, and their pooping, and all of that. But I really do love babies. As the father of five, and the grandfather of ten, how could I not? My wife, of course, adores ‘our’ babies too. “There is no greater sign of innocence and purity on earth, than the dimples on a baby’s hand.” No famous person penned that quote. I am quoting myself there.
Although my wife likely thinks I get along with young kids well because I’m basically on their level, I hope I got these feelings from my dad. My mother is the most nurturing, nearly OVER-nurturing person I have ever met… but Dad was a baby-lover in an almost higher way, if that is possible. I think he not only loved babies, but that he loved the purity, the fragility, the beauty and overwhelming helplessness of babies and children, with some level of insight that I will not be able to describe here. I have seen his eyes well up with tears, just in the viewing of a photograph of some child whom he thought might be in need. I have heard his voice crack, in merely mentioning some ‘profundity’ once softly spoken by one of his (unmatchable) grandchildren. I have seen his face, even while in the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease, smile and simply light up, at the sight of my then-toddler, youngest daughter, as she played on the floor in front of him.
I have always been in great awe of our universe. As a Christian, I see it, even when viewed through the mind-boggling eye of the Hubble space telescope, as more than space, and dust and gas. I see our universe as the totality of creation. I see it as something of great purpose, and nearly infinite intricacy. I understand the galaxies to be not only products of intelligent design, but the products of immense, unmatched, omniscient design. To me, to think otherwise; to imagine that all that is, exists only by chance, is simply impossible.
In case you haven’t guessed, I believe in God. I strive to trust God. I also believe that He loves babies, too, a lot more than I do. After all, He made them. He loves human babies, and, perhaps to a lesser degree, animal babies. He made them too.
In the 1990’s Jodie Foster movie ‘Contact,’ the man who played Jodie’s dad, in scenes when her character was a young girl, loved space, and telescopes, and short wave radio. In those things he reminded me of me, a little. He reminded me of me a lot when he actually said a line in the movie which is one I had been saying for many years. The young actress playing Jodie’s part had asked her dad if he thought that there were people on other planets. His reply was: “If not, it seems like an awful waste of space.”
So, is there life ‘out there’, or not? This question may not be answered in my lifetime, as it was not answered in my Dad’s. To me, it is interesting that we have eyes to see the stars, and minds great enough to wonder about such things. I think this might mean that we are meant to do so. And then, there are the very words of Jesus, in the Bible. In John 10, verse 16, he tells his disciples: “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring,” Perhaps he was talking about his followers in other countries, or even on other continents. Or, perhaps he was talking about his followers on the many other worlds in his creation. Also, to my mind, “other sheep”, must certainly have ‘other babies.’ How cool is that?
The stars that we see at night are not simply points of brilliance in the cold darkness of space. They are billions of suns, shining down on their own orbiting planets. Perhaps, at this very moment, some of those suns are warming the smiling faces of other-worldly, but still beautiful, other babies. If you think of this the next time you look to the heavens on a clear night, you might view the stars a bit differently. Dad would like that.
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