Tag: purpose

Day 179: TBT – The People of London (1940)

These photographs are among the most famous and widely reproduced images of London – and more specifically Londoners – during the Blitz.

Images of senseless destruction rarely qualify as beautiful, but the background of destruction isn’t what makes me love these photographs. What makes me love them (aside from their obvious focus on books and reading), is the sense of calm, determination, persistence, purpose, quiet defiance, strength, and understated tenacity exhibited by all of the people in them. Even as their world literally crumbled around them and smoldered beneath their feet, they lived.

They didn’t just survive. They clung to their identity, their pride, and their sense of normalcy (or at least as much of it as they possibly could preserve) and self. And all that, especially against a background of abject, senseless destruction, really is beautiful.

blitz-1

blitz-2

Day 141: “Happy Holidays”

“Happy Holidays.”

I used those two words deliberately, because I’m trying to remember, to acknowledge, and to appreciate that there are many people – with many different religions, beliefs, traditions, and holidays to celebrate this time of year – and that even when our religions, beliefs, traditions, and holidays are different, we still can come together in the spirit of the season.

In that same spirit, I offer you this simple sentiment: “Whether your celebrations and reflections are secular or sacred, may the light of affirmation and love and the warmth of purpose and peace surround you this holiday and in the year to come.”

Day 137: TBT / Countdown to Christmas – M*A*S*H: “Dear Sis” (1978)

This is the third of the four “Countdown to Christmas” TBT posts I’ll be making this month (and the second episode of M*A*S*H I’ll be featuring). Because I (once again) couldn’t find a clip of this episode of M*A*S*H (or even any real highlights from it) online, I’m sharing another excellent synopsis from Rob’s AfterM*A*S*H blog instead. (I’ve bolded the paragraph summarizing my favorite scene in the episode.)

And again, if you can catch a rerun of this episode on TV – or find it on DVD – in the next week or so, it’s definitely worth your time.

“Father Mulcahy is writing a letter home to his sister, and he’s bemoaning his relative lack of usefulness at the 4077th. He tries to help out with an ornery patient in OR, but instead of being able to talk him down, it requires Margaret to shoot the patient with a sedative, leaving Mulcahy to feel like he didn’t help much.

Later, Radar asks him to say a prayer for their pregnant sow over the phone, which he agrees to. But before he can finish, the sow goes into labor, requiring the advice of Winchester, who is waiting to use the phone to call his sister. Again, Mulcahy feels useless.

He admits no one comes for confession, or even just to chat. Serving as bartender, he tries to comfort those drowning their sorrows with booze over being stuck in Korea over Christmas, but he keeps getting interrupted, never getting to finish a thought.

Later, wounded arrive, and one lightly-wounded patient is short-tempered and combative. When Margaret tries to check his wound, he pushes her off, insisting he see a doctor. Mulcahy tries to help, but the soldier angrily pushes him away, too, onto the ground. Mulcahy pauses for a moment, rears back, and belts the young man so hard in the jaw he knocks him out of his stretcher. Mulcahy can’t believe what he’s done.

In Post Op, he tries to apologize, but the soldier is an even bigger jerk, ridiculing Mulcahy, asking where was he ordained: ‘Stillman’s Gym?’

Mulcahy is devastated. He goes outside to cry, and Hawkeye follows him out and tries to comfort him. Mulcahy admits it isn’t just the punch. It’s that he feels useless at the 4077th.

Hawkeye, B.J, Margaret, and Potter “celebrate” Christmas in his office. Potter has a stiff upper lip, but his three younger friends are miserable. Potter tries to cheer them up, taking them all to the ‘traditional turkey dinner’ the cook has prepared in the Mess Tent. They all cheer up at the prospect, but their enthusiasm is quickly dimmed when they got a load of the meal – turkey on shingles with cranberry sausage – which Potter can’t even bring himself to eat.

Christmas presents are dispensed by Capt. ‘Santa’ Hunnicutt, and Winchester is surprised to learn that there’s one for him: his old childhood toboggan hat, which makes Winchester’s eyes tear up with nostalgia. He thanks Radar, who admits the whole thing was Father Mulcahy’s idea. Winchester tearfully thanks Mulcahy, saying he’s a credit to ‘Your kind of person,’ the most effusive praise he can muster.

There’s also a present for Mulcahy: Hawkeye leads everyone in a toast to Mulcahy, thanking him for his simple decency and kindness. He also has everyone sing ‘Dona Nobis Pacem‘ – ‘Give Us Peace.’

It starts to snow, making the 4077th almost look pretty. Unfortunately, wounded arrive, breaking up the festive mood. Everyone goes to work, and Mulcahy ends the letter to his sister with ‘It doesn’t matter if you feel useful going from one disaster to another. The trick, I guess, is to just keep moving.'”

Day 117: “A Thought for the Weekend”

After dealing with writer’s block for the past week, I finally have an idea for my next “real” Monday/Friday blog entry. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to actually finish writing it for today, so instead, I’m going to leave you with this short thought for the weekend.

“It’s impossible,” said pride.
“It’s risky,” said experience.
“It’s pointless,” said reason.
“Give it a try,” whispered the heart.

—Anonymous

Day 106: “Thinking of Thanks”

I saw a picture of a mug today that said, “Someone somewhere is thinking of you.”

My first thought when I saw it was realizing that I believe that statement is truer for other people than for me. But as I thought a little more, I thought about the fact that we probably don’t let people know we’re thinking about them as often as we should – and that there are a lot of people in my life – people who are important to me – who probably have no idea how many people are thankful for them.

I think that’s probably true for most people. They don’t know how many people are thankful for them (and even if they do have some idea, they might not really be able to make themselves believe it).

I have a message for them – and for you – to consider this Thanksgiving: “As you take time to be thankful today, take a moment, too, to remind yourself of all the people who are thankful for you.”

 

Day 75: “All That We See or Seem…”

This entry probably is going to wind up being a bit more rambling than usual, mainly because I didn’t start writing it until a little after ten (and I’m trying to get it finished – and posted – before midnight).

The title of the post is a reference to one of my favorite bits of poetry by Edgar Allan Poe, from his poem “A Dream Within a Dream” —

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

As I was driving through town today, I heard a radio ad for an Edgar Allan Poe-themed Halloween event at a local restaurant.

Whenever I think about Poe, I’m never quite sure how I’m supposed to feel. Part of me feels guilty whenever I read – and enjoy – his work, and part of my feels inspired. (I have a similar reaction whenever I see one of Van Gogh’s paintings – especially “Starry Night,” but that’s another post for another day.)

The part of me that feels guilty feels guilty because I know that I’m probably reading something that was inspired (at least in part) by Poe’s lifetime of struggles with isolation, loss, and rejection, and (as strange as it probably sounds) I always feel kind of bad about enjoying something that came from such a dark place.

The part of me that feels inspired feels inspired because Poe’s body of work – appreciated more after his death during his life – stands not only as a remarkable literary output but also as a reminder that we have no idea what kind of impact our lives might have, even if they seem to us like they don’t make any sense at all. It reminds me that there’s always hope that we (and what we do) matters, even when it seems like nothing about us (or what we do) makes any difference to anyone. It makes me hope that Edgar – sometime, somehow, in this world or the next – realized just how much his life and work meant to the world. And it makes me remember how important it is for us to remind other people how much they mean to us.