He wasn’t looking for a pretty face
She wasn’t searching for the latest style
He didn’t want someone who walked straight off the tv
She needed someone with an interior smile
She wasn’t looking for a cuddle in the back seat
He wasn’t looking for a five minute thrill
She wasn’t thinking of tomorrow or of next week
This vacancy he meant to permanently fill
I need an everlasting love
I need a friend and a lover divine
An everlasting precious love
Wait for it, wait for it, give it some time
Back in the world of disposable emotion
In the climate of temporary dreams
He wasn’t looking for a notch on his bedpost
A love to push, pull, and burst at the seams
I need an everlasting love
I need a friend and a lover divine
An everlasting precious love
Wait for it, wait for it, give it some time
Is this love worth waiting for?
Something special, something pure
[chorus]
Is this love worth waiting for?
Bitterness will die for sure
Something precious, something pure
Is this love worth waiting for?
Johnny Cash. This is a song from my youth. As a child, my Mother would take us to church almost every day of the week. I remember going to tent revivals of Leroy Jenkins and a host of others. Parts of my family owned Churches. Uncle Michael, who passed away much too young from diabetes, was a gifted guitarist and singer. At least, I remember it that way.
We’d go to different churches all the time. Evangel Tabernacle in it’s various incarnations. Trinity Assemblies of God. Clifton Baptist for summer bible school. Ginger and I attended a choir at Clifton Baptis. Forever, it seems. Although, I think I was more a disruption than a singer.
“I’m a little piece of tin.
Nobody knows what shape I’m in.
Got four wheels and a running board.
I’m a four door, I”m a Ford.
Honk Honk Rattle Rattle Honk Beep Beep!!”
lol
Our Dad drove the Sunday School bus at least one winter or one year that I can remember. We’d sing songs on the bus on the way to Sunday School and Church.
“Oh you can’t get to heaven on roller skates…
Cause you’ll roll right past those pearly gates!”
I remember waking early in the morning because we’d have to get the bus from the Church. Then make the rounds through the neighborhood to pick up the families and kids to take them to Evangel and Sunday School.
But this song. I sometimes ask myself or God or whomever might be listening.
“What have I done to deserve my life?”
I feel so fortunate. Blessed by God or the Gods.
Strange to think that at one time, I’d had “hands laid on me” by Jimmy Swaggert and Billy Graham and no telling who else. I only went up there because Ginger wanted me to go with her. But it was still a neat experience.
The only preacher or evangelist from those days who hasn’t fallen or become a shadow and hypocrite is Billy Graham. Swaggert, Robertson, Bakker, Falwell. They all preach hate or they are have been caught “being human” or “making mistakes” of all sorts. The Bakkers being the most public and egregious.
I remember going to Royal Rangers. A sort of Christian Boy Scouts. Basically the same thing but directly sponsored by Evangelical Churches. “Prepared, Always Ready. Ready to…”
Childhood and Church. I can’t imagine what it would have been like with no Tent Revivals. None of the memories of Grandma Hackney, Aunt Lola reading the bible to each other over the phone. The impromptu Bible Studies that were held at Grandmas house with Aunt Lola, Aunt Hope, Aunt Helen, Momma, Barbara Jean, Mary Ann, Aunt Lillian and many other friends and family at the house on 120 N. Bellaire. They were Pentecostal. They were holy rollers. And it was always electric.
It made life interesting that is for certain.
As kids, we used to spy on them. And we’d sometimes feel the “spirit of the Lord” emanating from the room. They believed so fervently that one could not hope but feel that vibe or that spirit if you watched them. I was fascinated by it myself. The Spirit of the Lord.
If a child was sick and in the same house as this group of praying and Bible reading women. There’d be a laying on of hands as they surrounded the bed or couch on which one lay sick. They’d pray for you. And I swear to this day, it helped heal whatever ailed you.
I remember them speaking in tongues. We’d imitate them as children by saying “heeka ma hockema, seeka ma sockema.” We’d run around the room. Screaming and shouting that as well as the obligatory “Praise Jesus! Halleluba! Amen! Praise the Lord!” Imitating what we thought we saw in our parents and grandparents.
One story has it that my older brother Terry was upset when my mother had hands laid on her by a preacher. They asked people to the front who wanted to “repent” or be prayed for “in the name of God.” My Mother was one who frequently went forward at these times. The preacher starts to pray for Mom and does that whole “slap the forehead” thing that Pentecostal preachers did back then. When he slapped “Sister Millie” on the forehead and yelled; “BE HEALED!” Momma fell to the floor. Of course, she was helped down. They didn’t just let her fall. Upon seeing all of this frightening act, Terry who was all of 4 or 5 years old starts running toward the front yelling; “You get off of my Mommy! You get off of my Mommy!”
I guess I drifted away from the Church about the time that my Mom and Dad were divorced. I was about 16 years old. My Mother re-married and we started the Mormon/LDS expereince. I drifted in and out of the Church for about a decade before I left it altogether. I almost married a Mormon girl that I met in Korea. Sandra. I was baptized and actually started being a good and sober fellow for a bit.
But I fell away from that after a time as well. I, personally, have no bad memories about the Church. None of my experiences were bad. Mostly good. Mostly decent folks with whom I interacted over the years. I’m sure that I met a few bad apples here and there. But not enough to convince me that all of Christianity is evil.
My personal opinion is the organized religion is unhealthy. We, humans, are too prone to the mob mentality. We start assigning spaces in the afterlife for ourselves and those who are not of the same belief all too easily and this leads to too much division in the here and now. Not sure that Jesus intended it that way when he said; “Love the least of me as you would me.” But this is merely my mortal opinion.
I’m still more of the mind to follow Buddhism and let others follow what path they will.
Nevertheless, religion was an amazing, exciting and major part of my childhood. I do not regret the experience of it. I feel fortunate to have had many of those experiences and many of those people in my life.
This test aims to be different. Most tests question your stance on political issues (abortion, gun control, taxes…). This test explains why you think what you think by mapping your personal moral system.
For instance we won’t ask you questions on taxes but try to find what moral views shape your opinion on taxes. Moral views are the major predictors of political opinions.
So…I gave my camera to my boys Shoaib and Wahid. They cruised down to the Minarets and took these photos for me and did a pretty good job of it.
Great photos. I cropped and shaped some of them up a bit. The photos give an excellent idea of the experience of visiting these ancient edifices. I would love to be able to get out there someday and see the Minarets myself. Touch them. Feel their spirit or their vibe so to speak.
Perhaps I’ll get the chance someday.
These links give a bit of background information about the Minarets.
As well as providing a visual cue to a Muslim community, the call to prayer is traditionally given from the top of the minaret. In some of the oldest mosques, such as the Great Mosque of Damascus, minarets originally served as watchtowers illuminated by torches (hence the derivation of the word from the Arabic nur, meaning “light”). In more recent times, the main function of the minaret was to provide a vantage point from which the muezzin can call out the adhan, calling the faithful to prayer. In most modern Mosques, the adhan is called not in the minaret, but in the musallah, or prayer hall, via a microphone and speaker system.
In a practical sense, these are also used for natural air conditioning. As the sun heats the dome, air is drawn in through open windows and up and out of the shaft, thereby causing a natural ventilation.
Minarets have been described as the “gate from heaven and earth”, and as the Arabic language letter alif (which is a straight vertical line).
Took this pic on the road to Herat…near the Airport. It looks hazy because I took it through a bullet proof window. Thick and dirty glass…so it looks like it’s foggy but, really, it’s a clear day. And warm for this time of year. Last year, we had sub-zero weather and 3 feet of snow. This year. It’s 50 degrees out. Can’t complain about that…
Camels are always fascinating for some reason. Wish I could have snapped a clear shot, though. Could have been a great shot. But this one is ok, I suppose.
Opposite side of the road from the Camels. Took this shot going out today, This is the end of the mountains as you hit the plains rolling west through Herat and into Iran. It’s the same route that Alexander and others used to enter Afghanistan over the millenia.
Big old dog…the Afghans usually cut their ears off and use these bad boys for fighting. Note those huge paws. If he was well fed, he’d have to weigh in at 100-125 lbs. Imagine that coming at you. This dog was at one of the Police Stations off the main road to/from Herat. Kind of a guard dog or early warning system. Hear them barking or growling…look out. May be the Talibs coming at you.
The lovely restroom facilities. This is a relatively nice one. ‘Nuff said…lol
This little boy was with his father. They were contractors building a new room on the roof of the police station. Water pumps. In America, this would seem a foreign concept. But. This is how much of the world gets their water. Many do not have this luxury. It’s a walk to the creek or river or a well.
Old school AC. I had no idea. Had to ask.
Herat has a “season” that is called “the 100 days of wind.” It’s actually closer to 120 days. The wind blows. Hard. Constantly. For 120 or more days. HARD! Did I say hard? The wind can knock you down it blows so hard. It’s actually a blessing. Without the wind, it would be stiflingly hot.
Most of Herat is without electricity. More of Herat is without air conditioning. So…they set up a water jug or container of some sort over the brambles in the windows that allows a slow drop into the wood. The wind blows through the brambles into the windows and is cooled by the water. Cools the air in the buildings. AC!
I’m assuming that this is a Mother and daughter out for an afternoon stroll or heading to market.
This is the famous Minarets of Herat. Centuries old. They are starting to fall because of the traffic on the road that runs between them. Personally, I can’t believe that they laid a road between them. If you get up close, you can still see remnants of the oven baked tiles that once covered the Minarets completely.
I was not able to visit these ancient edifices. Afghan friends used my camera and snapped these photos for me. I’d love to see these myself. Walk up and touch them. It would be quite and experience.
A falcon or hawk lazily swoops in between the Minarets searching for prey. There are 5 remaining towers in the Musalla Complex. The others have fallen. I think there were originally 7. The site was built in the 1400s by Queen Gawharshad–wife of one of the Timurid Shahs. The complex consists of the 5 remaining minarets and several shrines and libraries.
The famous Masjid Jami of Herat. One of the most beautiful structures I have ever seen. It rivals the Muhammand Ali Mosque in Cairo for magnificence. This is the peoples Mosque. It is the place where the city congregates each Friday. Building on the Mosque began in 1200 AD. I’m not certain as to how long it took to complete construction. It has been badly damaged several times. Genghis Khan conquered the city on his way through the region and left the mosque severely damaged.
Bush Hatred and Obama Euphoria Are Two Sides of the Same Coin
Consequently, though Bush hatred may weaken as the 43rd president minds his business back home in Texas, and while Obama euphoria may fade as the 44th president is compelled to immerse himself in the daunting ambiguities of power, our universities will continue to educate students to believe that hatred and euphoria reflect political wisdom. Urgent though the problem is, not even the efficient and responsible spending of a $1 trillion stimulus package would begin to address it.
Now that George W. Bush has left the harsh glare of the White House and Barack Obama has settled into the highest office in the land, it might be reasonable to suppose that Bush hatred and Obama euphoria will begin to subside. Unfortunately, there is good reason to doubt that the common sources that have nourished these dangerous political passions will soon lose their potency.
At first glance, Bush hatred and Obama euphoria could not be more different. Hatred of Mr. Bush went well beyond the partisan broadsides typical of democratic politics. For years it disfigured its victims with open, indeed proud, loathing for the very manner in which Mr. Bush walked and talked. It compelled them to denounce the president and his policies as not merely foolish or wrong or contrary to the national interest, but as anathema to everything that made America great.
In contrast, the euphoria surrounding Mr. Obama’s run for president conferred upon the candidate immunity from criticism despite his newness to national politics and lack of executive experience, and regardless of how empty his calls for change. At the same time, it inspired those in its grips, repeatedly bringing them tears of joy throughout the long election season. With Mr. Obama’s victory in November and his inauguration last week, it suffused them with a sense that not only had the promise of America at last been redeemed but that the world could now be transfigured.
In fact, Bush hatred and Obama euphoria — which tend to reveal more about those who feel them than the men at which they are directed — are opposite sides of the same coin. Both represent the triumph of passion over reason. Both are intolerant of dissent. Those wallowing in Bush hatred and those reveling in Obama euphoria frequently regard those who do not share their passion as contemptible and beyond the reach of civilized discussion. Bush hatred and Obama euphoria typically coexist in the same soul. And it is disproportionately members of the intellectual and political class in whose souls they flourish.
To be sure, democratic debate has always been a messy affair in which passion threatens to overwhelm reason. So long as citizens remain free and endowed with a diversity of interests and talents, it will remain so.
In October 1787, amid economic crisis and widespread fears about the new nation’s ability to defend itself, Alexander Hamilton, in the first installment of what was to become the Federalist Papers,surveyed the formidable obstacles to giving the newly crafted Constitution a fair hearing. Some would oppose it, Hamilton observed, out of fear that ratification would diminish their wealth and power. Others would reject it because they hoped to profit from the political disarray that would ensue. The opposition of still others was rooted in “the honest errors of minds led astray by preconceived jealousies and fears.”
Indeed, the best of men, Hamilton acknowledged, were themselves all-too-vulnerable to forming ill-considered political opinions: “So numerous indeed and so powerful are the causes, which serve to give a false bias to the judgment, that we upon many occasions, see wise and good men on the wrong as well as on the right side of questions, of the first magnitude to society.”
In surveying the impediments to bringing reason to bear in politics, it was not Hamilton’s aim to encourage despair over democracy’s prospects but to refine political expectations. “This circumstance, if duly attended to,” he counseled, “would furnish a lesson of moderation to those, who are ever so much persuaded of their being in the right, in any controversy.”
As Hamilton would have supposed, the susceptibility of political judgment to corruption by interest and ambition is as operative in our time as it was in his. What has changed is that those who, by virtue of their education and professional training, would have once been the first to grasp Hamilton’s lesson of moderation are today the leading fomenters of immoderation.
Bush hatred and Obama euphoria are particularly toxic because they thrive in and have been promoted by the news media, whose professional responsibility, it has long been thought, is to gather the facts and analyze their significance, and by the academy, whose scholarly training, it is commonly assumed, reflects an aptitude for and dedication to systematic study and impartial inquiry.
From the avalanche of vehement and ignorant attacks on Bush v. Gore and the oft-made and oft-refuted allegation that the Bush administration lied about WMD in Iraq, to the remarkable lack of interest in Mr. Obama’s career in Illinois politics and the determined indifference to his wrongness about the surge, wide swaths of the media and the academy have concentrated on stoking passions rather than appealing to reason.
Some will speculate that the outbreak of hatred and euphoria in our politics is the result of the transformation of left-liberalism into a religion, its promulgation as dogma by our universities, and students’ absorption of their professors’ lesson of immoderation. This is unfair to religion.
At least it’s unfair to those forms of biblical faith that teach that God’s ways are hidden and mysterious, that all human beings are both deserving of respect and inherently flawed, and that it is idolatry to invest things of this world — certainly the goods that can be achieved through politics — with absolute value. Through these teachings, biblical faith encourages skepticism about grand claims to moral and political authority and an appreciation of the limits of one’s knowledge, both of which well serve liberal democracy.
In contrast, by assembling and maintaining faculties that think alike about politics and think alike that the university curriculum must instill correct political opinions, our universities cultivate intellectual conformity and discourage the exercise of reason in public life. It is not that our universities invest the fundamental principles of liberalism with religious meaning — after all the Declaration of Independence identifies a religious root of our freedom and equality. Rather, they infuse a certain progressive interpretation of our freedom and equality with sacred significance, zealously requiring not only outward obedience to its policy dictates but inner persuasion of the heart and mind. This transforms dissenters into apostates or heretics, and leaders into redeemers.
Mr. Berkowitz is a senior fellow at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution.
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Liberals will deny this phenomenon. They pretend tolerance even as they attempt to censor the collective thought of the nation with their political correctness and similar intellectually empty and diseased philosophies.
