A rainy holiday is a real bummer. You have to cancel your plans for picnics, boating, golf and just about everything fun about Labor Day. Some people forge ahead with their outdoor plans, hoping some miracle will make the sun come out. But often, it doesn’t. Many of us are facing gloomy skies today. So why not make the best of it? Here are seven benefits of a rainy holiday.
1, It’s a perfect excuse to be lazy. You don’t have to jog, hike, bike, or water your lawn.
2, You needn’t dress up, put on make up, or fix your hair, because you’re not going anywhere. . You might even stay in your pajamas, because it’s not likely anyone will stop by.
3. There’s finally enough time to try a new recipe. It so easy to fall back on the same old dishes when you’re busy. Now is the time to surprise yourself or your family with a new entrée. One rainy day, I tried spinach stuffed chicken breasts for the first time. Luckily, I had the ingredients on hand. And when we sat down to dinner, it felt like we were at a gourmet restaurant.
4. Binge on Netflix. Only dummies watch movies all day—right? But now, you can justify it, no matter how well educated you are. After all, it’s raining too hard to drive to the library.
5. Savor a cup of hot tea. Dress it up with honey and lemon. Sit back, dream, and watch the raindrops falling.
Seven benefits of a rainy holiday. Savor a cup of hot tea and enjoy the rain.
6. Let pure rainwater wash your dusty car . If the sun comes out, you don’t even have to towel it dry.
7. Rain relieves late summer allergies because it washes away those nasty pollens like ragweed. Just for a little while, your nose stops dripping and you don’t have to dope yourself up with antihistamines.
Rainy holidays don’t have to be depressing. Put on some romantic music, call someone you love, and have a peaceful, relaxing Labor Day.
The recent law in Texas regarding abortion has many people alarmed, while others are ecstatic. Roe vs. Wade, a supreme court case decided in 1973, made abortion legal. But it was a controversial decision that goes on today, nearly 50 years later. My husband was a Protestant minister, and president of the local chapter of Planned Parenthood at the time. Before that, he had risked his reputation and career to support a woman’s right to control her body. His experience is described in his memoir, “A Preacher Called Sinn,” Here, I’m printing two chapters in that book, which explains why a Minister supported abortion rights
A minister supported abortion rights. His memoir, “A Preacher Called Sinn,” is available on Amazon.
UNDERGROUND RAILROAD
As a high profile campus minister, I was asked to serve on numerous charitable boards. I didn’t have the time to accept all of these invitations, but the one agency I strongly supported was Planned Parenthood. I had served as a hospital chaplain during seminary, and witnessed horrifying atrocities inflicted upon unwanted children. After seeing babies maimed, raped, and burned, I had come to believe this organization had an urgent mission. And so, I agreed to join their board of directors.
At that time, abortion wasn’t legal in the state of Indiana so the organization was aimed at helping to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Serving with me were the local Rabbi, a couple of doctors and nurses, and some college professors. Roman Catholics, officially opposed to birth control, didn’t participate in our activities but neither did they put up a fight. When I was elected as chairman of the board in 1970, it didn’t cause much of a stir.
I was dedicated to the cause. As a youth minister, I knew that young people were having lots of casual sex, and it was mostly the females who paid the price. I had learned that free love was not free after counseling many grief stricken girls who had one night stands or affairs that left them with feelings of shame, but worse yet, unwanted pregnancies. Still, my involvement was limited to monthly meetings and occasional fund raisers
.All of that changed on the day I received a visit from a fellow board member. Dr. Leslie King was a tall woman with curly black hair and hazel eyes. She had emigrated from Germany before World War II and graduated from a women’s medical college. Her husband owned a local jewelry store and was known to be so concerned about the threat of a nuclear attack that they had constructed a bomb shelter beside their home. Dr. King had a large practice and was a busy family physician. Her unscheduled appearance in my office on a weekday could only mean she had something serious on her mind. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me to install a bomb shelter in the Wesley Foundation. I offered her a cup of tea or a glass of cola, but she declined both.
We sat down. ” I need your help, Duane,” she said in a strong German accent.
An alarm went off in my head. I couldn’t imagine how we could afford to build a bomb shelter near the building. “I’ll do what I can,” I answered.
Dr. King pushed her glasses up from the tip of her nose. “It’s about the girls who want an abortion. They come to Planned Parenthood for help, but as you know, it’s illegal in Indiana.”
The abortion issue had never been publicly discussed at our meetings. Topics on the agenda were budgets, personnel, and fund raising. “Are you just talking about a few women?” I asked.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, you’d be very surprised. As a woman doctor, I see a lot of girls in trouble, many of them from very good families.”
“So what can you do? As a doctor, your hands are tied.”
“Not really,” she said calmly, “We have contacts in New York.”
“We? You mean Planned Parenthood?”
She waved her hand as if to brush aside my question. “Have you ever been to New York, Duane?”
My mind went back to the day I’d stood in back of a theatre with Harold Martz while watching South Pacific. It was a pleasant memory of a carefree time. “Just once, but I loved it.” I said with a smile.
Dr. King frowned. ‘The girls I send there aren’t on a pleasure trip. And many of them have bad experiences.”
This highly respected doctor was helping women to have abortions? I couldn’t wrap my mind around any of it. I said nothing and waited for her to continue. “These young girls, many of them come from small towns and have never been to a big city. They find the name of a doctor in a New York phone book or newspaper, but all they have is an address. They sometimes get stranded at airports and train stations, with no idea of where to stay. They’re lonely and scared. Worse yet, many of the clinics are dirty, with incompetent practitioners.”
I was still mystified. “You’ve asked for my help, but what can I do?”
Dr. King leaned forward, her voice pulsing with intensity. “I’m asking you to go to New York as my representative. I want you to check out the clinics at a list of facilities I will give you. Make sure these places are clean and comfortable. Also, arrange for a decent hotel where the girls can have a safe stay.”
“But why are you asking me to do this? Wouldn’t a nurse be more suited to the task?”
She shook her head. “No, these girls need more than medical care. They should have counseling from a trained person with spiritual values to help them analyze other alternatives such as adoption, or keeping the child. If they decide upon an abortion as a last resort, they need someone to guide them through that sad journey.”
I broke out in a cold sweat. “Do you realize what a risk I would be taking? My board is upset about my running a coffee house. How would they react if they thought I was helping to run an underground railroad for abortion?”
“I know all about that meeting you had with your board. And I also know you’re a strong man with the courage of your convictions. You have the backing of many prominent people in this town..”
I I felt like I was walking into quicksand. “A coffee house is one thing. Abortion is something else, altogether.”
“Come on, Duane,” Dr. King said. “I know, from my practice, that you’ve counseled many young girls with unwanted pregnancies. They tell me you’re a minister who listens to their troubles without making them feel dirty or ashamed. And I know of at least two young women you’ve talked out of suicide.”
“How do these things get around?” I asked. “I’ve never divulged a word about these situations, even to my own wife.”
“Even so, you know how tragic an unwanted pregnancy can be.”
“Of course.” The tear streaked faces of young women flashed through my mind as I recalled several middle-of-the-night phone calls. At least twice, I’d jumped out of bed and gone straight to the women’s dormitory, although it was against the rules at the time to have a man in their room. I had saved several lives, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten there in time for one girl who succeeded in taking her own life.
Dr. King clasped her hands as if in prayer. “Please help these girls. I know that you are worried about the legal consequences, but…”
I raised my hand to interrupt. “I have to think about my family.”
The doctor shook her head. “Let me finish what I was about to say. Have you heard of the Clergymen’s Consultation Service?”
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of this network of clergy that started with the Presbyterian Church. Right now, they have more than a thousand members from various denominations who are willing to take professional and legal risks to change social attitudes and support safe abortion. I will sponsor your membership and pay your fees. The organization will insure you against liability.”
My head filled with internal static. I could scarcely believe that the very same Presbyterian Church in which I had been raised was involved. But of course, it made sense. Presbyterians had always been the most liberal of the mainstream Protestant religions.
“What I’m asking you to do has no financial rewards. Only your expenses will be paid,” Dr. King said
I felt relieved that she wanted to send me on a mission of mercy, pure and simple. My mind cleared as I made my decision.
So there I was, back in New York City after twenty years. It hadn’t changed much, except for many more high rises. The Big Apple still had that same energy and intensity I’d loved—but this time, I would not see any Broadway shows. Dr. King had provided me with a list of four clinics for inspection. I chose the one which had an impressive staff and a spotless physical facility
Within a few days, the modus operandi was set in place: A pregnant woman arriving at the airport was told to look for a lady wearing a colorful straw hat. She would approach the lady wearing the hat and ask for her credentials. As soon as the contact had been verified, the patient would be driven to a clinic, have her procedure, and spend a few hours in recovery. Ideally, someone would drive her back to the airport so she could arrive home that same evening with no one the wiser. If that was not possible, safe lodging at a clean, inexpensive hotel or an overnight stay would be arranged. The cost of the trip and procedure was set at $400, which barely covered expenses
Soon, I was seeing women from every race, religion, and social class who were thinking of an abortion. Many of our city’s most prominent citizens came to me with their daughters. As time went by, I sometimes recognized girls I had helped, but I pretended not to see them. Sometime I worried about being approached by a hostile person who regretted her decision, but in fact, the opposite often came true. In dark shadows along city streets and in quiet corners of stores and restaurants, I’d often feel a hand on my arm while someone whispered, “thanks for helping me.” I would merely nod my head, and move on. However, abortion was an emotional issue which often divided families. I learned that the hard way at, of all places, a wedding
. SURPRISE ATTACK FROM RIGHT-TO-LIFE
I was often asked to perform wedding ceremonies for students who didn’t want to be married in a church. Such was the case when the daughter of a wealthy banker asked me to officiate at her wedding held at the Terre Haute Country Club, a luxurious white stucco building set far back in a wooded area, and overlooking a carefully manicured golf course.
April weather in Indiana is volatile and unpredictable, but on that particular day, the skies were clear, with temperatures in the sixties. I was invited to the rehearsal dinner on a Friday night, and had hurried out to the country club after a long meeting with some students organizing a Vietnam War protest. I arrived as cocktails were being served on the patio. The air smelled of lilacs and expensive perfume, while the setting sun cast an orange and purple glow across the sky
I opted for a glass of Chardonnay, which didn’t go down well on an empty stomach. Feeling a little woozy, I ducked into the men’s room to splash some cold water on my face. As I bent over the sink to turn on the faucet, I felt a hand between my shoulder blades and a low voice in my ear “Murderer.”
Startled, I fell forward against the wall mirror and cracked my head. I turned around and saw the bride’s uncle, a hulking mass of a man with black, oil slicked hair, and a shiny forehead.
He leaned in, spraying my face with saliva. “You think I don’t know you’re killing babies?” he snarled.
Now I understood. This was about my involvement with Planned Parenthood; but it didn’t make sense. Why would the man’s niece ask me to perform her marriage ceremony if her uncle felt this way? I felt blood trickling from my nose, and reached for a towel to wipe my face.
Before I could respond, the door swung open and a thin, dark haired woman in a blue silk dress strode into the men’s room. “Now, Dick,” she called out. “This is my daughter’s wedding. She saw you following Reverend Sinn, and she knew that you were going to start an argument. He is our invited guest. Now, you go back in the dining room and sit down and be quiet. If you can’t do that, then please leave.”
Dick shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
The bride’s mother wrung her hands. ‘I’m so very sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know he would do this. He knows I don’t agree with his stance on abortion, but he’s very active in the National Right to Life organization, and he sometimes gets carried away.”
My first impulse was to walk out the door and tell them to find themselves another minister. But the lady’s sincere remorse persuaded me to stay. If I made a scene and left them without a minister, it would ruin a joyous occasion. Somehow, I got through the rest of the evening. I’m sure a gourmet meal was served, but I could not tell you what was on the dinner table. And I must admit, I watched my back on the way to my car that night.
After the Supreme Court’s landmark decision on Roe vs. Wade in 1973, I assumed the abortion controversy had been settled. Little did I know the storm would still be raging on into the twenty first century and even now, as I write this book.
There are some serious disasters affecting our country right now. California wildfires. The Covid-19 pandemic. Our disastrous withdrawal from the war in Afghanistan. And now, Hurricane Ida. Once upon a time, historians looked upon wars and natural disasters as nature’s way of controlling the population. However, no one thinks that way anymore. We look to our leaders to prevent such events, or get them under control once they occur. Unfortunately, some things can’t be fixed.
Governor Newsom is undergoing a recall election in California right now. He’s getting blamed for a lot of things, and one of them is the wildfires. . They say he could have prevented them if he’d managed the forest growth better. Newsom promised to clear underbrush and thin forests with prescribed burns and other techniques, Wow. Should our governors go all over the states chopping down trees ? That would be an unimaginably complex undertaking, involving a lot of private and public property. I don’t follow California politics, and I have no opinion as to Governor Newsom’s competence. Nevertheless, I think the extreme heat was the main cause of the wildfires.
The Covid-19 virus was a political football from the git-go. President Trump didn’t take it seriously. He predicted the epidemic would be over by Easter of 2020. And even though he pushed through the development of a vaccine, it wasn’t enough for the voters. Consequently, he lost to Biden, who everyone thought would get the virus under control.
Biden’s doing his best to get everyone vaccinated, but we’re still in the midst of a pandemic It seems to me we’re expecting miracles from our presidents and state governors. They can try, but they can’t outwit nature.
And now, we have Hurricane Ida. Homes destroyed. Three weeks without power in New Orleans. No way to cook or run your air conditioner. The misery goes on and on. Yes FEMA can step in and help rescue stranded people, provide food and supplies and shelter. But in the end, the damage was done by an act of nature and there’s nothing any one could have done to prevent it from happening 20 years after Katrina..
Some things can’t be fixed. No one blamed the Roman Emperor when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 29 AD.
Remember the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 29 AD? The city of Pompeii and surrounding cities were buried under volcanic ash. Thousands were killed. Titus was the Roman Emperor at the time, and he organized a huge relief effort to help the victims of the disaster. But there’s no record of anyone complaining that he didn’t do enough.
Be careful what you post on social media. We’ve been hearing that for years—ever since Facebook began. And yet, some people still haven’t got the message. I have a friend who hires young people for jobs that don’t require a college degree. So how does he check them out? First, he’ll do a routine background check. But he doesn’t stop there. Before he’s even received that first report, he’s already googled the job seeker’s Facebook. There’s hardly a twenty something alive who doesn’t have an account. And he always turns down candidates with what he considers offensive posts.
Facebook can cost you a job. A cover photo like this may turn off prospective employers.
What’s offensive? First and foremost, young women who post provocative pictures of themselves. It’s amazing how many do. “Hot” pictures of a woman in underwear with her tongue hanging out may attract a person hiring pole dancers. But for an ordinary position like a restaurant server or office clerk, it’s usually a deal breaker. You have to wonder what these girls are thinking. Are they hoping to attract a man? If they do, it’s going to be the wrong type. Like maybe an abuser or sex addict or even a serial killer.
The second worst turnoff is vulgar, four letter words or posters—especially if they’re accompanied by hostility. Who wants a potty mouthed, outspoken angry person working in their organization?
Political rants and raves may offend an employer who doesn’t share your views. Best wait until you’re safely retired to express your opinion about elected officials.
Sometimes, a job candidate won’t have a Facebook page. Or if they do, they don’t show their picture, and don’t post.. That’s not a good thing either. The person may or may not have something to hide. Actually, they could simply be a private person who isn’t comfortable posting on Facebook. But that doesn’t help a prospective employer at all. If he can’t find out a little bit more about you, he may hire the person who has a “good” Facebook page.
What attracts employers? Family pictures are always appealing. You love your mom and dad and brothers and sisters. You enjoy holiday gatherings. All of which means you’re a normal, caring human being. Next are sports and school pictures. Anyone who plays volleyball or tennis is probably in good health, and well disciplined. Vacation pictures show that you are well rounded and like to relax. Just don’t show yourself at a nude beach.
Be careful what you post on social media apps like Instagram, too.
The horrifying explosion at the Kabul airport on 8/26/21 took the lives of 13 American servicemen and hundreds of Afghan citizens. Those of us living in the United States of America are viewing the evacuation of Afghanistan more like an abandonment. However, the politicians advising the president have publicly stated that they’re not worried at all, because “people don’t vote on foreign policy.” When several Afghanistan men fell to their death from an airplane while trying to escape, Biden shrugged and said , “that happened yesterday.” They’re betting that voters care more about the size of their 40lKs than the misguided evacuation of Afghanistan as we exit the war. But you have to wonder. Will Americans really forget?
Will American’s Really Forget? On election day, will they remember 8/26/21?
The president’s advisors are comparing the Afghan withdrawal to the evacuation of Saigon at the end of the Vietnam war. However the two events cannot be compared.
According to Wikipedia ” the capture of the city was preceded by Operation Frequent Wind, the evacuation of almost all American civilian and military personnel in Saigon, along with tens of thousands of South Vietnamese civilians who had been associated with the Republic of Vietnam. A few Americans chose not to be evacuated. United States ground combat units had left South Vietnam more than two years prior to the fall of Saigon and were not available to assist with either the defense of Saigon or the evacuation. The evacuation was the largest helicopter evacuation in history. In addition to the flight of refugees, the end of the war and the institution of new rules by the communists contributed to a decline in the city’s population.”
There was no Operation Frequent Wind when Biden announced we were withdrawing from the Afghanistan War by August 31. In fact, he turned over the names of Americans and Afghan helpers to the Taliban, actually believing that would insure the safety of those fleeing the country. It’s hard to believe that anyone with an ounce of common sense would be so gullible. Much less the President of the United States and his Generals.
Biden has threatened : “We will hunt you down and make you pay.” But how is he going to do that without continuing the war in Afghanistan? They launched a drone strike Friday night against some Isis stronghold, but it seems like a tepid move than doesn’t compensate for the horrific loss of life at the Kabul airport.
What will happen in the next election? Consumer sentiment has dropped to its lowest point since 2011. Will Americans really forget the administration’s bungled evacuation plan when exiting the Afghan War? Will we care more about the size of our bank accounts, than the tragedy of August 26? Are we really that materialistic and shallow? It remains to be seen.
Farmers Markets Help Weight Control. Summer is the best time to lose weight.
We Hoosiers have been blessed this summer. Lots of rain, and abundant crops. Which means farmers markets have a lavish array of fresh produce. Vine ripened, red and yellow tomatoes. Sweet, juicy cantaloupe and watermelon. Fresh picked corn. Peppers. Some are even selling colorful bouquets of coxcomb flowers to decorate your living room and take your mind off food. Now is the best time of year to try and lose weight. Farmer’s markets help weight control by providing us with the best “diet” food on earth.
There are a few unfortunate people who don’t like tomatoes. I’m not one of them. I keep a basketful in my kitchen. When you get the hungries, slice a tomato, add a little salt, and any cravings for high calorie snacks disappear. Here’s the good news: One small tomato has only 15 calories. Tomatoes are a source of the antioxidant lycopene, which has been linked to many health benefits, including reduced risk of heart disease and cancer. They also provide vitamin C, potassium, folate, and vitamin K.
Sweet corn is a great substitute for potatoes. A baked potato has 161 calories vs. 59 calories for an ear of corn. Butter will add extra calories to both. Caution: Do not overcook corn. If you do, it will taste tough and starchy. Boil for no more than 15 minutes.
Some folks are allergic to watermelon, but most aren’t. One problem is that they’re so big, it’s a challenge to consume the whole melon while still fresh. But as I mentioned in my blog last month, it can be frozen in chunks to use in smoothies. There are only 49 calories in a cup of watermelon, but it has a high water content, which makes you feel full. And it has beneficial nutrients like Vitamins A and C.
Zucchini squash isn’t one of my favorite veggies, but it’s colorful and crisp.. When serving dip to guests, substitute zucchini slices for potato chips. Did you know that 10 potato chips have 100 calories, while 10 zucchini slices have almost none?
Thank heaven for local farmers help with weight control. Fill your tummy with fresh fruits and veggies, and you’re bound to lose a few pounds.
Educated people have higher incomes and better health habits, statistically speaking. Therefore, in a town with 5 colleges or institutions of higher education, our city should be thriving. But we’re not. The poverty rate is 26%, and according to the latest census, our population is dwindling. The juxtaposition of highly educated people with the poor and homeless continues to puzzle our leaders. If you drive through the city, you will see poverty’s face in a college town:
Poverty’s face in a college town.. How can educated people turn a blind eye?
Walking past the library is a man holding a can of pop in his left hand, and a cigarette in the other. Across the street, a woman puffs away while wandering aimlessly. You turn the corner and drive into the inner city. There’s been a lot of effort to restore old properties, and government subsidized housing in run down neighborhoods. But it’s not enough. You’re still seeing deteriorating houses, porches filled with ripped , moldy furniture. Stray shopping carts. Homeless folks squatting outside the CVS store. People walking on crumbling side walks or through alleys filled with pot holes. Where are they going? Walking to the Dollar Store, maybe. Or perhaps to a church soup kitchen. Many are on some type of government assistance. They’re either too sick to work, or too uneducated or unskilled to hold any type of job. Some have mental health or drug addiction problems.
A few movers and shakers have made a valiant effort to improve our city’s optics. They’ve commissioned outdoor sculptures, and implemented a back- to -the- river project to enhance the area around the Wabash River—our most underutilized asset, at this point. They’ve even built a new convention center.
Put lipstick on a pig, and it’s still a pig. . There’s something wrong. Possibly it starts with the attitude of the “old guard.” People who’ve lived here all their lives, comfortable with their lovely homes, club memberships, and closed circles of family and friends
And then, there’s the CSX railroad terminal, which pollutes the city with high levels of diesel fuel. The town has 40 railway crossings, and none of them are pretty. There’s nothing aesthetically appealing about waiting while a long, ugly freight train rumbles by, or even decides to stop and regroup, creating mile long traffic stalls.
Our city is about to receive 38 million dollars in post covid-19 stimulus money, but the politicians haven’t decided what to do with it. Seems to me that if we want to improve our quality of life, we should start at the bottom and work our way up. Maybe open a center in the city’s core where the wandering smokers and pop drinkers can find some respite or free, walk-in counseling. Offer healthy snacks (no pop machines, please). Show videos on nutrition and smoking cessation. In a town full of educated people, we have to stop turning a blind eye to the misery right under our noses.
