Author: willishmoore (Page 11 of 26)

The pop song—Both Sides Now —was written by Canadian singer, song writer, Joni Mitchell in1969. She only put it in her album a couple of years later. I suspect she decided to go on and claim it after Judy Collins made it a hit record. But that’s another matter. The ear-worm in my head is “…it’s cloud’s illusions I recall….”—and if I were a gambler, I’d wager that it is not only in yours too, but also in the ears of every “recall” of the tune.

Tunes have a way of hitchhiking in our heads in latent repose only to leap full-blown into present reality So there it lay ensconced quietly in your brain —(until you read this). Now that we have resurrected that delightful oldie, let’s explore a building block it provides;I really believe Joni Mitchell was thinking of actual puffy white clouds, such as we’re beginning to see as summertime approaches.

As a child did you ever lie in the grass, or some level open place and watch the puffy white clouds drift overhead? If so, it is likely that you began to see images formed in the sky; an elephant, a monkey, dog, cat, a tree, maybe even ,,,ice cream castles in the air…It is an active and creative mental exercise of joy and excitement. The sky is your canvas, your mind the palette, and your eyes are the paintbrush.

One warm summer afternoon, when I was about ten years old, I was lying in my grandparents backyard. The sky was Bluebird-blue, puffy white clouds floated above. The gentle breeze lulled me into a daydream. As I followed one fascinating cloud in it’s East-to-West drift, the Windmill came in to view. Only the clouds, sky, and windmill were in my field of view—-the windmill seemed to be falling toward me! I jumped up and ran away, fast! At a safe distance, I turned around and looked up. The windmill was still standing tall and silent as always. With the perspective of the horizon, the trees, and clouds, I could see that only the clouds were moving. Perspective vaporized my panic.

Joni Mitchell sang “.. i’ve looked at clouds from both sides now….It’s cloud’s illusions I recall… Those illusions, that summer day in Deepstep, GA taught me that things are not always as they seem and can be frightening; or, can be joyful. Joy comes from knowing what wherever we are, or whatever may happen to us joy, though hidden, is in the midst of things.

One of my favorite demonstrations of God’s care is recorded in Exodus. The Children of Israeli left their bondage in Egypt to cross the Reed Sea, being led by God. There they would find themselves in harsh wilderness, under the scorching sun by day. God provided a column of cloud, sheltering them as they traveled the wilderness; as it turned out—for forty years–they were shielded from the scorching sun by this faithful column of cloud.

In the book of Hebrews there is a cloud metaphor that resonates significantly with me. The writer reminds the Christian community that they are supported and encouraged by a great Cloud of Witnesses, reminding them that they are not alone as they face difficulties, even suffering. It is a stalwart reminder for all of us; when we face discouragement, or feel lonely we have the great cloud of witnesses…!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

For full disclosure; Jennifer and I are “fostering”? a cat—Millie: she is a beautiful Siamese cat. Backstory; her parents could not afford essential, expensive eye surgery, and had to give her up. After a long rehab at the veterinarian’s rescue shelter, she was put up for adoption. It touched our hearts. So—we are fostering her for a while. We’ll see how Millie acclimates to our home. After surgery, staying for months recovering, and then our long trip (punctuated by noisy traffic), she is very cautious. Acclimation, we are told, may take a while.

Purina, the famous animal food (and everything animal) supplier, says, Cats love catnip because it makes them feel good. As your cat licks and rubs on the herb, the release of nepetalactone sets off a euphoric reaction. Scientists aren’t sure exactly why this happens, but many believe cats are responding to the nepetalactone as though it is a pheromone. I wondered if Catnip would help Millie. Today I bought a package of Catnip.

We hope Catnip will help Millie feel more welcome. I do not speak “Feline.” How do you communicate—for understanding—on both sides? I speak English—or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Millie speaks feline. Some day good communication will take place, I’m told. Jennifer, a teacher, says that even in the education environment a defined vocabulary is crucial for coalitions to have clear understanding of each other.

Can it be that part of the disparate condition of our current society is that we speak before we hear?—do we speak before listening with understanding—without taking in clearly what the other is saying—or worse, our not trying to understand? I think of the old story of a blacksmith teaching his apprentice; The old blacksmith said to his apprentice, “When I take this red-hot horseshoe out of the fire, and lay it on the anvil. I will nod my head. Then hit it with the hammer.” The apprentice did so. Now the apprentice is the village blacksmith.

Hearing without listening reminds me of a story in this vein Rev. Don Haynes liked to tell; A man on a curvy mountain road met a woman in a convertible driving driving very fast. He shouted to her, “Pig!!!” “Dog!” she shouted back, and immediately hit the huge wild hog in the road ahead. Kinda describes reactionary conversations we hear too often among non-listeners.

More than once in the New Testament, Jesus urged his followers to listen. A wag once said, ” God gave us two ears and one mouth, so that we should listen twice and speak once.” Jesus also taught his followers to speak in a straight forward manner. Avoid misrepresenting the truth, and keep a good spirit between each other. Also, the Apostle Paul often taught that we should speak in kind and loving ways so that harmony is maintained, or developed between each other.

To a great extent, you and I invite how others will respond to us—not entirely, but close enough that good communication is more likely to develop. Maybe there should be “Catnip” for people. No, not a package such as what I bought at the pet store today, but genuine listening can help others feel good—something like what Catnip does for cats.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

Honey never expires. You will not find a “Use by…” notice on a container of honey.
Honey is often credited as a multi use wonder, known to soothe sore throats, heal burns, and add a little sweetness to drinks and desserts. But if a bottle in the back of your pantry has been collecting dust, you might be wondering if it’s safe to eat. Don’t worry, it is: as long as it’s stored properly, honey will never expire. When archaeologists who unsealed King Tut’s tomb in 1923—sealed containers of honey were found. It was good, proven by their performing a not-so-scientific taste test. As a result, these researchers reported this 3,000-year-old honey still tasted—sweet. Thus, it was discovered that honey has an endless shelf life; (Adapted from HONEY).

More than 20,000 species of bees cohabitate our good earth with us. The vast majority of these bees do not produce honey. Less than 4% of all bees — around 800 species — are known to turn nectar into honey; in the U.S. that job is most commonly undertaken by Apis mellifera, aka the European honey bee.Honey’s preservative properties have a lot to do with how little water it contains. Some 80% of honey is made up of sugar, with only 18% being water. Having so little moisture makes it difficult for bacteria and microorganisms to survive. Honey is also so thick, little oxygen can penetrate — another barrier to bacteria’s growth. Plus, the substance is extremely acidic, thanks to a special enzyme in bee stomachs called glucose oxidase. When mixed with nectar to make honey, the enzyme produces gluconic acid and hydrogen peroxide, byproducts that lower the sweetener’s pH level and kill off bacteria. (Adapted from USDA Agricultural Research Service).

There is a caveat to the durability of honey: In spite of honey’s built-in natural preservatives, according to USDA ARS, it is possible for honey to spoil—storing honey in improperly sealed containers. In a sealed container, honey is safe from humidity, but when left open it can absorb moisture that makes it possible for bacteria to survive. In most cases, honey can be safely stored for years on end, though the USDA suggests consuming it within 12 months for the best flavor.

As a famine ravaged their land, Joseph’s brothers went to Egypt to negotiate for grain. Their father, Jacob, sent them with gifts in hopes to persuade generosity. Among the gifts was honey. There are dozens more references to honey in the Bible following this reference in Genesis. This is a wild —and a totally undocumented, off-the-charts speculation, but what if, that honey found by the archaeologists was some of the honey old Jacob sent with his sons to Egypt? As I said, it is a wild speculation!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

Crawfish, Crayfish, Crawdads? Actually, each is a misnomer; they aren’t really Fish. What you call them may as well depend on your mood at the time. The Columbia Journalism Review suggested that after author Celia Owens appeared on television—and the popularity of her book-become-movie exploded onto the scene—interest in Where the Crawdads Sing soared—people rushed to Merriam-Webster with questions.

Apparently the questions weren’t so much “What is a (Crawdad, Crawfish…etc) but Where do they sing? They don’t. CJC said if they sing, it’s in the wilderness. Even then if you hear them sing, then you’re probably imagining it —they said. However, Merriam-Webster goes on to bring clarity to the overarching question: “What is a Crawdad?” Crawdad is the synonym of the words crawfish and crayfish,  used chiefly west of the Appalachians to mean the aquatic animal that looks like a small lobster and lives in rivers and streams.

Call it what you will—we Americans tend to have fun with verbosity in many ways, not the least of which is —names. I’ll zero in on “Crawfish,” —even if it isn’t a fish. Right here in Georgia there is an annual Crawfish Festival-–in Woodbine, GA,—this year the date is April 28, 2023. Not to be outdone by nearby Kingsland, GA (which holds an annual Catfish Festival,”) Woodbine lays out succulent feasts not only of Crawfish, but also a wide array of seafood delicacies; the city proclaims the fulsome supply to be of —such mouth watering treats as Crawfish Boil, Crawfish Woodbine Etoufee (a Cajun stew of shellfish served over rice), Homemade Desserts, Barbecue, Funnel Cakes, Ice Cream, Boiled Peanuts, and much more…available Friday night and all day Saturday. The Woodbine United Methodist Church and Woodbine City Hall restrooms will be open for public use. (I, being a retired United Methodist Minister, had to throw in that reference).

A Crawfish festival, in places like Woodbine, GA, and NOLA (New Orleans LA–for the benighted) is a name that draws crowds, especially when linked to “Festival.” It’s like setting Catnip for cats, or the wafting aroma of popcorn in a movie. Whatever name you call it, “A______ Festival,” is seconded to the siren call of “festival”. Crowds that show up at these Crawfish Festivals (and I’ve only named two) underscore the popularity of this delicacy.

And. Names have a way of sticking; sometimes in not-to-good ways (as in a nickname like “Big Mike” Or sometimes in good ways, like “Sunshine.” Naming is one of the first actions of God in Creation stories. Before Jesus was born, significant plans were announced about naming him. Also I think of Jesus’ own mighty act in naming. I think of when Jesus changed the name of Simon, one of Jesus’ Disciples. Jesus knew this very man would deny him— not once but three times—yet he was the one Jesus basically left in charge of his Divine legacy. Jesus named Simon Peter, “The Rock,” the foundation of Jesus’ ministry for eternity. Names matter, especially when they bring joy! Think of the great joy young parents have in naming their baby!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

Growing up in Deepstep, GA, on the banks of delightful Deepstep Creek, I became familiar with ”Ground Puppies”—that’s what we called them. It was years later, that I heard they are also called salamanders. We often disturbed the marshy edges of the creek and surrounding muddy leafy ground looking for the little buggers… as if by magic, we found the little slimy, wiggly, brown, ground puppies. Sometimes we did so simply to see if we could find one. 

Usually, we searched for them because they were excellent fish bait—and often easier than trying to “grunt” worms—a common method of coaxing earthworms out of the ground. We used an abandoned hoe handle or other sturdy stick; poked it into the dirt six or more inches deep and wiggled it vigorously. Disturbing the ground brought all the worms we needed to the surface. 

But I digress; In due time, I learned that ground puppies, these delicate little creatures are Salamanders (sometimes called Mud Puppies) —and there are tons of varieties (well, not really tons—but you get the point). The Salamander contributes significantly to our ecosystem. Our lives are made better because they exist. Among other things they eat pests like mosquitoes, and salamanders“… help keep our forests and aquatic systems along with the benefits those ecosystems provide for the American people,” according to Jason Goldberg, a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) biologist. 

Salamanders are amphibians, with unusual qualities; their limbs extend horizontally from their bodies. If they lose a limb, or a part of their body is damaged, they can regenerate the wounded—or lost limb—and rehabilitate it to its former full function. Medical researchers are attempting to discover this remarkable faculty, in hopes of incorporating it into human healing. 

Unfortunately, there is a more dire threat to Salamanders than my friends and I posed on the banks of Deepstep Creek. Salamanders are threatened by the Bsal fungus which originated in Asia or Europe. Too often foreign pests, diseases and harmful entities are imported. Because such intrusions happen too often, we tend to take a laissez-faire approach allowing some threats to our ecosystem get a hold. 

In 2016, the U. S. Fish and Wildlife service issued a rule curtailing their interstate transportation. This rule prohibits the importation or interstate transport of the listed species and samples derived from them unless a permit is issued. By understanding the threat of the Bsal Fungus before its arrival, gives Fish and Wildlife managers a head start on limiting if not preventing its incursion. 

Kitty Kalen’s song “Little Things Mean a Lot,” although written as a romantic message, reminds me of Ground Puppies and Jesus. “Give me your arm as we cross the street / Call me at six on the dot / A line a day when you’re far away / Little things mean a lot.” Ground Puppies, tiny as they are, matter a lot to a couple of little boys headed off to the old fishing hole. As for Jesus, i think old Blind Bartimaeus, sitting on the Jericho Road; then Jesus comes along and turns his full attention to this lonely, overlooked man. It was a little thing but look what a difference it made! 

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023 

Dear Readers, Please be patient with fridayswithwillis—The Formatting and Publishing functions have gone wonky this week. We’re working on them, and hope to get this week’s Post out to you ASAP.

Thank you!

Some years ago, Reader’s Digest carried a serial called “My Most Unforgettable Character.” Each issue was a story about some person and the influence made upon that writer. Merriam-Webster has more definitions of character than Van Camp has Pork ‘n Beans. They go all the way from “…moral excellence and firmness,” “… a person marked by notable or conspicuous traits,” to “… a graphic symbol”–and then some. But I’m thinking of  “…moral excellence and firmness.”

And I’m thinking of my maternal grandfather, who for me represented moral excellence and firmness. He was truly a country gentleman. I grew up across the road from his home, and a stone’s throw from his country store. During WWII his store had a side room that housed my dad’s barbershop, operated Friday nights and Saturdays; the rest of the week my dad farmed. The closeness of the store and my dad’s shop found me toddling around the premises often.

After The War, Grandaddy built a larger, brick general store, complete with a meat market, walk-in cooler, and hardware section. Across the front of the store, above the awning—black letters on a white background was emblazoned in letters two feet high—T. JEFF VEAL, SR GOAT TOWN GA. As the concrete floor was being poured, he had his youngest four grandchildren stand in doorways — two in each doorwar– and embed our footprints.

It was in that store where I witnessed the core of his character. One day, a salesman popped in, jovially greeting everyone. Grinning and glancing around, he asked, “Are there any women in here?” Grandaddy knew the man was preparing to tell unsavory jokes. Looking straight at the salesman he said calmly, “No. But there is a gentleman here.” Immediately, the salesman’s countenance changed. He took out his order book and turned to the business for which he came. I have never forgotten that scene.

Another vivid memory also arises from the post-War era. Our little Methodist church was part or a four point circuit; meaning we shared a pastor with three other country churches. Often, after worship was over, and the minister and his family were preparing to leave—with whichever family had invited them to Sunday dinner; Grandaddy would quietly say to him; “When y’all finish dinner, come over to my store.” Some time in the afternoon, He never opened his store for business on Sundays—yet Grandaddy would meet the minister and his family at the store. He would load them up with groceries, and other necessities, saying “I hope this helps a little.”

As Grandaddy’s family grew, so did his reputation as a trustworthy neighbor. In those days, it was common that any drunk black man would be caught and put in jail. Often Grandaddy would be awakened in the middle of the night by a man’s family, asking him to bail out a family member—which he did readily. “Mr. Jeff,” as he was known could always be counted on.

I recall a passage from the Book of Proverbs that I consider a genuine description of Grandaddy’s character; A good reputation is better than much wealth;
    high esteem is better than silver and gold.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

July 2020, one of my first vignettes in Fridayswithwillis.com, was about the Constellation Orion. We can only speculate that the first human who gazed into the skies was awestruck. However, the Psalmist gives us a glimpse into human wonder at the immeasurable Universe.

Orion is a prominent constellation located on the celestial equator and visible throughout the world. It is one of the most conspicuous and recognizable constellations in the night sky. It is named after Orion, a hunter in Greek mythology. (Space.com) On clear Spring nights in Northeast Atlanta (such as tonight as I write this), Orion beams brightly in the Southwest sky. When all other heavenly bodies are dimed, or cannot be seen for whatever reason Orion silently sings its silent sonata.

Even at 1,359 Light Years away from Earth, Orion is clearly visible to the naked eye. Monica Young, of “Sky & Telescope,” said that on the week of September 15, 2021, the James Webb Space Telescope gave us  “…a clearer picture of the giant stellar nursery…” –The Orion Nebula. By way of this magnificent telescope, not only are we learning more about the Orion Nebula, but also hundreds of thousands more compositions (nebula, planets, galaxies…the list goes on) in the Universe.

The strongest affection and utmost zeal should, I think, promote the studies concerned with the most beautiful objects. This is the discipline that deals with the universe’s divine revolutions, the stars’ motions, sizes, distances, risings and settings . . . for what is more beautiful than heaven?”~Nicolaus Copernicus, Astronomer

Humankind from our beginning has always looked with wonder at the skies. Our ancestors, until fewer than a thousand years ago, thought the plane of Earth was a huge circle, physically bounded by the horizon; hovering over this plane was a dome, spangled with myriad lights—some of them gods or havens for gods—each controlling some aspect of life on earth. Astrologers tried to divine actions and plans attributed to those gods.

Astronomers, on the other hand, dug deeply into the science of the heavens. Even with their early instruments and observations, they laid much of the foundation of what became the first human landing on the moon; the James Webb Space Telescope, only confirms and expands their early discoveries. James Webb, NASA, and our Astronauts who walked on the Moon do not face Excommunication from their church, nor criminal prosecution from their government, as the first astronomers did: they are celebrated! Of course we cannot know for sure, but some speculate that the Star of Bethlehem, sought by the Wise Men of the East, may have seen the Orion Constellation.

Those early skygazers simply echo the Psalmist, looking into that vast unknown; it is almost as if they too ask, “… what am I, that you acknowledge me?” Maybe it was Orion and Pleiades that gave perspective to their lives. Jesus himself pointed out his listeners that God cares for and provides for us. Acknowledging our magnificent, massive universe did not escape notice by the fathers of our faith. The Book of Job extols the wonders of Orion, and the Pleiades. Not once but twice! The prophet Amos stands in awestruck wonder pondering the starry skies, having learned their names from his forebears. We gaze in wonder at the heavens, with our ever intensifying studies; we simply build on foundations and trails laid by those early stargazers.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore

Today is St. Patrick’s Day. I easily remember March 17, because it is the birthday of my Cousin, Glenda. We grew up together in Deepstep, GA. When her dad became a Methodist minister they moved—as Methodist clergy do. When I was a sophomore in college, I worked with him part time at his church, and part time in a State Park. He treated me like his son and I learned a lot. In alabyrinthian way, that summer is how I met Paige. Five years later I married her. But that’s another story.

There are many stories about St. Patrick, whose death we recognise today—with green and gusto! (As it turns out, it is not like any Wake you’ve ever seen; it is uproariously celebrating—kinda like a New Orleans funeral). There is green everywhere. According to folklore, you get pinched on St. Patrick’s Day for not wearing green because green makes you invisible to leprechauns. Leprechauns like to pinch people (because they can!). So. Wear the Green! If you are a stickler for exactitude, Shamrock green is a strong, highly saturated color with the hex code #009E60, also commonly referred to as Irish green.

As green rules the day, multitudes of stores promote green merchandise—parades on St. Patrick’s Day are awash in green. Some cities, located on rivers, pour potable coloring in the river, turning it green for the day. Wearing of the green is ubiquitous on St. Patrick’s Day—not because folks are afraid of being pinched by a Leprechaun, but mainly to enter into the festive spirit of the day.

Leprechauns in Irish folklore are tiny people with powers for good and evil. Sometimes considered cranky little old people whose main contribution was making or repairing shoes for other mystical people. They were considered to hoard gold, keeping it hidden from greedy folks. The legend has it that Leprechauns have a pot of gold. “If you catch a Leprechaun you can have the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. First you have to catch him. Then, there’s the rainbow’s end…..

According to The History Channel Saint Patrick, lived during the fifth century, is the patron saint of Ireland and its national apostle. Born in Roman Britain, he was kidnapped and brought to Ireland as a slave at 16. He later escaped, but returned to Ireland and was credited with bringing Christianity to its people. Part of Irish folklore, St. Patrick is revered for driving snakes out of Ireland. My guess is that having brought Christianity to the Island, which in turn drove out much evil and trouble.

People tend to revere anyone who brings dramatic improvement to life and community. It was true of Moses, and David of the Old Testament, and, of course Jesus. While Christians do understand Jesus as Divine, throngs of others simply came to him for his wonderful works and miracles. Beyond the fables about St. Patrick, his followers found him to be true to the ways of God, in the manner of Simon Peter, the disciple of Jesus.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023

From the moment the idea emerged, “They said it couldn’t be done!” Who are “they”? Almost every wag, wight, or wizard who heard about it. What is “It”? —The Golden Gate Bridge.! It did take years of calculation, engineering, trial-and-failure, persistence, heart ache , and pressures against it; many died in the process. It was done! It is real! I have crossed it —several times.

However, I am more in awe of Nature’s Engineers— beavers; who don’t wait around for charts, calculations, and certification; they jump right in (more accurately bite in) and get the job done. There are colonies of Beavers living naturally, and happily here in Metro Atlanta—hiding in plain sight—within earshot of some of the busiest freeways and construction sites in the area.

Geologists say that millions of years ago, North America was home to untold millions of beavers; every river, creek, branch, or trickle had beaver dams. Beaver dams basically built our landscape; wetlands, water corridors, earth contours, and natural habitats for myriad species of thriving wildlife. The National Park Service says 200 million beavers remain in the lower 48 states alone; that does not include Canada or Mexico. A geologist recently told me there are only about six hundred million beavers left in North America. These numbers seem large; they delude. Beavers’ value is even larger.

Beavers are the “Engineers” who crafted the beauty of, and livelihood for, our great outdoors. Crafting multiple dams in the flowing waters, created dams, wetlands, contours, and lush habitats. Although Beavers are not on the “Protected” list, they are immensely valuable to our environment.

Beavers play an incredibly important role in our world, altering and shaping the landscape. As nature’s “engineers,” they build dams that provide deep water that protects them from predators, gives them access to plentiful food, and provides underwater entrances to their dens. Their tree-felling and dam-building activities create wetlands that provide homes for many other fish and wildlife species. Wetlands support almost half of the species on earth and nearly 50% of North America’s threatened or endangered species rely upon these aquatic environments for their survival. —U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service

When I lived in Southeast Georgia, among miles of pinetree farms, beavers loved it. The Timberland owners and companies were annoyed by the beaver dams that kept cropping up creating wetlands and ponds. I saw occasions where landowners dynamited beaver dams to drain ponds—-beaver habitats. I was amazed at how quickly those water rodents rebuilt their dams. Actually, “Dams” is something of a misnomer; often their structures did dam up a stream, creating beaver pond.s

Beaver dams were homes for the beavers. What looks like a pile of sticks limbs and mud actually houses a beaver family. Their entrance is under water. The beavers dive into the water, come up under the floor of their dam; into a dry floor of their safe home, nursery, bedroom, protected by all that detritus. A double entry, has its own escape hatch—my term. (Click the link in this paragraph and scroll to the model of a beaver dam and interior).

Beavers are an excellent example of how God cares for all Creation. We are here to care for ourselves and all living things. Each living thing is important to God, and therefore important to each of other. On another occasion Jesus pointed out a comparison of God’s care by demonstrating the difference between our value of wildlife and human beings. Each one in God’s creation is important and has intrinsic value.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore