Lift Up Your Hearts!

Nearly 50 years ago, in a small room at the University of Rochester, a group of Christians gathered every Tuesday night for worship and fellowship. I was a new Christian at the time, and innocent in my taste for the music we sang; I liked it all. Now, with more knowledge of both music and poetry under my belt, the memory is a bit embarrassing, as is much of the early 1970's. But even then I recognized the value of our "homegrown" music, played and composed by a fellow student by the name of Will Soll.

Those were not the days of Internet, smart phones, and social media, and we lost track of Will soon after graduation. But now is the day of all that, and I discovered that Will has a YouTube channel for his music. Here's a sample.

Would I have recognized him had I come across this music without a label? I don't think so. Of course, I'm faceblind, so that part doesn't surprise me, but I'm usually good with voices. But it's been half a century, and he, too, has grown and changed in his music.

Still, I have no doubt this is the same Will Soll who wrote Snow Fell on Easter Sunday, the song which brought him back to my mind as we faced an Easter Sunday so different from our plans and expectations. Here's the first verse, though sadly without the melody and Will's guitar accompaniment:

Snow fell on Easter Sunday
Why, dear Lord? Why, dear Lord?
You could've kept it green this one day
Why, dear Lord? Why, dear Lord?
But though our potted plants did fade
and all our potted plans had to be remade
You rose anyway, you rose anyway
On Easter Sunday.

(Here in Central Florida a snowy Easter is actually less probable than having church services and Easter egg hunts cancelled by a pandemic. But in Rochester, New York it was a different story. Our youngest daughter was born in a blizzard just four days before Easter that year. So no one should have been surprised by snow.)

Thanks, Will Soll, for the memories.

He rose anyway.

Is anyone else old enough to be haunted by Simon & Garfunkel's I Am a Rock, written in the mid-1960's?

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me.
I am shielded in my armor.
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb,
I touch no one and no one touches me.

I am a rock.
I am an island.

Staying home is generally not a problem for me. I have 'way too much on my plate to be bored, and in fact appreciate the extra time. (I just wish I were in better shape to take advantage of it, but introverts are not immune to the mental shock of these sudden changes and restrictions. I'm making progress, but not the way I think I ought to be able.)

I miss church a lot, especially singing in the choir. And the comfortable routine of eating lunch with friends after the service. But as I said, there's so much to do at home the days are still flying past.

Nonetheless, going out these days feels like coming up for air.

Porter's printer ran out of ink, and the best and most timely deal was to pick it up from Staples. So he ordered and paid for it online—after adding some banker's boxes to help with my home projects.

In the meantime, remembering that our Gordon Food Service store was between home and Staples, I signed up with them and was also able to place and pay for online an order for pickup. GFS is our favorite source for large bags of frozen fruit—the only source I know of for frozen sour cherries.

When we arrived at each of the stores, we parked and let them know we had arrived. When they came out, we popped the trunk and they placed our items inside. GFS did hand us a receipt through the window, which Porter accepted with gloved hand and masked face; next time we'll just refuse it as we did at Staples.

Then home again, home again. The ink box was thrown away and the ink installed; the banker's boxes stored in the garage for a few days of disinfection, and the fruit bags duly washed.

Whenever I feel annoyed at having to treat groceries as if they were deadly, I remember my father's sister. With her husband and three young children she managed their household for two years in Ethiopia, back in the 1960's. Their produce came from fields where human manure was used as fertilizer, and everything had to be washed with a bleach solution to prevent diseases much worse than COVID-19. Perspective is good.

Well, that was fun. Now it's time to hole up again and see what progress I can make. Hang in there, my friends!

Perhaps my favorite service of the church year is the Easter Vigil, usually held on Saturday night.  Here's my description of our service from 2015:

For us, Easter started last night with an Easter Vigil service that was over two hours long, but wonderful.  Lighting of the New Fire, procession, candles, singing, and a large number of baptisms (adult and child), confirmations, and first communions.  The latter is why it was so long, but who would want fewer?  I love that our church has a means of doing infant baptism by immersion (parents' choice).  I also love that moment when the lights come on and we shout the first Alleluia of Easter—alleluias are banished from the service during Lent—with the whole congregation sounding bells and other happy noisemakers.  (There were a few unhappy noisemakers as well, as it was a long and late night for the above-mentioned children.)  I brought my tambourine, and Porter the ship's bell that Dad had given us so long ago.  The latter makes quite an impressive sound.

Naturally, things were different this year.  But as someone said, if the churches are empty, at least the grave is also!  Our church will have our online Easter service later this morning, but I couldn't resist a private snippet of the Easter Vigil.

In a phrase taken from C. S. Lewis' Reflections on the Psalms,

"Chocolate eggs and Jesus risen!"

Except there are no chocolate eggs for us, as our Easter candy purchases were interrupted by the news that our Swiss grandchildren had been shut out from our Easter celebrations.  We will, however, be eating their jelly beans.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Hey, Boomer! Would you process my unemployment claim, please?

At first I thought the headline was a joke: Wanted urgently: People who know a half century-old computer language so states can process unemployment claims.

On top of ventilators, face masks and health care workers, you can now add COBOL programmers to the list of what several states urgently need as they battle the coronavirus pandemic.

In New Jersey, Gov. Phil Murphy has put out a call for volunteers who know how to code the decades-old computer programming language called COBOL because many of the state's systems still run on older mainframes.

My programming languages from back in the day inluded FORTRAN, PL/1, ALGOL, LISP, BASIC, and assembly language for Linc-8, PDP-12 (machine language for these two as well), and PDP-11. I didn't learn COBOL because that was considered a business language (COmmon Business-Oriented Language) and I worked on the scientific side of things. But it appears to have had remarkable staying power, and Porter knew it well. Not that I see him going to New Jersey anytime soon.

"The general population of COBOL programmers is generally much older than the average age of a coder... Many American universities have not taught COBOL in their computer science programs since the 1980s."

So, Boomers to the rescue. It pays to keep people with arcane knowledge around.

I predict that someday we will regret letting our amateur radio network fall apart.

I haven't actually put this sign on our front door—yet. At the best of times I don't like solicitors coming to our house, and this is not the best of times for strangers to come breathe on us and touch our doorknobs. Not to mention the risk to themselves, going door to door.  Yet still they come.

For many years I kept a journal. I quit for a several reasons, one of which was this blog. It is unquestionably true that I must write, but the pressure is not sufficient to keep all streams active. Sometimes I regret not having that intimate documentation of our lives, though some of it does end up here. Even in my journaling heyday, however, I often missed documenting significant parts of our lives. It seems that at the most important times it's hard to find time and energy to write about them.

Nonetheless, I think it may be interesting in the future to have some documentation of our day-to-day lives in the Era of COVID-19. That's why you're seeing more, and sometimes shorter, blog posts. They're under the "Hurricanes and Such" category; I started that category in 2004—the Year of Four Hurricanes—when I posted, primarily for distant family, our everyday news while "in the midst."

Sadly, I've missed already many important days and events of this extraordinary season of our lives, which is why you'll occasionally see posts popping up for past days, as I try to remember what led up to this moment.

'Twas Porter who went out today, as one of the earpieces on his glasses broke. It was a bit more of an adventure than we expected.

First, the street where the office is was blocked off because of an accident on the other end. There was no reason he couldn't have driven to the office, which is practically right on the corner, but the police were adamant. He had to park in the bank parking lot across the street and walk over. Which means he wasn't quite following protocol, which was to remain in the car when he got to the office—instead he just stood in the parking lot.

Porter was wearing a mask, as per CDC guidelines, which insist that even a poor mask is better than none for this purpose. At least it helps contain large particles—like the dust it was made to exclude. And it looks impressive. He had put both his glasses and a piece of paper with the credit card number in a plastic bag, and the hostage hand-off was executed safely in the parking lot. When he returned later for his repaired glasses, the transaction was reversed. This means there was no fitting done of the glasses to his head, but it turned out all right. We are grateful the office is remaining open for emergencies, and I think they are handling it well.

On the negative side, he observed that there seemed to be more cars on the streets than a few days ago, and the grocery store parking lots were packed. I hope people aren't tiring of this social distancing already ... we have a long way to go.

How different today is from what we expected just a month ago. Our house should be bursting with family: all six of Janet's family from Switzerland, and another eight extended family come to see them. The Palm Sunday service this morning should have been bursting with joy: lots of people, a procession with palms, glorious music, Janet and Stephan singing with us in the choir. A day filled with people and love.

Instead, we exchanged greetings with far-away family via WhatsApp. Choir members shared photos of palm decorations at home. 

At 10:30 we settled down for our church service—live-streamed on Facebook. I put on a red shirt in honor of the occasion, and gave a wave of my tambourine. But there's something too weird about church online. I suppose that in a church where the sermon is the focus and there's not much congregational participation, watching the service makes more sense. And don't get me wrong: I'm massively grateful that our service is online for us! But it will take some getting used to, with Fr. Trey doing everyone else's part as well as his own. Everyone's part but the music director's, that is. :)  Thank you, Tim.  And our COVID-19 Concert Series trumpet player.

Actually, we didn't see the whole service until later, as Facebook could not handle the great number of churches livestreaming their services at the same time. We gave up and watched the recording a little later.

Unfortunately, that means the Swiss part of today's congregation had to give up, too. Here's a shot of what we had in common, while it lasted. As Janet said, "It was great worshipping together, if only for a short time."

Next time it will be better! And it's still Palm Sunday, and the beginning of Holy Week. The first Holy Week wasn't exactly a picnic, either.

Since we can't dine with friends, there's not much point in visiting restaurants.  However, our local Chick-fil-A sent a coupon for a free chicken sandwich, so today I placed my first mobile pick-up order. All went smoothly: I prepaid through my phone, and we'd brought a disposable grocery store bag into which they neatly dropped the paper bag with our order. At home Porter deftly extracted our food without touching the bag.

The workers were not wearing masks, but expect to have them by Monday.

Crazy times, but it worked.

I was not at first happy that Ron DeSantis, Florida's governor, issued an executive "stay-at-home" order. It is not as if Florida had been without them before: they had been issued at the county level, allowing each county to tailor them for their individual, very different needs. I saw no need for state-level action, and concluded the governor was merely caving to pressure to flex his gubernatorial muscle.

However, it turns out that this order has done at least one thing that is very important. Not that I've read it in detail—it's full of legalese and unexplained references to other documents—but this part was abundantly clear (emphasis mine):

Section 3 Essential Activities

A. For the purposes of this Order and the conduct it limits, "essential activities" means and encompasses the following

1. Attending religious services conducted in churches, synagogues and houses of worship; and
2. Participating in recreational activities (consistent with social distancing guidelines) such as walking, biking, hiking, fishing, hunting, running, or swimming; and
3. Taking care of pets; and
4. Caring for or otherwise assisting a loved one or friend.

As I wrote to the Governor this morning,

Dear Governor DeSantis:

First, let me be clear that our church is continuing to be creative in meeting both the spiritual and the physical needs of our people in this time of crisis: cancelling, postponing, and moving activities online wherever possible.

However, I have been very concerned, seeing other examples of stay-home orders, to note that church services are not usually considered essential activities. It is true that not all people see them that way, just as not all people consider day care centers or laundromats to be essential. But for a significant part of the population each of these is vital, and it is a very dangerous precedent to make rules as if a worship service were merely a social gathering.

You are to be highly commended for taking a stand against this trend, and in your recent Executive Order making the clear point that "Attending religious services conducted in churches, synagogues and houses of worship" is considered an essential activity for the purposes of compliance with the order.

This doesn't mean it is wise to continue with "church services as usual" at such a time as this, and most churches, like ours, are voluntarily complying with health recommendations. We must not abuse any freedom, including religious freedom. But it is vital that it be confirmed as the essential activity that it is.

Thank you very much, Governor DeSantis. I pray for you daily.

As for ourselves, we did skip Monday's church service, on the grounds that the in-place County order enjoined gatherings of more than 10 people, and we didn't want to be responsible for contributing to the delinquency of a priest. As it turns out, we would have been fine. But we didn't know that.

Having not been out of the house, except for short, solitary walks around the neighborhood, since last Sunday, I was glad to be able to go to church again this week without violating any rules. With most of our congregation watching the service on Facebook, it was easy to keep a respectable distance from others. We come in the back entrance just before the service, wear gloves, and leave right afterwards. It's weird, but better than not being there at all.

In contrast with last week, today's church service was more uplifting than not. It had its moments of grief, such as saying goodbye to a good friend who is moving far away, and not being able to give her a hug. But this time I was prepared for a service stripped of much of its music, and it even seemed fitting, somehow, for Lent.

Last week we grieved. Today we moved on.

After the (diminished) procession, Father Trey set the tone of the service with this pronouncement:

When the church finds itself in a time of great need, we typically break out the strongest thing we have in our arsenal, and that is the Great Litany.

I love the Great Litany, so even though I would have preferred to sing it, it was a powerful way to begin. We also continued our COVID-19 Concert Series, which simultaneously fills in for a greatly reduced choir and provides employment in a time of great need for local musicians. This time we were joined by a violinist.

It was a good service.

On the way home we stopped at Publix; Porter stayed in the car and I shopped, having donned a new pair of gloves. There were plenty of cars in the parking lot, but the store was not particularly crowded, and it was not hard to keep a decent distance, except during checkout. The cashiers have been promised Plexiglas shields, but there are not yet in place.

We could have managed a while longer without shopping, but I decided it was better to go sooner rather than later. Our most urgent need was milk, and I had planned on getting some extra gallons to put in the freezer so that we would not have to shop again for at least two or three weeks. That plan was foiled, however, because milk purchases were limited to one gallon. That was odd, and frustrating, because the milk section was chock full of gallon jugs. I did mange to pick up several other things for which our supplies were low. Even if I spend this quarantine time baking, we will not run out of sugar for a while, as it was only available in 10-pound bags. Except for toilet paper, sugar, and eggs, I noticed no particular shortages. I couldn't find my favorite whole wheat hamburger buns, but bread was available and will do the job in a pinch.

Unpacking at home was interesting, to say the least. Someone had sent me a video by a doctor in Michigan showing "sterile technique" for bringing food from the store into your home. When I watched it, my reaction was "that's not happening." But I decided to try it. It's doable, if you are a small household. I pretty much guarantee it will not happen in our daughters' households, with their large families.

One piece of his advice I took to heart was the one-touch rule when shopping, That is not me at all: I typically look at my groceries carefully, to make sure they are not out of date, that the package hasn't been slashed by a box cutter, etc. But that often involves touching several packages and leaving my fingerprints behind, so this time I practiced grab-and-go.

The advice I did not take from this doctor is that which revealed that he really was talking from Michigan: Keep your groceries outside for three days before bringing them into the house. Maybe in Michigan, or Minnesota, or New Hampshire. But in Florida, pretty much anything other than canned goods would in three days be rotten, moldy, or eaten by creatures.

So I worked with his second best practices. One of his good points was that many items have both and outer and an inner wrapper, so that, for example, I could open and discard the graham cracker box, and put away the clean inner packages. Bread I took out of its wrapper and put into smaller zip-lock bags to freeze. Plastic and glass I wiped down with a disinfecting solution. The only thing that stumped me was the bunch of bananas. The commercial disinfectant said only to use on surfaces that didn't touch food, so I figured that using it on a banana would not be a good idea. The doctor's solution for fruit was to wash it all in a sink full of soapy water. I didn't think that would work for bananas, either. I know, you peel the banana and the fruit inside is clean—but you really don't want to peel bananas until you're ready to eat them. My final solution was a gentle rubdown with an alcohol solution, figuring the alcohol would have evaporated long before we touched the bananas again.

Of course, in and around and between, over and under all this process, I washed my hands a gazillion times.

In the end, I concluded that this is an excellent protocol if one wants to encourage shoppers to buy as little as possible.

And that—plus writing this post—pretty much took up the whole day. Now I'm violating a clear health rule: staying up long past bedtime. Adequate sleep is as important as clean hands.  Good night, all!

One of Porter's favorite board game partners self-quarantined well before most of us even thought about it.

Not that it was exactly self-quarantine. At the insistence of his father, the whole family was among the first to practice the social distancing now recommended for all of us. It's a good thing it's possible to play board games using the Internet!

Although he's not old enough to be in college, this young man has a passion for history and a good deal more sense than many college students. With his permission, I'm sharing some of his thoughts on current events.

The year 2020 will be remembered as a benchmark year in history. Many things are happening, and the Coronavirus will bring them all to a head. I think that the greatest result will be the government’s increasing authority. This is because we have come to a point where it is almost simply rights vs. lives.

My dad suggests that I should write a book, titled: Rights vs. Life: Coronavirus, the People, and the Government.

It would be quite the book.

We now find an astonishing number of people who are incapable of enjoying their liberties safely. People refuse to practice social distancing, even though it is obviously in their best interest.

There are many reasons for this, I think. First, people generally despise the major media outlets. Thus, when these said that the Coronavirus could be bad, people were inclined to think that they were wrong—because they usually are. Next, the alternative media pundits decided that it was a smart idea for them to say that the mainstream media was wrong, as a way of boosting their own popularity. Thus, the people’s idea that the Coronavirus was going to be a minor disease was confirmed in their minds.

We find now that same inclination towards the government. 

The only reason my dad had us quarantine was that he works online with Chinese children, and he saw first hand what this disease did to China. If he was still in his previous job, I’m sure that we would soon be catching the virus ourselves.

Another reason that people are inclined to believe that the Coronavirus is not a problem is that people are very social. The family has fallen apart in too many places, and this has led to people becoming especially dependent on relationships outside of the family. Thus, people are more inclined than ever to underplay the risks of gathering together.

If it doesn't take too much time from the gaming that is keeping Porter from going stir crazy here, I would love to feature more guest posts from this young man. (And I'm certain that one of these days he will actually beat Porter in Afrika Korps.)

There is something in the very presence and actuality of a thing to make one able to bear it; but a man may weaken himself for bearing what God intends him to bear, by trying to bear what God does not intend him to bear.... When we do not know, then what he lays upon us is not to know, and to be content not to know.

— George MacDonald, "What's Mine's Mine."

Waiting for Dorian is like being stalked by a tortoise.  A slow tortoise.

While praying and working with Dorian taking aim right at us, it is impossible to resist some musical jokes about current events. Dorian is my favorite musical mode—I hope I still like it a week from now.

and

Enjoy!  Now back to work....