Scuttlebutt

#1761

"Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people." - Henry Thomas Buckle

            Apparently, no one can be shocked anymore by anything. Our senses are bombarded everyday by things that the science fiction writer of my youth, could never have dreamed. From the talking head newscaster, politician, pastor, everyone talks "slivers" of solution... just chasing one thing until another comes up.

            This writer is always listening, everyone's talking... no secrets anymore. I am told that every living/breathing person, from the school child to the grandmother, either has a telephone in front of their face or they are looking down talking on their phone with their fingers (texting.) I have personally let several female employees go because they had their eyes and mind focused on a telephone rather than the dictation I was giving them for the computer. I went through eight years of university training, the most difficult courses of study in the world, working jobs at night so I could go to classes during the day. Never once during those eight years did I ever have a telephone call from home. I don't believe many students did at that time in our countries history. We knew the real joy of the mail man, "letters from home." During all my years of military service, there were very few telephone calls. The phone was for emergency-business, not visiting. One of my friends told me that his daughter, age 8, wanted a cell phone. I said, "You tell her that I was reared in a time where there was only one telephone for many miles." My cousin had a telephone at his country store. Everyone for miles used that telephone to call the doctor, the funeral home or to get an emergency message from somewhere.

            Scuttlebutt, where the happy hour at the pool haul, the golf links at the country club, women's mission circle at your church, was, is and will always be just scuttlebutt... talking-visiting. Human beings are the same, the world over, very social animals. This writer has traveled every continent, whether the desolate areas of India, crowded streets in Egypt, people talking-gesturing and body language. I was never one to waste my valuable time in idle conversation. I was always, perhaps, too brutally sharp on the phone. Professional people do not have time for the leisure of idle conversation. I can tell very quickly, the future of any professional man by his attitude on the telephone... friendly, fair, fast. I am told that every billionaire gets there because he is fast with a decision.

            There is two things that bother me the most about people engaged in idle conversation. If a person is sick enough to be in a hospital, the patient does not need visitors. People coming in, spreading their germs, talking and bothering a tired patient with unnecessary narrative.

            The other, a place of worship. The church house, the inter court is not a place for conversation. The worst, the Baptist. Their visiting-conversations should take place in the outer-court, the churchyard. I still like the denominations that have kneeling benches. You come into the sanctuary and get immediately and completely in the mode of worship. I often listen to the local Baptist church on the morning radio. Often, there is a interlude between the radio and the church house. The noise from the sanctuary is anything but worship. Talking, laughing, one is a place of worship... to honor god.  All attention to Christ, the cross. So many churches no longer have a cross and the Christian service is no different than that of a civic club, the same noise of a sports arena.

            I was on the staff of the Army hospital, fort McClellan, Alabama. A long desire of my life has been to worship at the Baptist tabernacle, peach tree St. Atlanta, Georgia. I drove the long distance one weekend to attend the service. The great tabernacle was everything I expected, the great choir singing without any hymn books. The great organ, grand piano, great preacher, the thing that ruined in all... before and after, the noise of the people come to worship. I do not know how or why this silly matter of running around shaking everyone's hands during the worship service. We are in the church to honor Christ, not to compliment one another.

           

            The history of the world started with conversation. From nothingness to something-ness, God spoke and the world was formed. God spoke and man was formed and the other animals, all life with its ability to participate.

            In other articles, I have described much of my world travel, many around the world trips... every continent... both the north and south pole. I want to bring two places to your attention, The Great Barrier Reef, near Australia. a 1300 mile coral reef made up of bodies of articulating animals. We are told that all around this great miracle of nature, marine animal life, can be heard to the educated ear. Like the great humpback whales, all marine life has a language and of course this is true with bird life near the great reef, rain island (known for its birds, their noises.) I was in the Indian ocean, bird island, another sanctuary. The place was alive with their communication skills. Life would be tragic indeed if not for the SHARING of tone sounds (music) whether in the great opera halls or in cheap radio. It is the universal language of mankind. The letters may be different on the type writer, in different countries, but the notes are always the same anywhere on a musical instrument.

            Talk radio has revolutionized the world of communication during the past 20 years. It is now an established fact that more people enjoy the different sounds-cadences of the human voice of people talking, than ever enjoyed music. The success of a talk show, radio-TV-platform, is completely dependent on a variety of speakers. Words mean something, words have a way of changing the mind, changing the world. 

Reading Between the Lines

There is no form of entertainment that has been more enjoyed that that of the radio. I remember the first radios, battery powered, operating just during daylight, mostly a lot of static. I well remember the first car radio, there was a time when there was no radios in cars. Today's young “rubber-burners” would not believe “running boards”, crank handles for windows, no power steering, no anti-freeze, no springs in the seats. My first car, 1941 Plymouth, did not have a radio or a heater, air conditioning is very recent. One of my relatives bought his first Cadillac, air conditioning was very new, and he did not have air conditioning in this car, but they drove around with the windows closed because they wanted everyone to think that they did.

I am completely addicted to radio...living alone, it gives me company. Blind, radios on, gives me direction. Problem is I get nauseated with radio advertising. An estimated $20 billion a year is spent in America on radio advertisements, such as “your baby can learn to read”. The advertisement states that a baby can learn to read as he learns to talk. A child's eyes are not developed until around the age of 5. It is more important to develop the hand-eye coordination of a child through toys and play. No child should be sabotaged with such a neural task as reading until the eyes are developed. Vision is a learned skill, amblyopia exonesopia (partial blindness) results if this neurology involving the nervous system is not carefully developed. The six pairs of muscles attached to the eyeballs must work together, ablyopia, (squint) can result if this carefully balanced neurological learned skill is not carefully controlled.

Nothing in the human experience is more important than reading, and I am convinced, every child of normal intelligence can learn to read. It is hard enough to get along in this world when you can read, what chance has the illiterate...instructions, telephone books, prescriptions, and the thing most important to every illiterate I have ever known, reading the Bible.

I paid for many years of advanced education selling Bibles door-to-door, until then I had no idea how many illiterate people live in this world, how many would say to me, “son, I would give anything to be able to read that book.” Every time I thought of these words, I thought of the many intelligent people who could read anything, who never read the most important book in the world, the very book dictated by God.

My church decided to have a series of services at night, folks in the country would call this a revival meeting, but fancy city baptists call such a “series of meetings”. They decided to have cottage prayer services in each community, wherein members in that community would gather in one person's home to pray for the church in the meeting. I was asked to speak at one of the cottage services in my area, among the people there, living in my area, the richest man in the church, who happened to be the richest man in town and also the husband of my father's first cousin, he was chairman of the board of the state's largest utility. There was the county sheriff, known for his crooked regime, at the service was a doctor of obstetrics, a known abortionist. I was sincere in my remarks, sincere in my beliefs, honest in wanting a revival for that “dead” church, its “dead” pastor, dead choir. Like the church at Sarduz, it was a morgue with a steeple. I spoke of our lives being a living testimony, our lives being an example to the world, I could tell that they were very unconcerned, that they mostly, if they read the bible at all, just read between the lines. Snickering at committed believers. The doctor said to me later, “Tom, you really take religion too seriously.”

Polls have shown that very few people ever buy a book, or go into a book store. Libraries, although taking many tax dollars, are seldom used by the public. I have had young people tell me that they have never read a book. Not even one of the classics, not even a comic book. Books, over a hundred years ago, were very rare and expensive. The history of art mirrors the history of philosophy. The history of philosophy mirrors the history of books, all have gone downward. From beautiful leather bound books, to inexpensive paperbacks.

I started as an antiquarian book collector 50 years ago, have had the privilege of owning and holding some of the world's finest. Old books are owned as much for their drawings (frontispiece), and gold edges (a.e.g. - all edges gilt), marbled edges (a.e.m – all edges marbled), holograph (anything handwritten by the author), autographs (any book is worth more autographed by the author, an autographed Hemingway is worth many thousands of dollars, and it does not have to be an old book, recent famous author's autographed book are worth much), as anything else. Recent history dictates that the cover jacket gives the pricing, the jacket is worth more than the book and is often reconstructed if damaged. For the collector, it is just the joy of owning the first edition. This is a wonderful hobby and business for someone who'd rather be inside than outside. The antiquarian book collector, like the art expert, knows his business. Unless a misspelled word is on a certain page, it is not a first edition, the most expensive first-editions have the gold gilding on the edge of the spine page, put there before the cover. Many antiquarian books, bound in England, contain advertisements inside the covers, collectors are looking for certain things, are not easily fooled, are willing to pay. But I will tell you now that online selling has destroyed the antiquarian book market. Many “old” libraries and “old” bookstores have dumped their “old” books on the market. Most are willing to accept just a few dollars for what would have, many years ago, sold for thousands. But, no one knew they had the book, nor did they know that the book was valuable. Thieves are everywhere, some smart antiquarian book thieves managed to get books out of the vaults of libraries, and they are on the market. Buying and selling antiquarian books is like buying and selling old art, old cars, old prints, old magazines, antiques, you must know what you are doing.

The Bible was not completed until 90AD, previously, they were mostly scrolls, kept in the temple or church. The Hebrews would stand for hours listening to the scrolls read or recited by the prophets. Many of the early temples and churches did not have pews, the people would stand throughout the services.

I remember the first bookmobile in our community, my mother so prized the books we were allowed to read. Many homes did not have reading material, as poor as we were, my parents always subscribed to the newspaper, to two magazines: Look, and The Progressive Farmer. I had in my extensive book collection over 250 catalogs mostly from Sears and Roebuck, there is no better history book, in this ancient catalogs you find horse harnesses, wood stoves, samples of cloth material and wallpaper. At one time, these books were in every rural home, I sold these books for a good price. Often one would be bought to honor the birth date of a mother or friend. What better memorabilia could you have on your coffee table?

Of all the biblical cities, not one is as beautiful and well preserved as Ephesus. I stood there, thinking of Paul in 50 AD as he later wrote the book to the Ephesians. You can abound in all wisdom and prudence (Ephesians 1:8), you can know the geography of the world, the history of the world. Especially today, with the internet, able to read, you can read anything, any disease, any documents. Well informed, you do not have to read between the lines, but can stand up to anyone with knowledge. Learn to bow low to God and stand tall before men through the gift of reading.

Our Best to You

In another life time, back in the 40’s and 50’s, as a university student, a wonderful program came on every night at 11 o’clock at the wonderful 50,000 watts WPTF Raleigh NC, the station is still very much on top of today’s world. The program was “Our Best to You” with a marvelous host, now deceased, named Jimmy Capps.

As college students across the state were studying in their dorm rooms, or otherwise, they could hear the best in the music of this era with dedications to a student in a certain dorm in Chapel Hill to a student in a dorm on the Meredith campus, or Peace College, etc. This was the romantic era of the last century. When young people could understand good music and were paying their way through college (there were no grants and few scholarships at that time) and knew their future depended on their own efforts not the “tooth fairy” mental attitude of today’s youth who just want things given to them, including their education and the promise of a job in a socialist existence after graduation.

Our best attended military academy’s, our best endured the competition of professional schools, our best survived in the financial and business world, without government interference and government “bailouts”. Our best were voted into the local, state and federal political power groups.

In my county, a lesbian, Julia, represents the good hard working people of this county in the legislature. Her reputation is a matter of newspaper reports i.e. her failure to pay taxes, her domestic divorce from her partner, Melissa, and her fight over the custody of a small child which Melissa produced through artificial insemination. In this county, Representative Wright is is jail for corruption. One U.S. Congressman, Ballance, is in jail for corruption. Former Speaker of the House, Representative Black, is in prison for corruption.

Our best does not seem to apply any longer to musicians, and other artists. Recently two paintings were hung upside down in a gallery in London and of all the thousands who viewed them, no one recognized this mistake. The history of this republic is marked by the best minds, not the most popular, getting the scholarships, the most incompetent achieving political office, not the one with the most money, the best reputation as a law officer, not an incompetent who just needs a job. When did we lose our appreciation for quality in workmanship or character? When did we lose our appreciation for knowledge gained from great literature and great art.

Albert Einstein said ”A person whose brain does not experience wonder when studying the universe and an appreciation for the great things of the world might as well be dead.” More importantly, we have great pity on those who do not have a memory for greatness; even a remarkable radio program. Often, I turn the dial on a radio. I cannot believe the lyrics, the musical beat, the insanity recorded and played. At least, in a Voodoo village, the beating of the drums did make some musical sense. There should be some poetry, some rhyme or reason, involved in lyrics. The words of Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Diana Shore brought thoughts to our psyche which we could share with the artist and author. Without some melancholia, some gentleness, some want... even the sharing of a love story, there is little reason for popular music. Don't tell me that the harassment, embarrassing words coming from today's boom boxes are the best the artist and performers have to offer. Once, in Africa, a professor of music from Canada told me that beating on a cardboard box with a stick was a form of music, maybe so!

I start each Sunday morning listening to a wonderful older lady presenting her program, Musical Memories, from the historic Moody Church in Chicago. This past Sunday was Martha Reed Garvin's twentieth anniversary. She is heard around the world. There are still people who appreciate the old hymns of faith. Martha plays the Steinway Grand Piano and sings the old hymns. This past week I wrote her a letter and sent her a check to show my appreciation. I told her in the note, in my world of blackness, memories of the old hymns sung in the country church where I was raised, verses from the Bible I learned as a child have seen me through these dark days. So it is with the oldies, but goodies, past secular-popular performers... Kate Smith, the Judy Garland, the Judy Collins, and certainly Sarah Vaughn. Their voices singing popular songs will stay close to our hearts just as hymns of faith will stay close to our hearts. A reservoir of hope in a time of struggle.