#33: Stand Up and Bless the Lord

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(Part of a series singing through the hymnbook I grew up with: Great Hymns of the Faith)

1

Stand up and bless the Lord,

Ye people of His choice;

Stand up and bless the Lord you God

With heart and soul and voice.

2

Though high above all praise,

Above all blessinng high,

Who ould not fear His holy name,

And laud and magnify.

3

O for the living flame,

From His own altar brought,

To touch our lips, our minds insprie,

And wing to heav’n our thought!

4

God is our strength and song,

And His salvation ours;

Then be His love in CHrist prolcaimed

With all our ransomed pow’rs.

5

Stand up and bless the Lord —

The Lord you God adore;

Stand up and bless His glorious name

Henceforth forevermore.

Gas Dropped

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I’ve been watching prices slowly fall on gas at the local gas stations, and was thinking, “we’ll never see it go below two dollars.” Well, yesterday it was $1.99. I need to think things like that more often, I guess.

The boy was reading something about fast food yesterday, and future inflation, a burger costing $64,000.00 in the future, and I thought, “yes, well, we should be careful how we predict, we really don’t know which way things will be going.”

One of the problems is we always project in the direction we are going, but things don’t move in straight lines that way. There is the pendulum swing, but then again, it never swings over quite the same path it went over before. Similarity and difference. Everything is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough that we don’t really know what it is doing.

So beware those that forecast to surely — they are the ones most likely to be wrong. And look forward to the future — it is the promise that we all have.

And wasn’t that a real definite meditation!

A Blast of the Past #31: Daylight at Penguin Park

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A few posts ago I did some night-time shots of Penguin

Park. Today’s post is Penguin Park in the daylight.

I haven’t been there in a long time, my kids are so far beyond this stage now, but I think the merry-go-round featured in some of these pictures is gone now. I know they have removed them from many parks because of “safety” issues. Which is too bad from the fun perspective. I remember having fun on those as a kid, and more recently watching my kids have a whole lot of on them.

There are pictures of the two cousins again in these, having a lot of fun together. Great to see how close they were then, and know they still see each other as family today, even as life takes each of them in different directions.

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#32: Blessed Be the Name

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(Part of a series singing through the hymnbook I grew up with: Great Hymns of the Faith)

1

All praise to Him who reigns above In majesty supreme,

Who gave His son for man to die, That He might man redeem!

CHORUS

Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,

Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,

Blessed be the name of the Lord!

2

His name aboe all names shall stand, Exalted more and more,

At God the Father’s own right hand, Where angel hosts adore.

Chorus

3

Redeemer, Savior, Friend of man, Once ruined by the fall,

Thou hast devised salavation’s plan, for Thou hast died for all.

Chorus

4

His name shall be the Counsellor, The mighty Prince of Peace,

Of all earth’s kingdoms Conqueror, Whose reign shall never cease.

Chorus

Musings on my musical meanderings

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My post yesterday on my first season at the Kansas City Renaissance Festival got me to thinking about how I ended up singing with Madrigalia Bar Nonne. That brought up thoughts about other musical groups I have sung with, and a lot of colored history floated through my mind.

This type of history isn’t easy to write about. So much of it is constructed memory. Much of the rest of it is close and personal enough, that to share it risks making one seem whiney or self-centered. Some of the comments may seem critical of others, and one shouldn’t, of course, offend others in a public forum.

Yet with all those minefields to traverse, I will still try to paint an honest reflection of the history I am going to recount.

When I first moved to the Kansas City area, my sister-in-law was singing with the Fine Arts Chorale, and invited me to try out and join it. So I did. A year or so later, she ceased singing with the group, but I was still there.

In the tenor section with me was Lee Fenwick. He mentioned that he also sang with Madrigalia Bar Nonne, and would I be interested in trying out. So I did.

For awhile I sang with both groups. It was around the time that we were moving into our first house in 2000 that I decided to leave the Fine Arts Chorale, despite enjoying the music that I got to perform.

We were moving into our first house, and I was shopping around for a piano to buy. I was at a special weekend rehearsal and got talking with the assistant director. While talking I mentioned moving into our first house and trying to find a piano. This led to a half hour conversation, examination of nearby pianos and suggestions for how to select a good one.

The next Tuesday at rehearsal, he made a special announcement about someone moving into their first house and how it might be nice to help them, give them a bottle of wine as a house-warming gift, etc. The person he mentioned wasn’t me.

It wasn’t that I wanted a bottle of wine — it was that I was invisible. It was fine to mention someone else, but to not mention me, after the extended conversation we had had about moving and pianos, showed I was invisible.

At that point I realized I just didn’t fit into the social circle of the Fine Arts Chorale. I fit musically, but socially I was non-existent. And since I wasn’t a social climber, there was no real reason for me to stay and experience that sort of invisibility.

The same year I joined Madrigalia Bar Nonne another person from my neck of the woods, Peggy Chilson, joined. It took a couple of years for us to realize that we grew up in the same area, and had even attended the same church for awhile.

We are both still in Madrigalia, where I fit well, both musically and socially. Peggy joined Fine Arts Chorale and over the years tried to encourage me to join back up again, until the group disbanded recently. I was never able to adequately explain to her why I didn’t go back.I always appreciated and enjoyed the music I got to perform, but even I can eventually tell when I am really not wanted, only a technical, not actual part of the group.

And so my musings end for today.

A Blast of the Past #30: My First Renaissance season

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The same year my son was being born, I started singing with Madrigalia Bar Nonne at the Kansas City Renaissance Festival.

That first season was highly demanding. There was the music: learning 24 songs of polyphonic music. There was the costuming: I had to put together my own costume, which I did by actually picking up fabric and sewing most of it myself — with some able help from other group members (mostly Patrick). Then there was learning the lingo, the shtick and the interaction. I think that latter is still ongoing.

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I don’t really remember wearing this costume, though looking at it in the pictures I do have memories of making it. Amazing to think that it was 17 seasons ago, and that I am still singing with many of these people, along with the many that have come and gone in our group over the years.

I also see that the family came out — at least we have pictures of Carly here. Nathan being just born, I am not sure if he came out. But if Betsy didn’t come out, who was watching Carly in these pictures? I couldn’t do it and sing at the same time — or did I?

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Memory is such an interesting and capricious thing, as Sarah Hoyt showed when she posted these memories of growing up in Portugal.

A Blast of the Past #29: Birthday Zero

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This past weekend we had a birthday party. Today I will post pictures from the initial birth that spawned that party.

This was the second time I became a father, my first — and only — son. We could have asked to know the gender before he was born, but we chose to be surprised. So it was then that I first knew I had a son.

I think about my dad, and thought about him then. He had raised both my brother and me to be ourselves, not to be him. I realized how much of him he had given me, by not trying to make me in his image, and hoped then, and hope now, that I am giving that same gift to my son, who is now a young man — a young man that I have heard girls call “the man with the luscious hair”.

From the looks of these pictures, he had enough hair back then too.

He certainly has grown since then.

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