Your bright baby blues

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by the Night Writer

One of my favorite albums when I was in college was Jackson Browne’s “The Pretender”. While I preferred my music fast and loud back then, I usually listened to this album on my headphones while laying on the couch with my eyes closed. One of the best cuts, for me, was the song “Your Bright Baby Blues”.

‘Cause I’ve been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast I run
I can never seem to get away from me
No matter where I am
I can’t help feeling I’m just a day away
From where I want to be
Now I’m running home, baby
Like a river to the sea

Some 20 years later — and some 15 years ago — I came across the album on CD and bought it and brought it home. After dinner I dropped it in the stereo and stretched out on the couch and closed my eyes. That time, however, I could also hear from down the hall my wife’s gentle tones and the high-pitched talking and giggles of my daughters as my wife bathed them. It was a dizzying, almost out-of-body experience as I listened to the old tune and old words while the best part of my new life ebbed and flowed around me like the fresh bath water.

It’s so hard to come by
That feeling of peace
This friend of mine said
“Close your eyes, and try a few of these”
I thought I was flying like a bird
So far above my sorrow
But when I looked down
I was standing on my knees
Now I need someone to help me
Someone to help me please

Ah, the things we will desperately pursue when real peace is already close at hand and really not so hard to come by after all. And how hard it is to let go of the nominal comforts of the present to grasp the change and greater joy we know not of.

I thought of that long-ago magic bubble of a moment again this morning — and of those little girl voices — when “Your Bright Baby Blues” shuffled up on my Touch as I took the train to work. The last few days have been full of anticipation as the oldest of those once little girls is now due to deliver her first child at any time. We are all waiting in eager anticipation as the little one dawdles and takes his sweet time, apparently in no rush to leave his comfy quarters with all the amenities to which he’s become accustomed.

Baby if you can hear me
Turn down your radio
There’s just one thing
I want you to know
When you’ve been near me
I’ve felt the love stirring in my soul

Come, child, it’s time and there are songs to sing out here and yours is just beginning.

Reading between the signs

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by the Night Writer

Some folks are getting upset that “stimulus” money for road construction projects is also being used to post signs alongside the project that say “Funded By: American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, Barack Obama, President.” It’s a common enough political play (many a governor has done something similar within his/her state). The issue for me is one of truth in advertising, especially since much of the “stimulus” comes not from tax money on hand but from borrowed money, a significant portion of which comes from China.

The signs really ought to read:

“Made In China” or
“Your Children’s Tax Dollars at Work” or
“You Are Driving On the Road to Serfdom”

Since those signs as well cost money we should look for signs already on hand that succinctly reflects this administration’s sentiments:

yield_sign

(HT: Mr. D)

I’m just waiting on a friend

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17

by the Night Writer

Here’s an excerpt from a poem I wrote several years ago. I wrote it after my final visit to see my grandfather while he was stll alive, but this section is appropriate for the waiting we’re doing today.  The poem is called, “Just Waiting.”

And now, just waiting,

back at home I stand by another bedside,

listening to my wife breathe.

Undressing, I fit myself in beside her,

our heads touching, our arms

around each other, and we talk…

About the great moments of one’s life,

the excitement before a birthday,

the joy before a wedding,

and how these fall short of the momentous

anticipation and anxiety of the days leading up to

the birth of a child,

of going to bed wondering if this will be the night

that everything will change

and we awaken to bring forth a new life,

at once shuddering in both

the hope and the dread

of the joy that would be set before us

and the trial to be endured.

We also talk about the hope we have in Christ,

and of the days leading up to the joy/dread

in some distant but nearing future

when we go to bed wondering if that will be the night

that everything will change

and we awaken into new life.

Chugga chugga chugga chugga…

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So. I will be 41 weeks tomorrow. Yes, I know it’s really not a big deal, yes, I know “full term pregnancy” is anywhere between 38 and 42 weeks, okay, okay, I know!! But I’m tired and hot and sore and ready to be done, and so ready to meet our little bundle of joy!

I saw my midwife on Tuesday for our normal check-up. She is one of the sweetest women ever, and I’m really happy to be working with her… but why does it always seem to be that when you’re cranky, a person feels the need to ask you 8 times how you’re feeling? I finally told her that I had come to a conclusion. “I’m not actually pregnant,” I said. “No baby is going to come out of me, I’m just fat, and I’m going to be stuck this way forever.”

She and her colleague thought that this was quite amusing.

I’ve heard that during labor there comes a point where the rational part of the woman’s mind just shuts down and she is driven by the more primitive part, just doing what it takes to get the baby out. I’m not in labor yet, but I’m pretty sure I’ve checked out of the rational department, as you may or may not be able to tell by this post.

I am a space cadet.