Karma

Is this the height of irony or what?  

Four years ago, Stuart Sheperd from Focus on the Family wrote that everyone should pray for rain to disrupt the Democratic National Convention in Denver. He wrote: "So I’m praying for unexpected, unanticipated, unforecasted rain that starts two minutes before the speech is set to begin." 

Perhaps he would do well with a refresher on Matthew 7:12 - - So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

Bottom line: Karma can be a bitch. 

Get With the Times

While riding on the bus, I noticed a periodic announcement that says, “Please be considerate of other passengers. Loud talking and radio playing are prohibited.”

Radio playing?

I think their announcement needs to be updated. Whenever I hear that announcement, I envision a bus passenger listening to a transistor radio – probably with Petula Clark’s “Downtown” blaring from it. 

Another announcement says to "Dial 9-1-1." 

“Dialing a telephone?” When was the last time you ever dialed a telephone” 

If you have at all, you’re probably over forty years old. 

Here’s something else that needs updating. Here’s the caution sign, telling motorists to slow down because children are prevalent. 

Notice that the boy is wearing knickers - - Knickers! From the 1930s. 

Even back in the sixties when I was a kid, I thought this sign was out of date. 

Not only is this boy’s attire out of date, the likelihood of seeing a kid running outside these days is virtually nil. 

They’re all inside, texting each other and listening to music on their smart phones.   

Listening to radios, dialing a phone, or children playing outside are things we need never  worry about.

Trains

I recently found myself at one of Chicago Transit Authority’s main stations where several train lines meet (the Howard station where the Red, Purple, and Yellow lines do their thing together). 

As I waited for the Purple train, I found myself mesmerized by the maze of train tracks that lay before me. I had to get a photo of it.

Ever since I was a little bitty kid, I’ve been interested in (obsessed by) train tracks. Whenever I’ve seen multiple tracks crossing and switching together, I’ve found myself studying how the wheels of a train will go from “this” rail to “that” rail. It’s just about the most fascinating thing to me. 

I can vividly remember when this interest began. I was three years old and somehow my dad and I ended up on a foot-bridge overlooking the Fort Worth Train Yard where myriads of lines converged and where hundreds of trains cars separated and re-grouped. 

I can still see the box cars as they negotiated the tangle of tracks and rumbled underneath our feet to be joined with an awaiting train. 

I was spellbound. It's one of my earliest and most vivid memories.

So, when I saw this multitude of spaghetti tracks, I was once again transfixed and captivated. I mean, just look at these tracks – -

How could you not be impressed with such complex, well-thought and creative engineering?

When I saw this, I instantly wished I had been so fortunate as my dad; to have had a little son who would find such things as these tracks so enthralling; someone I could share this train yard with. 

Then, I realized that this little boy did exist. 

He was right there with me, awestruck and thrilled by these train tracks – he was just fifty years older. 

We enjoyed the train ride together. As we passed over the incredibly complex switch-tracks, the little boy begged me to snap a photo of them. 

And I did. 

Stupid

I haven’t blogged in a while, mainly because I thought I’d run out of ideas to write about. However, simply observing my fellow human beings never fails to provide me with ample fodder. 

The other day while in the subway, I noticed a fellow sporting the “sagging” pants. The waist of his jeans was practically down to his knees; the crotch almost dragged the ground. He had to stop repeatedly to pull them up in an attempt to keep them from coming completely off. It was obvious he was wearing plaid underpants. 

I thought, “That has got to be the stupidest way to wear clothes I’ve ever seen."

Sagging began in prison culture due to the inmates not being able to wear belts. Belts can be weapons or used to hang one’s self. Thus, the pants drooped well below the waist line. 

Why would anyone want to emulate prison life? -- And show their drawers and constantly have to give your pants a yank to keep them from falling all the way down? It’s just . . well. . .  stupid!

Then, I noticed a young woman in a short dress. 

It was a windy day in the Windy City (naturally) and the poor thing constantly had to grab her skimpy hemline as she tottered down the sidewalk in high heels. Why would anyone wear a short dress and continually have to adjust it, constantly sit “just so” so that your nether regions aren’t exposed, all the while perched precariously atop uncomfortable and dangerous footwear?

Again, I thought, “That has got to be the stupidest way to wear clothes I’ve ever seen.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to do some shopping online. Those Dockers and argyle sweater-vests don’t manifest themselves out of nowhere, you know . . .