"Dry Dock" Sailing

Here is a little “dry dock” sailing to give you an idea what’s  behind it all. Have fun!

The Physics of Sailing—KQED QUEST



* This post is from an email sent to granddaughter Elanore. 

Some Thoughts Concerning Homeschooling, on Olivia's Graduation

I & L,

J'ellen Yeatts asked how the graduation was. I dropped a few 'tea-time' words and then thought that some more thought would be in place. I share the following just now. (See my letter to her, below.) If you can agree, fine; if you do not, correction will be welcome for my own edification. In all, it is a condensation of my personal views. I started out with a negative disposition to homeschooling, way back, when it all started. You may read in and between the lines my present disposition towards your kind of homeschooling. Laurie, I have not here mentioned the schooling you actually gave to all four of yours / ours before they reached KEYS. Consider the compliment to extend to all of you: "No house can stand on a week foundation, oh no! Oh no!" (Harry Belafonte?)

Hope your vacation was grand and your recollected energy will be boundless.
Opa

 

Hi, Ellen!

I owe you more than the few assorted words I granted to you in my remarks about Olivia's graduation.  Here is a tad more.

Iivo and Laurie had their kids home-schooled. That you knew already. Evie was the first to graduate, and she is now settled in her professional life and married. Philip was the next to graduate, and he captured a National Scholarship award. You know that also. Olivia was not so lucky as that, but she got an invitation from VA Tech—the Hokies, in the medical school. She aims to be a surgeon! I see so many high school kids around here clamoring for the high position of greeter at Walmart. And Rosewood High is listed as a national high achievement school.

Just looking at the scores of these of my grandchildren, this is not small potatoes! My hat is off to what the homeschoolers have done in VA Beach. For the ceremony, each student had a spot to articulate his/hers experiences and his plans and how he/she expects to support those endeavors with previous experiences, current qualifications, and upcoming efforts. There were some very impressive articles in the graduation pamphlet. 

And the thing is, having experienced this with Evie and Philip first, and having the scheme and results duplicated with Olivia, the thing is impressive. This is not having homeschool. This is private academy standard with not only teachers and students,  but also parents and families involved throughout.

As each student was called up to receive his papers, he was met by parents and siblings on the stage. One or the other of the parents would present a more or less cutting speech of recognition and expectation, and, usually the father, would hand the diploma to the son or daughter, and then the mother would move the tassel on the pancake. They'd do the hugging stuff on the stage and then move off to make room for the next graduate. On an overhead screen, selected pictures of the student's life were projected during this ceremony. 

It was not the oration that impressed me, but the absolute proof that this stage was not achieved by teachers guarding the temporarily forgotten kids of parents and siblings busy elsewhere during this schooling period. It was the fact that whole families had worked together with the teachers.

Hope this helps to transmit my impressions worthily! 

Rich

I&L,

If you want to protest my thoughts, you know where to plant your objections.

Impressive work! All of you! Really! 

Carry on! Only one more to go!

Love, 

Opa 

Moving

No! This is not about my moving. I am adding yet another real estate agent to the list of those who have craved to sell ol' White Rock—for a commission, of course. I had to look for a new agent, because the most recent one fell by the wayside. All previous ones in the past twenty years or so have done that. The White Rock is an agent killer!

This new deal is going to be electronic. No tedious meeting in stuffy offices with reams of papers being solemnly passed from hand to hand, each one receiving the participants' initials under the eagle eye of the lawyer and his assistant.

I simply got an email with a pen as a signing symbol and the advice to click on that symbol in order to sign the listing contract. But no contract! Sign a blank sheet! I, the signer, turn all my personal property over to the person from whom this invitation-to-sign originated. So simple have things become! How could I miss those many decades of slow evolution from legal suffocating protraction to a handshake with a computer? I do, of course, remember that sometime in our very remote past a handshake was the seal to an unbreakable contract. You try to slip away, one of the six slugs of the Colt will get you, sooner or later.

The suggestion that this has to do with moving comes from the following apparent line of thought: you deal with a real estate agent, of course you want to sell your house. If you sell your house, logically you must move to another house. Here is the deal: Without having asked for any of it, you are now swamped with offers from every listed business even remotely connected with the selling or buying of real estate property, and each of them says, 'If you sign up with me for my services, you get a discount of 10%, or 15%, or even 25% or more.' If you are diligent in contrast surveying and combining all these discounts, you might sign up for an overall deal that returns money to you! It'll take a lot of effort and zillions of papers to sign. So don't get your hopes up too fast nor too high.

Want a country store that has been in business since 1945? Here's the deal, and here's the handshake.

Ol' Jonah he lived in a whale . . .

The story that is normally and in the Bible told us about Jonah is only a fraction of what really transpired. Listen, and be amazed!

History records that Jonah, a disciple of the prophet Elisha, was told to bring bad news to Israel: for their sins, they were to be destroyed. Israel repented and the destruction did not take lace. Thus, Jonah earned the reputation of "the false prophet". Next he was ordered to visit the heathens and tell them of their impending destruction. On his way he reasoned that, when the heathens heard of their doom, they would repent and God would take pity on them and forgive them, and so he, Jonah, would become known the world over as the false prophet.

To escape this fate, he decided to go to the sea. He came to Joppa on the coast and eventually embarked on a vessel. This in itself is a tale of adventures and miracles and through this Jonah was taught that there is no hiding from God. As they were two days out, a storm arose and put the ship in peril. A crew of sailors from all seventy nations on the earth were on board, each with his own idol representing to each their personal god. They decided to pray to each of these gods and the one that would help them out of the storm they would recognize as the true god. But none of them proved effective in the rescue. At last, the captain woke up Jonah who was peacefully asleep while all this was going on and asked him what nation he was from. Jonah said he was a Hebrew and the captain responded that it was known that the Hebrews had a pretty powerful God and Jonah should pray to Him for their rescue. Jonah confessed that he was really the cause of their peril and they should set him adrift. The passengers first refused to do this cruelty, but as the storm grew in intensity, they held him over the side and the storm abated. They pulled him back and the storm picked up. So they let him overboard till his feet were in the water and again the storm calmed and they pulled him back and the storm picked up strength again. Next they dunked Jonah into the see up to his knees and the same sequence occurred. Thus, in stages, they proved to themselves that they could not be saved unless they set Jonah adrift so they eventually let him go.

During the days of creation, God had fashioned the one fish that was destined to swallow Jonah and so it happened that he wound up in the stomach of the whale. This was such a spacious adobe that he was quite comfortable. The eyes of the whale served him as windows so he could see all the sights and there was also a large diamond that shone so brightly that he could observe everything that happened all around him and his fish, all the way to the bottom of the sea. The whale wanted to be kind to Jonah and swam hither and thither to show him the sights. He even showed him the spot in the Red Sea where the sons of Jacob crossed when they left Egypt.

Thus, Jonah was the first human who cruised from the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea through the straight of Gibraltar and down along the western coast of Africa, rounded the Cape of Good Hope and cruised up along the eastern coast of the continent and into the Red Sea. They also returned back to the Mediterranean Sea along the same route, presumably, even though this part of the story is not detailed in the ancient records.

The whale must have traveled at a very high rate of speed, for only thee days Jonah spent in the big fish. He felt so comfortable that it never occurred to him to pray to God for his deliverance.

Then God sent a big female fish across their way and the female told the whale that she would devour him including his passenger, and so she did! She bore three hundred and sixty-five thousand little fish inside and Jonah had to share the rather tight space with this crowd and he was very uncomfortable. So he prayed to God and promised to repent and that he would redeem his oath and God heard him. So the female fish spew out Jonah over a distance of nine hundred and sixty-five parasangs, and he alighted on dry land.

The parasang is a historical Iranian unit of itinerant distance, the length of which varied according to terrain and speed of travel. The European equivalent is the league. The parasang may have originally been some fraction of the distance an infantryman could march in some predefined period of time.

The league originally was defined as the distance that one person can walk in an hour. This is between three to five miles, which is a very great stretch. Thus it is not clear from the records just for what distance Jonah was airborne. It could be anywhere around four thousand miles of our today's measure, which would indicate that the two big fish met somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean, or that the female fish was waiting for Jonah's vessel even in the Red Sea. What happened to him is by any perspective very amazing. Also, even though all the while Jonah  was in the stomach of one fish or another, the ship's crew that had abandoned him must have been aware of what was going on because it is recorded  that “These miracles induced the ship's crew to abandon idolatry, and they all became pious proselytes in Jerusalem.”

Excerpt From: Ginzberg, Louis. “The Legends of the Jews — Volume 4.” iBooks. 

Retold in abbreviated form by the present author.

.  .  . but the things you're liable

To read in the Bible,

They ain't necessarily so. 🎤

At the Start of the Last Clambering

Dear Laurie,

To your Birthday I wish you much Happy! 

May the friendly spirits make their nests on your shoulders and never leave you. According to folk tales, this is the beginning of your last year of fighting up hill. In 365 days, life is supposed to get easy, as your reach the crest and from there it is supposed to go down hill. 

Of course, all of this is just for fun and full of bologna. The truth is that life is beautiful and loaded with peace and love, which is ours to take if we just open our hearts to it. 

The counting of years has no merit at all. Every new day is a reawakening, and may each morning's sun ray brighten your entrance onto another day. 

To make the start to this ‘last clambering’ easier, I contacted this body spa and ordered a gift card for you to spend a half hour under the doings of a therapists hands, elbows, knees and feet, whatever tools they apply. This gift card will wait for you at the Spa and you can redeem it by mentioning the magical numbers 010916A.

For further identification, I talked to Michelle, the receptionist, today, on the phone and all you need to do is schedule your appointment with them at your preference.

Love, and have a lovely evening celebrating with my family,

Opa

New Year

Every year, when the old year ran towards its end and the new year reared its head above the cradle frame, Mims, mine and Lulu's mother, would set to work that nothing old would be carried across the threshold on New Year's night. She would make sure that every room was spick and span , nothing laying about waiting to be put away, all laundry done, pressed and folded, no dirty dishes and the pantry full to look the new year squarely and unblinkingly in the face. She made sure that all pending correspondence was taken care of and that all bills were paid, even anticipated ones, like the milk man, who would leave his weekly ticket with his delivery on Friday early morning, even if Friday was New Year's Day. In the evening befor the very formal dinner, she would strip us, her children, and give us a serious scrubbing in the tub; before that she would have made sure that our fingernails had been clipped according to rules and while we were soaking in the hot water she'd wash our last set of clothes and laid out fresh ones to wear that evening. Even the towels we used after the bath were washed. That was before the days of automatic washing machines and dryers so, although clean, these last pieces of clothing were allowed to be left hanging on the line to dry in fresh air.

Such traditions carry over. Lulu had it in her blood and I would approve of and support any move in that same direction in my family. Being a male chauvinist, sometimes my contributions to the end result were not very effective. 

Now I am living alone and have little traffic in my far off location and as it is, with age one becomes not lazy as much as increasingly unable to keep up with everything. It must be unsiversal that one in such a situation begins to make short cuts and avoids extra motion and effort. Is from this that th expression 'dirty old man' originated? Thus, it came to pass that this present year was running towards its end and I began to contemplate defection. What's so big about doing more for December 31st and January 1st that I do not do for the other 363 days? Have I ever been punished for leaving the dishes of my dinner table in the sink - other than having to touch them again for cleaning the next morning? The plan continued to grow, or the will to subject myself to old practices began to crumble until at last there was the unspoken but firm intention to completely ignore the and of the old and the birth of the new year.

That's when my Mims' soul reached out and took control. Four or five days ago, just after the Christmas celebrations with Kaarin and Karl and Steve and also Riina and  Kristjan I was struck by a mild bug. It was mild, I say, because when you are living dependent only upon yourself, you may not get sick. Vital things come to a standstill if you do. So I continued with my ordinary routines and assumed now that I was feeling poorly I had the perfect alibi to not do what Mims had taught me to do was right and moral and pleasing in the eyes of the Lord. I took my vitamin C and my zinc and drank my teas and took my reconstituting naps and then - 

This morning I woke up,at four and was swimming in sweat. My fever had broken and I felt like reborn but was not comfortable because of the soaked pajamas and the wet sheets and because the thermostat at this hour has not yet told the furnace to go to work and heat the place to comfort level.

There was another unbroken tradition wherever I went in my life: night sweat results in a shower or a bath, fresh bedding and fresh clothes. I could have coped with all of this but suddenly I realized that this was Mims' gentle way of admonishing her children when they got off the proper path and the realization set me straight.

Before breakfast, the bedding was in the washing machine, and I stood in the shower. Then the kitchen sink was cleared out and a breakfast served. After breakfast the first load was finished and loaded in the dryer, the washing machine was working on the second load with my laundry and the shower towels, I put my boots on and dropped my check at the electric company (that bill had arrived just yeaterday and was not due till idle of the next month) I went to town and got more laundry soap and at the grocery store. Stopped for some eggs and sausages for the festive breakfast tomorrow and I needed not more because my larder is stuffed in anticipation of a real snow storm which might tie me down for days. 

I came home and the failures began to heap up on me: that snow and ice storm we had a few days ago formed the foundation for a permanent ice cap on Town Hill. Snow had dropped off the roof over the garage doors and began to pile up to prevent coming out and going in with the car and made it extremely uncomfortable to climb over even to just go to the mail box. But the stuff took no picking. After I had moved four shovels of packed ice I was finished.

Upstairs, I found the Blue Jays raiding the feeder and I refilled it. When I hung I back up, one of the lines broke and the bird food dropped to the ground and in the snow. I fixed that and tried to shovel some of the snow off the deck but my stamina gave up and I dropped on the couch to rest.

Partial salvation came through Jason who arrived with his front loader and 'dug me out' at the garage and the front door, even though his machine had to take just one or two bites do that. Blessed be Mr. Diesel whose invention powered that Ford tractor and all the Hydraulics.

Now I am ready to meet the New Year face to face without a blink.

And blessed be Mims who made it all come to pass.

Happy New Year, all!

Bible Friends, or A Discourse on Faith

This came from a letter, addressed from Opa to Laurie and Evie, from whom automatically generated "friend requests" to join a circle of "friends" on the YouVersion Bible app had somehow found their way to Opa. This was his response.

Hi, you two!

I was notified by the 'You Version' Bible app that you sent me what they call a "friend request." Because it is you who started it, I feel immensely flattered. Thank you. I normally do not reply to such invitations, but—again—because of you, I make an exception.

Reading the holy book—and thinking about its contents, and our God, and his Son, and the Holy Spirit—and on the basis of private thinking, making even feeble efforts to live by it is one thing. Talking vociferously about it is another. In the reformed Christian world there are many approaches to being faithful. I was brought up in an environment where going to Church and dealing with matters of the faith was a somber affair, and one was taught to turn inward to work on one's friendship with God. In a family, going to church as a group, hardly a word is spoken. Very seldom a discussion on the subject was entertained. Little more often was a bible reference used to settle a question of behavior. This is, of corse, typical introversion. It is also indicative of a life style: you are responsible for your own ways, and I will take responsibility for mine, and differences shall not interfere with the relationship we have one with the other. 

It goes way beyond religion. I find much of that attitude in the northern states, and the opposite—extraversion in many if not most of the southern states. But with such background as mine, one does not learn to express one's thoughts and feelings in a fluent way. Loudly, and even more 'longly' discoursing about one's faith is not given to us. We do hope, though, that our way of conducting our lives expresses in some little measure, the depth and the strength of our faith.

I am saying this much because it is you who posed the question, and I do wish that you do not feel personally rejected by my refusal to join the circle of your friends in that App. It has nothing to do with enmity, nor must it ever negatively reflect on my faith.

May the peace of the Lord be with you, always.
Opa

Rose hip

There is a bush growing at the entrance to Brenda and Chip's driveway. It is full of blossoms in season and loaded with bright red fruit in fall. Long, long ago, rose hip jam was one of my favorites. Asking Chip, he said "we never do anything with it. Not even the birds want it, is it edible?" And it was easy to get permission to harvest.

Not ever having had to do anything with rose hips until the time came to spoon the jam out the jar, I did a quick research on the web and learned that the fruit is best if left on the bush till after the first frost. This information makes it easy to understand that I concentrated more on the Vermonter than on the berries. But as there is today, near mid-October, still no sign of cold nights, I did more research and found that the thing can be pushed by putting the harvested fruit in the freezer over night. And today was the day I went picking. The picture would tell more than words about what I found: Not a single berry was useable any more. Paraphrasing an old German folk song: go pick the rose hip when it is ripe. Don't sit and linger until it is cold.

Searching for the way

Searching for the way

The children’s story today, presented by Doug, was about ‘finding our way'. The ancients used the stars, later came the compass, much later the map, now the GPS. I thought I would add the chronometer and the sextant, but that would go into almost forgotten technology, plus these instruments were used to determine one’s location, rather than finding the way. They are also important, because, even when traveling by a very good map, it is necessary from time to time to stop and determine if one is on the right track. But Doug skipped that part and made an elegant connection to the thought that the Christian’s road map is the bible. Aye!

I had time for these and most of the following thoughts because today I came to church unaided by my usual paraphernalia to hear and in consequence I could only catch a word from Doug here and there. Had he not held up a star, cut out of a sheet of paper, or had he not spread a road map in front of us, or waved a GPS in the air, I would hardly have known what he was talking about. But so it was written that, today, I would get prompts only, and time to let my own thoughts make the connection between the way-markers to Doug’s sermon projected on the screen.

To quote the leading thought: 

7:13 Enter ye in at the straight gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat.

7:14 Because straight is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

While Doug continued to develop his thoughts, I linked back to the analogy of road-map versus Bible, of the GPS vs the Word. We are quite used to the maps we have in the car no longer being up-to-date with the road-net as it is now. My GPS gets a revised version of its map twice each year. Right now, this instrument is waiting for me to download the fall 2015 version. That’s good, because so many new roads are built to facilitate the flow of traffic between the cities and, at least sometimes, one would get lost while trying to follow an older version.

Likewise the Bible? Since its inception way back in the beginning and later after the addition of the New Testament to the Old, this roadmap of Christianity has gone through untold revisions and re-interpretations. I have often wished to be able to read the original Word. Snooping in history, I was told that the foundation of our current bible was laid by the Council of Nicaea back in the year 325. Then, Constantine was faced with the problem of unifying an untold number of versions, of creeds and confessions of faith and great was this attempt to bring some unity into the haggling masses of those who held power in the many churches sprung from the one that Christ had built on one rock.So, the way this layman sees it, back then we got our road map and it represented the still relatively young memories of Christ’s presence and work on earth. It was the best to be had! One of the problems that must have occurred even then is that the records detailing the original evidence built into this first bible came in many different languages. Translation is a difficult thing. Some words in some languages contain meaning for which another language has no word. Sentences that express the our present thoughts change meaning over time. The exclamation “That’s not what I meant.” underlines the problem of translating thought into the written, or even the spoken word, and even the fleeting validity of content. And then, over time, not only was the one bible subjected to periodic and unified re-interpretation, or, rather re-wording, the unified thought was scattered into a multitude of bibles, all professing to represent The Word. likewise, the one church was shattered into the many by the dissent between thinking men. The other problem was that the ancient records were so many that it was unrealistic to include them all in one book. Who made the choice of what is relevant, and what is not? And on what basis, under what motivation were the choices made?

Road map revisions are due when new roads are opened to traffic. These may be old roads improved - made wider and straighter and easier to travel. There also may be new roads where there were none. Generally, they would lead into an area previously inaccessible. They may continue through a new development to connect on the other side again with other roads already in existence so that you need not to turn back to return to the place where you came from. They may also lead around features in the landscape that present an obstacle to easy traffic flow. Even one of the hymns of today’s selection refers to that: I follow Jesus - no turning back. So, road are built to make travel easier, faster and less dangerous.

Is that the same principle of bible revisions - easier travel, new ways to look at the country, some roads leading off and away from the rough and narrow? In the news these days is the clerk in Kentucky who refused to issue the marriage license to a same sex couple. My Kudos to that clerk. By using her right to free speech, she is now in jail because she does not follow the order of the almighty civil court, who is at odds with many of us on the Christian law regarding homosexuality - and on other social issues as well. A quick research on the web points to Romans 1:26-27 (EMTV) as the  “most important biblical reference for the homosexuality debate”. It would go way beyond my current intentions to follow the thread. Most of us agree that Sodomy is a sin. In the current social trend, the criminal is right and the one a crime has been directed at is wrong. The perpetrator must be protected, the victim is without help. Soon, the crime committed is no longer a crime. So say the worldly courts. But also the church, or I should say some of the churches side with the world view and declare what was sin is no longer sin today. It is expedient to overlook what originally was the forbidden.

Are bible reinterpretations - at least in part - the road map to destruction?

If we allow such reinterpretation, we make ourselves accessories to the sin. Should we take our sons out of Boy Scouts because of the recently introduced admission of homosexuals into the roles of leadership? who would, as a German metaphor wants it, make the buck the gardener? If we refuse to follow the leadership of the church in one instance or more, where does that take the ‘unity' of the church?

While following this line of thoughts, the image on the projection screen changed and proclaimed Romans 12:2:

And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

Is this my license to rebel? Does Paul not say loud and clear that I should not follow the leadership that leads me against my convictions? If the world changes, may I not stick to what is my belief since my earliest days of awareness?

Again a new way marker on the screen: Galatians 1:4:

Wo gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from the present evil world, according to the will of God and our Father: 1:5): To whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Who am I to say more, after I recited “Amen”?

Another change on the screen: 2 Corinthians 4:4:

In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.

Another condemnation of those who turn their back on The Word as it was originally handed to us. But what was it, originally? if I interpret what is presented to us as “the bible”, which I believe has suffered many falsifications, do I not risk to fall into error myself? But one passage of the bible has not yet been changed: the Ten Commandments. Measure your actions by these Commandments, I was told a long time ago and not only once, and you do not need the miles of shelves filled with today’s interpretation in the the lawyers’ libraries. But Lord, it is ever so difficult to remember all of this when under fire!

Just in time, Doug projected a new road marker unto the screen: Psalms: 119:105:

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.

What do I need man’s interpretation of your word for, o God? is what the bible says not clear? But I cannot do all this alone - send me someone who can guide me, for thy lamp throws shadows unto the path in front of me and I surely will stumble.

And a new guidepost appears: Matthew 16:24:

Then said Jesus unto his disciples, if any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.

Gulp! This takes us back a few hundred years to the orders of followers of Christ who gave up all their worldly good and lived off the goodwill of humanity, proclaiming all their food, and clothing and shelter were gifts of God. But this is so contrary to what I believe in: do honest work for your living; if you produce surplus, share with those who are not blessed with your independence. I am sure I can find support of this belief in your word? So what is my cross? If all mankind were to interpret god’s word the way those monks did, who would there be to work up the sustenance of all our lives?

And Doug forges on: Matthew 7:14:

Because straight is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

You made my way so broad and so smooth, I do not know what to say to this. I really don’t! I love what you have done for me, even with those few and far between rough white water stretches in the river of my life. If your example of suffering to reach the gates of heaven is what we must follow, what, and i repeat, what is my cross?

And as time draws on, Doug draws in Luke, 13:24:

Strive to enter at the straight gate: for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.

The picture that occurs to me is a gate to an old, old fortified town, of which there are many scattered around Europe and Asia. They have thick high stone walls with guard towers and gates, narrow gates, just wide enough to let a farmer’s cart through on market day. But many roads lead to that one gate, some broad and well maintained, others merely wheel tracks through the fields. But all these gates, in the old days, were guarded and access as well as egress to and from the town could be restricted at the will of the leaders of that community.

The Baptist Church in Wilmington, where Doug also is pastor, there is a member of the congregation who records (sometimes or always?) the sermon. There is a chance that this will be done today. If so, Providence has loaded my plate with all the benefits: the stimulus from Doug’s, sermon in Jacksonville, the time to react to this stimulus, since I was busy looking only, but not hearing, and the recording of the actual sermon which would allow me to listen, after all. I won’t be surprised if there are few if any touching points.

The posting

Very recently there was a posting on FB, presenting a neat demonstration of a piece of garment designed to protect women against violation. The design of this garment is such that it would have little if any bearing on the choice of outer garments, if such were desired by the wearer.

Viewing this posting an incident reported in the papers returned to my mind: a woman in Palm Beach filed suit against a man she claimed had raped her. The judge, being prompted to do so as a result of preliminary hearings, ordered her to come to the trial dressed as she had been at the time in question. Her appearance settled the case in the favor of the rapist.

On a spur of the moment I posted this as a comment to the original post. One of the readers replied:

"That judge was ignorant. You don't blame women and shame them for their clothing. You teach young men to respect women. God calls us to not be stumbling blocks to others even in the way we dress. But NEVER does God say it's okay to rape someone/sexually harass someone because their outfit was "asking for it". That judge you talk about made a horrendous judgement and I pray to God he does not judge like that normally."

The fashionably incessant invocation of God to protect us against the consequences of our mistaken choices and to do good for us is what gets me every time. He, indeed, is the highest authority, and not only does He call us on subjects as this reply contains but he is even more outspoken on morals, and on the mode of behavior necessary to let people live side by side in peace. The teaching of men, requested by this you writer, is up to you, as parents, and up to us, as the society in which we all live, and it is not to be limited to young men but naturally must include young women as well.

To point the way to modern and effective self help, a friend of the one who wrote this reply advised to get a gun and a concealed carry permit.

Yessss, way to go, Tommy. You're da man!

At first, I was tempted to respond and continue this thread, but then decided that FB was not the forum to use for sharing views on life. In the privacy of my Blog, I will step on but a few toes.

Some fifty five years ago a very popular song about an 'Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini' made the scene *. The title was also part of the chorus and there was an injunction in the rhymes: 'don't go near the water so your bikini won't get wet'. Coming up from the islands, I suppose, bikinis had just a little before that time appeared on the northern beaches and created endless controversies and some pleasant visions. When we went to the beaches, the far distant horizon over the sea was seldom in the focus of our eyes. There were always groups of girls strolling up along the shore, without aim, after a while turning around and strolling back, again without aim.

The philosophical meaning of the text should be clear to every thinking man and woman. 

And the trend towards undress continues from beach wear to formal wear and all wear in between. Please get a picture of female celebrities attending gala affairs. To scramble an old metaphor: only the last shreds of modesty remain.

Even men are not unaffected. Just look at the tuxedoes worn with open collar and shirts unbuttened to the navel, perhaps a toupee on the chest. 

Some women are indeed 'asking for it'. They can be seen lingering at street corners or are slowly strolling along side walks close to the curb and they are dressed exactly like our chaste, innocent, young girls who dash about as if they were going somewhere. That's how you can tell one from the other, sometime. Boys don leather chaps, hang toy guns from wide low slung belts and wear broad rimed felt hats drawn deep over their eyes in order to achieve - what? The very image of John Wayne and Jimmy Cassidy? I'm an old timer OK. Today it's spider suits and supermanT's and death masks and light sabers instead of old-fashioned guns. But it is the same, the young want to appear to be what they are not, but, perhaps, secretly or openly admire. Occasionally a boy gets shot in the street because he playfully drew his toy revolvers at the wrong time in front of a man with a real gun. The girls - ?

As for teaching men to respect women - the days of chivalry have vaned under the bright lights of women's lib, which prompts many women to abandon respect to men. Respect is a earned and deserved feeling extended from one person to another, not a constitutional right granted to part of the population only. The God we address so feel speaks of modesty. where is it?

I will not dwell on the presumptuous claim that the judge was ignorant. If ignorance enters the picture at all, it must be sought elsewhere.

* "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini" is a novelty song telling the story of a shy girl wearing a revealing polka-dot bikini at the beach. It was written by Paul Vance and Lee Pockriss and first released in June 1960 by Brian Hyland with orchestra conducted by John Dixon.)