The “So, Do You Like Me More?” Experiment

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This is an experiment.  You, my gentle readers, are the control group.  Below I will post a little paragraph for you to read, then you’ll be asked to answer a few easy questions.  Thank you in advance for your participation in this experiment of dubious value that is perfect for a Friday morning blog post.

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The Paragraph:

Here’s what’s happening.  Sir &/or Ma’am, I appreciate that your time is limited so I can’t help but wonder: how can I help?  I ask this because I believe in you.  I’ll find out the answer to this question and then when you thank me, I’ll be able to say the best words ever: you’re welcome.

The Questions:

1) Having read the above do you inexplicably like me more than you did before?

2)  Which specific words in the above paragraph do you believe made you like me more?

3)  Is it possible that by using 19 Words That Will Make People Like You More I have become the most desperate for something to write about most well-loved & respected blogger ever?

Bonus Question – Does anyone else count only 18 words on the 19 word list?  Just wondering.

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I await your answers in the comment section below.  

That Place Where Genealogy & A Forgiving Spirit Meet

“It is a duty to forgive everyone that is indebted to us, under pain of the Divine condemnation… for an unforgiving spirit cannot possibly be a happy one.”

~ The Reverend William H. Sutherland, Ohio frontier circuit preacher | DDiv | my great-grandfather

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Good thought, eh?  I stumbled upon it when I was doing some random genealogical research.

[Amazing what a person can find online.]

The quote you see above comes from Charles C. Cole’s Lion of the Forest: James B. Finley, Frontier Reformer, a biography about Finley.  Like Finley, my great-grandfather was a frontier circuit preacher who travelled via horse or on foot to spread the word of God.  It was a difficult life and the pay was nominal.  Most men did the job for a few years and then moved onto something less strenuous, less religious.

However, my great-grandfather toughed it out and eventually went on to earn an advanced degree in theology.  Throughout his subsequent career as a reverend he rose within the ranks of the Methodist Episcopal Church* to become an elder of some sort.  [More research needed.]  But before he became someone of note within the church, he ruffled a few feathers out there on the circuit.

[Specifically, the feathers of Finley.]

As I understand it, Finley and my great-grandfather did not agree on what constituted Christian forgiveness.  Finley believed that a Christian could not forgive someone unless that someone had first repented.

My great-grandfather took a more progressive view and said that forgiveness was not dependent upon someone else repenting, but was an action that a good Christian took as a matter of course.  The responsibility to forgive was the appropriate behavior of the forgiver, regardless of what the person requiring forgiveness did– or did not do.

[You still with me here?]

I like learning that my great-grandfather, who is affectionately known within this house as The Old Coot, was not as coot-ish as I imagined him to be.  My take-away from this is that he had a good heart, and apparently the sense to know what to worry about and what to let go of.

Rather modern thinking, for an old-time religious fellow.  I’m impressed.

* In 1844 there was a schism within the U.S.A. Methodist church resulting in the denomination dividing into two factions: the Methodist Episcopal Church condemned slavery;  the Southern Methodist Church allowed slavery.  This schism foreshadowed the Civil War by about 20 years.

Insanely Happy Looking At The Morning Moon

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This past Tuesday morning was unusually clear so that when I looked  up into the sky around 7:30 a.m. EST I saw the waning gibbous moon.  I was aware that I might see the moon in the morning after I read this, and I knew from a similar event last year that if I had my camera with me I might get a photo of it.

Above is the best photo that I took.  Too cool for school, huh?

I like the moon more than the sun.  For one thing I don’t have to apply any sunblock or don a hat before I go outside to see it.  But the real reason that I like the moon is that the gradual changes associated with its rotation keep it fresh and fascinating.

Nothing stodgy about it.  A bit eclectic, even.

Seeing this moon photo I remembered a quote by Paulo Coelho about the moon.  It is in Veronika Decides To Die, a novel which I read years ago but have to admit that I don’t remember much about.  All that stayed with me from the novel is this quote which, I feel, makes a perfect ending to this post.

“She didn’t quite know what the relationship was between lunatics and the moon, but it must be a strong one, if they used a word like that to describe the insane.”

In Which I Attempt To Spring Clean & Am Thwarted By Motherly Advice

Order out of chaos.

It’s that time of year.  Spring.  And my half of our clothes closet is a mess.  As usual.  Just ask Zen-Den.

So I’ve decided to be strong, be decisive, be ruthless… and sort through my clothes.  And accessories.  Because it’s not doing me any good having all this stuff piled up hither and yon.

I crave a calm, organized closet.  Angst-free.

Encourage or discourage?

But here’s the issue, when I start to organize anything in our home I hear my late mother’s voice telling me three of her stock phrases. The woman was nothing if not consistent.  And cautious.

  1. Waste not, want not.
  2. Be careful.
  3. Think it through.

So then after acknowledging that these phrases are bouncing around inside my mind, I become so filled with doubt that I do not do that which I set out to do.  And the closet… or the basement… or the junk drawer remain messy.

Stumbling over the past.

It’s the oddest thing.  I can let go of outdated ideas with ease.  I can move on from rotten relationships as needed.  But when it comes to objects that I’ve bought or inherited, I have difficulty deciding what to do with them.

Begging the question: how do you un-program that which a well-intentioned mother who grew up during the Depression programmed into you?

There must be an override switch somewhere, right?