Life's a Beach

We study the scriptures within a small group, four couples who meet on Thursday nights at Ben and Connie's home.  A couple of years ago we attended a men's church retreat that took place at a convention facility on Oak Island, North Carolina. Gene drove his car from the western end of North Carolina all the way to Oak Island. On the second day of the retreat, Chip, Gene, Ben and I took a stroll on the beach, which was just across the road from the retreat facility. Our friend, our pastor, Ben Cox was alive and well during our oceanside stroll here:

Now I have a sister-in-law who lives in that area. Her home is just s two-block distance from that beach. This evening I was walking along on the sea strand at dusk, accompanied by my daughter and my niece, both of them now grownups. In the brilliance of sun this sunset, my niece snapped a picture of my daughter and me.

 She is married to a USAF pilot. Just a few days before her visit here, she had strolled on Pacifica beach in California, on the other side of the continent. Pilot's and pilot's wives have the benefit of flying across continents, across oceans, even around the world. . . because of what the Wright Brothers had initiated, over a century ago. . . just up the coast from here, at Kitty Hawk. At that moment, and just now, after dinner, as I am seated comfortably in a living room, contemplating the loss of my dear friend Ben, who had been with us on that same surf path, not so long ago. And so I turn to the ancient book for some understanding about this tender life on a planet where beach sunsets are so incredibly beautiful, but they do signal the end of something. . . the termination of a day, the conclusion of another day in the life, and in some cases, the meditation on a friend who trod this beach with us, not so long ago. But now Ben has been summoned into that eternal realm, where there is no pain of death, and the scenery far surpasses a beach sunrise or sunset. In the final pages of HIStory, we read a Revelation about these worldly potentialities: "And I saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, made ready as a bride for her husband. . . Behold the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people". . . And I will, once again, walk with my friend, Ben, on the beach of Eternity. Glass half-Full

Christian Ben

Ben entered this life as the son of a Christian pastor. After educational preparations, he served the Christian community as a pastor and preacher on behalf of the Lord Jesus Christ. But Ben Cox was much more than a pastor; he was a skilled businessman, a publisher, a teacher, a husband, a father, a friend, a singer, a laborer. 

You could even say that Ben was a Renaissance man, a man for all seasons, all skill pursuits. I met him when Pat and I moved to Boone, back in the day, 1980. Ben and Connie lived on the same street, three houses away from our humble, rented cottage where our son Micah was born. Ben and Connie had a small garden. Those were the days of countercultural rearrangement of values. Our particular path had taken the Christian turn. We were joining up with a New Testament, mildly communal group of believers who were striving to recreate the original church of Jesus Christ, as it had developed after Jesus' resurrection, when Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, Cyrus and Barnabus were leading a fledgeling group of churches toward the Christian life. But prior to that time, Ben had sung with a rock band, out in Oregon. Soon after that, his life took the Christian turn; he and Connie returned to North Carolina, because we like calling North Carolina home. There we were, all in one place, a generation saved by grace, and abiding in the town named for America's original pioneer, Daniel Boone. We spent about twenty years in that community. Long about 2000, we had a church split. Some folks stayed; some left and joined other churches. Meanwhile, back on the home fronts, Ben and Connie raised their family, including six children. Pat and I raised our family, including three children. Eventually all the young'uns grew up and went their separate way. Back in Boone, Pat and I and Ben and Connie landed at the same church, the Christian Alliance. 

Ben's pastoral inclinations took a turn toward business. He published a magazine, the Journey, which covered the terrain of the Christian life as it was being lived by local folk who were active, creative, productive, and faithful. He also bought an advertising business, a very unique one, which published a multi-fold card, the Main Street Marketing card. that enabled local diners and shoppers to receive discounts on their purchases and meals. Ben and Connie CoxBen was always one of our closest friends. Our children grew up together. In the Psalms, the Word of the Lord informs us that we may expect seventy years in this earthly realm. Ben managed to hang on for an extra year. At age 71, Ben passed into the heavenly realm, where he joins with the eternal saints of the most High Lord, YWHW. He has been welcomed into that eternal kingdom by the King of Kings, Jesus Christ, who demonstrated - for all mankind -  to understand and believe that Life does, in Truth, go on, on the other side of that great divide that men and women have been confronting since Adam and Eve were in the Garden. Yes, friends and readers, there is an eternal Heaven, but you gotta believe. If you get there before I do, tell Ben I look forward to seeing him again, there, in the Eternal Kingdom of Jesus, who conquered sin and death. King of Soul

Potentialities

When in the course of human events, we make decisions, we find that some decisions are trivial; other decisions reset the course of life from that time forward. About a week ago, I happened to be in a very old home in the Boston area. While walking through the basement there, I came upon an old piece of furniture. After brushing away the dust, I discovered a very old record.

This record was produced by Columbia Records, a division of CBS, Columbia Broadcasting Company. It's probably older than me; I was born in 1951. Now with appreciation for my Wikipedia subscription, I uncover the facts about this old record: Doris Day and Buddy Clark recorded the song on November 21, 1947, three and a half years before I was born. The song was written by Joan Whitney and Alex Kramer. George Siravo conducted the CBS Orchestra. It was the #16 pop song of 1948. The flip side, "Confess" was also a hit on radio charts. 29 years later, my friend Tom produced my record album, "Songs of Rowland Something for Everyone". We recorded it "with a little help from me friends" in Nashville. The record was not something I had expected. It was an unexpected delight when Tom made it happen. 

My only promotion of the record was while sitting on the back of my pickup truck in Asheville, singing, playing, and selling a record or two here and there. Years later, however, I was sending boxes of these records to listeners in Florida, Finland, Slavakia, Korea and God only knows where. . . Back in biblical times, Jesus had told the parable of the sowers, as later told in three gospel books of the New Testament. This principle of sowing and reaping is what circulated my music to other places around this world.  1978, I turned to Jesus. By His grace and miraculous power, I was able to organize two very different groups of musicians - jazz and folk - in Asheville, North Carolina, to record another LP record, "Revelation 5:9" 

I am naming this blog "Potentialities" because I am commenting on two different paths that the songwriter/musician can follow in this life. In some cases - probably most cases, the musician has to choose between pursuing a career in music, or concentrating on family life. Back in the day, Doris Day was a star, along with Buddy Clark. They lived the life of professional entertainers, musical creators. As for me and my house - that is to say - Pat, Micah, Kim and Katie - we developed a healthy, prosperous, Christian life on a hillside in the Blue Ridge mountains. My music was set aside for higher purposes.  This kitchen table photo includes Revelation 5:9, the record, its unfolded cover, which had been printed by the Groves Printing Company where I was an employeee. . . and a wooden bowl crafted by Mike, my brother-in-law, and the lamp crafted by my wife, Pat. . . with a snowy scene outside our kitchen window.

You might say that I took, as Robert Frost had written back in the day . . ."the road not taken." It was the path not taken by professional entertainers like Doris Day and Buddy Clark. So I was no chart-climbing musical star. But hey. . . as the Traveling Wilburys had sung, back in the day. .. "It's All Right." because our happy home and family was the result of a life well lived, by the grace of God. Thus we see that fruits of our artistic labor can be rewarded in two different ways. . . domestic bliss, and/or artistic creativity. I am sure that many showbiz stars do have very good family life; it's not like you have to choose one or the other. It's all good. Life is grand. Make the best of it! Glass half-Full

Bye Bye American Law

I borrowed language from Don McLain's song from back in the day. . . Ten long years ago, I can still remember how America kept us civilized. And I knew that we had a Constitution that had kept our nation's institutions functional for a long, long while. But February made me shiver; all the news, online delivered, bad news on the internet, we couldn't take one more step.  I couldn't remember if I had cried when I had seen the Jan '21 Insurrection riot, but something touched me deep inside, the day democracy died.

So bye, bye American Law; they drove our Congress into hiding,

 cuz insurrectionists were rioting. Them bad proud boys were thinking they were in charge and this would be the day democracy dies; this would be the day our republic dies. Do we have a Constitution, written for us?, and do we have faith in God we trust, if the Independence Declaration tells us so? Do we believe in the Rule of Law? Can our Congress survive this insurrection dualing draw? And who can teach us how to get back to peace and safety? I sure don't know.

We know that maga's in love with trump, cuz we saw them attack the Capitol hump. They kicked off the insurrection; now we got no lawful direction! We were a maturing bicentennial nation, with a red, white and blue imagination. But I knew we were out of luck, the day democracy died. I started thinking, Bye, bye American Law; trump drove our nation to inflation, our Constitution to confusion; he froze our peace and safety into fascist ICE, and will this be the day our Rule of Law dies? Glass half-Full

Moses Medgar Martin Mountaintop

Moses Medgar Martin Mountaintop A long time ago, in a land far away. . . Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah. The Lord said to him, "This is the land which I swore to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, saying that I will give it to your descendants. I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there"

Then thousands of years passed. Then later, in 1963 A.D., civil rights pioneer Medgar Evers was assassinated in his own front yard in Jackson Mississippi.  Medgar carried a vision of freedom and dignity for his people, but he did not get to, in this earthly life, the promised Constitution/Emancipation Proclamation liberty and justice for all.

Later still, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, April 4, 1968.

On the night before his death, he spoke: "Well, I don't know what will happen now, we've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life; longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will.And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the Promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And so I'm happytonight; I'm not worried about anything; I'm not fearing any mine. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." Hear about it here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3hQNMr0A48&list=RDK3hQNMr0A48&start_radio=1

King of Soul

Can you see?

Oh say can you see, in the 2021 light What we so proudly maintained  after a riotous fight? That broad dome and wide steps through the perilous fight O'er the barricades we watched was so gallantly retained! As our Congress did dare, with teargas in the air, giving proof through the fight that our Congress was still there; O say does that Capitol Congress remain?. . . with our Presidency, o'er the land of the free, Democracy!

Glass half-Full

Human Folly

Human folly was overflowing. When I was seventeen, a seventeen minute tape gap closed the door on Nixon's dirty tricks: no more tricky dick when flood of watergate burst open every dam dirty trick that white house plumbers could contort . . . as fate and deep throat did utter in concrete caverns the secrets of their luminati break-in games. . . oh what fools these plumbers be. . . contempt of court doth rule, when such fools these dirty tricksters be. . . alas, poor richard we knew him well, until bernstein woodward did move against nixon's game. pudd'n and tane; ask me again and I'll tell you the same. Anyway, who'd have thunk it? But human folly, you see, was overflowing. . . alway was, always will, somewhere, some time, when you least expect it. Oh, but I digress. Anyway, no matter how you cut it, decades passed; time keeps slip-sliding away. . . And then, and then. . . after the dot.com bubble had not sustained. . . and when yonder-coming frothy Y2K had done gone down the drain, in the sweet buy and buy, and the scurry sell and sell and what's under the derivatives bell. . . when the froth had gone down the MBS drain, when the CDOs took the last train to clocksville, they said it wasn't like the crash of '29, no, just a blip in wall street time;

 it wasn't worth a dime or even a wooden nickel; 't'was just a wrinkle in time. . . but meanwhile back at the tranche, up on fifth avenue the joker was descending from his glassy tower, the man of fate and power for the hour, spewing spooky spiffs: stand back, stand by, for your piece of insurrection pie, and so, them standby three percent of boys, them oath-bleepers and the proud trumptoys, advancing in the mall, answering the dog-whistle call, insurrecting as the joker's toys, them 0 so proud boys did don their insurrection hoods, as dunces in their joker's game

 against our Constitution game, and did mount up their wing-dings like beagles on the hunt, with nooses hanging loose, for to find VP pence. . . and so they did maraud their way beneath the dome, forcing Jefferson out of his home, electrocuting Franklin's kite with all their gangly might. . . just put your john henry on these 2-century legacies. . . yeah, yeah, I say unto thee. Human folly is overflowing, and I think its going to flood today, or anyway, it may, except . . . this is January. Oh well. . . but that's a deep subject, as deep as the drifting snow. . . you just never know. . . what will happen. Suffice it to say, human folly is overflowing. . . singing folly wolly doodle all the day. And I told him that! Glass half-Fullhttp://www.careyrowland.com