How’s Your Love Life?

Love TankValentine’s Day; that ancient holiday responsible for creating knot’s in a 6th grader’s stomach.   There we sat; just back from lunch where we mentally digested morning geography images of half-naked tribal Africans drumming and dancing during their version of a Bar Mitzvah.   Now we prepared to endure California mandated coed sex education classes.   But first – we shared the contents of our Valentine’s bags classmates “filled” earlier that morning.   This was supposed to show us how much we were loved.   Some were more filled than others.  None of us had any idea what love was.

Fast forward 6 years to 12th grade.   Thankfully (except for that one girl who passed me that note saying she wanted to hold hands, and we never got to) we moved to other side of LA County and I escaped the embarrassing stigma of pubescent sexual awkwardness.   I healed from the eroticism of those mandated classes and figured the important parts out on my own.   Now I was learning something better; Romanticism; behavioral AND literary.   My English Teacher introduced me to Charles Dickens and I fell in love with Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities.   Romantic, morbid, morose and fantastic; just what a 17-year-old love-crazy boy needed!   I still had no idea what love was, but Dickens’ character Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities showed me a new example of love; sacrifice for the good of another.

Carton’s love was unrequited, yet he gave everything to express his love in a way that eternally benefited his beloved.  That was completely counter to my teenage, hormone induced way of thinking.   We learned about hedonism and narcissism in Psychology class, but we never learned about asceticism.   I’m not saying Carton didn’t have desire for Lucie Mannette.   But, he knew he couldn’t be the man she needed or deserved.   To express his love for Lucie, Sydney pledged to give his life to save the lives of those he loved.   My mind was blown.   You’ll have to read the book.

A few years later I studied psychology in college.   I joined a Bible study with some students and learned bout phileo and agape love.   Now I understood Sydney Carton more fully.   Carton knew more about love than I did.   I had always been motivated by “what’s in it for me” and was afraid of finding nothing in it for me.   There was my “ah ha” moment.   Fear is selfish.  Love – real love – is selfless.   Perfect love casts out fear.  Perfect love is unconditional; a gift that may not give back.   The thing is, that kind of love IS attractive.   Why?   Because sometimes we fear showing love because we’re afraid showing love will demand something of us.

But, what if we find a kind of love that demands nothing from us except to accept and embrace it?  Love like that of a missionary; expecting to get nothing; living to give everything for the good of another?   Love like that of Sydney Carton.   Love like that Saint Teresa?   Love like that of Jesus?   “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).   Like the 1984 Foreigner song, I want to know what love is – that perfect life of love.   Do you?   Check your love tank.   How’s your love life?

© 2018 Curt Savage Media                                                                

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Oil for Your Lamp

Oil for Your Lamp 12-19-2017Do you have a favorite oil lamp; maybe a glass or metal hurricane lamp or railroad lantern?  My wife has the glass oil lamp that provided the light her mother and her aunts read by when they were children.  I like railroad lanterns, but they’re difficult to find and kind of expensive.  We made a trip to Lehman’s Hardware in Kidron, Ohio many years ago and I bought an American made Dietz #8 Air Pilot Lantern.  Sometimes I like to leave the lights off and write or practice guitar with that lantern providing the only light.

Oil lamps can burn a variety of fuels including kerosene.  I’ve heard of lamps using whale oil and even olive oil, but I’ve never owned either type.  I prefer pure paraffin oil because it’s nearly smokeless and odorless.  With its large oil tank, the Air Pilot can be depended upon to provide light through the stormiest nights, provided I remember to keep the tank full.  I often get busy with other things and forget lamp oil evaporates over time.  An empty tank is an unpleasant surprise when you need a lamp during a power outage.

No matter what kind of lamp you have, the time you need the lamp the most is the worst time to run out of oil.  Growing up in Los Angeles, I went to school with, and befriended many Jewish kids.  I spent a lot of time with the Pessah family and they taught me many things about their culture and faith.  I loved their food and traditions.  I learned about a group of soldiers who ran out of oil at a critical time in their mission.  Judah Maccabee and his brothers helped retake the Holy Temple in Jerusalem from Antiochus IV Epiphanes.  According to the Talmud, the wicks of the sacred Temple lamps miraculously burned for the eight days required for purification, even though there was only enough sacred oil for one day.  This miracle is what is celebrated during Chanukah.

Alongside our Advent Wreath and candles, we also have a Menorah we light each night during Chanukah before we recite the blessings.  We do this to remember our Jewish friends and to honor the miracle they celebrate.  While watching the candles burn, I saw their reflection in my daughter’s eyes and I thought of the Scripture in chapter 6 of the Bible’s Book of Matthew which states “The eye is the lamp of the body.  If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.”

If our eyes are indeed the “Lamp of the Body” then what would constitute the oil for those lamps?  I would suggest the “oil” is what we see and how we see it.  The eyes allow in what illumines the very heart, or soul, of the person.  There have been many dark things set before our eyes this year.  Hopelessness is associated with a darkened spirit.  However, hope relights the “Lamp of the Body” and casts out hopelessness.  If you’ve suffered loss this year and you’ve been struggling with trying to find that “oil” of hope, then this Christmas, I want to direct your focus at Jesus; God’s gift we remember with Luminaria during this darkest time of the year; the gift known as “The Light of the World”; the lamp whose oil never runs out.

© 2017 Curt Savage Media

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Light Hearted

IMG_20171210_181616Do you remember the old Christmas lights from back before there were “Mini-lights” and LED lights?  I think they were called C7 bulbs?  The way they were wired, if one bulb failed, the whole string of lights went dark.  With modern lights, if one goes out the rest stay lighted.  The burned-out bulb is easy to spot amongst the other lights.  I Tweeted the other day “A candle is barely noticeable in daylight.  However, its light is undeniable in darkness.”  The only thing more noticeable in darkness is the absence of light.

Because darkness is so scary for many people, it is widely used to represent evil.  I find it troubling that in popular culture, evil or darkness is portrayed as the color black.  This is not only insulting to dark skinned peoples, it is also misleading.  Scriptures teach that Satan can disguise himself as an “Angel of Light”.   Furthermore, darkness has no color.  Albert Einstein has been quoted as having said “There is no such thing as darkness.  Darkness is simply the absence of light”.  I guess that’s why it’s said, “The darkness hates the light”.  It’s because the light uncovers and exposes the darkness.  Darkness also hates the light because in the light, darkness will cease to exist.

With Advent and Chanukah just around the corner, we ordered more candles, so we’ll be ready to light our Advent wreath and Menorah.  The lighting of these two faith symbols is a significant statement against darkness.  The Advent wreath symbolizes our preparation to celebrate the entrance into our world of the Light of the World in human form; that is Jesus.  The Menorah is a remembrance of God miraculously sustaining the Menorah light in the Temple in Jerusalem for eight days when Judah the Maccabee found only enough oil for one day.  In both cases, light cast out darkness and that light illuminated human hearts.

Besides shorter daylight hours and the subsequent shortage of visible light as winter aproaches, a spiritual darkness exists in the world.  Darkness in human hearts can lead to dark actions.  Like human lamps, we must shine our lovelights to overcome that darkness.  Let’s join hands to form a string of lights and light up the dark!    “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.  Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.  Hide it under a bushel – NO!  I’m gonna let it shine.  Hide it under a bushel – NO!  I’m gonna let it shine.  Hide it under a bushel – NO!  I’m gonna let it shine.  Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.  Won’t let evil blow it out.  I’m gonna let it shine.  Won’t let evil blow it out.  I’m gonna let it shine.  Won’t let evil blow it out.  I’m gonna let it shine.  Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Matt 5:14-16

© 2017 Curt Savage Media

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Where’s the Turkey?

Thanksgiving MultiracialDo you remember the Wendy’s commercial featuring a small, cantankerous woman in her eighties who would order a hamburger at some other restaurant and, upon being served a sandwich containing a puny little patty of meat, would exclaim “Where’s the beef?”?  That commercial became part of the Wendy’s restaurant advertising campaign in 1984.  The woman was Clara Peller, an 81 year old Russian born immigrant who came to America when she was just 5 years old.  Clara passed away in 1987, but her character and question from the commercials has become a permanent American cultural icon. Clara recorded the single “Where’s the Beef” with Nashville Radio DJ Coyote McCloud.  Everyone from corporate CEO’s to U.S. Presidential candidates have used the phrase “Where’s the Beef?” when decrying the absence of substance in a program or proposal.

Beginning shortly after Labor Day, I began to see stores rearranging their shelves and opening up space for their displays for the upcoming “holiday retail season”.  By the end of September, the “Halloween palooza” was in full gear.  That, in itself, was not too shocking.   What was disturbing was the presence of Christmas decorations right alongside the Ghoul-o-rama.  I studied retail merchandising through a school-to-work program while in high school.  I get what the retailers are up to.  Add-on purchases are great for a business’s bottom line.  Why do you think all that candy, snack food and drinks are located at the registers in most stores – like Lowe’s for example where I went to buy a $6 dollar item and ended up buying an additional $14 dollars worth of “snackage” for myself, my daughter and my son who were shopping with me?  Hey!  Shopping made us hungry.

The question I keep asking myself (and I hear others asking the same question as we scan the retail shelves) is “Where’s the turkey?”  I’m not talking about the frozen birds in the meat cases in the back of the store.  Where is Thanksgiving?  Aside from a few fall colored, turkey themed decorations for sale in the party supply isles, Thanksgiving is most easily found in tire treads – run over by the trucks delivering “Holiday” (AKA Christmas)  decorations.  Some large retailers are careful to avoid using the word “Christmas”.  These same retailers are “thankful” for the huge bump in food sales that “Turkey Day” brings.  However, if they officially started marketing “Thanksgiving” immediately after Halloween, they would find themselves in a dilemma.  What are we thankful for, and to whom?  Is everyone thankful for the same things from the same source?  I used to be thankful for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, but recent commercial changes to the focus of that parade are beginning to give me some “pre-pumpkin pie” indigestion.

I think a cultural change of focus has hijacked something that used to be a very central part of our national identity.  Where we used to give thanks for the things we were blessed with, now we make lists of the things we want that we don’t yet have; as if, by some stretch of the imagination, we don’t have enough.  Madison Avenue marketers have convinced us that we need more stuff, and they’re selling us a truck-load of discontent.  We need to learn from the Pilgrims and not from marketing experts.  Put up the lights before it snows and then let the rest of Christmas wait until we give thanks for the blessings we’ve already received.

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Exercising My Rights

voteIf I could get a degree in “Reverse Engineering”, I’d graduate with honors.  My maxim could be “If it ain’t broke, take it apart to figure out why not”; and that’s not limited to mechanical things.  I dissect songs, stories, art, religion and even sociological norms to examine them to see what makes them work, or not work.

Have you ever seen a structure collapse?  The failure can usually be traced to a couple of causes 1) the foundation becomes compromised and can no longer carry the structure, or 2) the structure becomes weakened or over-burdened to the point it can no longer support itself.  Sometimes, both these causes combine to bring a structure down.  Frequent inspections can identify the first signs of a loss of structural integrity.

I’ve been “inspecting” the foundational documents of our country; the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.  While avoiding lengthy discourse where there just is not the space, one word in the above sentence has been gnawing at my “take it apart” tendencies.  “Rights”.  That word is really bugging me.  Exactly what are “rights”?  Are am I on the “Left” or the “Right”?  I’m left handed so is that “wrong” since it’s not “right handed”?

While looking at the word “rights” from several angles, I learned rights give you the ability to have or get something or behave is some particular way based on some legal or moral authority.  Synonyms to the word “rights” are: entitlement, prerogative, privilege, advantage, due, liberty, authority, power, license, permission, dispensation, leave, sanction and freedom.  I read through those and all sorts of “caution markers” started popping up in my head.  The troubling thing about those synonyms is, they all infer “rights” are given by men or women to other men and women on the basis of some legislated legality, some social norm or an ethical expectation or belief.  Rules made by men.

Let’s look back at the example of structural collapse.  If the rights are only as good as the pillars holding them up are strong….do you see where I’m going here?  Take away the protections; remove a particular belief or behavior from the approved list of social norms; legislate away a long-held practice; all in the name of socially acceptable democracy, aka “mob rule”.  In that case, does voting for a right make it right if the proposed right is wrong?  Is the narcissistic pursuit of personally defined rights alienating our neighbors, violating their rights and destroying the foundations of our nation?

It can be difficult to defend or even respect another person’s “rights” when those rights infringe on your “rights”.  But, then again, who gives you the right not to?  Some people speak of their “God given rights”.  I couldn’t find specified rights in my Bible, but I found plenty of references to what IS right; paradigms that are naturally right – those that are not dependent on the laws or customs of any culture or government; natural laws.  For something to be “natural”, it must have an origin independent of human manipulation; a Creator.  If we believe nature is good, we must also believe natural laws are good.  To guarantee everyone their rights, we need only to follow those laws.

© 2017 Curt Savage Media                                                         

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Hallowed Mischief

Man With HorseI laugh when I think back on the mischief I was involved in during my school years.  Nearly all of it was innocuous.  None of my mischief was of the “over-the-top” caliber portrayed in so many of those teen “high school” themed movies.   To say none of it went farther than we intended, or that none of it got our parents involved would be untrue, but most of our efforts went into creating fun public spectacles and causing a good amount of harmless amusement or consternation for adults.

In keeping with the “spectacle and consternation” theme, we went through dizzying amounts of toilet paper, lawn paint, cellophane, thread, water balloons, fire crackers, sulfur, etc; all tools of “the trade”.  Which friend to hang out with was often decided by who had the best mischief plan for the day.  During the summer, we could create day-long programs of mayhem.  If we got home before our parents did and no police cars were waiting for us, everything was good; and we made sure it always was good because we feared our parents more than we did the police.

Every year, as Halloween approaches, I recall one act of mischievous brilliance which was renowned for its spectacular high visibility.  In downtown Westchester, California, at the corner of West Manchester Avenue and South Sepulveda Boulevard, in front of the international House of Pancakes restaurant stands an imported, Italian Marble, ten-foot-tall sculpture of a man with reins in hand standing next to his horse.  The statue has been there since at least 1960.  Since the statue’s arrival, it has been a frequent target for mischief.

I attended junior high school not far from that intersection.  That statue stood in front IHOP’s predecessor, Home Savings & Loan back then.  We used to stop at the Save-On Drug Store across the street from the S&L on our way home from school to get ice cream cones.  I can see that statue clearly in my mind’s eye.  Sometimes the man holding the horse would have flowers in his hand with the reins.  Sometimes a mannequin would be perched upon the horse.  But, every Halloween, without fail, someone would find a huge pumpkin, hollow it out, carve a face on it and place it over the horseman’s head!  Being marble, the statue wasn’t damaged by the pumpkin which adorned it until the fruit rotted away.

I had to know if this was a short-lived prank and if anyone else from my junior high remembered the sight.  I posted the question on the school’s alumni Facebook page and received over 100 responses from members spanning classes from the 1960’s to the present!  Each one remembered seeing the pumpkin-headed horseman and many of the younger members assured me the tradition continues.  Some even “fessed up” to being the ones responsible for placing the pumpkin, including one whose accomplices ran as the police arrived and ended-up having a police officer help him hoist the squash!  Everyone wants to see photos of this year’s contribution to this good, harmless, fun-for-all mischief!

If you’re including some mischievous trickery with your Halloween treats, I hope it’s as harmless and its memories as cherished and long-lived as Westchester’s pumpkin-headed horseman!

© 2017 Curt Savage Media                                                         


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wp_20161016_016.jpgDo you ever hike, walk or jog in our nearby parks?  The walking paths in our city and township parks are marked with highly visible signs leading the walkers or joggers along to the next sections of the paths.  The maintained hiking trails through our state parks are marked less garishly with signage that blends better with the scenery.  These trails are still fairly easy to follow if you watch for the signs.  When hiking through long stretches of open country on minimally maintained trails, one must know what trail markers to look for.  If blazes are missed, hikers can easily wander off the trail and become lost.

On our way to church one Sunday morning, I noticed a small, squiggly white line that suddenly appeared on the pavement, and ran in front of us all the way down the hill into town. The line became more pronounced the further we went.   I pondered the possible source of the squiggly line.  I wondered if paint spilled in the bed of a pick-up truck.  The paint probably dribbled out of the tailgate and formed a trail for us to follow.  I guessed correctly.  As we turned onto North Street, the line terminated at a white spot that occupied most of a parking space in front of a building that was being renovated.

Once, while on patrol with the Coast Guard, I spotted an oil trail on the water as we sailed through Alaska’s Aleutian Islands.  We took samples and determined it to be diesel fuel.  We planned a search and launched our helicopter.  The pilot flew the helicopter close to the water, following the trail until he located the oil’s source; a fishing vessel had run aground.  Their fuel was leaking out, and they were taking on water.  Dewatering pumps drained their batteries, and they were unable to radio for help.  However, their fuel trail led us to them.

As we go through life, we leave trails that others can follow, whether we intend to or not.  Scholars leave paper trails made of studies, theses and books.  The trails of investors are strewn with “buy” and “sell” slips, bank statements and financial reports.  Teachers leave trails of students.  Actors leave trails of dialogue for others to quote.  The fickle in love leave trails of broken hearts. Those with wicked tempers and bad behavior often leave trails of destruction.

I’m leaving trails of my own.  They aren’t spilled paint or leaked fuel, but they are just as visible.  Are they just as indelible or toxic?  I don’t know.  I’d like to think they are good trails – the well marked paths along the “better way”.  If I’m honest, I’ll have to admit not all my trails are well blazed, or easy, or even good.  There are probably reasons for the kinds of trails I’ve left – some excusable, some not so much.   Being aware of my trails, and knowing that others may follow after me should be suitable admonishment to remind me that the paths ahead of me become the trails behind me.  I want to leave good trails and help others to do the same.

© 2017 Curt Savage Media                                                        

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