Reflection
Reconnecting
10/Oct/11 21:48
My life has been so full of so many disconnects:
Born at Franklin Hospital in Franklin New Jersey (It is no longer a hospital, now it is a nursing home of sorts, suppose I can leave the same way I came in)
Moved to Illinois once I was two years old or so
Lived in at least a dozen places in Illinois and New Jersey by the time I was 18
Lived with 6 stepbrothers and 2 stepsisters for a couple years
Lived with two different grandmothers, one grandfather
Lived in residential hotels, the back of an Italian restaurant in Joliet, IL a private hunting club called the Pheasant Club somewhere in Illinois
Had four different stepfathers
Saw one of our houses burnt down
Spent part of one summer with some Hell’s Angels (relatives- maybe another story another time!), and so on.
ound faith in a wonderful church that was shut down over finance issues a year or two later – Northwest Christian Center in Wichita Falls Texas near Sheppherd Air Force Base.
Four years in the Air Force, moving, etc.
And I could go on.
It seems that I spend a good part of my life either trying to reconnect dots, or just figure some of them out. For about 4 or 5 of my growing up years (2 years old to about 4 or 5 and again at 11 for a little over a year) I lived in a small little home in Romeoville, IL (just outside of Joliet). 508 Everett Ave.
About a year ago, I was very close to my old house. It was one of a dozen times I had the urge to go see the house, find out if it was still there. It was only the 2nd or 3rd time I gave in to the urge. I parked very close to the house, and I walked as if I were going to school, just a little over a block away on 616 Dalhart Avenue., . I think the school used to be called Parkview Elementary; it is now called Robert C Hill Elementary school.
My first reconnect was waiting at the afternoon crosswalk. There was an older later, who was in her last week of being a crosswalk school guard. We did the math, she had been a crosswalk guard when I was in Kindergarten and first grade, forty five years early.
My second was a little bolder. I went to the house where I had lived. I took a few photos, but my appetite was not quenched. I took the bold step of knocking on the front door. A Hispanic gentleman answered the door. I did my best to explain that I used to live there, not sure of his English skills. His daughter came and we chatted. I so badly wanted to go in the house, but he did not offer nor did I ask. He let me in the backyard; I explained to him and his daughter how the yard used to look, where we used to have a garden, barbecue pit, etc.
I thanked him then I started to walk away. Nope, not yet. It was time for my third and final reconnect. I leaned against the car staring at the tree. There stood the same tree that Donny and Douggie Woods (I am sure they are Don and Doug now, I used to be Bobby and would want them calling me anything but Bob) used to climb. They could climb it, but I couldn’t. Even the little girl next door could probably climb it but I couldn’t. The fact that I was dressed to attend a conference on Bio Ethics at nearby Trinity International University did not stop me. Yep, I put the camera down, the keys on the ground, and though I did not look toward the windows of 508 Everrett Avenue, I am sure an entire Hispanic family watched as this crazy 48 year old white guy climbed their tree.
I got up far enough to claim my reconnect victory (not very far!) and jumped in the car and drove off before I would need to meet a member of the Village of Romeoville’s finest, a job my father had 45 years earlier...
Born at Franklin Hospital in Franklin New Jersey (It is no longer a hospital, now it is a nursing home of sorts, suppose I can leave the same way I came in)
Moved to Illinois once I was two years old or so
Lived in at least a dozen places in Illinois and New Jersey by the time I was 18
Lived with 6 stepbrothers and 2 stepsisters for a couple years
Lived with two different grandmothers, one grandfather
Lived in residential hotels, the back of an Italian restaurant in Joliet, IL a private hunting club called the Pheasant Club somewhere in Illinois
Had four different stepfathers
Saw one of our houses burnt down
Spent part of one summer with some Hell’s Angels (relatives- maybe another story another time!), and so on.
ound faith in a wonderful church that was shut down over finance issues a year or two later – Northwest Christian Center in Wichita Falls Texas near Sheppherd Air Force Base.
Four years in the Air Force, moving, etc.
And I could go on.
It seems that I spend a good part of my life either trying to reconnect dots, or just figure some of them out. For about 4 or 5 of my growing up years (2 years old to about 4 or 5 and again at 11 for a little over a year) I lived in a small little home in Romeoville, IL (just outside of Joliet). 508 Everett Ave.
About a year ago, I was very close to my old house. It was one of a dozen times I had the urge to go see the house, find out if it was still there. It was only the 2nd or 3rd time I gave in to the urge. I parked very close to the house, and I walked as if I were going to school, just a little over a block away on 616 Dalhart Avenue., . I think the school used to be called Parkview Elementary; it is now called Robert C Hill Elementary school.
My first reconnect was waiting at the afternoon crosswalk. There was an older later, who was in her last week of being a crosswalk school guard. We did the math, she had been a crosswalk guard when I was in Kindergarten and first grade, forty five years early.
My second was a little bolder. I went to the house where I had lived. I took a few photos, but my appetite was not quenched. I took the bold step of knocking on the front door. A Hispanic gentleman answered the door. I did my best to explain that I used to live there, not sure of his English skills. His daughter came and we chatted. I so badly wanted to go in the house, but he did not offer nor did I ask. He let me in the backyard; I explained to him and his daughter how the yard used to look, where we used to have a garden, barbecue pit, etc.
I thanked him then I started to walk away. Nope, not yet. It was time for my third and final reconnect. I leaned against the car staring at the tree. There stood the same tree that Donny and Douggie Woods (I am sure they are Don and Doug now, I used to be Bobby and would want them calling me anything but Bob) used to climb. They could climb it, but I couldn’t. Even the little girl next door could probably climb it but I couldn’t. The fact that I was dressed to attend a conference on Bio Ethics at nearby Trinity International University did not stop me. Yep, I put the camera down, the keys on the ground, and though I did not look toward the windows of 508 Everrett Avenue, I am sure an entire Hispanic family watched as this crazy 48 year old white guy climbed their tree.
I got up far enough to claim my reconnect victory (not very far!) and jumped in the car and drove off before I would need to meet a member of the Village of Romeoville’s finest, a job my father had 45 years earlier...
Dancers who dance upon injustice
03/Oct/11 17:45
I sent a face book message last week, that I liked:
I’d like to think of myself as a dancer who dances upon injustice!
There is a song called Did you feel the mountains tremble; here are the lyrics:
Did you feel the mountains tremble?
Did you hear the oceans roar?
When the people rose to sing of
Jesus Christ the Risen One
Did you feel the people tremble?
Did you hear the singers roar?
When the lost began to sing of
Jesus Christ the Saving One
And we can see that God you're moving
A mighty river through the nations
When young and old return to Jesus
You fling wide you Heavenly gates
Prepare the way of the Risen Lord
Oh the Risen Lord
Open up the doors Lord
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Dance before the Lord
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
(Yeah yeah Lord)
Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the Saints joined in one song
And all the streams flowed as one river
To wash away our brokenness
Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the Saints joined in one song
And all the streams flowed as one river
To wash away our brokenness
Oh of brokenness
Open up the doors
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Oh upon injustice
Oh Lord, upon injustice, Lord
Lord Jesus, we dance upon injustice, we dance upon the pride
We dance upon the feel, we dance upon insecurity
We dance upon injustice
Yeah oh Lord, upon injustice, Lord
Injustice Lord, is here no more, is here no more
Injustice Lord, is here no more in Jesus name
Injustice Lord, injustice Lord, is here no more, is here no more
Injustice Lord, is here no more in the name of Jesus
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
I’d like to think of myself as a dancer who dances upon injustice!
There is a song called Did you feel the mountains tremble; here are the lyrics:
Did you feel the mountains tremble?
Did you hear the oceans roar?
When the people rose to sing of
Jesus Christ the Risen One
Did you feel the people tremble?
Did you hear the singers roar?
When the lost began to sing of
Jesus Christ the Saving One
And we can see that God you're moving
A mighty river through the nations
When young and old return to Jesus
You fling wide you Heavenly gates
Prepare the way of the Risen Lord
Oh the Risen Lord
Open up the doors Lord
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Dance before the Lord
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
(Yeah yeah Lord)
Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the Saints joined in one song
And all the streams flowed as one river
To wash away our brokenness
Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the Saints joined in one song
And all the streams flowed as one river
To wash away our brokenness
Oh of brokenness
Open up the doors
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Oh upon injustice
Oh Lord, upon injustice, Lord
Lord Jesus, we dance upon injustice, we dance upon the pride
We dance upon the feel, we dance upon insecurity
We dance upon injustice
Yeah oh Lord, upon injustice, Lord
Injustice Lord, is here no more, is here no more
Injustice Lord, is here no more in Jesus name
Injustice Lord, injustice Lord, is here no more, is here no more
Injustice Lord, is here no more in the name of Jesus
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
With songs that bring your hope
And the songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice
32 Years ago in the Air Force
21/Sep/11 23:11
Thirty-two years ago this week, I woke up from a pretty drunken state (there were three or four times in my life that I can say pretty drunken state, this was one of them).
The night before, my stepfather’s business partner opened a bar and I was invited to the opening. To make matters worse, I was the recipient of nearly every possible free drink. I was the guy joining the Air Force the next morning, everyone wanted to buy me a drink.
Though I have no recollection of it, my mother and/or stepfather saw to it that I got inside the Air Force recruiter’s vehicle the next morning with my bag packed at about 5:45 am. I do remember waking up late morning (10:00 or 11:00 am) realizing I was standing in line for a physical fitness test at the AAFES processing center (Army Air Force Enlistment Service) in downtown Newark, New Jersey.
We were sent to Newark Airport in a group of four, I was handed everyone’s files (found out later that meant I was in charge). We arrived at the Dallas Fort Worth Airport late Friday afternoon September 21, 1979. One of our four panicked when he saw all of the men in military uniform, excused himself and came back from the bathroom seriously nervous. I asked him what he was worried about. It was seeing the uniforms that caused him to remember all of the pot he had on him and other paraphernalia. He wanted to know if I thought it might be a problem. After answering yes, we never saw him again; I hope he’s well!
The three of us boarded a bus at DFW airport that drove all the way to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. The active duty Air Force guy on the bus was nice, or at least he was not mean. He told us we were going to be rainbows all weekend long; whatever that meant. He tried to explain to us that since it was Friday night, the barber shop would be closed, and the Air Force uniform issuing department would be closed all weekend long as well.
Wow, we could be enlisted active duty men in civilian clothes and with long hair and beards for the weekend, how cool! NOT! All weekend long, every squadron of Basic Trainee Airman would sing in cadence:
Rainbow, Rainbow,
Don’t be blue,
Our recruiter screwed us too!
The first night we had a briefing. The Air Force through it’s wonderful TI’s (Training Instructors) let us know what was and wasn’t allowed, expectations, realities, etc. They described what was legal and illegal. The TI proceeded to leave the room with an amnesty box and a one-way funnel that we could deposit any illegal or inappropriate material that the Air Force did not want us to have. When he came back, he would be inspecting our bags for illegal materials.
It was to my horror that, when I opened up my suitcase, I found my mother had been up to one of her special tricks (remember I was not sober until the midst of a physical, had no idea who packed my bags or what was in them). Mom had put a teddy bear in my suitcase! To make matters worse the suitcase was bigger than the amnesty box, though I tried to make it fit with 49 other guys watching, and laughing, some almost to the point of tears.
Monday morning came and were we glad to get uniforms and haircuts. Haircuts were first, we were sorted (basically) in order of height, I was near the front. The barber asked for a volunteer to demonstrate an Air Force hair cut, I later learned that volunteering was best left for the TI to do as his or her own will and pace.
Everyone watched as I jumped on the seat and in a southern Texas drawl that made it almost impossible for a guy from New Jersey to understand, the barber asked if I wanted my sideburns and I answered sure (and was reprimanded as the only appropriate answers were yes sir or no sir). He proceeded to cut off my sideburns, put them in a plastic bag and advised me to mail them home to my Momma.
Enough of memory lane. It is hard to believe that was 32 years ago when I was 18. I have learned not to be the first to volunteer.
The fact is the Air Force was one of the best things to happen to me. It was there that I came to faith in Jesus, met my wife of 28 years and so much more…
The night before, my stepfather’s business partner opened a bar and I was invited to the opening. To make matters worse, I was the recipient of nearly every possible free drink. I was the guy joining the Air Force the next morning, everyone wanted to buy me a drink.
Though I have no recollection of it, my mother and/or stepfather saw to it that I got inside the Air Force recruiter’s vehicle the next morning with my bag packed at about 5:45 am. I do remember waking up late morning (10:00 or 11:00 am) realizing I was standing in line for a physical fitness test at the AAFES processing center (Army Air Force Enlistment Service) in downtown Newark, New Jersey.
We were sent to Newark Airport in a group of four, I was handed everyone’s files (found out later that meant I was in charge). We arrived at the Dallas Fort Worth Airport late Friday afternoon September 21, 1979. One of our four panicked when he saw all of the men in military uniform, excused himself and came back from the bathroom seriously nervous. I asked him what he was worried about. It was seeing the uniforms that caused him to remember all of the pot he had on him and other paraphernalia. He wanted to know if I thought it might be a problem. After answering yes, we never saw him again; I hope he’s well!
The three of us boarded a bus at DFW airport that drove all the way to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. The active duty Air Force guy on the bus was nice, or at least he was not mean. He told us we were going to be rainbows all weekend long; whatever that meant. He tried to explain to us that since it was Friday night, the barber shop would be closed, and the Air Force uniform issuing department would be closed all weekend long as well.
Wow, we could be enlisted active duty men in civilian clothes and with long hair and beards for the weekend, how cool! NOT! All weekend long, every squadron of Basic Trainee Airman would sing in cadence:
Rainbow, Rainbow,
Don’t be blue,
Our recruiter screwed us too!
The first night we had a briefing. The Air Force through it’s wonderful TI’s (Training Instructors) let us know what was and wasn’t allowed, expectations, realities, etc. They described what was legal and illegal. The TI proceeded to leave the room with an amnesty box and a one-way funnel that we could deposit any illegal or inappropriate material that the Air Force did not want us to have. When he came back, he would be inspecting our bags for illegal materials.
It was to my horror that, when I opened up my suitcase, I found my mother had been up to one of her special tricks (remember I was not sober until the midst of a physical, had no idea who packed my bags or what was in them). Mom had put a teddy bear in my suitcase! To make matters worse the suitcase was bigger than the amnesty box, though I tried to make it fit with 49 other guys watching, and laughing, some almost to the point of tears.
Monday morning came and were we glad to get uniforms and haircuts. Haircuts were first, we were sorted (basically) in order of height, I was near the front. The barber asked for a volunteer to demonstrate an Air Force hair cut, I later learned that volunteering was best left for the TI to do as his or her own will and pace.
Everyone watched as I jumped on the seat and in a southern Texas drawl that made it almost impossible for a guy from New Jersey to understand, the barber asked if I wanted my sideburns and I answered sure (and was reprimanded as the only appropriate answers were yes sir or no sir). He proceeded to cut off my sideburns, put them in a plastic bag and advised me to mail them home to my Momma.
Enough of memory lane. It is hard to believe that was 32 years ago when I was 18. I have learned not to be the first to volunteer.
The fact is the Air Force was one of the best things to happen to me. It was there that I came to faith in Jesus, met my wife of 28 years and so much more…
How's your walk?
28/May/10 10:35
Back in 1981 while serving in the Air Force in England, I was, for a brief period of time, a part of a discipleship group on the Air Force Base. I can still remember one day the leader, who barely knew my first name (Bob is not too difficult) walked up to me in an uncomfortable manner got in my face and asked me ‘How’s your walk?’. I was such a new believer, that I am not sure I even knew what he was asking. I grunted something to the effect of ‘Okay I guess’. That one question pretty much ended my involvement with the discipleship group and I was later encouraged to know that my spiritual mentors were equally taken back by the question and more importantly the manner in which it was asked.
The fact is, it is a great question to be asking. How is your walk? Or in other words:
Are you walking with God?
Is everything okay?
Are you struggling
Can I help you?
Are there issues you are dealing with?
I think we all need to be asking our own selves this exact question.
For those of us who are mentors or have people who look up to us spiritually and want us to lead them and ask them the tough questions, this is the right question, Hows your walk?
I would say that I am not asking myself that question enough. I need to keep asking it and if it is a positive response, I should enjoy it and thank God that I can answer positively.
If it is a negative one, then I need to reflect on how to improve. Reflecting on the past is the rubber band by which I can thrust myself positively in the future.
Hey, by the way,
‘How’s your walk?’.......
The Apology
21/Apr/10 00:37
I am not exactly the poetry sort of a guy, but as a teenager I came across a piece of poetry in an English Lit class that was so powerful to me and my situation then, and is probably just as meaningful today.
First let me explain what it means to me. As a teenager, life was difficult, very difficult. Some of you know my history. At 16 years old, as a volunteer on the local ambulance squad, I performed CPR on my mother for several minutes before the ambulance came and another 11 minutes in the ambulance until arriving in the ER at St. Anthony’s Hospital in Warwick, New York. She had tried to end her life by taking over 44 valium at once. God was good, her life was spared and I only bruised three ribs, nothing broke.
It was at that time that my stepfather had decided to adopt my brother and I. I was 16, Bernie was 12. We were okay with the adaption until we found out that my stepfather, not telling us, had decided that we would have to have our last name changed to Kent. To keep ‘peace’ in the family with a suicidal mom and an insistent step-father, we went to court and watched my father fight to keep us and lose. It was a landmark case, you would know it if you were an adaption lawyer; normal law abiding dads don’t usually lose contested adoptions. Heart wrenching, gut aching, devastating, to say the least. In March of 1978 and for 10 years after that Robert E McGurty became Robert E Kent until ten years later when I changed back to my birth name. My brother Bernie is still Bernie Kent.
During those difficult times, my solace was the Waywayanda State Park (yes, that is the real name!); about a three minute walk from my doorstep in Highland Lakes, New Jersey. Sometimes those walks were only a few minutes, sometimes hours, and even sometimes, with a sleeping bag, tent and basic food in tow, they were for days. Those walks were life saving, salvation to the soul if you will.
As I would walk the beautiful unpolluted, unspoiled Waywayanda State Park I could fully connect with the first paragraph of The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson (2803-1882) who said:
Think me not unkind and rude
That I walk alone in grove and glen
I go to the god of the wood
To fetch his word to men.
Sometimes you just have to get out of the stinking, freaking rat race and get alone to connect with God, the God of the wood, metal, rocks, paper, scissors, and everything else you can imagine and even cannot.
Go for it, walk alone in grove and glen!
Men are counting on you fetching His word and delivering!
Truth in the inner parts...
19/Apr/10 00:37
Psalms 51: 6 reads:
Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.
This scripture has captured my mind the last few days.
Inner parts? Where are they?
Not sure what it means, but certainly it goes deeper than telling the truth, being honest.
You, you the only truly God, are the one who Teaches, you teach ME, wisdom.
Wow. Think on this, it is powerful.
Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.
This scripture has captured my mind the last few days.
Inner parts? Where are they?
Not sure what it means, but certainly it goes deeper than telling the truth, being honest.
You, you the only truly God, are the one who Teaches, you teach ME, wisdom.
Wow. Think on this, it is powerful.