John Corson's Blog

for March 23, 2021


Tuesday's are always busy. Today was no exception. The church's new router has yet to arrive so we were flying in the dark as far as the INTRAnet is concerned. In other words our computers were not talking to each other and we had to use my wireless data plan through a hotspot I created on my phone so the church's computers could access the INTERnet.

I did not get to finish my sermon for Sunday much less have I had the opportunity to come up with an outline yet. One of the contractors who is bidding on the construction of our church's kitchen and bathroom remodels showed up today, expectantly and I couldn't get away to get some work done. After he left several of the men on the Properties Council and building team had some "new ideas" to try to make the remodel more "practical." It is a general rule of thumb adopted among most pastors who have to be a part of decision making (not making them on his one, but having to share) that where there are ten people involved in a project there will be ten or more ideas. If there are ten or more ideas, consensus is nearly impossible. I listen to all sides of an issue (fortunately there were only four, not ten sides) and put in my two cents worth, then find that mine makes five instead of bringing about a compromise between four.

Well, my day started out fine, except I was having trouble with my home PC this morning. I got not one, but two BSOD's. That stands for "Blue Screen of Death." My computer is really for gamers and is an all-in-one model manufactured by MSI. It is fast, but prone to crash every once in a while. When it does, needless to say, if I had something I was working on, which I was this morning, I lose it all upon the crash and have to start all over again. This happened on the first crash. By the time the second happened - only ten minutes later, I had already gotten into the habit of clicking the save buttoned every two minutes. (Actually, I hit the Ctrl. button with the S button). I just did it after the last sentence here.  And again after this one: Ctrl+S. If this thing goes crash, I still have the last sentence I typed. Ctrl+S

Well, the two crashes put me behind by about a half and hour. Then, I had intended to stop by Hardee's and grab a couple of their $2.00 bacon, egg and cheese burritos. They are really good. But when I got to the Hardee's in Suffolk which is on my way to the office, there were about fourteen cars in the drive-through line. This Hardees makes a lot of money on their drive-thru. So I went over to Duncan Donuts to pick up a couple of cream filled donuts and a hot vanilla latte. There were about six cars ahead of me and would you know two of the six had orders for people in their offices. Like I watched as a half-dozen drinks in drink holders were passed from the window to the driver and two boxes of a dozen donuts. Another car had four or five drinks and three bags of something - maybe bagels, biscuits, whatever on the menu they had to eat.

One time I actually thought I had a quick getaway in a drive though at a Chick-Fil-A last week and the two cars ahead of me must have ordered for a family of eight to ten. So many items were passing through the window for both of these two customers that I thought there would be nothing to sell by the time I got mine. Just about every restaurant and fast food joint have apps now that you can order your food and beverages online and pick them up upon arrival that you don't have to sit in the lines at the drive-through, but very few people use them. If you have a large order, use the darned app! I couldn't believe that a woman in a van with about four children and perhaps a couple of adults or teenagers was ahead of me at a McDonald's one day and I was curious to watch what all they had ordered since it took literally eleven minutes to place the order. I don't know what all was in the six bags, but there were ten milkshakes and four sodas passed through the window. I did notice that the order came to $107 and change since they were just in front of me at the menu board and the total was easy to spot. I think ordering dinner for more than four at the drive-through is completely discourteous to those behind who are stuck in the lane waiting to be served.

Enough of the grumbling, let me move on to my mood last night. It was dark. Something hit me like a ton of bricks and to this minute I can't tell you what triggered it or why it hit me. While Janice was readying herself for bed (again I remind my loyal readers that she gets up at 5:15 each morning so 8:30 is her normal bedtime on weeknights), I felt the need to go to the garden. I will refresh your memory by pointing out that this is Janice's flower garden, not the vegetable garden. It is in this garden that the Japanese maple tree is planted and covers the resting place of Princess, my beloved Sheltie. I go there for quiet solitude, mostly in the evenings, and think, mull, pray, talk to her, listen to music and the like. I was there last night, but the feelings were dark and full of despair. I dark grey cloud of hopelessness hit me and I started to think about what in the world was making me hit bottom on this night. There was nothing really bad or troubling that rocked my day yesterday. I had no ill, bitter or scary feelings from incidents of the past twenty-four hours or so.  I just went down a slope at about 200 miles per hour and felt lost. This doesn't happen a lot. In fact, it comes on me rarely.

I do get down and sometimes I feel discouraged or despondent. But I went out just to cry a little over the fact that I didn't have my Princess around to lookup at me and tell me with that beautiful face of hers that everything is going to be alright.

As I look back on it, the afternoon did not go too well for Janice when she got home. She pulled up to the house to be greeted by her son Timmy who had been working on her 1998 Chevy Venture off and on since she bought it in 2001. Janice has not driven it, or even cranked the engine since last August, although I have once or twice, but not since late November. Well, last week I discovered that the battery was dead and Timmy removed it to charge it at his place of work. When he brought it back and put it back under the hood, he cranked the engine and it wouldn't turn over. After inspecting the fuel line he could access without putting the van up on the rack, he surmised that the fuel pump was clogged with the ethanol that sat in the tank for probably over a year and that it had to be corroded. Timmy had told Janice to drive it at least once a month and crank it up at least once every two weeks. She didn't do it. Even when she wanted to use the van to go to Lowes to pick up tools or something for the garden, she decides at the last minute to just drive her car.

Timmy had warned her. The van is old, the fuel lines are old and it had to be driven at least once a month. In fact, she only drove it once in the last year and that was back in August.

Well, it is going to cost a lot of money, more than what the van is worth, to fix it now. It has to be junked. This van is sentimental to Janice as most of the money used to buy it was given to her by her mother who wanted her to have reliable transportation. Her mother gave it to her just prior to her death and that makes the van very important to her. Timmy knew that but told her that evidently I doesn't mean that much anymore for her to just let it sit in the street and never crank it up. Needless to say, she was in tears all evening long and went to bed very sullen.

Maybe that was what set me off last night. Call it sympathy sadness for my wife. I really don't know. Maybe I am barking up the wrong tree or just wanting to settle for any answer as to why I was in that dark place last night. "Sympathy sadness" does happen every once in a while.

I spent about thirty minutes outside last night, then I was able to move one. I took my night-time vitamin supplements and melatonin, read a little from a new book that came out a couple of months ago and that I just purchased entitled Primal Screams. It's by Mary Eberstadt and about the Sexual Revolution and how it has shaped identity politics and the whole sense of identity since the late 60's. I just got into to it when one of my favorite prime time shows came on: The Good Doctor. Don't ask me why, but I like the show. It comes from the same folks and producers that brought us House. Now that show, I really liked because the lead character, Dr. Gregory House, reminds me of ... me! Or me, if I could get away with it - but I am a pastor so I can't -in any way - be cynical and abrupt.

Following The Good Doctor I watched the weather, the melatonin kicked in so I was ready for bed. I got to sleep in a matter of minutes. It helps if you have a clear mind and your brain is slowed down from thoughts like the ones I was having two hours earlier. Turning my brain off, or way down low, is the only way I can get to sleep.

So, without the blasting of Democrats and the far FAR Left on my mind this afternoon, I was able to make this blog more personal and less a b**ch session.

Thanks for reading. By the way, the invitation is still open for you to pass along your thoughts about my thoughts. Just email me by clicking the icon below.

Until later ...

Blog for March 22 Blog for March 24


Blogs are about the blogger. It's as if he or she merely toots their own horns about the things they do, say and love.

My life is boring. I read, I watch Glenn Beck and Mark Levin. I listen to Andrew Wilkow. I engage in some conversation with those who are willing to listen (they being masochistic and enjoy killing themselves with my banter).

I plan on just laying out the things that bother me and the things I love. Nothing in-between. I hope you find whatever I put here amusing.