the blues

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The Blues is Still Kickin’

The Limestone City Blues Fest was on this weekend and my wife, Lily, and I decided to take it in. I like the “blues” so I was looking forward to hearing some music that sounded like Stevie Ray Vaughan, Albert King or Colin James.

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There was an open-air concert right on Princess Street and when we got within a few blocks, we could hear the guitar man wailing away. We didn’t really need to pay the admission fee; we could hear the music fine from the other side of the barricade. But it’s only up close that you get to feel the music, so we paid.

As we entered onto the blocked off street, we ran into one of our son’s friends. He was eating on the patio of a restaurant in the “hub”. We had a short chat and then moved on to get close to the music.

As we left Gibby, that was the last time I saw someone under 25 for the rest of the night. Actually, it was the last time I saw someone under 65!  We passed into a time warp and everyone you looked at was old, and from a bygone era.

I don’t mean just middle aged – we were the young people in the crowd! I gazed over everyone sitting in their lawn chairs in front of the stage, and it was a sea of white hair. I couldn’t believe it.  Where were all the younger blues fans?

The band leader was just givin’ it on his guitar and these people were soaking it up. I think they probably had their hearing aides turned down and all they really heard was a muffled sound.

Hey, some of them probably turned off their pacemakers because the kick drum was so heavy you felt it inside you, like it was replacing your heartbeat.

It was funny to see all those old folks (some with canes), all happy like they just got out of a nursing home for the night. I checked, but there wasn’t any one of the seniors from my church at the event. And I couldn’t imagine any of them being there, or at least staying for more than two minutes.

The band we saw was called “Papa Chubby” and it was a very descriptive name for the leader of the group. He sat and played his guitar for most of the set, but it wasn’t like his show lacked energy!

The old folks were into it, too; they were moving. One guy reminded me of the bobble head figurines, only he was a whole body bobble head, standing there jiggling.

People were tapping their canes and even formed something of a weak resemblance to a mosh pit at the front of the stage.

We checked out just before it ended. We left the concert area to go grab some gelato on Front Street. And there we were, transported back to present-day Kingston!

Here’s the thing: Just like the “Blues” isn’t music for just an older generation, God is not the God of a past generation. And like anyone can enjoy listening to the Blues, Christ came to reconcile all generations to God. You are never too old or young to believe in God.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What have you stereotyped as being for another generation? Leave your comment below.

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Sunday Morning Blues

There is something about a rainy day that makes us lazy. I wonder if there is some kind of chemical that reacts with the air and then is released in an invisible form. We then breath it in and get lethargic.

rain on window

It’s Sunday morning, I’m on vacation, but it’s raining. You know, one of those days where the clouds aren’t going anywhere, and if the rain stops falling from the sky, it’s only for a short twenty minute coffee break before it’s back to that constant dripping from the heavens.

Before I was really awake, I’m sure I was breathing in that invisible mist that got me thinking negatively about the day. I started thinking that maybe I wouldn’t bother going to church. Ya, maybe just take it easy and sit around the cottage doing nothing. That seemed attractive for a while.

… Until I started thinking of what that would entail. It would mean I could stay in my sweats a little longer, look out the window at the rain and complain about what a crappy day it was.

When I thought about it, it didn’t sound all that fun. I guess if I drank coffee and never got a chance to read, I might look forward to a dull, overcast, drizzly kind of day. I could sip a big mug of coffee and curl up in a big sweater or afghan and read some fluffy novel.

But then I would not only have to love coffee, I would also have to be female! Most guys would just mope or find something in the basement to fix or tinker with, all the while complaining at how crummy the day was.

I’m not sure what it was … it could have been that my pillow acted like a gas mask and prevented the air-born, mood-altering drug from entering my system … but I actually started to think rationally.

It was then that I thought I needed to make this day count for something.  I should go to church. I should go to church because it’s an opportunity to praise God and hear something from the Bible that I could apply to my life.

Hey, on a day like this, all gloomy and damp, I should go to church because I’m doing nothing else anyway. Why would I stay home and do nothing when I have a standing invitation to show up with other people and be challenged in my relationship with God?

At the very least, if the rest of the day would be spent watching someone else drink coffee and read a novel, at least for an hour or so I could get some relief from that.

I might later be able to go to the beach, or play golf, or go on some kind of excursion, but now I could recoup a small portion of the day and get some positive spiritual input for my weary soul.

Here’s the thing: It really doesn’t take all that much to get us to excuse ourselves from doing something, just to do nothing. We don’t feel any better doing it, it doesn’t make the day more enjoyable, but it does prevent us from gaining something spiritual that we might not get otherwise. … I’m getting my crew going this morning and we’re off to church.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What tempts you, more than anything else, to excuse yourself from church? Leave your comment below.