Archive for the ‘Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2012’ Category

Ministerial Cottage, Americus, Georgia, and Difficult Memories   Leave a comment

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 01

All Photographs by Kenneth Randolph Taylor, May 8, 2015

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In 2006 my parents moved into a ministerial cottage at Magnolia Manor in Americus, Georgia.  He was already declining due to Alzheimer’s Disease, although that diagnosis came later.  I had moved to Athens, Georgia, in August 2005, so I visited occasionally.  Geographical distance protected me from the worst of my father’s dementia and physical problems (some of them related to it) most of the time.  My mother, however, was not as fortunate.  Being his caregiver was quite difficult.

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 02

A friend in Athens lost her father to Alzheimer’s Disease also.  She told me that her father had died about ten years before his physical death.  I have come to understand what she meant, for the man who died in October 2014 occupied my father’s body yet was quite diminished from the man who had raised me.

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 03

My mother occupied the ministerial cottage until the beginning of June 2015.  I paid my last visit, mainly to help her pack, in early May of that year.  Looking at the rooms stirred up difficult memories related to my father’s illness.  I recalled, for example, that, on Thanksgiving Day 2013, shortly before my father left the house for the last time and entered the nursing home (visible through the kitchen window) involuntarily, his behavior prompted me to take a long walk up and down the sidewalks beside Lee Street just to get away from him.

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 04

It is unfair that often the last memories we have of certain loved ones are difficult.  When these loved ones die physically, they have actually died already, for the people they were have ceased to exist.  Trying to conduct a simple and intelligent conversation with such a loved one in the final stage of life might prove impossible.  One seeks to treat him or her with respect and dignity, but he or she, as he or she is at that phase, makes that difficult.  I have compassion for these loved ones and for those who struggle to treat them properly, for I have had a taste of what that is like.  Even visiting my father in the nursing home for an hour at a time was emotionally and physically draining.  Repeating myself too many times due to his confusion, bad memory, and bad hearing was difficult.  I tried to be kind, but I realized that I did not know what do in that moment.  A sense of futility had set in.

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 05

Fortunately for everyone, especially my father, he died before Alzheimer’s Disease had a chance to do its worst.  He knew his family until the end.  I had suspected that the end might come in late 2014, as it did.  His death was merciful for all involved.  I recall watching him struggle with confusion and become frustrated.  But what did he feel that he could not communicate to anyone?  What was it like to be him at the end?  That struggle ended in October 2014.

Ministerial Cottage May 5, 2015 06

We humans associate memories with where events occurred.  I associate my father’s end and the final stage of his decline with Magnolia Manor, Americus, Georgia.  Now that no member of my family lives on that campus anymore, I have little reason to visit the place.  That is fine, for I seek to build positive memories when I visit Americus.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JANUARY 2, 2016 COMMON ERA

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hebrews 7, 25   3 comments

Heb. 7, 25

Above:  Part of the Original Text

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Heb. 7, 25

see Rom. 1, 16

I.

The cause of the world’s woe–sin.  What fearful havoc it has wrought.  Man sought to hide from the presence of God.  He lost his way in moral darkness and plunged into every evil work.  How deep was his sin and its stain.

II.

The need of the world–of every man in it–is salvation.  Without it all else fails.

(1)  No moral sense save as one has knowledge of a holy God.  The Romans attributed great sins ton their deities on Mt. Olympus and in turn plead those sins in defense of their own corruption.  There was not a gentleman on Mt. Olympus.   Hence men need to learn that God is holy, that they may have a sense of sin–Isaiah’s vision.  “Convict the world of sin.”

(2)  Men need power to become the sons of God–new creatures–delivered from the power and pollution of sin, from its enslavement.  Else man cannot walk uprightly before God and men.

(3)  Jesus Christ does just this.  “To them gave he power to become the sons of God” (Jno. 1, 12).  “Hath power on earth to forgive sins.”  Millions have experienced this.

III.

Here then is the work of the church–to give to the world the knowledge of God and his power to save, to solve their vexed problems.  “How can they believe on him of whom they have not heard?  How can they hear without a preacher?”  Jesus calls us to witness to all the world that he may save all men.

GEORGE WASHINGTON BARRETT

Ode to Puns   Leave a comment

O glorious puns,

derided as the “lowest form of humor,”

you, who require a large

vocabulary, are not only fun

but, according not only to rumor,

more fun than any barge.

To tell excellent puns one must be smart,

well-read, literate, and observant;

to understand puns one must be the same.

Magnificent thou art,

intelligent and well-meant;

thou the groans should not tame.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 30, 2012 COMMON ERA

Posted December 30, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2012

Tagged with ,

Aging   Leave a comment

Snapshot_20121230

Above:  The Author’s Chin on December 30, 2012

My chin is sprouting white hairs and

their friends are growing from my temples.

Yes, I am aging;

I recover more slowly from aches and pains and

experiences pile upon each other,

forming a proverbial tower

of knowledge and awareness

of how little (relatively) I know

as I become more conscious

of one thing then another,

affirmed or proven wrong.

I am growing more humble with age;

sophomoric notions of omniscience

ring hollow; putting on airs

is a waste of time.

Such knowledge is a great gain.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 30, 2012 COMMON ERA

 

Posted December 30, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2012

Tagged with

Late Night/Early Morning Rain II   Leave a comment

Early morning rain

pelts the roof

during a thunderstorm,

creating a nocturnal rhythm–

a music of sorts–

to which to fall asleep.

Meanwhile, the thirsty earth

drinks the water the clouds supply

from up in the sky

as occasional bolts of lightning

illumine the overcast sky.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 26, 2012

Advent Renewal   Leave a comment

Snapshot_20121202

Above:  The Author on December 2, 2012

The cycle turns

from the Season after Pentecost

to Advent again;

Christ is King,

the announcement of the end of the old order

makes room for

the announcement of the new order.

Soon (liturgically),

a child will be born defenseless

into a dangerous world,

and, today,

I recall that perfidy must never

extinguish innocence and love.

The church year begins again

in apprehension and hope

and in the shadow of Calvary and an empty tomb–

again, apprehension and hope.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 3, 2012 COMMON ERA

THE FEAST OF SAINT MARUTHAS, ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP OF MAYPHERKAT AND MISSIONARY TO PERSIA

THE FEAST OF SAINT BERNARD OF PARMA, ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP

THE FEAST OF SAINT FRANCIS XAVIER, ROMAN CATHOLIC MISSIONARY IN ASIA

THE FEAST OF JOHN OWEN SMITH, UNITED METHODIST BISHOP IN GEORGIA

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Posted December 3, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Advent/Christmas/Epiphany, Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2012

Tagged with

Late Night/Early Morning Rain   Leave a comment

Above:  The Author on November 11, 2012

The rain falls gently,

pitter-pattering in the darkness,

falling off the roof,

flowing downhill as it glistens in street lights.

Tree shadows fall across the ground

carpeted in Autumn leaves

as cool air refreshes those who are outdoors.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

NOVEMBER 15, 2012 COMMON ERA

Time and Vocations   Leave a comment

Above:  The Author, November 7, 2012

(Photograph by the author via the computer camera)

The weather becomes colder,

Daylight Savings Time has ended,

darkness falls before 7:00 PM,

and the year has entered its final stretch.

=====

Where has the year gone?

It seems to have passed so quickly,

more rapidly than winged Mercury,

with greater speed than the Road Runner,

with a dizzying pace.

=====

Yet here we are,

in November.

Yet here we are,

close to Thanksgiving and Christmas.

=====

May the rest of the year

be for all of us a time of blessings,

and may the  next year

be for all of us a time of even more blessings.

=====

May we all love God and each other actively,

behave charitably toward each other,

seek to understand each other,

and behave merely decently.

=====

May we act responsibly toward each other,

seek the common good,

upon which our own benefit depends,

and care for each other.

=====

May God bless others through us,

bless us through others,

and be evident in our midst,

in deeds more than in words.

=====

And may we be where we ought to be

when we ought to be there

doing what we ought to do

the way we ought to do it.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

NOVEMBER 9, 2012 COMMON ERA

Posted November 9, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Autumn, Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2012

Tagged with ,

A Beautiful Day   Leave a comment

The sun shines on a blue-skied day

with a pleasant, gentle breeze

while I walk through Ben Burton Park

in Athens, Georgia,

and while some turtles sun themselves

on rocks in the river

and other turtles swim.

This is a beautiful day.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

OCTOBER 11, 2012, COMMON ERA

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This is post #200 of TAYLOR FAMILY POEMS.

KRT

The County Fairs   Leave a comment

John Dodson Taylor, Jr.

Above:  John Dodson Taylor, Jr., in 1940

Cropped from a Photograph Courtesy of Randolph Fleming Taylor

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I read accounts, such as this one from my grandfather, of small town life in former generations, and know that such a lifestyle is foreign to me.  Although I grew up in small towns and in the countrysides of various counties in Georgia (usually in the southern part of the state), I was never really at home there.  No, I am naturally an urban dweller.  I do live in Athens-Clarke County, home of one of the few unified governments in Georgia.  Clarke County, 159th of 159 counties in terms of land area, is number 19 in terms of population.  And I am home here.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

From Leaves in the Wind, pages 17-18

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the early fall of each year, the county fair was held in the streets; and, with the exceptions of Christmas and the Fourth of July, “Fair Week” was the high spot of the year.  People looked forward to it all the year, coming from everywhere to join in the festivities.  The trains were loaded, as were the wagons, buggies, and surries, yes,

with the fringe on top.

Many rode horses and mules; many walked.  It was a time of good fellowship, and many families seized the occasion to have family reunions.

The merchants’ dollar-volume was almost equal to that of the Christmas season.  A carnival atmosphere was everywhere, and an air of suppressed excitement promised to erupt at any moment.  People on the crowded sidewalks chatted happily.  Hawkers did a brisk business with balloons, whistles, hats, pennants, and the like.  Young and old had great fun with these novelties, the remains of which were taken home and cherished until next year’s fair.

Fair exhibits were displayed in the courthouse and on the lawn.  Farmers placed their offerings on the sloped platforms erected on the lawn.  Many of the shade trees had stalks of corn and cotton tied to their trunks.  All of these exhibits were wonderful, and there were so many that often it was necessary to place the overflow in the hallways of the building.  I shall never forget visiting these displays one year and finding the professional card of a certain gentleman of color which proclaimed to the world that he–the minister–considered

funerals and marriages a specialty.

During the fair, the offices of the county government ceased to function in order that the schools and other organizations might use the office spaces for displays.  Every school in the county operated a stand where excellent food was sold.  Other groups also realized handsome profits from the operation of such stands.  The carnivals, which were excellent for those days, were usually located in the streets.

One part of all this excitement was brought each year by a Mr. Gilreath, who operated his merry-go-round, or

flyin’ jinny,

which was the center of admiration and wonder of all who saw it.  Between seasons, he kept it parked in the loft of his barn; and youngsters used to slip off and go to his home just to see it, to sit and dream of the day when it would be back in operation.  Mr. Gilreath usually set it down in a lot not far from Big Spring and took in money as fast as it could be handed to him.  At a nickel a ride, he made a small fortune off this steam-powered outfit.  I remember one farmer who sold a bale of cotton one day and rode out the entire amount from that sale, at a nickel a ride, without ever getting off!

The entire length of Broad Street was roped off for the races and other contests.  There were the usual foot races, relays, and broad jumps; but the two most exciting contests were the climbing–or trying to climb–the greased pole, to reach the top for the money prize–and the race for the greased pig.  Such fun and excitement!  Such a greasy mess for each child taking part!

Wes’ Shropshire, as grand marshall, presided over all these festivities.  Resplenent in his brown riding habit, atop his chestnut roan, he was the perfect master of such an occasion.  As I watched him, I thought that no fair could have been a success with Wes’ Shropshire as grand marshall.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, JR.