Hey! What The Hell's Going On Out There!!??

By Jeffery Gregg Craw

My Freshman English Professor at Springfield College assigned our class a Research Paper on whatever subject we chose. I forget what I chose, but that's not the point. In High School, our school Librarian rudely turned me off to a "Library's" inherently wondrous opportunities for some extraordinary charismatic thoughts and excitement. I was a Football Player, so I was a dumb …, well you know. For this Librarian, it was like he was the Police Inspector in Les Miserables spotting John Valjean at Bookrack #2! Swat Teams move into action slower than this guy, as at once he was beside me, - confronting me with a look that he seemed to have borrowed from Bette Davis in the movie Jezebel. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" he asked. I responded that I was just looking around, and he responded with emphatic and impudent disgust, "I don't think you belong here!" OK, and so I left, never to return.
Well, anyway, back to my Research Paper. It was a conundrum for me, for as we now know, I didn't do libraries! So I wrote what I thought was a pretty decent paper, sans the Research. Doc Hesselbarth then wrote on the top of my paper, "Excellent! F". He also had a variety of stamps he would use at times for effect: Stamps like "Absurdity", "Garbage", or simply "We need to talk, soon!" I was blessed during that year with a Variety Pack of those Stamps on my various papers, and I do still have those papers in my College File.
Whatever, I went to see the Doc to ask him what was up with this Excellent F? Nice paper he said, "But you didn't give me what I asked for!" He had me there, but still, he reached over, crossed out the F, and entered in a D. "A gift from me to you", he said. I was ecstatic!

Anyway, this book is for you, Doc Hesselbarth, to honor your courageous attempt to enhance the mind and soul of this one time academic neophyte. And please know Doc, wherever you are, that after this effort, "Research" is my Middle Name! Hey, and I have even challenged my readers to do their own research, basically saying, "You don't believe me? Fine. Look it up yourself!"
I can't really tell if you might like this collection of ideas and expositions, but I will tell you that I had a great time writing it, and that all material was well researched from the written words of more minds than I can count, as well as from more personal experiences than "Carter's Got Pills!" Now if you do read it, and say, "Hey! This guy's nuts!" Then please, write your own book! YES!
PS: I eventually grew to really love libraries!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350916171

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

I confess. This is a big chunk of cultural commentary that I am attempting to bite off here, - simultaneously attempting to illuminate the boundless mass of a seemingly endless trail of my years of observations and experiences, - of my thoughts both heard and read, while at the same time forging them into something that might make some sense, and/or something that might be of help to those seekers who crave something above the plane of simple mediocrity, or to those who seek to be rescued from the various Lemming mentalities that seem to infect all cultures, - and, who then might be ready to take an extravagant, if a bit anxious, jump into the shower with some real truth and some real love.

(To my old English professors: "I know, I know. That’s a long sentence!)

Whatever, as we used to say as yutes, Holy Moly! This is indeed an overwhelmingly massive project (at least for my brain), as it seeks to touch on matters such as, education, democracy, racism, stupidity & ignorance, pride, narcissism, US History, God, prejudice, corporate power, church illusions, fear, imperialism, greed, Lucifer’s massive factory of Total Delusions (that we so often feast on), gratefulness (or the lack of it), inflation, debt, and the military industrial complex (just to name just a few).

And so, as you might surmise, I am approaching all this with a bit of trepidation, while at the same time, for sure, I come equipped with an overflowing bucket-load of excitement, wonder and awe. As I see it, any good author should begin with these three blessings in attendance. So anyway, you might understand my conundrum here, as I do indeed feel like a mosquito flying into a nudist colony; Ah! Amid all this abundance, where do I start!!!! Well lets roll on, and we’ll see if my efforts might possibly help to lift clouds for some of us, or if they might lamentably, simply illuminate one glorious train wreck of this pilgrim’s visions and esoteric thought processes.

QUOTES ON BEING AN AUTHOR

"Go for broke. Always try and do too much.

Dispense with safety nets.

Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars.

Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world."

Salman Rushdie

"A good writer refuses to be socialized.

He insists on his own version of things, his own consciousness.

And by doing so he draws the reader’s eye from its usual groove

into a new way of seeing things."

Bill Barich

Your intuition knows what to write, so get out of the way.

Ray Bradbury

"When everything seems to be going against you,

remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it."

Henry Ford

"The purpose of a writer

is to keep civilization from destroying itself."

Albert Camus

PREAMBLE

All books are really about two things: one, they’re about the subject matter, and two, they’re about the author himself (or herself). And yet we rarely get a glimpse into knowing anything (anything in real depth) concerning the soul of the author we are about to read. I know for myself, that after reading about the life and times of Charles Dickens, I now have a renewed appreciation for the deep expanse of his visions and his character that are so vividly demonstrated in his fascinating works. It’s like seeing a flower bloom, when once there was but a plant. With some knowledge of the author, one’s reading becomes more alive! So, I will attempt to share a few insights about myself in this preamble, as well as in various references throughout this volume.

For starters, I am a flawed human being. I knew this from an early age, but it took me quite some time to perceive that everybody around me was also flawed! Oh, our personal foibles may differ in nature, but they are there. You just have to look a little. Whatever, my reasoning here is that although I may have indeed been somewhat blemished in soul at times, I was never without good company.

I confess, I am often intense, but I never truly really realized that fact until I was having breakfast with my classmate Jim White at our 50th reunion at Bridgton Academy. Out of the blue (reminiscing I guess) I mentioned that I figured I was a bit intense at times. Jim slowly lifted his face towards mine and said with smile, Ya think!!!. Yes, a periodic temper also comes with the territory, but I can only remember hitting one person in my life. That was Kenny Vincent in 5th Grade Sunday School. But hey, in my defense, he had just kicked me under the table.

Anyway, as a kid, I did sometimes get into fights, but as a youngster, the kids I played with were all 2 and 3 years older than me, so as I swung they just put their hand on my forehead and held my aggression at bay. I had a nice swing they told me, but I hit nothing but air. Eventually I got tired and it was over.

My Dad gave me this brief but poignant advice as I headed for Ordination: If you don’t love God and if you don’t love people, then hang ‘em up. Well, I can say that I have always tried my best to love people, and that I’ve given my best effort to loving God. It’s just that sometimes people didn’t always love me (those pesky flaws again). I am, at times, naïve, irritable, and just plain stupid, but I would never intentionally hurt a fly. I do hope that no one wastes their time hating me (for whatever reason) cause I am ready to make peace at any time with anybody. As for me, I don’t hate anybody. I feel sadness yes, but hate? Takes too much energy, and it will eat you up if you fail to handle the urge to imbibe it’s venom. Still, I will grant you, I DO hate war and racism, two of the absolutely stupidest and most insane conditions owned by Human Beings (that’s us). These 2 diseases are overwhelmingly violent, heartless, vicious, cruel, ignorant, shameless, repugnant, and vile (among many other grotesque adjectives). Anyway, if you can take me for who I am, forgive me now and then, challenge me now and then, be honest with me always, and appreciate me now and then, then I’ll do my damndest to do the same for you!

In 1981, the Reverend John Pearson was my Mentor as I served as a Summer Chaplain at New Hampshire State Hospital (on the corner of Fruit & Pleasant Streets) in Concord, New Hampshire. I had a lot of respect for John and so I asked him to write me a recommendation as I sought to find my first Parish. WOW! That was a good one! He was very complimentary!

So when I saw John at my Ordination, I said, Hey John! What were you thinking when you wrote all those good words for me? John laughed and responded with a smile, I wrote all that Good Stuff because I knew you would tell them all the Bad Stuff as soon as you sat down for the interview. I just wanted to even things out a bit. Look, we all have things in our lives that we’d rather keep private, but I have precious few of them. With some rare exceptions, I am pretty open and honest about my dealings and feelings in living my life, - a life I’ve so graciously been given. And to be honest this trait has not always ingratiated me to the many authority" figures that I’ve had to contend with through the years. Honesty. Now there’s a concept! Hey, that’s life!

Now here are two little observations I’ll throw in from the "Peanut Gallery: First, I have absolutely no regrets for any of my beliefs or actions that have surrounded my 32 years of ministry. No doubt I goofed in my personal life at times, but my actions as a Pastor were always focused on the overall growth and health of my Parish, while defending the honor of God.

And second, I want to apologize to my High School Football team for my being such a dimwitted idiot at times. I faked a punt in one game and ran it for about 40 yards. In the Newspaper my Coach said that if I saw an opening like that, I could go for it on my own. Next game, in my head (probably empty at the time) I saw openings 3 separate times that weren’t there. I got creamed! I just didn’t want to give up the ball (intenseness at work). But my brain did not take a good look at the big picture, - Like FIELD POSITION!! If it’s any salvation for you guys, I am still tortured at times by my ignorance on that Saturday afternoon at Hall High School in West Hartford.

1964 Yearbook note from my Classmate and Friend, -

Bob Buck Buchanan, - Right Tackle on our Football Team

Jeffrey-

Good Luck to our outstanding glue-fingered –

empty headed jackass of a Captain!

Love, Buck

Gracias Buck! I deserved that!

A Couple of my Favorite Anthems

That’s life, (That’s life) That’s what all the people say

You’re riding high in April, shot down in May

But I know I’m gonna change that tune

When I’m back on top, back on top in June

I said that’s life (That’s life) And as funny as it may seem

Some people get their kicks stomping on a dream

But I don’t let it, let it get me down

Cause this fine old world, it keeps spinnin’ around

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king

I’ve been up and down and over and out and I know one thing

Each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up

and get back in the race – That’s life (That’s life)

I tell you, I can’t deny it - I thought of quitting, baby

But my heart just ain’t gonna buy it

And if I didn’t think it was worth one single try

I’d jump right on a big bird and then I’d fly

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king

I’ve been up and down and over and out

And I know one thing - each time I find myself

Layin’ flat on my face, I just pick myself up and get back in the race

That’s life (That’s life) That’s life and I can’t deny it

Many times I thought of cutting out but my heart won’t buy it

But if there’s nothing shaking come this here July

I’m gonna roll myself up In a big ball and die - MY, MY!

Dean Kay and Kelly Gordon

Ease on down, ease on down the road

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road

Don’t you carry nothing that might be a load

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road

‘Cause there may be times

When you think you lost your mind

And the steps you’re takin’

Leave you three, four steps behind

But the road you’re walking might be long sometimes

You just keep on steppin’ and you’ll be just fine, yeah!

Ease on down, ease on down the road (ease on down) (come on)

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road, yeah!

Don’t you carry nothing that might be a load

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the

Oh, there may be times

When you wish you wasn’t born

And you wake one morning

Just to find that your courage’s gone

But just know that feeling only last a little while

You just stick with us and we’ll show you how to smile, yeah!

Ease on down, ease on down the road

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road

Don’t you carry nothing that might be a load

Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road

Charlie Smalls

MOM & DAD

There can be no question, that when it came to parents, I did somehow manage to catch the brass ring. My Mom and Dad embodied integrity, honesty, compassion, and courage all rolled into one. Dad was a Pastor, and Mom a Christian Educator, but they were not stuffy by any means. We always had fun, and we often found ourselves being forgiven (a necessity for us, in that my sisters and I were chips off the old block). Mom and Dad were risk takers for the Love of Christ, always fighting for human dignity and human rights, while stressing the discipline of assuming one’s responsibilities in that process. Strength, vision, knowledge, kindness and faith! They would never do anything like rap your knuckles with a ruler for your transgressions, but they could melt you into temporary oblivion with just one look of disappointment flowing from their eyes. Their main fault was that they often spoiled us with their energetic generosity (even on a Pastor’s salary)! In short, they were simply the best!

I know how it is with many folks, where their Dads would never really say, I love you. But again, I wind up in the winner’s circle. Dad wouldn’t always go around saying, I love you! I love you!, but every now and then, I’d get a letter from him that would bring a tear to my eyes. The following is one such letter from 1992.

Dear Jeff,

I just want to tell you that I think you are a very unusual person. You are a good Pastor and the best Preacher I know. Your delivery is superior, - you speak from the heart and you use the scriptures well, amplifying them with skill and conviction. You observe my old professor’s dictum: Stand up, speak up, and then shut up! I look forward each week to being in Church and hearing your Sermons. Your Services are smooth and moving and I always feel blessed to be there. In other words, I think you are good!

I think of you often and of our friendship through the years. It’s one of the joys of my life. I do enjoy reminiscing about the things we did together when you were growing up; sitting together on the bench at Danbury High School football games, going to baseball games in New York City, climbing Mt. Washington, your reading of scripture at Christmas Eve Services, and our rides up to New Hampshire. Great times!

You did many things that I did, and did them better, - like driving a truck and playing football. You were the best offensive football player I ever saw, - beautiful to watch. You’ve still got it!

Love, Dad

Dad was, however, not too shy about periodically unleashing a verbal dart in the direction of my head in the clouds psyche. Once, in my 20’s, when my life was wandering around a bit aimlessly through the persistent vicissitudes of life, I was wondering out loud about what I might do with the rest of my life. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, looked at me across the top of his glasses, his eyes focused like lasers, and said, Well, what the hell you gonna do? You aren’t trained to do anything! And he was right on, - correctamundo! Just what I needed, a good boot in the a**. And from that moment on, for better or worse, I got more focused and I got moving!

With Dad After Climbing Pine Mountain

That’s My Dad!!

Not to be outdone, my Mom was smart as a whip, having graduated from Emma Willard School and Russell Sage College Cum Laude, - after which she was offered a full ride to Columbia University to get a Masters in Economics. She opted instead to attend Hartford Seminary, which is where she met my Dad. Sparks flew right away, and together they flew out of the gate on their way to a rich profusion of outrageous adventures, 3 of which were my 2 sisters and me! Mom, thinking that I was as intellectually profound as my sisters, did start me a year early in school. Not the best of moves, but she did it because she believed in me, - and that same belief lasted until her dying breath.

Lord knows, I gave her every opportunity to cast me adrift (emotionally if not physically), but she always stuck by my side, giving me encouragement as I struggled through the many valleys and rapids that came my way. She trusted me as a driver (which not everyone did) and never waivered as she sat next to me in the passenger’s seat. Her faith and trust in me never flickered. When I was getting beat up by certain members of my congregations, I would keep that abuse from her ears for fear she’d come over and put some real whup a** on ‘em. Also, she had a little ditty that she would offer when I was out riding my motorcycle: We rejoice at his arrival, indicating his survival! Sweet! She too, like Dad, wrote me letters,