Jesuits have smart minds.
My friend, who is female, has a smart heart.
From both the Jesuit and my friend, I am just smart enough to know to be thankful for all of you, and I am.
Gooshy stuff aside. Day after Thanksgiving. Time to remove Credence Clearwater from the pickup truck CD player. I started listening to them twelve years ago when I worked for a major aerospace company whose name starts with a B but will remain anonymous. The program I was on was cranking up the capability to take a 737, fill the backend with electronics, and set it out over the oceans to hunt and kill “Red Octobers.” Somebody brought in a song they thought we should play before every staff meeting.
“Sure,” says I. “We’ll give it a listen.”
The piece intro is an electric guitar whanging out psychedelic chords and a jackhammer playing drums. Then there’s four seconds of just eighteen jackhammers drumming at once. Then the first line of the lyrics goes, “737 comin’ outta’ the sky!”
Music devoid of discipline, sweating raw emotion, riding right up to the ragged edge of out of control, but stopping just short. It curdled the cream in people’s white coffee, which is another reason I drink it black.
Anyhow, “They’re playing our song,” we all said.
Another friend, who is neither Jesuit nor female, said he lives in the past because it is cheaper there. And I think he’s right. You pay the price to live there once and you can live there 111,000 additional times if you have the wings to get there, like I do, with the wings of Credence Clearwater Rivival.
So thanks for the blessing of working on the P-8 program in company B.
And now we move into a new season. Credence had to get out of the way for Handel’s Messiah. From Credence to the Hallelujah Chorus, ain’t music grand?
Thanks, Lord, for coming back to work on the 8th day and creating music. Just like Ringo Starr said you did.