The Hymnal 1982 teaches the city girl about farming

I grew up on the south side of Chicago proper (none of this "Chicagoland area" back then), where we bought tasty Chicago hot dogs from the vendor outside our apartment and didn't notice the constant noise of taxis and sirens and people out at all hours.

Later this summer, J and I are moving to quiet Mount Pleasant, Iowa, a small college town whose town square surrounded by funky shops reminds us of the college town where we met. But in Mt. Pleasant, we have farm equipment. And I'm familiar with almost none of it -- except the green and yellow John Deere tractors.

As we've driven to Mt. Pleasant, I ask J (why am I asking the Philadelphia city boy?), "Is THAT a silo?" or "What does that machine do?" He figured out the ideal way to teach me something about farming. He sang. See Hymn #290 (vs. 2): "first the blade, and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear: grant, O harvest Lord, that we wholesomes grain and pure may be."

Ah, good Hymnal, I treasure thee!

Preachers' Kids

Recently, I met a retired priest whose son is a composer and violinist. I'd just heard the son's excellent live performance. I complimented the dad, who began talking about PKs, or Preachers' Kids. During our opening discussion of things clerical, I detected not a hair of humility in the dad, who then spoke of his son and said, "You know, they shouldn't be called Preachers' Kids. I prefer to call them TOs."

"TOs?" I wondered. "Theological Offspring," he said. As far as I know, I successfully avoided an eye roll. But, really. He's got to be kidding. (And why is this still annoying me, two weeks later?) Heh.

Okay, I admit it; that was fun.

The phone rang, and the caller said, "Good morning, this is C.M. Almy calling. Is Pastor Horn available?" I answered, "Sure, which one?" (A moment of silence...) Then she asked for John. I had a smile on my face for a while.