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Light Stuff

October 13, 2006

My parents required only one thing of me as a child: adulthood. And so I was not exposed to Mother Goose, but to Ogden Nash, and for this I am grateful. This is my favorite poem by Ogden Nash.

The Turtle

The turtle lives ‘twixt plated decks
Which practically conceal its sex.
I think it clever of the turtle
In such a fix to be so fertile.
–Ogden Nash (1902-1971)

I memorized “The Turtle” when I was perhaps seven. It is wonderful to have it still in my memory.I do think it clever of the turtle in such a fix to be so fertile. The turtle’s fixes are overcome for him. Arrangements for his proliferation have already been made. And there is a hint (Is 34:15-16) of a promise in the book of Jehovah, that the clever turtle will persevere.****************************************************
Things I Don’t Have to Worry About as a Calvinist
1. Losing my salvation;
2. Making arrangements for the Cat’s post-Rapture care;
3. Wondering “what kind of God” would permit fire, famine, rape, war, tsunamis, &c;
4. Filling (or standing) in “the gap” where God leaves off;
5. Molding my face with PermaSmile;
6. Which head of state is the Antichrist.

Things I have to worry about as a Calvinist

1. Honoring God as he reveals himself in Scripture alone;
2. Obeying God’s law as it is revealed throughout Scripture;
3. Following the short list.

Posted by Mrs. B at 7:23 AM

2 comments:
Zack said…
I should like to read more of Mr. Nash’s odes to the dumb brutes. I have myself composed an abecedary of animal poems. I shall recite one of them:

Peace, peace in the meadows,
The cows stand around in the sun.
How many of them are widows:
Their husbands, at rest on a bun.

Many of them are I fear very violent. Like the one about the jellyfish:

Arrayed in all his tentacles,
The jellyfish approaches:
Extending one electric arm
His prey, like eggs, he poaches!

or the lark:

Hark, hark! the lark
On windswept bark
Freezes against a sky of lead!
Now see him stop,
Take one small hop,
And suddenly keel over dead!

But most of all the one about the zebra:

Behold the Zebra on the plains,
And shudder at his mighty manes!
He flips them back and kills the fly
That innocently passeth by;
He rears his hoof without a qualm
And quashes out the beetle’s mom;
He grinds his teeth and chomps the life
Out of the little fleaman’s wife,
And all the children of the tick
Are quarry for his raucous lick:
But most of all the spider smothers
Beneath his stripéd undergruthers.

He shares you see, my dislike of bugs.

12:29 PM
Mrs. B said…
Zack, these show uncommon potential. I am pleased to post them on my blog–you never know who will see them here first. And last.

12:34 PM

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