I have a very devout friend who gets frustrated with me when I talk in such terms, because she insists there is no such thing as a "coincidence", only God's will. But because my life has been a continuous stream of ironic coincidences, I tend to believe that God has much more pressing issues to deal with than to waste time constantly putting people, places and things that intermingle in and out of my life.
It is for this reason that my husband thought I should read James Redfield's "The Celestine Prophecy" back in the late 90s. I HATED it and felt insulted by the obvious supposedly "insights". Same with W. Paul Young's bestseller "The Shack". I couldn't even finish it because I found it so corny.
However, I did love Alanis Morissett's "Isn't It Ironic". Yes indeed it is!
So, now that I have set the stage, I want to share a piece of irony from today.
I have a friend (actually a friend of a friend) who is the curator of a museum in eastern Arkansas. He is very good at what he does and enjoys sharing the treasures of the museum with everyone. This week, he participated in an event involving curators from museums throughout the state who brought special displays to Little Rock to show the State Legislators what their museum has to offer and where the grants and dollars were going. At the end of the event, my friend emailed pictures of his display to several of us.
Now........."fast-backwards" (same as "fast-forward" only going in the opposite direction) to my youth, growing up in a tiny little Arkansas town. Although I had empirical evidence I was not, I was so out of place in my family and this town, sometimes, I entertained the possibility that I was adopted. After all, I am the only member of my family who doesn't have blue eyes, and it was the only thing that made sense to my scrambled youthful mind.
When in this state of mind, I had only one escape........music. My most valuable possession was a six-transistor radio I got for Christmas in 1962. From that day throughout high school, I would lie awake, deep into the night with the radio under my pillow, antenna aimed at the window, and an ear phone (only one) in my ear. That way, my parents couldn't see it if they peeked in on me during the night.
The very best music was at nighttime when WNOE in New Orleans and WLS in Chicago would switch from solar power to powerful transmitters. After 1966, I listened to the country's first alternative music program on Little Rock's KAAY, Clyde Clifford's "Beeker Street" and in the 70s, "The King Biscuit Flour Hour", broadcast from eastern Arkansas. The simple fact that this music existed, and I was fortunate enough to hear it, sometimes motivated me to look forward to the next new day.
So..........I think you will understand the irony when I opened the email tonight from my friend's museum exhibit.........and this is what I saw.
Thank you Bill Branch for reminding me of something I hadn't thought about in a very long time.
