Cromey Online

The writings of author, therapist, and priest Robert Warren Cromey.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

I AM A DEMOCRAT

 I choose to be a Democrat. Both parties fall way short of the values I cherish. I believe all moral choice is ambiguous. I choose to be a Democrat because their values fall more closely to the ones I adhere to. I am a serious Christian and follower of the ethics of Jesus. Peace, care for the poor, the sick and those seeking justice are those basic values. 
Democrats held slaves, turned back Jews from the U.S. who were later exterminated, bombed Nagasaki and Hiroshima and interned Japanese Americans during WWII.

They also provided jobs during the depression, founded Social Security for retirees and have moved toward medical care for all. They continue to support the United Nations , which promote peace.

I do not argue politics. My 86 year old brother, a retired Episcopal priest, is a Republican. I am not going to change his mind. Few people I know change theirs either. I read as little opinion as possible, never watch TV news and only read newspapers and magazines. I read a lot of books and enjoy streaming movies.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

SCAR

Scar

Scars from playing baseball on my left leg just above the ankle where I was spiked by an opposing  player.  Scar on my chin from playing basketball. Scars on my right and left knees from knee replacement surgery. Scar on my left hip from hip replacement surgery. Scar across my belly from abdominal surgery.

I have deep scar on my soul, heart and mind from committing adultery, divorcing my wife and separating from my three daughters in 1969. The scabs over the self-inflicted wounds have healed. But not a day  goes by when I don’t feel the scars from the sin and I sense ribbons of guilt fleetingly in my heart.

I don’t want the scars to go away. I like the gentle reminders of my fragility as I have lived a strong and wonderful married life for almost thirty-eight years. My daughters now, in their sixties, love and care for me. My former wife has died. 

The scars remind me of the happy years with my young family of long ago. I remember the birth of each child and their baptisms. I presided  at their weddings. I am grandfather of now young adult women and men. Any nine months from now I could be a great-grandfather.

Our marriage flourishes as we live close yet free with each other. We tell the truth even though sometimes it hurts and is frightening. I can discuss my scars with my wife and she is not threatened by my past behaviour. My scars and guilt are part of our marriage. We are the stronger because we have no secrets and are vulnerable with each other. Love and trust give us even more love.

THE SHOWER

Shower

I was in high school in 1945 when I first took showers. We only had bath tubs in our houses in Brooklyn.  We bathed once a week or so in the tubs. In high school I played vigorous bouts of football, basketball and baseball and sweated a lot. We took showers at school after workouts and games. In 1948 we moved to a home with showers and tubs. My brother Edwin and I did showers every day.
Hopping into the shower soon after awakening became routine from my teens until my mid eighties. Then I noticed  that I longer sweat or got dirty. I soon had to force myself to take a shower every other day now. I fear for my health and broken bones as I sidle into the soap slippery tub with shower head attached. Bending down to scrub my feet which are six feet down always takes courage and daring. I hold on to walls and glass doors as I scrub away with intensity. 

I rather like to shampoo my hair with a tangy fruit smelling liquid which burns my eyes unless I shut them. Then my balance betrays me so that I often drop the shampoo. Picking it up my butt bats the hot water handle and I scald myself.

Emerging from the tub shower, climbing over the tub rim, holding on to the walls and shower door frame. I step out onto the rug and balance myself as I lean toward the nearby sink, I straighten up ready dry off and face the grease job to anoint my body to relieve the alligator quality of my ageing dermatolological frame.

I hate this part the most. Bending slapping and reaching back to slather my back makes me cry. Slithering down to grease my ankles forces air out of my lungs.  Sweet Ann often volunteers to relieve my agony and does the grease job for me.

The showers cleanses my body but not my guilt. Refreshes my senses me like a little resurrection. Reminds me of Baptism where new life begins.

I wish I thought thoughts like that. But, I simper and wait for two todays to go by when I am forced to shower again.

Saturday, May 02, 2020

Woody Allen Persecuted

Apropos of Nothing by Woody Allen. 

I just read his book.
I had thought that Woody and Mia Farrow were married. They were not. They never lived together. They both had many different lovers. Soon-Yi was a Korean orphan adopted by Mia Farrow. Soon-Yi was a college student when she and Woody first had sex.  She was not a minor.  They have been married for 25 years now. He is 35 years older than she. It was never proved that Alan molested his daughter Dylan. He has denied it. Two separate investigation by Yale and the NY Police say he did not.

I take the position that Allen is harassed by allegations against him. He is innocent until proven guilty no matter what public opinion says.

The book is fun to read. We learn about how he makes films, the people he knows, failures and successes, and his quirky sense of humor.

Incidentally, I like his movies. He was born in Brooklyn and attended NYU, as I did. We are about the same age.