CAN'T SLEEP
Wednesday September 14, 2016 4:46 amOne day should be pretty much like the next, right? I mean, we celebrate birthdays and state, "We are another year older." In reality though (at that time) aren't we really just... another day older?
I suppose it is just something innate in all of us that causes us to want to hold up one day as being more important than another. So, we mark and number our days and make some of extreme importance while others are relegated to just another day status. (You know, SSDD... same stuff, different day.)
Probably anybody in any corner of the world could tell you why September 11 is more notable than September 12. But does anyone know why September 14 is more important than September 13... if it is? And if it is important to someone, why? After all, it's just another day.
I guess my point (if I have one) is why mark days at all? I mean, I know why I do it... I'm crazy. However, why do you (the reader of this blog) do it? Is it ingrained in our psyche at birth to number and mark days so we are continually reminded of the brevity of life? (I mean, three score and ten is not exactly a long time to live.)
If it is hard-wired into us then it would be impossible to stop counting days and making one day of great importance while another day is thought of as typical or an average day. But, if days thought of as important are really marketing ploys... then possibly we could break away from that.
Christmas celebrated on December 25th might be a good place to start. The Bible does not give us a date that Christ was born but it does give us clues. And from those clues we can glean He certainly was not born in December. Remember, shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks in the field. That is not a winter season activity by shepherds. In addition, remember Peter was warming his hands in the fire because it was cold... this during the time he was denying he even knew Christ.
So, obviously we have the birth, death, and resurrection of Christ being celebrated and remembered not only on wrong dates but in wrong seasons. So, why do we do it? I think I know why.
In order though to explain I'll have to make up a story of what probably happened. Please try and keep up: Long, long ago in a land far, far away (this is the same beginning lines I have used for decades to tell, first my children and now my grandchildren made up stories) there lived an average man in an average town during an average time in history. But he longed to not be average, his name was Chester Macy. I know, neither his first nor his last name lends itself to him being of Jewish lineage. However, it is early morning, it is my story and 'Chester' is what came to mind... and Macy as his last name is imperative to my story: so, Chester Macy it is.
One day Chester saw a beautiful flower growing and he decided to pick it and take to his mother and present it as a gift. His mother was surprised to receive this small gift for two reasons. First, she had never before been given a gift as every day was the same as before... you know SSDD. And, keep in mind this woman (not unlike her son) was an average woman in an average town living during an average time in history. However, this woman, Betsy (I know... I have an affinity in wanting to name everyone) also had a non-Jewish name, keep in mind though this is my story and I'll name my characters whatever I want! Okay, back to the story.
The second reason Besty was surprised was that as she gazed out her window she saw hundreds of wild-flowers growing and they all looked exactly like the one Chester had given her. Why then did this one seem special?
Chester wasn't a dullard and he saw the sparkle in his mother's eye and he realized he might be on to something. He told his mother *Betsy, in case you forgot already, that it was a special day... Mother's Day!
Betsy had never heard of such a thing... a day Mother's would be celebrated, just because they were a mother. Mephibosheth, Chester's dad (someone in this story needed a Jewish name... how else would anyone believe my true tale) was not very happy. I mean, setting aside a day for a woman to be celebrated? It seemed to him it was just an excuse to be lazy! Until wily young Chester gave his dad a pair of socks his mother had knitted and he told him it was Father's Day! Now, now, Mephibosheth understood... he could get on board with these special days! (As an aside, if I refer to Chester's dad again and I don't think I will... I'm going to Just call him Mr. M because typing Mephibosheth takes too long to type. That is why I have typed these 60 plus words was to explain why I won't keep typing Mephibosheth over and over again... it simply takes too long and I am all about being succinct.)
Chester soon learned to take ordinary flowers that grew everywhere and people could pick them for free... but he could bundle them, make up another day to celebrate and he could sell them! This average boy became a genius in the community as he started the first florist shop that ever existed... Chester's. In addition to flowers he started selling socks his mother knitted... he called this business, Chester's,
One day Mr. M came by Chester's knitted sock store and told his son he had meant to go and buy some of Chester's wild-flowers (he could have picked on his own for free) but he had become confused because both stores were named, Chester's. His dad suggested Chester name his sock store after his last name and call it Macy's. I know, you probably think you know what happened next, right?
Well Chester thought about what his dad said but in the end he rejected it and decided to call his sock store... Walmart. Walter was a beloved uncle of Chester's who had died and Chester wanted to honour him. Besides, Chester's-mart didn't have the same ring to it. Now, you know the rest of the story ~ The End.
So, the next time you are tempted to commemorate one day above another, keep in mind somewhere in the long ago past there is a Chester and it's just a marketing ploy!
posted by Robin Johnson @ 4:39 AM
<< Home