The President and I: Dozing

Though I don’t like to admit it, I am well into being “old”.  There is no universal age that defines when one is “old” as it is subjective.  Generally, 60 or 65 years old is often used as the threshold.  The United Nations defines “older” people as those 60 years or older.  In the good ol’ U.S. of A., the Social Security Administration considers anyone 65 or older to be elderly.  The Older Americans Act (1965 and then reauthorized in 2024) defines older adults as 60 years and older.  Under these parameters I am well into being “old”.  In two weeks, I turn 67 or as my children and grandchildren say, “Old!”

Of course, age is a matter of perception.  Perceptions change all the time.  I would say that much of the time, I do not feel “old”.  Far from it.  I may be a little wonky in my opinion as I like to imagine myself as an older Brad Pitt.  I may be off in my perception, but it gets me through the day.  Despite what I might think about my age, the truth is that my body has a whole bunch to say about that reality.  My body tells it like it is and mine keeps reminding me that I’m “old”.  So do my children who are always telling the grandkids to remember, “Papa is old, so take it easy on him.”  They are not the only ones . . . considerate strangers who offer to open the door for me because I’m “old”.  Senior discounts.  Young people call me sir.  They are all reminding me that I am old.

 

But there are other “signs” that I am getting “old”.  One of the biggest and most obvious is “nodding off’ and catching myself dozing throughout the day.  It happens more often than I like to admit.  If I sit in my recliner too long, I am soon sawing logs.  Numerous times throughout the day while at my work desk I nod off.  Put me in front of a television and LaLa Land beckons me to come and take a romp.  I used to zip through books, but now it takes me forever as reading is a trigger for dozing.  I can’t deny the ageism of “nodding off” because the evidence is overwhelming stacked against me.

 

And . . . it makes me sad.

 

The other day someone posted a meme on social media of our “wannabe king” in various stages of public “nodding off”.  You see, our president is “old” and soon to be 79 years old.  I have noticed that more and more pictures and video are showing up of the “great orange one” dozing in public.  It seems his dozing knows no boundaries as he falls to sleep seemingly everywhere.  He dozes at Cabinet meetings.  In meetings with world leaders.  When he is being tried and convicted in court.  Even at the Republican National Convention.  I was shocked in watching footage of him dozing in the front row of Pope Francis’ funeral on international television for the whole world to see.  Trump is “old” and he cannot deny the evidence—its on film—he’s a dozer!  And to think he has the audacity to call the former president and thorn in his side “Sleepy Joe”.

 

Witnessing all of this made me sad.  Sad to realize that I, too, had this “old age trait”—I nod off.  Making me even sadder was the realization that I had something in common with Donal Trump.  Eww!  Yuck!  Yuck!  Yuck!  I do not like Donald Trump.  I can’t stand Donald Trump.  The guy represents and is everything reprehensible in humanity and what I believe in.  Any connection with this individual makes my skin crawl.  Yuck!  Yuck!  Yuck!

 

The thing is that we are both “old”—Donald “the would be king” Trump and me.  Our proclivity to “nodding off” and “dozing” is a thin thread that binds us together.  But I’m not the only one.  There are lots of others in the boat with Donnie and me.  If you are over the age of 60 and catch yourself “nodding off” throughout the day . . . welcome to the club.  Unfortunately, we can’t always pick who we want to get “old” with . . . “the Donald” is one of the members of the club no matter how much it makes our skin crawl.

 

This sudden understanding made me pause . . . why have I been picking on one of “ours”—the elderly?  He is old.  I am old.  We are all going to experience old.  Thankfully I did not “pause” in the revelation for too long and came back to my senses.  The one who dreams of kingship . . . or authoritarian rule . . . and thinks only of himself—he is not one of “us”.  No, he is far from being one of “us”.  His words betray him.  His actions condemn him.  Despite the thread that stitch us to him—he is not one of “us”.  He never will be.  The facts and records show this over and over again.

 

I do have a suggestion for him . . . and, maybe for all of us.  “Nodding off” and “dozing” is notorious in religious worship and services.  People do it all the time.  Forty years in the active ministry serving congregations—big and small—people fell asleep.  At the start of my ministry, I thought I was connected with the congregation as their heads bobbed up and down . . . then someone snored.  It was at that point I admitted defeat and resigned to myself that people slept through my sermons.  Granted, I would probably be sleeping too . . . I was not the best preacher.  Besides that is why I went into the ministry . . . to keep awake. People slept through my sermons.  Besides, they probably needed the sleep more than my sermonizing.  At every church I served, I told the people that it was okay to “nod off” or “doze” but to remember that in that moment of sudden awakening to utter loudly, “Amen!”  In the uttering of “amen” everyone assumes the sleeper was praying.  It gave off the “air” of piousness . . . of holiness.  It’s less embarrassing than being caught sleeping.  I heard a lot of “amens” in 40 years of preaching.  Witnessed a lot of praying.

 

A simple “amen”.  That is all it takes.  The evangelicals would love it as they point to the evidence of the president’s depth of faith.  They would be ecstatic if Trump displayed any depth of religious faith.  Journalist would proclaim that the president was deep in prayer and contemplation as he nods off . . . that he is even speaking is some sort of “tongues” and he saws away on those logs.

 

Nah . . . the “Great Orange One” doesn’t have an ounce of religious faith.  We all know that it is what it is . . . nodding off” . . . “dozing”.  Whatever the case, for those of us who are “old” . . . for those of us who will become “old” . . . it sucks!  Sucks to have any sort of connection with someone we cannot respect.

 

Excuse me . . . all this hooping and hollering has made me tired.  I hear my recliner beckoning me . . . calling me by name.  I’m starting to nod . . . I feel prayer coming on.  Ah, the joys of growing “old”.  Amen!!

 

Twitter Envy

Some guys have envy issues when it comes to parts of their bodies . . . I do not have any of those envy issues.  Some people have envy issues when it comes to material goods, or the lack of material goods . . . I am pretty satisfied with everything I have when it comes to material goods and wealth.  Some guys, especially those of us who are going bald, have hair envy . . . but, I have gotten used to the baldness I have had for many, many years . . . besides, when you don’t have a lot of hair, it is easy to take care of.  Nope, I have none of the usual envies that other guys or people have . . . my envy comes from social media . . . in particular, Twitter.

Now, mind you, I did not even give Twitter much thought until this evening when I read an article proclaiming that the Pope—yeah, the guy in Rome—now has ten million followers of his Twitter account.  The Pope is now among the “rock stars” of Twitter after starting his account less than a year ago.  The man is shooting for the top as he has yet to even scratch the surface of the 1.2 billion Catholics around the world . . . I hear that he isn’t going to stop until he reaches number one! 

The news of the Pope’s tweeting success kind of depressed me when I read it.  I mean, I am a fellow clergy . . . I have an adoring congregation . . . I belong to a mainline denomination . . . I love God, God loves me . . . and, I have 35 followers while Pope Francis is celebrating his ten millionth follower!  What am I doing wrong?  What does a guy have to do to get a few more followers?

I mean, what does this guy have that I don’t have . . . besides ten million followers?  Besides a congregation of 1.2 billion members?  Besides a fancy jet to jet around the world in?  Beside a snazzy car called the Pope Mobile?  Besides looking good in white?  Besides being able to talk in several languages?  Besides being the conduit of God?  Besides being in a long line of famous evangelist—supposedly handpicked by God—that goes all the way back to Peter?  I mean, come on, the Pope and I both have about the same amount of hair, but he gets to wear a cap to hide his baldness . . . how did this guy get ten million followers in half the time that I got 35 followers since joining Twitter?  Yeah, I have Twitter envy!

I guess I could try to get a call to a larger congregation, but there are not too many congregations . . . let alone denominations . . . with 1.2 billion members.  I might have to convert over to the Catholic religion, but they are not too hot on married clergy . . . plus, the wife wouldn’t go for it anyways.  Plus, I don’t think they let you wear blue jeans and hiking boots under all those fancy duds that the Pope wears.  I also hear that the Pope has to swear to be a Notre Dame football fan upon rising to the papacy . . . I could never root for the Irish . . . nope, I am a Cornhusker through and through.  I bleed red.

I could try jumping over to the prosperity ministry . . . preach about God wanting people to have everything and anything that they want because God loves them and wants them to have the best.  The guys doing that seem to have the fancy jets and cars, but I don’t have enough hair or teeth to pull off that ministry while driving up to the church in my 2004 Ford Ranger pick-up truck.  Besides, I don’t buy into that theology . . . God loves us, but God also loves us whether we are rich or poor.  God likes to see us do a little work without laying out so much fertilizer upon the masses.  Besides, I despise three-piece suits . . . especially since the mid-life spread. 

I could bank on the fact that God also called me to the ministry . . . just as God called Pope Francis to the ministry.  The only difference is that God wanted me in Montana at a small rural church, while God wanted Francis heading a mega-church called the Roman Catholic Church.  I did not hear God ask me to move to Rome . . . Italy, that is.  Maybe, Rome, Georgia . . . but not Rome, Italy.  I don’t think I quite have the pedigree that the Pope has . . . as a minister my route to ordination and ministry is not as impressive as the Pope’s . . . I don’t think you can get to the Vatican through a small denominational seminary in Kentucky.

Yeah, I am jealous.  My Twitter account is smaller than the Pope’s.  I guess that must mean I have Twitter envy.  But, I do have some satisfaction in knowing that the Pope is lagging behind the three big hitters on Twitter—Justin Bieber, Katy Perry, and Lady Gaga—who each have more than 40 million followers each.  What do they have that I don’t have?  Apparently, talent . . . money . . . rabid fans . . . and, a heck of a lot more followers than the Pope.  I wonder if the Pope has Twitter envy?

I imagine that I will get over this phase of Twitter envy in my life.  I never did start tweeting to be popular, basically to get my blog posts out to the rest of the world.  I mean, really . . . I am an introvert . . . more followers means more intrusions into my world.  That is an introvert’s nightmare, but it would be nice to eventually have as many followers as years I am old . . . about twenty more would do the trick for this year.  In the meantime, I will keep glancing at my Twitter account . . . and, reminding myself that it is tough to beat someone who has all the clout and numbers that the Pope gets to play with.  Come on, people . . . twenty new followers . . . and, I’ll be heaven!