IPC

 It's time for the Last Row Party.

This is produced by the Indianapolis Press Club Foundation to raise money for journalism students.

Quality of journalism is indeed variable/debatable.  But it's an interesting time.

The last 3 drivers for the 500 are roasted and there is food and humor as well as camaraderie.

Also there are neat t-shirts commemorating the event.

What it means most is memories of the Indianapolis Press Club.

It was a rec room for legislators, newspeople and associates; aplace where people could let down there hair, get a few drinks and a good meal.

Having been in radio and doing news, sports and documentaries, I qualified as a member and was sponsored by a local news celebrity.

I knew many of the folks just across the street at the State Capitol.  We talked confidentially and openly on many subjects.  We also shot the breeze in comfort.

I also took my family for lunch/dinner and it was a great private meeting place for BurlyRose Productions where showbiz people could relax unnoticed.

I never went to TLRP til after sadly the Club closed.

The girls tending bar and the manager said I should go, so I finally did.

Honesty was the best policy at the Club.

Perhaps it was closed because of how compromised politics and MSM have devolved.

So other places to meet?

Well, that varies and is a confidential other story.

Prophecy

 Predictions.  Sometimes.

Inspiration certainly.

There are famous accounts and quite dramatic events spurred on by movies.  There are a lot more quiet almost workaday moments that may build.

Foresight  is one thing.  How you relate it is another.  

Rarely does getting in another's face and even shouting end positively.  Sometimes though, things come to a crisis/precipice.

Inspired poet/writer comes closest to prophet to me.  

Find the best way to communicate.  

Perhaps you will inspire others.

Impressions

 Impressions are initial feelings.

Perceptions are insights.

The proof is in the pudding.

Balance head and heart.

For weal or woe.

Work.

-50-

 I don't know if its a halfway mark.  I think it feels like that, an impression.

It impressed me in grade school.

A teacher asked us to each calculate how old we would be in the year 2000.

It was a goal and most came to 50.

I thought at the time it was a long way off.  It seemed old to a kid barely in the double digits.  

Now, well it's past.  The mileage sign advances.

I even caught myself the other day wishing I was 50 again lol.

My only conclusion is live.

And use your time.

Blocks..

 I believe I've spoken of this before.

My first impression is always a well used block wagon.  Built a lot of things with those.

However, these days it draws attention to social media.

There is a tool on most sites which allow one to block fellow users.  It's a 2 way street.

I've blocked some officious people, vulgar, hateful even threatening.  It goes beyond political views, though that has merited blockage.  Beyond differences, it is that pernicious disease with nothing to replace, no solutions, just derision.

Likewise, I've been ejected because of my support for Freedom.  Like a cross to a vampire, they can't stand the truth.

I block lies.  They block truth.

I never push any views on anyone.  I will not allow anyone to force something on me.  Accept or not.

Blockage is not to mold some mutual admiration society.  It is to eschew irrationality, to replace that with healthy dialog toward solution.

It boils down to let your conscience be your guide.

Diary

 A lot of people keep diaries.  It's not just young girl's secrets.

There are everything from historic accounts to folks' daily routines and impressions.

I don't push my blog on anyone.  It's here for whomever wants to read and ruminate.

I suggest you each keep a record.  I carefully keep a certain anonymity.  That's for safety's sake and respect for privacy.

If you like, there is a plethora of ideas, thoughts, regards here.

Help yourselves.

3 Easters

 I've experienced many Easters.

But there have been over 2,000 of them.

I remember most of those apportioned to me.  Family, friends, lonely, old, new and now have been my lot.

Here are 3 which have different perspectives to offer.

The first was when I was a student minister in the early part of it.

I attended Mass with some Catholic friends.  Then I served at my church.

Next I just made a morning service at an apostolic church.  At the time, my brother from another mother was an assistant pastor there.

Each experience was spiritual as well as among friends and convivial.

My BFAM, his then wife and several members of the congregation segued to lunch at a family style restaurant near downtown on 16th Street.

The conversation was quiet but not stuffy.  And noone said a word about my color.  We were merely Christians having Easter lunch.  

After we returned for an afternoon worship.  It was quite unlike my usual experience.  It was much more musical and openly joyous.  We sang and listened to a short sermon.  This was a charismatic service and music followed with folks speaking in tongues and dancing in the Spirit.

Interestingly, I wasn't nervous nor did I feel out of place.  Though the style of worship was unusual to me, I was accepted just as I was.  Isn't that the whole way of faith?  Besides, my BFAM and and I knew each other well.

I was introduced by him as a student minister to his congregation.  They insisted on a short address.

I was demure, saying I was from a quieter type of faith and didn't want to intrude.

The folks encouraged me, saying it was alright.

So, I gave a brief homily/testimony.  With cries of 'amen' and 'that's alright brother', I cheerfully concluded.  Never received applause before lol.

Then, there was a brief praise and healing service.  I met a guy who was young but a retired actor.  We never talked about it, just accepted our presence.  Since, I still recall his soulful HalleLujah.

The second was shorter.  It was near the end of my assignment at a downtown church.

We had several elderly folks.  Many were without family.  So, I was invited to one of the lady's home.  It would in later years be even more meaningful, as it was near where I lived with my wife and kids, practically round the corner.

We had a traditional meal and spoke of Easters past.  It was just a gentle afternoon and we were both thankful for it.

The third was a trip to Chicago with my wife and son when he was a toddler.

It was a quiet family afternoon.  I had ventured downtown and got him a chocolate bunny and chocolate eggs for my wife and me.

Quiet, love filled and full of gratitude.  Simple.

So there are 3 Easters.  Each different, but complete.  

Moments in life.