Monthly Archives: August 2020

Decrepit

Decrepit: (adj) weakened by old age; feeble; infirm

Turns out my grandpa was not decrepit.

I was wrong in my twenty-two-year-old assessment.

Just last week, I discovered that he had just chosen to slow down, and instead of being rushed and hurried, paced himself in such a way that he would not have to arrive at his destination out of breath.

It was actually rather intelligent.

So my criticism of his turtle speed and caution when reaching for a handrail at a flight of stairs was ill-founded, reeking of prejudice.

He had just grown old enough to discover that the tortoise does win the race over the hare and that handrails on stairs are quite attractive and reassuring.

For all those years, I thought my grandpa was decrepit, when really, he was just exercising his wisdom more than his legs.

I learned this through reaching the same age he was when I criticized him.

Oh, that the young could temporarily feel the creak in a joint when it is asked to move too quickly. There would never be another harsh word coming from their lips.

No one is decrepit if they can fulfill the mission they’ve set out to do.

No one is decrepit simply because they choose not to be speedy.

And no one is decrepit merely by accumulating memories of birthday parties—or becoming an active member of the AARP.

Decree

Decree: (n) a formal and authoritative order

Maybe not formal.

Certainly not overbearingly authoritative.

But it certainly would be nice if one simple thought could permeate the minds and hearts of the human race. It would not be a decree that would solve all the problems, but rather, a climate which fosters the atmosphere for problems to be solved.

Is it too much to ask?

Are we so struck with our own brilliance that we could not faithfully enact a dynamic purpose?

Must everything be our own doing?

Or maybe it has to come from our race. Our religion. Our gender. Or our clan.

Yes, that is our weakness.

We believe we are stronger when we cling to smaller and smaller groups of ourselves and proclaim that particular cloister to be holy.

Meanwhile, to live under a simple decree which births the potential for both creativity and respect for the past seems odd to us, if not evil.

I’m ready.

I am prepared to join with all my brothers and sisters in the human family and agree on something instead of debating everything.

I am weary of promoting my own ideas.

I am aggravated with being fussy.

It’s time for a decree.

I’m certainly willing to consider any thoughts you might like to offer.

But in the meantime, may I present my suggestion?

Like most concepts that would be proffered as universal, it may seem a trifle odd at first, or insufficient.

But let it grow on you.

Let it settle into the middle of your soul and sprout a garden of possibilities.

Here it is—my decree:

“Make it easy.”

Decrease

Decrease: (v) to diminish or lessen

I was a god.

A ruler by passion, muscle and erection.

Nothing seemed to matter other than me.

I forced myself to be humble.

I pretended to have brief spurts of weakness so as not to frustrate those who were trying to keep up.

I tried to run my life by my emotional and spiritual sensibility, but my energies far surpassed my willingness to be cooperative.

I was a man, a husband, a lover—a domineering force who tenderized my efforts through a studied understanding.

People called me dad. I was their father—and able to father more.

I was the one who lifted things.

I was the one who solved problems that involved movement and pounds.

I was strong.

And then one day—and it seemed like just one day—it changed.

The young men born into my house were suddenly surging.

  • I was present but not omnipresent.
  • I was potent but not omnipotent.

I saw them growing—each finding his place.

I spied them bringing intelligent people into their lives.

I was becoming a symbol, a memory—a standard.

It was time for me to decrease in my importance and allow the world around me and those I loved to increase in their decision-making will.

At first, I resisted—and when I did, the young ones were compelled by the natural order to pull away from me, to make their mark.

But when I realized that my decreasing gave license to their increasing, it brought me joy to know that somewhere in the vast unfolding, I still offered value.

I am no longer a god.

I had sons.

They brought daughters who birthed children.

I had to decrease so they could increase.

But in doing so, I found my better place.

Decoy

Decoy: (n) anything used as a lure.

The only reason a duck-call works is because there are ducks out there who are horny.

When they hear that duck-call, they assume there’s a potential Tinder connection. If they weren’t so lascivious, they could just think to themselves, “Oh…there’s another duck. I hope he or she is having a nice day.”

Yes, a decoy works because there is a part of our consciousness that drags us toward mischief before we have a chance to consider the danger.

Whether it’s politics, religion or purchasing items at the grocery store, all of us are tantalized into making bad choices.

In politics, we’re told that “the other guy out there” is going to take away all the fun stuff we like to do because he’s just a “big, greenie-meanie.”

In religion, because of our fervency, we’re offered the possibility of being so favored that we can actually attend the ceremony to cast fools into hell.

And at the grocery store, we are informed that certain items are super-foods, and should be purchased if we want to be healthy. (Of course, the easiest way to identify them is by their super-price.)

Beware of decoys.

They are set up to trap us in our weaker parts by using a stronger signal.

Can we ever be free from them?

Will we ever consider what’s best for us before jumping in to follow the Pied Piper, like a bunch of rats?

Probably not.

But if you’re going to be a rat, it’s good to travel in packs.

Maybe one of you will remember to ignore the tune.

Decouple

Decouple: (v) to cause to become separated; uncouple

I am always ready to consider a new name for an old idea.

Sometimes it’s just healthy.

For instance, I wouldn’t mind if we changed the word “sin” to “oopser.” It’s cute and devoid of condemnation.

Lying certainly is in line to receive a new identity.

We’re already working on it with “misspoken” and “misheard.” But I think we can do better than that. Instead of referring to it as lying, we could just call it envisioning. There you go. That would feel so much better.

And since the words “break-up” and “divorce” can sound quite foul, especially in unfriendly company, it’s a damn good time to come up with “decouple.” And leave it to Hollywood to take the forefront on this ingenious evolution. Yes, young couples in Southern California now “decouple” instead of bust apart.

Actually, it has a bit of a seductive tone to it, which hangs in the air for a moment after it’s spoken, and we imagine people disengaging from one another—slowly separating their parts to individual identities.

“Decoupled” works.

We will do nearly anything to prove that we did not make a mistake.

And if we can cause a divorce to seem like the careful breaking apart of an Oreo, to share with a friend, then so much the better.

Yet, I don’t know if you can call exploding the romance between two people–which begins with them clawing at each other, then breathlessly panting on a bed–as a decoupling.

But hats off to those who wish to try.

There you go–maybe that would be a better phrase.

“My wife and I have decided from this point on, to be hats off.”

Decoupage

Decoupage: (n) the art or technique of decorating something with cut-outs of flat materials over which varnish or lacquer is applied.

I’ve heard it mentioned.

People have threatened to do it.

In the midst of a meeting, it has inspired a whole room, leaving them agog with anticipation.

“We could decoupage.”

The only reason I even knew the definition is that one time, upon leaving such a gathering, feeling ignorant, I looked it up in the dictionary. I also watched a video of what may apparently be the only soul who actually has tackled the process.

Yet it is a favored suggestion. However, when actually placed in the context of the moment, is quickly avoided due to the amount of work it entails.

It’s sticky, it’s messy and after it’s finished, it screams at the top of its lungs:

 “I’m homemade!”

I don’t know how it ever got a reputation for being elegant, cool and “happening.”

But since I feel fairly certain that I will never decoupage anything (and am probably riling up some ardent “decoupagers”) I will stop criticizing the process and declare it an art form—which I hope will make everybody happy.

 

Decorum

Decorum: (adj) dignified propriety of behavior, speech, dress, etc.

Underlings always consider rules to be unnecessary.

Those in middle management view rules as a way to lord it over the underlings.

And the actual managers of any endeavor consider rules the best way to avoid chaos.

Yet the question should be asked, how much decorum is necessary to keep us from falling into a great pit of meaningless activity?

How many restrictions are required to restrict us enough so that we don’t do stupid things?

How much freedom can be allotted to a person who spends all of his time doing nothing but screaming for freedom?

What does a human being need and what causes a human being to become needy?

I think it all revolves around the word invested.

If I have nothing invested in a project or a blessing waiting for me in the outcome, it will be difficult to convince me to maintain decorum or hit the marks just right in order to top dogs.

One of the worst things we can do for human beings is tell them that their part is not that important, and the result has nothing to do with their contribution.

It seems comical to me that the people who make the least amount of money actually touch our lives the most.

  • People who make fast food
  • Grocery store clerks
  • Those who handle produce
  • Mechanics
  • And even individuals who are in charge of driving here and there and are given “Uber” responsibility with minimal reward.

It would be intelligent to pay those who could poison us with more coins, and even more appreciation.

But instead, we ask for decorum without offering much incentive.

If you come and join me in a project, I will make sure you’re invested.

I will let you know how intricate you are to the workings, and it will be true instead of just a bunch of hype.

Because if I don’t need people to work, I don’t hire them. And if I do need them to work, I treasure them.

Don’t ask a human being to toe a line and maintain decorum unless at the end of that toe-job, there is an obvious prize.

 

Decorate

Decorate: (v) to furnish or adorn with something ornamental or becoming

It is not picky.

It is not fussy.

It is not flamboyant.

Nor is it feminine or gay.

It is a natural inclination which we stifle.

That being: to decorate.

Yes, it is our human instinct to take something that is given to us and in making it our own, add our touches and personality.

We decorate.

We’re not all decorators by profession.

We don’t run around the room pointing at things, frantically uttering ideas that are popping into our minds.

But we do decorate.

It is our way of establishing turf.

It is one of the ways we distinguish our poverty-stricken hut from the dilapidated one next door.

It is also the process we use to make our yacht stand out among the other yachts floating on the ocean blue.

We decorate.

It makes us delightful.

When we allow ourselves to consider what color tie we will wear with our suit or whether tennis shoes are appropriate for a night out dining in the city, or if we think the desk that is now in the left-hand corner is screaming to be right-cornered…

Whatever it is, we possess it, we own it—and it makes us endearing.

And as I said, it is not gender biased.

For men will take their bathroom supplies and stack them just as fastidiously as their lady friends.

  • Decorate.
  • Replenish the Earth.
  • And be fruitful about it.

Decontextualize

Decontextualize: (v) to remove from a context

Water.

What do we use it for?

  • We drink it.
  • We swim in it.
  • We clean with it.

Very simple.

This is the context for water.

So the young prophet shows up at the river and he wants to use the water to baptize people. Why?

Because it’s something we drink, we swim in it and it cleans us.

The context is clear.  Water is a symbol of life, joy and cleanliness.

What a great way to communicate a transition in our beings. Take us into the water, let us promise good things, let us believe better things. Then splash us beneath the deep and rise us up—cleansed.

Could anything be more beautiful than that?

Does it matter how the water is used?

Does the top of my head have to get wet?

How about my hip bones?

Is it less significant if my kneecaps remain dry?

Since we understand the context of water bringing life, joy and cleanliness, why must we decontextualize by insisting the style in which we enact this ritual is more important than the expression itself?

How shall we take our communion?

Should we use wine or grape juice?

How can we take the symbolism of the body and blood of Christ and trivialize it down to grocery store concerns?

Are you saved?

How do you know?

Did you confess?

Did you come to it on your own?

Did you do it in church?

Did you do it in public?

Do any of these things matter?

Is it necessary to take the context of something beautiful and change it to a complexity and make it nearly inaccessible?

How do you know when you’ve found something pure?

That’s easy.

When no one needs to explain it to you.

 

Decongestant

Decongestant: (n) a substance that relieves mucus congestion of the upper respiratory tract.

I hate colds.

I am not alone in this, but they are a hazard for my profession.

I have spent my life using my voice in various capacities, and having that altered is at least annoying, if not costly.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the sooner I treat a cold, the better off I am.

This discovery was birthed during a particularly nasty head cold I had when I was a junior in high school. Being that particular age, I took no medications and certainly would never carry Kleenex in my pocket.

So one very cold day, when the study hall at school was overly warm, my nose began to run. I had nothing at all to stop the flow.

I had not taken a decongestant to dry me out.

Kleenex was for girls.

And unfortunately, the only thing available was the fuzzy sweater my brother had loaned to me, which had big, bushy sleeves.

I resisted for a long time.

I tried to breathe in deeply, sucking the nose flow back into my head.

I did a quick reach-up with my finger to push back the lava.

But it just kept coming.

Finally, in a complete breakdown, I lifted my sweater sleeve and quickly rubbed it across my nose, allowing all the furriness to absorb the “ick.”

I immediately reached down and tried to redistribute the human glue throughout the sweater so it wouldn’t be noticeable—and fortunately for me, the bell rang. I was able to run to the bathroom to blow my nose.

Being a teenager, I forgot all about the incident until a week later, when my brother put on the sweater and asked me what the deal was with the sleeve.

I could not tell him the truth.

It would not be healthy for his heart. (I don’t think he had a heart condition, but he could develop one.)

Being an adolescent and not quick-thinking on my feet, I replied, “Wear and tear?”

My brother looked at me, perplexed, then down at his clumpy, sticky sleeve. I don’t think he really wanted to know, so he accepted my explanation.

I have since learned that the power of a decongestant is that it dries you up so much that you don’t have to do embarrassing things to your clothing.