I was born in 1942.
One of the first words I learned
as a small child
was the word Jap.
I heard it ten thousand times
before my fourth birthday,
and when I learned to read
it was in the L.A. Times
every day.
Every day.
Contact info: davebaldwin37@gmail.com
Matthew 4:1-11
The verbs to tempt and to test are not the same.
God did not tempt Abraham to sacrifice his one
and only child, Isaac. For it is written,
“After these things God tested Abraham.”
The devil tempted Jesus to turn stones
into bread to prove he is the son of God.
The devil tempted Jesus to leap from the façade
of the temple and force the angels to cushion his bones.
The devil tempted Jesus with his biggest and best
offer: the splendor of earthly kingdoms if he,
in turn, would worship him; Jesus refused.
Temptations bedevil us every hour of every day
as befits our nature, but do not be confused
when the Lord requires your service: This is a test.
Memories of my childhood
are hopelessly corrupt.
Facts are elusive.
The core event may stay the same,
protruding like a stone
in a turquoise tidal pool,
but ancillary facts appear,
disappear, reappear,
and shape-shift over time.
Facts are fleeting,
but feelings are forever
and absolutely incorruptible.
Memories are not unlike
the garden-variety dream
where the main takeaway
is not the inscrutable plot,
but the emotion I am feeling
when I awake.
Carey, Idaho
The people come and go,
but Carey is used to the churn.
Time is a daunting flow.
Pioneers long ago
let the church run the town.
The people come and go.
Roads and railroads come slow,
and water is a grave concern.
The town withstands the flow.
Some children come to know
they need to leave to learn.
The people come and go.
Others choose to go
on missions and then return.
The town weathers the flow.
Carey continues to grow.
The seasons take their turn
while the people come and go.
The town welcomes the flow.
NOTE: In the 1961-62 school year, I attended Idaho State College on a track scholarship. Sprinter John Briggs, the “Carey Comet,” was a good friend of mine on the team. I got to spend one weekend with his family in Carey, a small Mormon community in southern Idaho. It had about 300 people at the time. Carey still has less than a thousand residents these days. I wrote this villanelle for the prompt “small town.”
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
The kingdom of God began
with a solitary man.
The solitary man
was a tiny seed of one.
Growth began the hour
Jesus revealed his power.
The kingdom of God grew
when Jesus added two.
The kingdom grew some more
when followers numbered four.
There were twelve until the day
a follower fell away.
A handful grew into thousands
and thousands into millions.
Nothing on this earth
is fully formed at birth.
From a tiny seed of one
a mighty tree was born.
We rose from the garden sod:
behold the kingdom of God.
Love instantiates. Twain souls
set out: governed by gravity
sliding scraping muscling through
perilous rapids churning white
bending through forests and fields
beneath the bridges of twelve towns
gaining girth and losing speed
adding a tinge of toxic sludge
to a whispering flood a mile wide.
From glacial melt to delta salt,
this is who we are.
NOTE: Nancy and I were married on March 5, 1966. This poem celebrates our 59th. wedding anniversary . We lived in these twelve towns: San Diego, CA; Long Beach, CA; Pocatello, ID; St. Paul, MN; Seattle, WA; Federal Way, WA; Renton, WA; Germantown, MD; Eugene, OR; Veneta, OR; Redmond, WA; Lake Stevens, WA.
The same stone which the builders rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.~Psalm 118
The great American poet was gravely ill.
Confined to home, he was game enough for an interview.
As I was ushered into his august presence,
I noticed letterhead papers taped to the walls
of the rooms, corner to corner from floor to ceiling.
Each was a version of, “Sorry, not for us.”
Of course, I started to laugh, which was the point.
The old man’s voice was soft but clear:
“The rejection letters keep me humble,” he said.
“I often wonder where the editors and publishers—
these gatekeepers—are today with their insights.
The uncharted path is hard to follow at first.
I get that. Sometimes it takes a while
for the world to come around to the unforeseen reality
that a loathed new idea despised by the authorities
will be the conceptual capstone of the coming age.”
Mark 13:35-36
Watchman, wake. Awake and rise!
You must be ready when the master comes.
Don’t let him catch you by surprise
in the evening,
at midnight,
at cockcrow
or at dawn.
Watchman: this charge is yours to keep.
The master comes in a sudden rush.
Don’t let him find you sound asleep
in the evening,
at midnight,
at cockcrow
or at dawn.
Watchman, wake. Open your eyes!
You cannot know the urgent hour,
the hour when the master of the house arrives
in the evening,
at midnight,
at cockcrow
or at dawn.
When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.
Matthew 9:36
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he felt the world’s pain—
for the sick, the blind, the troubled
trapped in the grip of demons.
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he felt the world’s sorrow.
He wanted to wipe away
tears from every eye.
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he felt the world’s hunger.
The tired and hungry sheep
looked up, waiting to be fed.
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he felt for those cut off.
He cared for the lonely leper
banished from the village square.
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he felt the world’s bewilderment.
The people, longing for God,
were given rules instead.
The people were harassed and helpless
like sheep without a shepherd.
When Jesus saw the crowds,
he was moved by true compassion.
The world has greatly changed
since Jesus saw the crowds.
But we still have pain and sorrow;
we still have hunger and loneliness;
we still have bewilderment.
The Gospel remains the same.
He is moved by true compassion
for the crowds of the dispossessed.
Matthew 20:1-16
I was an L.A. kid. My favorite sport
was baseball. The weather was always kind
enough for a game. My friends and I
knew the batting averages and the earned run
averages of the players in the PCL,
and all the major league stats. I followed the Angels.
It was always a treat to go to Wrigley Field
with my dad and watch the Angels play ball.
I never went without some friends from school.
One Saturday, my dad took me and two
of my friends to an Angels game. We sat near
the back of the lower section overlooking
first base. There was a section in front of us
right by the visitors’ dugout completely empty.
These seats were the most expensive in the park,
but today, those ticket holders did not show up.
Wrigley had a custom to let the local kids
into the stands after a couple of innings,
just to fill up the ballpark. It was a neighborly policy
with the surrounding community in south L.A.
and it helped to boost the noise for the home team.
When a boisterous group of black kids commandeered
the seats in the coveted section down below,
a man sitting near us began to grumble
about them in a loud voice. This same man
was telling his companion at the start of the game
how pleased he was with his seats at the ballpark.
He did have great seats, but it made him angry
when poor kids sat closer to the action.
The man complained and muttered racial slurs
for two innings before my father finally
had enough. Dad was sure the commentary
was ruining the experience for me and my friends.
After one racist rant too many, my father turned
to him and said, “Hey, knock it off.
We’re trying to watch the game.” The man was caught
off guard, “Well, it isn’t fair. I paid good money
for these seats, and those kids don’t deserve
the luxury box.” Dad said, “I heard you bragging
about your seats when you came in. You said
they were perfect. What happened? Relax,”
he said gesturing toward the buoyant fans
in the stands, “enjoy the game with the rest of us.”
It worked. We never heard another word.
Later, my dad explained it this way:
“It is a gift just to be there at Wrigley Field
where the sun is shining and the Angels are winning.
Be happy. It doesn’t matter where you sit.”
NOTE: This Wrigley Field was the minor league home of the old Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League. The Angels were the AAA farm club of the Chicago Cubs in the National League. The Cubs played in a much larger Wrigley Field in Chicago.
repair work
on the dam
emptying out
the harmony
of water and mud
Hebrews 11:29-12:2
A duet: Athlete (alto or tenor) and Coach (bass)
I ran my best, but failed to place.
My legs were dead the entire race.
I don’t have wind. I don’t feel strong.
Tell me: What am I doing wrong?
Unless you change, you’ll never win.
You are running races with the weight of sin.
The weight of sin drags you down.
A change of heart wins the crown.
I like the pleasures that come from sin.
Unless you change, you’ll never win.
Defeat or victory is yours to choose.
The life you live is yours to lose.
(Athlete and coach speak to the congregation in unison)
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
NOTE: These are lyrics for an anthem or a spoken presentation.
