Tim Torkildson's Clown Alley

Monday, April 20, 2020

Photo Essay: Zen Stones. Vol. 11

Write about a stone.

It won't care.

So why should you?

Stone makes bread

but bread

does not make stone.

This stone

is another stone.

Not the one

I'm talking about.

What is

the smell of

stone?

Sing Hallelujah!

At this season of hosanna and hallelujah, sing hallelujah—for He shall reign forever and ever!
Gerrit W. Gong

Though the world may fall apart,

we will sing with all our heart

to our Lord and Savior dear --

He who conquered death and fear!

Rogues and boasters, tyrants fell,

demagogues come straight from hell;

all of them have hollow shields

when the Lord his saber wields.

Christ shall reign, as is his right;

he who brings the saving light.

Then must all hosanna shout

as the world sheds all its doubt!

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Photo Essay: Postcards from my Kids. Volume Two.

My father never wrote me a letter or postcard his entire life, even though I was anxious to keep in touch with him and with my mother. He never called me on the phone, and never talked to me on the phone when I called my mother.
There was no active hate or loathing on his part, I believe. He just didn't believe in communicating with anyone who wasn't buying a beer from him at Aarone's Bar & Grill, on East Hennepin, where he worked for over forty years as a bartender.
He rarely came home before I was in bed, and was usually gone in the morning when I woke up. He had a second job at the Minneapolis Athletic Club, as a towel dispenser.
He constructed his own Fortress of Solitude, and lived in it for most of his life -- self sufficient and wary of all visitors.
I didn't want that to happen between me and my kids -- but it nearly did.
After Amy divorced me, I hoped to achieve something great and fantastic -- something my kids would look upon with pride and brag about to their friends. Maybe get famous as a stand up comic or write a great big fantasy novel. But nothing like that ever happened. I sank lower and lower into poverty and depression, until I had to flee the country to Thailand to avoid being arrested for back child support.
But I never stopped writing my kids letters. And I always included a self addressed stamped postcard for them to reply.
This was all nearly 30 years ago. Now I am documenting those postcards they sent to me here on my blog. Front and back.

Is it possible that Trump will really let the USPS go belly up?

Photo Essay: Zen Stones. Vol. 10

How can a stone

be blurry?

It is the viewer

who is blurry.

What is the sound

of one stone being?

A stone

is a lie

not invented yet.

How deep

is a stone?

Deeper into our hearts

"The Lord is trying to help us—all of us—get His gospel deeper in our hearts."
Douglas D. Holmes

So the gospel's perfect plan,

deep into the heart of man,

sinks until triumphantly

it will give us sanctity.

Open, chambers of my heart,

like the Psalmist's panting hart --

thirsting ever for the stream

that will heal and then redeem.

Saturday, April 18, 2020

Photo Essay: Postcards from my Kids. Volume One.

Amy filed for divorce back in 1994. Nobody seems to care that it was she who filed, not me. I never wanted a divorce. But I'll let that issue alone.
I wrote over a thousand letters to our eight children during the next ten years -- since email was not an option for either them or me. During that time I lived in Minnesota, Iowa, Oklahoma, Mexico, and Thailand.
Each time I sent one of my kids a letter I would usually enclose a self addressed stamped postcard so they could reply. And they often did. I've managed to save quite a few of them, and so I present them here with a running commentary. Feel free to chime in with your own opinions and observations. It's a free country . . . although it seems to be isolated and dying at the moment.
I include photos of both the front and back. I think it's interesting that some of them addressed their postcards to 'Dad' while others addressed them to 'Tim Torkildson.' Most of them were written in pencil, and have begun to fade and smudge badly, so I wanted to make sure to get them digitized for posterity. I'm hoping the grand kids will take an interest in these. How their parents wrote and what they said when they were kids . . .