Post-Thanksgiving Reflections.
Wives. Our great country has a marvelous history of Presidential wives. All the way back to Sister Martha Washington through Sister Doctor Jill Biden, these women have stood by their men in leadership and support. While some First Ladies have endured strife beyond compare, and one has shown the First Breasts, each has left their mark. As a Babatist, I have always been fond of Brother and Sister Carter. Fine Christians from a small town in Georgia who rose to the pinnacle of American leadership. While Brother Jimmy continues to grip on to life, we mourn the passing of his beloved wife of 77 years, Sister Rosalynn Carter. A fine woman who maintained her Sunday School class while standing on the world stage, Sister RC inspired me to no end. Her ministries for mental health will surely grant her more stars in her heavenly crown. The loss of this life leaves us with five FLOTUS. A politician, a librarian, an author, a slut and an educator. Let us pray.
Wigs. Sometimes I creak and moan just getting out of bed, yet I am only in my 60s. To see some women of a certain age “blowing and going” in the shade of their 80th year is truly an inspiration. Sister Sarkisian continues to belie her 77 years through the manual manipulation of her face by earthly powers. (The Lord barely recognizes her anymore.) Yet she still gives her all to her performances as she did in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It must have been cold out there, and it really takes mental acumen to lip-sync one’s own electronically tuned songs on television. Then we have Sister Parton who showed up looking like a tarted-up Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader during a halftime performance last weekend. Still, even if I had on a full-body compression garment as she did, I’d still not cut quite the figure, and I’m nowhere near approaching 78. Praise the Lord for these women’s example of continued ministry. But if the Lord ever smites the wig industry, I know two careers that will fade away!
Weirdos. As a young Christian in the 1960s and 70s, I was enamored of Saturday morning television. While I was blissfully unaware at the time, some of these fantasy shows reeked of creative teams who may or may not have been cavorting with Sister Mary Jane while partaking of Lascivious Sinful Drugs. I reflect on such psychedelic fare as the Banana Splits, the Bugaloos (Martha Raye alone……), Sigmund and the Sea Monster (that lisp!), Lidsville (lid???) and HR Pufnstuf. Puff and Stuff. Filthy. These programs entertained all of us in our innocence (I treasured my HR Pufnstuf lunchbox!) but must now be recognized for the subversiveness contained therein. The main purveyors of this hallucinogenic mess were Sid and Marty Krofft. Brother Marty Krofft passed away this week at the age of 86, leaving his brother, Sid, as the remainder of the team. To their credit, the Kroffts also gave us the Donny and Marie Show and the Mandrell Sisters television program. Atoning perhaps? Let us reflect on this Greek/Hungarian who peddled pot, drugs, freaks, Mormons and wholesome blondes. I’d like to imagine St. Peter and Martha Raye sipping coffee from their Pufnstuf mugs at the Pearly Gates as Marty staggered in.
