A Charged Life

The meaning of life is to find your gift.

The purpose of life is to give it away.

Pablo Picasso

By Dr. Jim Ferguson
I don’t get out as much as I used to. All my life I was working or hurrying to get somewhere. And then I retired and discovered I was already there.

I love country music and one of my favorite artists is Alan Jackson. He has a song called “Chasin’ That Neon Rainbow” and one of the memorable lyrics goes: “… just trying to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen…” I can appreciate that pursuit of career, excellence and even notoriety. However, in a more recent song, “The Older I Get,” Jackson sings of love, friends and getting older. That’s where I am today. Tragically, Jackson is giving up his music career due to a genetic peripheral neuropathy that has made performing impossible.

Most careers run their course. Mine did. I was blessed with a rewarding and successful career in medicine. But it was time to move on. I remain a committed Christian, a husband, a father and a grandfather. And now I have been repurposed as a writer. This will be the 839th column of “The Doctor is in,” and I am blessed that I am able to “give it away.”

Recently, I was “Home Alone” because Becky was helping an ailing friend. Since I’m no longer rushing to the hospital or my office, I’m at home more, but I have managed to stay out of Becky’s hair. We have different gifts and responsibilities. Becky is more practical and makes our house a home. I’m more contemplative, but I also manage the garden, orchard and vineyard as well as our yard, though we have no grass. I mowed grass all my life, so grass is banned from our home in the woods. Thankfully, in my new careers as a retiree and a writer, I have time for study, writing, and still get my chores done.

My education continues but in different directions. I’m not a chef like Mrs. Becky; I might lay claim to being a sous-chef. I can creditably peel potatoes and do other prep work for The Chef. And then, like the little girl from the old Shake & Bake commercial, I can proudly say, “I ha-lp’d.” I also do the grilling and can cook simple things like a pot of beans with ham, carrots and celery. As a result. when Becky got home she was greeted with an aroma-filled house, a crackling fire and a glass of wine.

Learning is a lifelong endeavor and my household education continues in retirement. I’ve learned to do laundry, clean toilets and refresh vegetables. I despise wilted lettuce and limp celery. But we Fergusons are a frugal bunch, so I’ve learned to put limp veggies in a pitcher of water, and voila! Freshened veggies. It works just like watering flowers. And one more tip, husbands: putting a cut piece of fruit in a container with, for instance, fruitcake, etc. will moisten the cake. I was never taught such things in medical school.

The regular college football season is over so I’ve started watching pro football. It’s a different game than college, where you never know whether your team will “show up.” I’ve been a Vol fan since I went to UT Knoxville and remember going to football games in 1969 as an undergraduate wearing a suit and tie! Today’s collegiate fan garb is often…eye-catching, but pales in comparison to the regalia of professional football fans.

I don’t have a favorite pro team since Peyton Manning retired. I do like Peyton’s commercials, as well as Patrick Mahomes’ of the Kansas City Chiefs. And the relationship of Taylor Swift and Kansas City tight end Travis Kelce has garnered extra attention for the Chiefs.

The colors of the Kansas City team are red and black, and fans often wear headdresses and do the tomahawk chop just like Atlanta Braves baseball fans.

I’ve learned that the majority of the mainstream media, and especially sports media, are liberal activists. This was recently demonstrated when a sports “journalist” wrote a hit piece on a little boy at a Chiefs’ game who was said to be in blackface and wearing an Indian headdress. Actually, the boy’s face was painted red on one half and black on the other. I won’t mention the scurrilous writer’s name (though it sounds like Karen), or the website that published his screed, along with a picture showing only the black side of the kid’s face to justify their racist story.

And not only did they malign the kid, we found out he’s Native American! Folk’s, this is “cultural Marxism” on display and it’s everywhere. We better wake up, recognize and say, “No!” to these anti-American leftists who promote class warfare in race, sexual matters, immigration, religion, abortion, the economy and I could go on. As Jesus said, “You will know them for the fruit they produce.” Their fruit is hatred and divisive class warfare.

As the Marxist culture war in America continues, have you noticed the Democrat left’s political “pivot?” Since they can’t run on Bidenomics, the border disaster, energy policy, national security, crime, gender dysphoria, men in women’s sports or the drug crisis, they have accelerated their denigration of President Trump to coincide with their “lawfare” (political warfare using the courts). Actually, I much preferred Maga-nomics, a border wall, lower gas prices and so-called “mean” tweets.

Recently, Democrat politico James Carville, aka Skeletor, was on Bill Maher’s show and continued the lie about President Trump’s comments at Charlottesville. Thankfully David Rubin took Carville to the woodshed. But expect more lies about “dictators” and January 6 where President Trump actually told his followers to “march peacefully and patriotically” in protest of the corruption in the 2020 election. The guardrails of decency don’t exist with leftists and cultural Marxists like antisemite Squad member Rep. Jayapal. Even Senator John Fetterman understands the crooks around him (Sen. Bob Menendez), and courageously spoke out on behalf of Hamas hostages. His mind is clearer than Biden’s, AOC’s Squad, Ivy League presidents or the feckless UN who can’t speak against Hamas’ sexual atrocities.

If the cultural Marxists have convinced you that President Trump must be locked up to save democracy, then you are indeed delusional, the fruit of hatred and are lost.