love – might be baloney

According to a report from CNBC, the National Retail Federation and Prosper lnsights and Analytics, Americans will spend an estimated 14.6 billion dollars for Valentine’s Day.

Clearly, I wasn’t included in the survey.

I’ll hope that Trader Joe’s hasn’t sold out of their high quality $1.00 cards, and somewhere today, I’ll find appropriate chocolate for my Commander Supreme.

If Trader Joe’s is sold out of cards, I’ll use the stash of crayons, colored pencils, and markers that our grandchildren keep here to create a card for the love of my life, my Commander Supreme.

I always loved the title of the Beatles’ album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

I think quite a bit about those words “lonely hearts.”

At 72, I’m much more aware of “lonely hearts” in the world today.

You might be aware that lots of data is out there related to loneliness.

Some report that 1 out of every 6 of us experience loneliness. Others report that figure as 1 out of every 5.

In 2023, the U. S. Surgeon General declared “loneliness” an epidemic.

I wonder how much of our loneliness is based upon the pace of the world?

Is it because our days move so fast that we become less aware of the lonely people around us?

Perhaps, combatting loneliness depends upon our hearts.

Can we slow our pace, can we open our hearts more, can our hearts be more attentive, can our hearts give more time?

Recently, Henry Chambers, an attorney and law professor at the University of Richmond, was our community guest at Pub Theology at the WayGone Brewery.

Early in his career, Dr. Chambers talked about a mentorship that he participated in at a local school. Some how, Dr. Chambers was able to build a relationship to bring a quiet, shy student out of his shell. It was Dr. Chamber’s patient heart and time that helped this student to move forward.

Yesterday at our church, we celebrated the life of Mr. Bob’s wife, Vickie.

Attending the funeral were numerous Hispanic students and families from Oak Grove Bellemeade Elementary School. Mr. Bob is surely sad and lonely from the loss of the love of his life, but on the tough days ahead of him, the love of those students and their families will get him through.

I wonder if any of the pollsters in America have conducted a survey about our hearts. What might we learn about our hearts?

If they framed a question about the hearts of political leaders, I wonder what Americans would say about their hearts?

Soft hearted soul that I am, I can tell you there might be a heart beating in the chest of some of our leaders, but those hearts have no love, no compassion.

I once had the privilege of speaking at our church during December. No pastor has ever set a perimeter for me as in don’t say this or that. Pastors are time conscious. My only guideline— stay within a fifteen to twenty minute time frame.

In speaking about the birth of Jesus, and the love that was brought into the world with his arrival, I cited a song from the Beach Boys titled “Surf’s Up.” The song isn’t about surfing or Jesus.

“Surf’s Up” might be one of Brian Wilson’s best compositions. The song features lyrics from Van Dyke Parks that will leave you scratching your head.

But for that Sunday morning in the pulpit, I was focused on the tag of the song. This is the end where all the harmony of the Beach Boys’ voices are woven together.

In that tag, these words are sung: “I heard the word, wonderful thing, a children’s song, have you listened as they played? Their song is love, and the children know the way.”

It is no secret that I love the artwork created by the students at the Trinity UMC Preschool.

Working with their teachers, these students have created some heart touching masterpieces.

On this Valentine’s Day, I wonder what our hearts might learn from our children?

They provide us a gentle reminder: “ a children’s song, have you listened as they played? Their song is love, and the children know the way.”

If we are going to make it in this chaotic world, we need to find the way of the children and their song of love.

It’s our only hope.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Student artwork Trinity UMC Preschool (Photo Bill Pike)

Rodney Dangerfield was a gifted comedian.

His self-deprecating humor made me laugh.

In his rapid fire delivery of jokes, he always found a way to work in what became his identifying line—“I don’t get no respect.”

For lots of reasons, that’s how I’ve come to feel about Thanksgiving.

Over the last several years, it appears to me that our respect for Thanksgiving is eroding.

Retailers know this.

For example, the National Retail Federation expects Christmas sales in 2025 to “exceed a trillion dollars.”

Forecasters predicted that Halloween sales for 2025 would be in the range of twelve billion.

Thanksgiving is projected to be in the four to five billion range.

Growing up in North Carolina, Thanksgiving was always a drive on U.S. 70 to my grandmother’s home in Greensboro.

Sometimes, there was a stop on this twenty minute drive at Mt. Pleasant United Methodist Church for a morning Thanksgiving service.

The spread of home cooked food for our lunch time gathering was amazing. As an overweight kid, I was in heaven.

And yes, I like pumpkin pie. However, my favorite Thanksgiving dessert was persimmon pudding. I think my Aunt Evelyn always made sure we had persimmon pudding.

The other thing that I remember about those gatherings was being huddled in a small den with a television that projected a black and white picture of the Detroit Lions and Green Bay Packers playing their traditional Thanksgiving Day game. At the time, that was the only game broadcast or played.

Money has changed that. From Thursday through Sunday, football games at the collegiate and professional level are non-stop.

In November 1975, I spent my first Thanksgiving away from home. I was in Milton, Massachusetts, a pretty New England town just south of Boston.

I was with my future wife’s family. Two days later, that beautiful lady and I were married in West Hartford, Connecticut.

Lots has transpired in those fifty years.

And even though, Thanksgiving is squashed between the billions and trillions of Halloween and Christmas, it continues to survive.

We must never take the survival of Thanksgiving for granted.

The survival of Thanksgiving depends upon you, me, we, us.

We can’t let Thanksgiving die.

If Thanksgiving dies, so will we.

Maya Angelo said it better: “If we lose love and self-respect for each other, this is how we finally die.”

For Thanksgiving to continue to have a life, we must ensure that our children and grandchildren understand why it is so important to be thankful.

Being thankful can’t be taken for granted.

In the fall of my sophomore year at Greensboro College, biology professor, Dr. Kemper Callahan, put that into perspective for me.

This is what I have come to Dr. Callahan’s Thanksgiving Lecture. He simply told our class that we should never take Thanksgiving for granted. That included appreciating all of the people who make Thanksgiving happen. Dr. Callahan put a strong emphasis on farmers—no farmers, no Thanksgiving.

Successful Farming reported in July of 2025: “More farms nationwide filed for bankruptcy in the first three months of the year this year than across the entirety of 2024.”

What will the continuing struggles of our farmers mean for future Thanksgivings?

While I love the Thanksgiving food, Thanksgiving is also about family.

How lucky I have been to have been nurtured by a family every day of my life. That is a luxury not available to everyone.

As crazy as families can be, even an ounce of stability can make all the difference in a person’s life.

I see that generational stability in our Thanksgiving gatherings. Internally I ask—how different would my life have been without that stability?

I also ponder how much better America could be if that stability was present for all of our families. We might be surprised at how lives could improve by solving those generational cycles of instability.

In my work at Trinity United Methodist Church, I see hope for Thanksgiving. That hope comes through the art work of the children in the preschool.

I love walking through the hallways in the days before Thanksgiving. I get to see the Thanksgiving artwork gracefully resting on the floor or gently hanging from a wall mounted hook. These masterpieces are in their curing stage with glue and paint drying before they are transported home.

Who knows maybe these heartfelt creations will be cherished and preserved for future Thanksgiving celebrations.

Isn’t that part of what makes up respect—preserving what we value?

Rodney Dangerfield figured that out.

Mr. Dangerfield learned that his audiences anticipated and valued his famous line—“I don’t get no respect.”

I can hear him now.

Thanksgiving is coming. I gotta tell you, when I was a kid Thanksgiving got a lot of respect. Not now. Thanksgiving is like a panini sandwich flatten on a press by Halloween pumpkins and retailers overstuffing our Christmas stockings.

I hope you and your families have a good Thanksgiving.

And remember to endure, Thanksgiving needs our respect, our hope, and our thankful hearts.

Tag: love

Valentine’s Day: “their song is love”

Thanksgiving: “I don’t get no respect.”