Memories of the Old Family Bible

Do you have a family Bible? I’ve been feeling nostalgic of late and one of the memories that I’ve raked up from my subconscious is the memory of the old family Bible.

I don’t have the physical Bible – my sister, the eldest in the family and my only living relative, inherited it. But I have that Bible embedded in my psyche in the same way that I sometimes embed videos on my blog.

Whoever reads the blog can view that video at their leisure; the same is true of my memory of that Bible. I can view it at my leisure. That could be the definition of nostalgia, in fact: the leisurely, usually pleasurable review of the past.

Our family Bible was a huge Masonic Bible that served as the moral compass, the Sunday afte
oon devotional, the genealogical register, and the file cabinet for my family. As a file cabinet, it accumulated items that my parents thought were of value or merely of interest.

Not all of my memories of the old family Bible are pleasant. I still remember one Sunday afte
oon hearing my father read Matthew 5:22: But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, “Raca,” is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.

I don’t remember how old I was, but I do clearly remember the conviction of sin: my brother and I had been fighting and I had called him a name. Not “Raca” or even, “You fool!” but a name. I was sure that God was wise to me and out to get me.

Among the miscellany in the Bible were a couple of poems that caused us kids to resort to that Bible more frequently. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so nostalgic – I haven’t been feeling too whippy and that brought to mind one of those poems. It is one that I think most of us Boomers can relate to. It is entitled, I’m Fine for the Shape I’m In:

There’s nothing the matter with me,
I’m just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I’m fine for the shape I’m in.

My teeth have had to all come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I’m overweight and I can’t get thin,
But I’m fine for the shape I’m in.

The arch supports I need for my feet.
Enable me to get off my seat.
My memory’s failing, my head’s in a spin.
But I’m fine for the shape I’m in.

Old age is golde
I’ve heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I go to bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
And my glasses on a shelf, until I get up.

And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf ?
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits.

If my name is missing, I’m therefore not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and jump back into bed.
The reaso
I know my Youth has been spent,
Is my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went!

But really I don’t mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the places my get-up has been.
The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old.
It is better to say “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.

I thought this poem was a hoot when I was a kid. Now I don’t think it’s so funny. A little too realistic.