What's My Line
Title: What's My Line
Category: Devotions
Subject: Time
"SIGN IN PLEASE..."
by Dale Freeman
Copyright 2006 Dale Freeman
Thank the Lord for Tivo!
My only true television addiction does not air in prime time, but rather at 12:30 AM nightly. At that appointed hour, the Game Show Network is showing in succession all eighteen seasons of the classic program, "What's My Line?"
The concept of the show is disarmingly simple. Four panelists try to ask questions and discern the occupations of various individuals. Then, a little later in the show, they don blindfolds and seek to identify a "Mystery Guest" from the world of entertainment or sports. While all of this is amusing, the disclosure of "butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers" is not what has me hooked. It's the incredible "time machine quality" of the proceedings!
Each is invited to "Enter and sign in please."
One by one they come, black and white shadows from the past. The man who made JFK's rocking chair, or designed Jackie Kennedy's hat, or the astronaut's secretary, or Lyndon Johnson's barber, or the guy who did the launch countdown for John Glenn, or the official translator for Nikita Krushev during his historic tour of the United States. There is the warm smiling gentleman who is the voice of Donald Duck and the lady who lends her talent to yield Woody Woodpecker's stuttered laugh.
Col. Harlan Sanders enters adorned in his trademark white suit, signs in under his real name, and after thorough questioning not one of the panelists guesses that he "makes chicken."
The mystery guests include Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Jimmy Stewart, Henry Fonda, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Jack Benny, Groucho Marx, Bobby Darin, Floyd Patterson, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle and other luminaries disguising their voices in hopes of not getting "caught."
The regulars are all urbane, highly educated, well spoken and mannered. The host is John Charles Daly, the celebrated newsman who first brought word to Americans of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
The regular inquisitors, nationally syndicated columnist Dorothy Kilgallen, star of stage and television Arlene Francis, and founder of Random House Bennet Cerf are joined each week by guest panelists like Steve Allen, Woody Allen, Fred Allen or maybe Gracie Allen, all working hard to keep the contestants from claiming the potential $50.00 prize.
Everyone in attendance discusses what is going on at that very moment in the nation and world. It's hot or cold, Easter or Christmas, Sputnik is circling the earth, the Beatles are in town, Elvis is next door with Ed Sullivan, or the nation is grieving the murder of a President. They speak of their families, and their upcoming projects in the theater, movies or television. They live in a world that knows little of color television and nothing of computers, cell phones, video tape, DVD's, CD's, the Internet or man walking on the moon.
They are real people living real lives as though there will be no tomorrow. I watch like a God-like voyeur, both fascinated and heartbroken, being reminded of the misconception that every generation shares in turn.
"The illusion of permanence."
The mistaken belief that where we are is the world and it always will be. Calendars filled and appointments to be kept. "Tomorrow, or next week, or next year I will do this or that."
Oh, what I could tell you, dear "What's My Line" friends from my omnipotent perch in the future.
"Dorothy, great job tonight. You laughed at Bennet's silly joke and identified the mystery guest. This coming week your husband will awaken to find you dead in your bed. Your fellows at CBS will grieve you and then go on without you."
"Arlene, you are one of the quickest wits in the world. One day you'll leave this earth while staring at a wall, totally unaware of your surroundings or even yourself."
"That son who just graduated from college with honors, he will return from war in a body bag in a few years."
"The Oscar that you won last week won't fill the void like you had hoped, and you'll take your own life in a lonely hotel room."
"That new home that you just furnished will be the site of a condo parking lot before the millennium."
"Everyone cheered with glee when you signed in, and you waved upon your departure to your admiring fans. In 2006 virtually no one will know that you ever existed unless they do a "Google search."
How thankful I am that God in His mercy has determined that we don't know what is coming. We sometimes think that we would like to draw back the curtain and peer beyond the limits of this day.
There, spread before us, a parade of victories and defeats, laughter and tears, sickness and health, birthdays and deathbeds. What heart could contain a lifetime's worth of life in any given hour?
The Bible admonishes us to "Redeem the time." There is so precious little of it. Man always comes and plans to stay, but inevitably he moves on. Presidents and kings, heroes and despots, the rich or famous and the poor or infamous. All too soon a marble stone, or footnote on some yellowed page, or a statue to be adorned by passing pigeons mark their inevitable passing.
Jesus said that every single day is only big enough for itself. What folly to drag yesterday along with us, or reach as if it were possible to grasp a moment not yet come.
"Redeem the time."
How precious is that holy advice. Learn from the past and then leave it there. We must trust God for the future, and commit every ounce of our being to "right now." This moment is not preparation for life. It is all the life we will ever have. It's passing quickly.
As Dr. Seuss put it so succinctly...
How did it get so late so soon?
Its night before its afternoon.
December is here before its June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?
by Dale Freeman
Copyright 2006 Dale Freeman
Thank the Lord for Tivo!
My only true television addiction does not air in prime time, but rather at 12:30 AM nightly. At that appointed hour, the Game Show Network is showing in succession all eighteen seasons of the classic program, "What's My Line?"
The concept of the show is disarmingly simple. Four panelists try to ask questions and discern the occupations of various individuals. Then, a little later in the show, they don blindfolds and seek to identify a "Mystery Guest" from the world of entertainment or sports. While all of this is amusing, the disclosure of "butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers" is not what has me hooked. It's the incredible "time machine quality" of the proceedings!
Each is invited to "Enter and sign in please."
One by one they come, black and white shadows from the past. The man who made JFK's rocking chair, or designed Jackie Kennedy's hat, or the astronaut's secretary, or Lyndon Johnson's barber, or the guy who did the launch countdown for John Glenn, or the official translator for Nikita Krushev during his historic tour of the United States. There is the warm smiling gentleman who is the voice of Donald Duck and the lady who lends her talent to yield Woody Woodpecker's stuttered laugh.
Col. Harlan Sanders enters adorned in his trademark white suit, signs in under his real name, and after thorough questioning not one of the panelists guesses that he "makes chicken."
The mystery guests include Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Jimmy Stewart, Henry Fonda, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Jack Benny, Groucho Marx, Bobby Darin, Floyd Patterson, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle and other luminaries disguising their voices in hopes of not getting "caught."
The regulars are all urbane, highly educated, well spoken and mannered. The host is John Charles Daly, the celebrated newsman who first brought word to Americans of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
The regular inquisitors, nationally syndicated columnist Dorothy Kilgallen, star of stage and television Arlene Francis, and founder of Random House Bennet Cerf are joined each week by guest panelists like Steve Allen, Woody Allen, Fred Allen or maybe Gracie Allen, all working hard to keep the contestants from claiming the potential $50.00 prize.
Everyone in attendance discusses what is going on at that very moment in the nation and world. It's hot or cold, Easter or Christmas, Sputnik is circling the earth, the Beatles are in town, Elvis is next door with Ed Sullivan, or the nation is grieving the murder of a President. They speak of their families, and their upcoming projects in the theater, movies or television. They live in a world that knows little of color television and nothing of computers, cell phones, video tape, DVD's, CD's, the Internet or man walking on the moon.
They are real people living real lives as though there will be no tomorrow. I watch like a God-like voyeur, both fascinated and heartbroken, being reminded of the misconception that every generation shares in turn.
"The illusion of permanence."
The mistaken belief that where we are is the world and it always will be. Calendars filled and appointments to be kept. "Tomorrow, or next week, or next year I will do this or that."
Oh, what I could tell you, dear "What's My Line" friends from my omnipotent perch in the future.
"Dorothy, great job tonight. You laughed at Bennet's silly joke and identified the mystery guest. This coming week your husband will awaken to find you dead in your bed. Your fellows at CBS will grieve you and then go on without you."
"Arlene, you are one of the quickest wits in the world. One day you'll leave this earth while staring at a wall, totally unaware of your surroundings or even yourself."
"That son who just graduated from college with honors, he will return from war in a body bag in a few years."
"The Oscar that you won last week won't fill the void like you had hoped, and you'll take your own life in a lonely hotel room."
"That new home that you just furnished will be the site of a condo parking lot before the millennium."
"Everyone cheered with glee when you signed in, and you waved upon your departure to your admiring fans. In 2006 virtually no one will know that you ever existed unless they do a "Google search."
How thankful I am that God in His mercy has determined that we don't know what is coming. We sometimes think that we would like to draw back the curtain and peer beyond the limits of this day.
There, spread before us, a parade of victories and defeats, laughter and tears, sickness and health, birthdays and deathbeds. What heart could contain a lifetime's worth of life in any given hour?
The Bible admonishes us to "Redeem the time." There is so precious little of it. Man always comes and plans to stay, but inevitably he moves on. Presidents and kings, heroes and despots, the rich or famous and the poor or infamous. All too soon a marble stone, or footnote on some yellowed page, or a statue to be adorned by passing pigeons mark their inevitable passing.
Jesus said that every single day is only big enough for itself. What folly to drag yesterday along with us, or reach as if it were possible to grasp a moment not yet come.
"Redeem the time."
How precious is that holy advice. Learn from the past and then leave it there. We must trust God for the future, and commit every ounce of our being to "right now." This moment is not preparation for life. It is all the life we will ever have. It's passing quickly.
As Dr. Seuss put it so succinctly...
How did it get so late so soon?
Its night before its afternoon.
December is here before its June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?