Katrina Vanden Heuvel, the editor of The Nation magazine, is one of the smartest people I know of. When I read her magazine, I can feel my brain getting bigger. I love how she cuts through all the fuzzy stuff people repeat when they have no sense and no new ideas, and just states things clearly.
As she did here...
http://www.thenation.com/blogs/edcut/390798/butter_over_guns
when discussing the fact that it's time to just stand up and demand that this country stop spending such obscene amounts of money on defense, most of which is wasted anyway.
An interesting point to note in this blog post is where she points out that "military spending has the lowest multiplier effect of any form of government spending." I take that to mean it is the worst bargain for the money.
What she's pointing toward is what Christians have known for a long time: that security doesn't come from the ability to blow people to smithereens. It grows from education which promotes understanding. It grows from the ability to help people who need food and housing and clean water and medicine. It grows from peace and good will to all God's children. As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing in the Pentagon budget that promotes any of that.
So let's stand up and start making a demand for sensible, "defense" spending! Yes, butter! And pre-school, and health care, and scholarships to college, and aid to people around the world that they can really use.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Finally Figured It Out
I realized today what it is about Christopher Hitchens that bothers me so much.
It's not that he is an atheist. I'm fine with people being atheists. I find it a little silly to be a dogmatic atheist, but then, I find it silly that people like to drink coffee too, so what's the difference.
Sometimes, I suppose, Christopher Hitchens says things that make sense. I can't remember an instance of that right now, but I'm sure I've agreed with him before. The thing is, in recent years, he's become something of a Chrissy One-Note.
And I've discovered what it is about the way he denigrates religion that bugs me so much. It's that I get the distinct feeling that Christopher Hitchens doesn't like me and has no respect for me, without even having met me. I feel like I've been dismissed without getting a chance. If we were at the same party, and he heard from someone else who I was (or perhaps more specifically, what I do) he would go out of his way to avoid meeting me. Because he would be convinced that he wouldn't like me.
There are other writers who are pretty hostile to religion that I still would like to try to be friends with. Katha Pollitt comes to mind. I think she might find me pretty okay for a pastor, though it might take some convincing. But CH just doesn't seem like he would even give me a chance.
The point here is not that I'm taking personal offense. I don't care a lot if Christopher Hitchens doesn't like me. The point is that I'm pretty sure this is how bigotry is defined -- dismissing a whole group of people without seeing them as individuals. And I find that offensive, and not particularly humanist. (Wonder if he thinks humanists are crazy too?)
It's not that he is an atheist. I'm fine with people being atheists. I find it a little silly to be a dogmatic atheist, but then, I find it silly that people like to drink coffee too, so what's the difference.
Sometimes, I suppose, Christopher Hitchens says things that make sense. I can't remember an instance of that right now, but I'm sure I've agreed with him before. The thing is, in recent years, he's become something of a Chrissy One-Note.
And I've discovered what it is about the way he denigrates religion that bugs me so much. It's that I get the distinct feeling that Christopher Hitchens doesn't like me and has no respect for me, without even having met me. I feel like I've been dismissed without getting a chance. If we were at the same party, and he heard from someone else who I was (or perhaps more specifically, what I do) he would go out of his way to avoid meeting me. Because he would be convinced that he wouldn't like me.
There are other writers who are pretty hostile to religion that I still would like to try to be friends with. Katha Pollitt comes to mind. I think she might find me pretty okay for a pastor, though it might take some convincing. But CH just doesn't seem like he would even give me a chance.
The point here is not that I'm taking personal offense. I don't care a lot if Christopher Hitchens doesn't like me. The point is that I'm pretty sure this is how bigotry is defined -- dismissing a whole group of people without seeing them as individuals. And I find that offensive, and not particularly humanist. (Wonder if he thinks humanists are crazy too?)
Bob Herbert's important reminder
It's about time someone said this out loud.
Bob Herbert suggests an attitude adjustment for those who are trying to blame the economic downturn on the wrong people. Clue: It's not the people struggling to pay for health insurance that are the problem.
You should read this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/23/opinion/23herbert.html
And if you can read it, as they say, thank a teacher!
Bob Herbert suggests an attitude adjustment for those who are trying to blame the economic downturn on the wrong people. Clue: It's not the people struggling to pay for health insurance that are the problem.
You should read this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/23/opinion/23herbert.html
And if you can read it, as they say, thank a teacher!
Monday, December 22, 2008
One of the Creepiest Jobs Ever
No, it's not being a mortician. Or a homicide detective. Or someone who does hair on dead people.
It's being a Supreme Court Justice. Who else's death and/or bad health is prematurely discussed by so many people around the country and possibly the world? It's enough to make you understand why there's so much wood in their court room. It's not just for looks, methinks.
It's being a Supreme Court Justice. Who else's death and/or bad health is prematurely discussed by so many people around the country and possibly the world? It's enough to make you understand why there's so much wood in their court room. It's not just for looks, methinks.
A Really Cool Thing That Happens Sometimes
Do you know what's really cool? It's really cool when we try to teach kids things and they take us seriously. Like at church, where my one junior high girl actually brings her friends to church, presumably because I keep asking everyone to do so. Most of adults don't. But she does. Because we asked.
Sometimes I think this is how progress is made. Feminism, for instance. Sometimes I think that I was brought up being taught things about what it meant and didn't mean to be a girl that my mother (and others) wished were true, but didn't really believe in their bones. But because they were telling those things to me, I believed them. So they became true. (For the most part, at least.)
Sometimes we can't quite get the little ickies out of our own heads, but we can suppress them and deny them enough to promote the little lovies in our heads instead, so that the ickies can't get the next generation. And sometimes it really works. I guess that means that the forces of denial can sometimes be used for good. And maybe it goes back to what Jesus was talking about when he said that thing about becoming "like a child." When you tell kids God loves them, they tend to believe you. So why do most adults have such a hard time acting like we do?
Sometimes I think this is how progress is made. Feminism, for instance. Sometimes I think that I was brought up being taught things about what it meant and didn't mean to be a girl that my mother (and others) wished were true, but didn't really believe in their bones. But because they were telling those things to me, I believed them. So they became true. (For the most part, at least.)
Sometimes we can't quite get the little ickies out of our own heads, but we can suppress them and deny them enough to promote the little lovies in our heads instead, so that the ickies can't get the next generation. And sometimes it really works. I guess that means that the forces of denial can sometimes be used for good. And maybe it goes back to what Jesus was talking about when he said that thing about becoming "like a child." When you tell kids God loves them, they tend to believe you. So why do most adults have such a hard time acting like we do?
Friday, December 19, 2008
Virtual Tourism
Do you ever have those moments when you'd like to spend the evening in France? Or maybe it isn't France for you, but somewhere else.
I find that I get cravings for places, as much as for foods. (Although some place cravings are mostly about the foods available there... mangos in Mexico or the Philippines, baked goat cheese from that tapas place in Chicago, fries with parm dip from Earl's in any major Canadian metropolis.)
But another thing I've discovered is that sometimes I get a craving for a place that is really about a craving to watch a particular movie or read a particular book. Like the movie or the book itself is a destination. I can't entirely even explain it; it's like the movie evokes a certain feel, from the soundtrack and the food eaten and the style of the thing. Or maybe it's a place inside yourself that the book takes you to, a destination that you loved and want to return to.
The movie "French Kiss" with Kevin Kline and Meg Ryan does this to me, as does "Roman Holiday" with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Or maybe most of my favorite movies do, and I'm just more aware of it with these two because they're set in Europe.
As books go, I think Latin magical realism can feel like a place to me, but mostly I get this with books by my favorite obscure author, Elizabeth Goudge. She has amazing descriptive powers, which is a little weird for me, because I am sometimes guilty of skimming those parts and sticking to plot. But something about the way she writes is so evocative that it does make the style its own destination. Yummy.
So what about you? What movies or books do you like to visit and re-visit? I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who travels this way...
I find that I get cravings for places, as much as for foods. (Although some place cravings are mostly about the foods available there... mangos in Mexico or the Philippines, baked goat cheese from that tapas place in Chicago, fries with parm dip from Earl's in any major Canadian metropolis.)
But another thing I've discovered is that sometimes I get a craving for a place that is really about a craving to watch a particular movie or read a particular book. Like the movie or the book itself is a destination. I can't entirely even explain it; it's like the movie evokes a certain feel, from the soundtrack and the food eaten and the style of the thing. Or maybe it's a place inside yourself that the book takes you to, a destination that you loved and want to return to.
The movie "French Kiss" with Kevin Kline and Meg Ryan does this to me, as does "Roman Holiday" with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Or maybe most of my favorite movies do, and I'm just more aware of it with these two because they're set in Europe.
As books go, I think Latin magical realism can feel like a place to me, but mostly I get this with books by my favorite obscure author, Elizabeth Goudge. She has amazing descriptive powers, which is a little weird for me, because I am sometimes guilty of skimming those parts and sticking to plot. But something about the way she writes is so evocative that it does make the style its own destination. Yummy.
So what about you? What movies or books do you like to visit and re-visit? I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who travels this way...
Unsettling
It's a strange moment to realize that maybe you are the Good Old Boys network. Especially when you aren't old, and you aren't a boy, and you're trying to be good. I haven't even been in any smoke-filled rooms.
But yesterday, a friend called about a situation she is in, which shall remain entirely non-descript for obvious reasons. And as it turns out, it's a situation I could have some impact on, should I feel like doing so, in inappropriate but basically unprovably so ways. Which is not why she called me. She called me to vent. But at one point she said, "I wish someone would [something unfortunate I could actually make happen to so-and-so]!" And I waited through a pregnant pause, and she realized what she'd said and to whom she'd said it. And I said "This must be what the Good, Old Boys network feels like! Call your buddy, and get it taken care of."
All of which is by way of saying that, of course, I won't abuse the system and my role in it that way. I won't have to, because the situation will take care of itself. But just knowing that I sort of could have, if I really wanted to, is kind of creepy. Then again, perhaps it's a good sign that the GOBN isn't quite as O and B as it used to be...
But yesterday, a friend called about a situation she is in, which shall remain entirely non-descript for obvious reasons. And as it turns out, it's a situation I could have some impact on, should I feel like doing so, in inappropriate but basically unprovably so ways. Which is not why she called me. She called me to vent. But at one point she said, "I wish someone would [something unfortunate I could actually make happen to so-and-so]!" And I waited through a pregnant pause, and she realized what she'd said and to whom she'd said it. And I said "This must be what the Good, Old Boys network feels like! Call your buddy, and get it taken care of."
All of which is by way of saying that, of course, I won't abuse the system and my role in it that way. I won't have to, because the situation will take care of itself. But just knowing that I sort of could have, if I really wanted to, is kind of creepy. Then again, perhaps it's a good sign that the GOBN isn't quite as O and B as it used to be...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Breaking My Own Arbitrary Rule
Actually, I suppose it was more of a prediction. Early on in this blog, I admitted to loving food, especially rich, creamy food. (It's one of the reasons for the name.) But I also warned readers that I probably wouldn't post recipes. But I forgot about the possibility that said recipes might be easily copied and pasted.
So here you go! The incredible star of the Habitat Christmas Tea that I hosted earlier today, as emailed to me this evening by its maker, JP.
HEARTS OF PALM SPREAD -- and yes, it is fabulous!
l 14 oz. can Hearts of Palm, drained and chopped
l cup (4oz) shredded Mozzarella cheese
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons minced green onion
- Combine all ingredients; spoon into a lightly greased 9" quiche dish
- Bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until bubbly
- Sprinkle with paprika
- Serve with crackers
Yield - 2 cups
To prepare in the microwave:
- Cover with wax paper
- Microwave at medium (50%) power 7-8 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring once halfway through cooking time
(Okay, that was more annoying than I expected, so don't think you're getting another one anytime soon!) Enjoy!
So here you go! The incredible star of the Habitat Christmas Tea that I hosted earlier today, as emailed to me this evening by its maker, JP.
HEARTS OF PALM SPREAD -- and yes, it is fabulous!
l 14 oz. can Hearts of Palm, drained and chopped
l cup (4oz) shredded Mozzarella cheese
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons minced green onion
- Combine all ingredients; spoon into a lightly greased 9" quiche dish
- Bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until bubbly
- Sprinkle with paprika
- Serve with crackers
Yield - 2 cups
To prepare in the microwave:
- Cover with wax paper
- Microwave at medium (50%) power 7-8 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring once halfway through cooking time
(Okay, that was more annoying than I expected, so don't think you're getting another one anytime soon!) Enjoy!
Just in time for your long holiday car trips...
THE PREPOSITION GAME!
I know, I know, some of you have been waiting with bated breath since the oblique mention of the Preposition Game a few posts back. "Whatever can that be?" you wonder. "It sounds so fun!"
Well, because it can be played in a car, and because you may be preparing for a long car trip, I have decided the time has come to explain the Preposition Game.
Here is what you do: Someone picks out a verb -- any verb, though some work better than others -- and then you take turns thinking of prepositions that go with that verb to create an idiomatic phrase. Or, if you're not choosy, just prepositions that go with the verb and still make sense. Once you run out of options, whoever thought of the last one gets to pick the next verb.
As an example, a good verb to start with is "turn." From there you can create: turn on, turn off, turn in, turnover, turn up, turn down, etc., etc.
That's it. That's all there is to it. Enjoy!
Fine print (the part read really fast at the end of the drug commercial):
This game should not be played by people who like games but do not appreciate the English language, as the main point of the Preposition Game is to revel in how amazing prepositions are.
It should not be played by people who prefer games with clear rules, because deciding what qualifies as "idiomatic" can quickly devolve into anarchy.
The Preposition Game is most likely lost on small children, unless they are truly precocious. (But do you really want to test that just yet?)
Despite all this, it's really more addictive than you might imagine at first. Really.
I know, I know, some of you have been waiting with bated breath since the oblique mention of the Preposition Game a few posts back. "Whatever can that be?" you wonder. "It sounds so fun!"
Well, because it can be played in a car, and because you may be preparing for a long car trip, I have decided the time has come to explain the Preposition Game.
Here is what you do: Someone picks out a verb -- any verb, though some work better than others -- and then you take turns thinking of prepositions that go with that verb to create an idiomatic phrase. Or, if you're not choosy, just prepositions that go with the verb and still make sense. Once you run out of options, whoever thought of the last one gets to pick the next verb.
As an example, a good verb to start with is "turn." From there you can create: turn on, turn off, turn in, turnover, turn up, turn down, etc., etc.
That's it. That's all there is to it. Enjoy!
Fine print (the part read really fast at the end of the drug commercial):
This game should not be played by people who like games but do not appreciate the English language, as the main point of the Preposition Game is to revel in how amazing prepositions are.
It should not be played by people who prefer games with clear rules, because deciding what qualifies as "idiomatic" can quickly devolve into anarchy.
The Preposition Game is most likely lost on small children, unless they are truly precocious. (But do you really want to test that just yet?)
Despite all this, it's really more addictive than you might imagine at first. Really.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Weather is Weird
So this is my first winter since becoming an active Facebook participant. Why does that matter? The main thing I do on facebook is check in on how and what people are doing by reading the status updates on my "friends" page.
(For non-FB users, a status update is a line or two that people complete about themselves, which starts with their name and supposedly describes their current situation.)
And what I have been noticing lately, is that a lot of people's current situations revolve around the weather. Many people appear to be having snow days. Others are having to drive or walk through very cold air and snow. Others are just having rain and/or general dreariness, which is usually expressed as longings for sunshine.
So. Two reflections on this, one old, one new.
Old reflection: It is another proof of the amazingly primal affect that weather has on us. If you look at all the supposed "progress" the human race has made -- whether technological, philosophical or otherwise -- it is astounding that we are still so completely controlled by weather. Mood, ability to get around, outlook on the world, health -- this is simply an area of nature that we have completely failed to get the better of. (Though I did see something yesterday about an "air-conditioned beach" in, I believe, Dubai.)
I think that is marvelous. I love it that we are still so primitive when it comes to weather. We talk about it, not because we have nothing else to talk about, but because we're all secretly obsessed with it sometimes. We complain about it, we plan around it, and still, it gets the better of us most of the time.
Just think how much more hubris there would be in the world if it were not for weather.
New reflection: all the talk of snow in people's status updates on facebook has gotten me in a wintery, Christmas-y mood. And, bizarrely, it has almost made me miss snow. That is also kind of amazing.
It basically never snows in this Southern locale where I have found myself these past 7 years. It's happened twice, and it was a dusting that never really stuck around past noon. And quite frankly, that's been just fine with me.
I find snow mostly an annoyance. I don't like being controlled by it. I appreciate not having to clean one's boots every time one comes inside, and not having to bundle up to an extreme level to go outside, and most of all, not having to scrape off one's car anytime one tries to drive anywhere. I love not having to deal with snow.
When we've visited family, and there's been snow, I've appreciated it for a bit, and then remembered why I don't miss it and managed to tolerate it the rest of the visit.
But lately, my animosity has been melting. Just the other day, I caught myself thinking the dreariness would be less of a downer if there were some snow to pretty it up. Weird. And I think it's from reading about all my Northern friends who have been dealing with snow for weeks now. It's like finally talking with a childhood friend about a silly kids book you both used to read and then wishing you could find a copy.
We will be visiting my in-laws after Christmas this year, in western New England. Perhaps there will be snow. Perhaps it won't be totally annoying. But I bet I'll be glad to get home. Because vicarious, facebook snow is probably all I need.
(For non-FB users, a status update is a line or two that people complete about themselves, which starts with their name and supposedly describes their current situation.)
And what I have been noticing lately, is that a lot of people's current situations revolve around the weather. Many people appear to be having snow days. Others are having to drive or walk through very cold air and snow. Others are just having rain and/or general dreariness, which is usually expressed as longings for sunshine.
So. Two reflections on this, one old, one new.
Old reflection: It is another proof of the amazingly primal affect that weather has on us. If you look at all the supposed "progress" the human race has made -- whether technological, philosophical or otherwise -- it is astounding that we are still so completely controlled by weather. Mood, ability to get around, outlook on the world, health -- this is simply an area of nature that we have completely failed to get the better of. (Though I did see something yesterday about an "air-conditioned beach" in, I believe, Dubai.)
I think that is marvelous. I love it that we are still so primitive when it comes to weather. We talk about it, not because we have nothing else to talk about, but because we're all secretly obsessed with it sometimes. We complain about it, we plan around it, and still, it gets the better of us most of the time.
Just think how much more hubris there would be in the world if it were not for weather.
New reflection: all the talk of snow in people's status updates on facebook has gotten me in a wintery, Christmas-y mood. And, bizarrely, it has almost made me miss snow. That is also kind of amazing.
It basically never snows in this Southern locale where I have found myself these past 7 years. It's happened twice, and it was a dusting that never really stuck around past noon. And quite frankly, that's been just fine with me.
I find snow mostly an annoyance. I don't like being controlled by it. I appreciate not having to clean one's boots every time one comes inside, and not having to bundle up to an extreme level to go outside, and most of all, not having to scrape off one's car anytime one tries to drive anywhere. I love not having to deal with snow.
When we've visited family, and there's been snow, I've appreciated it for a bit, and then remembered why I don't miss it and managed to tolerate it the rest of the visit.
But lately, my animosity has been melting. Just the other day, I caught myself thinking the dreariness would be less of a downer if there were some snow to pretty it up. Weird. And I think it's from reading about all my Northern friends who have been dealing with snow for weeks now. It's like finally talking with a childhood friend about a silly kids book you both used to read and then wishing you could find a copy.
We will be visiting my in-laws after Christmas this year, in western New England. Perhaps there will be snow. Perhaps it won't be totally annoying. But I bet I'll be glad to get home. Because vicarious, facebook snow is probably all I need.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
In Which I Abandon All Hopes of Gender Ambiguity
As many of you know, I got my hair cut last spring. Really cut. I mean, we all get our hair cut, mostly on a fairly regular basis, but this was a serious shift. I had never had hair shorter than a chin-length bob. And I went to what I used to call a "head-shaped" haircut. That is, one that is layered at the back so you see the shape of your head. It's way shorter than I've ever had it before. It took me a good six months to get used to it. But I am now, and I think I like it and will keep it this way for a good while.
When I went short, I had a few requirements. It was pretty long just before that, and I was getting tired of long (though there are still moments when I miss it). But every time I've returned to that chin-length bob, I had the sneaking suspiscion that it made me look eight. And I'm tired of people thinking I look eight.
So one of the requirements of the new look was that it be adult and professional looking. And, because I preach most weeks, it couldn't be in my eyes too much. (Try flipping through a hair magazine at your stylists and finding more than 3 pictures that don't involve hair in eyes. I dare you!)
So my stylist and I, after one wrong-turn because she insisted on moving toward short gradually, found a look that I think does make me look older and professional and all that. And many of my colleagues agree.
But then the inevitable happens. At least one of my parishioners, I think two for sure, have insisted that my new hair makes me look younger. In fact, to quote one of them I "look like a little girl." How is that possible? It makes me crazy. I even tried -- pointlessly -- arguing with them.
But today, it occurred to me that partly it could be a generational thing. Perhaps there was some look, during their formative years, that my hair cut is reminiscent of, that was usually sported on young girls.
And here's the other side of it: These are not people who are telling me they no longer take me seriously because of my hair cut. These are people who clearly respect my authority and abilities as their pastor. So while they may think I look like a little girl, my guess is that the next youngish female pastor who has hair anything like mine, won't look like a little girl to them. She'll look like a minister. And maybe that makes it all better.
When I went short, I had a few requirements. It was pretty long just before that, and I was getting tired of long (though there are still moments when I miss it). But every time I've returned to that chin-length bob, I had the sneaking suspiscion that it made me look eight. And I'm tired of people thinking I look eight.
So one of the requirements of the new look was that it be adult and professional looking. And, because I preach most weeks, it couldn't be in my eyes too much. (Try flipping through a hair magazine at your stylists and finding more than 3 pictures that don't involve hair in eyes. I dare you!)
So my stylist and I, after one wrong-turn because she insisted on moving toward short gradually, found a look that I think does make me look older and professional and all that. And many of my colleagues agree.
But then the inevitable happens. At least one of my parishioners, I think two for sure, have insisted that my new hair makes me look younger. In fact, to quote one of them I "look like a little girl." How is that possible? It makes me crazy. I even tried -- pointlessly -- arguing with them.
But today, it occurred to me that partly it could be a generational thing. Perhaps there was some look, during their formative years, that my hair cut is reminiscent of, that was usually sported on young girls.
And here's the other side of it: These are not people who are telling me they no longer take me seriously because of my hair cut. These are people who clearly respect my authority and abilities as their pastor. So while they may think I look like a little girl, my guess is that the next youngish female pastor who has hair anything like mine, won't look like a little girl to them. She'll look like a minister. And maybe that makes it all better.
The cat came back, the very next time it would be most annoying
As some of you know, we have had leaky roof problems on our back porch almost the whole 5+ years we've lived in this house. It's a great house; we have a very responsive landlord. He sent people to fix the roof. Lots of people. And they evidently tried many different things. The last guy said the previous attempts were obviously going to fail; he didn't know why they even bothered. He was confident he had fixed the problem.
And he did. Except for one thing. This morning, I discovered a new leak. Suspiciously close to the old leak. The leak is no longer on the back porch, where it could conveniently drip onto a pile of old towels sitting on top of the dryer. No, the new leak is in the ceiling of MY CLOSET! Which means I didn't even realize it was leaking this morning till the hanging clothes were sufficient soaked to start making a noise when the drips fell on them. Yes, I just said "the hanging clothes were sufficiently soaked."
Have you ever had a problem that you thought was solved, only to have it come back twice as bad? Have you ever had a problem you simply didn't have time to deal with? And why is it that it's so weird to have work people you don't know come into the very personal parts of your life? (Maybe that's obvious. Why wouldn't it be?) For some reason, having a carpenter work on the back porch roof was not that big of a deal. They really only had to come inside to replace the ceiling tiles. But I'm guessing, in order to figure out what's gone wrong, they're going to have to spend serious amounts of time in my closet. Which means serious amounts of time in the bedroom. Where all the laundry lives, on chairs and in laundry baskets, waiting for that miraculous day right before the Second Coming when it all gets folded and put away.
Except now that miraculous day might be the day before the carpenter comes. Which, bizarrely, part of me wishes will be tomorrow. Making today laundry day. Now, mind you, there were parts of me that wanted to get the laundry put away soon anyway, since we'll soon be hosting varieties of guests. But I'm also wondering what it will mean to have a carpenter in the closet. That seems like it might involve clothes coming out of the closet and having to live in other parts of the house, which is the opposite of getting put away before company comes. I've already got the "dry clean only" wet things hanging in the guest shower that will need to be used this weekend.
I could lament that things always seem to happen at the worst time. But I don't think that's it. I think it's that whenever they happen, that time suddenly seems like the worst time. There's always something. With any luck, the carpenter will be booked till the middle of next week. In the meantime, you should see the drip catcher I rigged up using a tv tray table, a piece of particle board and a foot-soaking bucket. As long as it doesn't get too full, I don't think it will fall over and dump water all over everything.
And he did. Except for one thing. This morning, I discovered a new leak. Suspiciously close to the old leak. The leak is no longer on the back porch, where it could conveniently drip onto a pile of old towels sitting on top of the dryer. No, the new leak is in the ceiling of MY CLOSET! Which means I didn't even realize it was leaking this morning till the hanging clothes were sufficient soaked to start making a noise when the drips fell on them. Yes, I just said "the hanging clothes were sufficiently soaked."
Have you ever had a problem that you thought was solved, only to have it come back twice as bad? Have you ever had a problem you simply didn't have time to deal with? And why is it that it's so weird to have work people you don't know come into the very personal parts of your life? (Maybe that's obvious. Why wouldn't it be?) For some reason, having a carpenter work on the back porch roof was not that big of a deal. They really only had to come inside to replace the ceiling tiles. But I'm guessing, in order to figure out what's gone wrong, they're going to have to spend serious amounts of time in my closet. Which means serious amounts of time in the bedroom. Where all the laundry lives, on chairs and in laundry baskets, waiting for that miraculous day right before the Second Coming when it all gets folded and put away.
Except now that miraculous day might be the day before the carpenter comes. Which, bizarrely, part of me wishes will be tomorrow. Making today laundry day. Now, mind you, there were parts of me that wanted to get the laundry put away soon anyway, since we'll soon be hosting varieties of guests. But I'm also wondering what it will mean to have a carpenter in the closet. That seems like it might involve clothes coming out of the closet and having to live in other parts of the house, which is the opposite of getting put away before company comes. I've already got the "dry clean only" wet things hanging in the guest shower that will need to be used this weekend.
I could lament that things always seem to happen at the worst time. But I don't think that's it. I think it's that whenever they happen, that time suddenly seems like the worst time. There's always something. With any luck, the carpenter will be booked till the middle of next week. In the meantime, you should see the drip catcher I rigged up using a tv tray table, a piece of particle board and a foot-soaking bucket. As long as it doesn't get too full, I don't think it will fall over and dump water all over everything.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Me and Squirrels and Jesus
When I was a child, I really liked squirrels. When people would ask what animal you would be if you were an animal, I sometimes considered being a squirrel. For one, I love to climb trees, and squirrels do that with such incredible skill. They were fast, usually flawless at their jumping, and pretty much fearless. These were traits that impressed me.
I'm not sure how historically accurate this is, but coincidentally, my opinion of squirrels began to change about the time I got bitten by one. It was entirely my own fault. I was at a large, mid-western university, visiting my sister, and there was a squirrel coming down a near-by tree. We were on a walkway very near by. The squirrel stopped about 2-3 feet from the ground and looked at us. I crouched down and extended my hand. The squirrel, logically (?), thought perhaps I had something good to eat, so it came up and not detecting a good smell, went with the taste test. Stupid me didn't have anything in my hand except my finger, which was what got taste-tested. It didn't break the skin or anything; in fact, it didn't really even hurt. But it happened so fast and surprised me, such that I shrieked a little, causing the squirrel to run off, no doubt muttering something about stupid humans who advertise falsely.
But it wasn't getting bitten that changed my mind about squirrels. In fact, I was pretty impressed with myself, and with the squirrel, for coming into contact with each other. It was merely that this event happened as I was becoming an adult.
And I have since discovered that adults don't so much like squirrels. First, there was the somewhat distant experience of my sister's church organ being filled up with nuts by local squirrels, eventually rendering it practically useless. (Clue number one that squirrels and humans may not have enough shared interests to get along.)
Then, I became the pastor of a church with a fellowship hall with a ceiling of warmth and too many easy entrances. For some period of time, until we got a major re-haul of our outside trim done, there was a squirrel colony living in our ceiling. I didn't mind so much at first, because of that childhood soft spot for squirrels. But it got a little creepy. You knew they were up there chewing on things. When you were in the building alone, you'd hear them, and it could be a little scary till you remembered what the noise was.
And then, I became a person with a bird feeder. This was really the deal-breaker with me and squirrels. If one buys a bird-feeder, it's probably because one has decided to feed birds. I think there are very few people who buy bird-feeders so they can feed squirrels. Except that that is what ends up happening.
I became increasingly frustrated with the squirrels. I tried weird, home-made contraptions of cardboard (not rain resistant) and milk jugs (better), along with alternate placement and hanging from increasingly hard to reach places. Nothing seemed to work very well. I have currently settled with hanging the bird feeder as far out a branch away from other branches as I can get it. Unfortunately, this also means the bird feeder is only visible from my window if I lean awkwardly close, which sort of negates the whole point. But the squirrels can no longer jump from a branch and successfully land on top of the bird feeder and gorge themselves. (At least, not very often.) What they can still do, is jump at the bird feeder and knock of bunch of seed onto the ground, where they and the mourning doves enjoy it together.
So I feel like we've come to some sort of detente. They're not disappearing the seed at a rate I can't afford to replace, but they're still getting some, so I haven't totally won.
But here's where it gets complicated. I posted on facebook the other day that I was going to blog about squirrels. Three comments were made. "Squirrels are from the devil." "Rats with bushy tails." The third was something about them being cute that I think was facetious, and then questioned whether they were like the bunny rabbit from the Holy Grail movie. I think that one qualifies as negative too.
Why do we hate squirrels? I think it's an adult thing. I think we might be jealous. They always look like they're having so much fun. And they get into things, crossing barriers that we construct, with no sense of propriety or order whatsoever. Kids don't hate squirrels. What would be the point?
I was sitting one day a while ago, in my back porch prayer closet, watching the birds and the squirrels. My back yard is kind of like a squirrel play ground. They run around on the branches, sometimes chasing each other, jumping branches from tree to tree and back again. It is hilarious to watch. And that day, I'd been reading about Jesus. I don't remember what the passage was (bad preacher habits even still), but it was something about one of those times when he was hanging with people that others didn't approve of.
And suddenly, my heart was filled with mercy for the squirrels. The squirrels are the animals that Jesus would love, I suddenly knew. The ones that the rest of us try to keep out of the food that we've designated for the animals of our choice, those are the ones that Jesus would want to feed. The squirrels are the tax-collectors and the prostitutes of the back yard wild kingdom. They are incredible to watch, and yet, somehow, in my self-righteous ruler-of-the-backyard hubris, I thought that this entertainment was free, that I could enjoy them and then relegate them back to their hidden nests, without caring whether they had enough to eat or not.
So I am trying to repent of my lack of appreciation for squirrels and return to my childhood love of them. "You must enter the kingdom of heaven as a child." Jesus loves them, this I know. And it really would be fun to be a squirrel, if you had to be an animal.
I'm not sure how historically accurate this is, but coincidentally, my opinion of squirrels began to change about the time I got bitten by one. It was entirely my own fault. I was at a large, mid-western university, visiting my sister, and there was a squirrel coming down a near-by tree. We were on a walkway very near by. The squirrel stopped about 2-3 feet from the ground and looked at us. I crouched down and extended my hand. The squirrel, logically (?), thought perhaps I had something good to eat, so it came up and not detecting a good smell, went with the taste test. Stupid me didn't have anything in my hand except my finger, which was what got taste-tested. It didn't break the skin or anything; in fact, it didn't really even hurt. But it happened so fast and surprised me, such that I shrieked a little, causing the squirrel to run off, no doubt muttering something about stupid humans who advertise falsely.
But it wasn't getting bitten that changed my mind about squirrels. In fact, I was pretty impressed with myself, and with the squirrel, for coming into contact with each other. It was merely that this event happened as I was becoming an adult.
And I have since discovered that adults don't so much like squirrels. First, there was the somewhat distant experience of my sister's church organ being filled up with nuts by local squirrels, eventually rendering it practically useless. (Clue number one that squirrels and humans may not have enough shared interests to get along.)
Then, I became the pastor of a church with a fellowship hall with a ceiling of warmth and too many easy entrances. For some period of time, until we got a major re-haul of our outside trim done, there was a squirrel colony living in our ceiling. I didn't mind so much at first, because of that childhood soft spot for squirrels. But it got a little creepy. You knew they were up there chewing on things. When you were in the building alone, you'd hear them, and it could be a little scary till you remembered what the noise was.
And then, I became a person with a bird feeder. This was really the deal-breaker with me and squirrels. If one buys a bird-feeder, it's probably because one has decided to feed birds. I think there are very few people who buy bird-feeders so they can feed squirrels. Except that that is what ends up happening.
I became increasingly frustrated with the squirrels. I tried weird, home-made contraptions of cardboard (not rain resistant) and milk jugs (better), along with alternate placement and hanging from increasingly hard to reach places. Nothing seemed to work very well. I have currently settled with hanging the bird feeder as far out a branch away from other branches as I can get it. Unfortunately, this also means the bird feeder is only visible from my window if I lean awkwardly close, which sort of negates the whole point. But the squirrels can no longer jump from a branch and successfully land on top of the bird feeder and gorge themselves. (At least, not very often.) What they can still do, is jump at the bird feeder and knock of bunch of seed onto the ground, where they and the mourning doves enjoy it together.
So I feel like we've come to some sort of detente. They're not disappearing the seed at a rate I can't afford to replace, but they're still getting some, so I haven't totally won.
But here's where it gets complicated. I posted on facebook the other day that I was going to blog about squirrels. Three comments were made. "Squirrels are from the devil." "Rats with bushy tails." The third was something about them being cute that I think was facetious, and then questioned whether they were like the bunny rabbit from the Holy Grail movie. I think that one qualifies as negative too.
Why do we hate squirrels? I think it's an adult thing. I think we might be jealous. They always look like they're having so much fun. And they get into things, crossing barriers that we construct, with no sense of propriety or order whatsoever. Kids don't hate squirrels. What would be the point?
I was sitting one day a while ago, in my back porch prayer closet, watching the birds and the squirrels. My back yard is kind of like a squirrel play ground. They run around on the branches, sometimes chasing each other, jumping branches from tree to tree and back again. It is hilarious to watch. And that day, I'd been reading about Jesus. I don't remember what the passage was (bad preacher habits even still), but it was something about one of those times when he was hanging with people that others didn't approve of.
And suddenly, my heart was filled with mercy for the squirrels. The squirrels are the animals that Jesus would love, I suddenly knew. The ones that the rest of us try to keep out of the food that we've designated for the animals of our choice, those are the ones that Jesus would want to feed. The squirrels are the tax-collectors and the prostitutes of the back yard wild kingdom. They are incredible to watch, and yet, somehow, in my self-righteous ruler-of-the-backyard hubris, I thought that this entertainment was free, that I could enjoy them and then relegate them back to their hidden nests, without caring whether they had enough to eat or not.
So I am trying to repent of my lack of appreciation for squirrels and return to my childhood love of them. "You must enter the kingdom of heaven as a child." Jesus loves them, this I know. And it really would be fun to be a squirrel, if you had to be an animal.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
*
So you may have noticed that yesterday's post ended with an asterisk. (Or maybe you didn't.)
It was right after the sentence fragment, "Whether you are one or not."
There are decisions I am putting off making. I realized after I created this blog and filled in the bit "About Me," that I had not said anything that identified my gender. This made me curious. Obviously, most of you reading know who I am, so it's a moot point. But how would it affect my writing to maintain gender anonymity, whether it's real or theoretical?
It made me notice, once again, that I consider myself a person who has many attributes that are considered more characteristic of the other gender than my own. And I'm fine with that. In fact, I consider it further proof that gender stereotypes are fairly silly.
But I also wonder if the fact that I didn't identify my gender means that it is not an important part of my sense of myself. I think it might mean that. I mean, I'm all for same gender-bonding, but then again, I'm fine working with people of the other gender(s) as well. I guess I would say I'm in the middle on that scale.
It's very complicated stuff.
And I was kind of looking forward to maintaining my gender anonymity, and then I realized I was writing a post about Tina Fey that might give me away. So I added that last line in there to make it mysterious again.
Who knows who I am, opining about the increased stature of women with glassses? Okay, I'll admit that I wear glasses. Tortoise shell glasses, even. But men and women both do that. My spouse and I have both had tortoise shell glasses at one point or another.
But does almost giving myself away mean that my gender is a more central part of my identity than I realized at first? Perhaps it does. Very complicated stuff. What would I give up by revealing my gender? Anything? I'm not sure I posted enough before this little Tina slip-up to really get a sense of what it's like to be gender-anonymous. But I think it would be an interesting exercise for most of us to experience it once in a while.
The other side of that is to stop for a moment, when you're reading an article but forgot to look at the by-line and determine whether you've been assuming the author is male or female. Gender assumptions can be very powerful. And creepy.
It was right after the sentence fragment, "Whether you are one or not."
There are decisions I am putting off making. I realized after I created this blog and filled in the bit "About Me," that I had not said anything that identified my gender. This made me curious. Obviously, most of you reading know who I am, so it's a moot point. But how would it affect my writing to maintain gender anonymity, whether it's real or theoretical?
It made me notice, once again, that I consider myself a person who has many attributes that are considered more characteristic of the other gender than my own. And I'm fine with that. In fact, I consider it further proof that gender stereotypes are fairly silly.
But I also wonder if the fact that I didn't identify my gender means that it is not an important part of my sense of myself. I think it might mean that. I mean, I'm all for same gender-bonding, but then again, I'm fine working with people of the other gender(s) as well. I guess I would say I'm in the middle on that scale.
It's very complicated stuff.
And I was kind of looking forward to maintaining my gender anonymity, and then I realized I was writing a post about Tina Fey that might give me away. So I added that last line in there to make it mysterious again.
Who knows who I am, opining about the increased stature of women with glassses? Okay, I'll admit that I wear glasses. Tortoise shell glasses, even. But men and women both do that. My spouse and I have both had tortoise shell glasses at one point or another.
But does almost giving myself away mean that my gender is a more central part of my identity than I realized at first? Perhaps it does. Very complicated stuff. What would I give up by revealing my gender? Anything? I'm not sure I posted enough before this little Tina slip-up to really get a sense of what it's like to be gender-anonymous. But I think it would be an interesting exercise for most of us to experience it once in a while.
The other side of that is to stop for a moment, when you're reading an article but forgot to look at the by-line and determine whether you've been assuming the author is male or female. Gender assumptions can be very powerful. And creepy.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Ascendancy of Tina Fey
...in which I find a reason to be grateful for Sarah Palin running for vice-president.
So, as we all know, Tina Fey had a dead-on impersonation of Sarah Palin during the recent presidential campaign. It was too good to be ignored, even by Governor Palin herself, who ended up making an appearance (as herself being mistaken for Tina Fey pretending to be her) on SNL.
Supposedly, this was going to lead to a rise in viewership for Tina Fey's show "30 Rock." It has, in our household, but we're watching old episodes from Netfix, since we don't actually have tv. (No cable + no reception = watch dvds) I haven't heard yet if it's up for the new season that recently began on the rest of the world's televisions.
But what really makes me think that Tina Fey's star has ascended is the recent appearance of a new model on the sign-in page at Yahoo Mail. She is basically a "Tina Fey" type. Longish, layered dark brown hair and tortoise shell glasses. That's really all you need, unless you're really trying to imitate Palin, in which case you have to throw in some mangled, supposedly Northern-people-sounding English.
I think they're trying to cash in on TF's current popularity. But it makes me happy because it also represents the ascendancy of women with glasses. This is a good thing, in my opinion. Women in glasses are cool; it is time the world comes out and says so. Whether you are one or not.*
So, as we all know, Tina Fey had a dead-on impersonation of Sarah Palin during the recent presidential campaign. It was too good to be ignored, even by Governor Palin herself, who ended up making an appearance (as herself being mistaken for Tina Fey pretending to be her) on SNL.
Supposedly, this was going to lead to a rise in viewership for Tina Fey's show "30 Rock." It has, in our household, but we're watching old episodes from Netfix, since we don't actually have tv. (No cable + no reception = watch dvds) I haven't heard yet if it's up for the new season that recently began on the rest of the world's televisions.
But what really makes me think that Tina Fey's star has ascended is the recent appearance of a new model on the sign-in page at Yahoo Mail. She is basically a "Tina Fey" type. Longish, layered dark brown hair and tortoise shell glasses. That's really all you need, unless you're really trying to imitate Palin, in which case you have to throw in some mangled, supposedly Northern-people-sounding English.
I think they're trying to cash in on TF's current popularity. But it makes me happy because it also represents the ascendancy of women with glasses. This is a good thing, in my opinion. Women in glasses are cool; it is time the world comes out and says so. Whether you are one or not.*
Thursday, December 4, 2008
In the Shadow of Death
I don't know if it's the rain or what, but I'm inspired to write a bit about death. Every year our church has an All Saints Memorial service when we remember church members who have passed away in the last year. I also usually include some mention of prominent people who have died in the last year as well, whether within the church or not.
This year, Studs Terkel passed away 2 days before the service. In doing so, he did me a great personal service (I'm assuming without meaning to). His obituary in the Saturday paper was what reminded me that I'd completely forgotten to print out the bulletin inserts with which we would have our extra bit of ceremony.
(It went something like this: "Oh! Studs died! That's so sad! I wish I could have included him on the list before I printed it. Oh wait... I never did that, did I? Oooops!!! Well, now I can add Studs! Thanks, Studs!")
So I added Studs and the service was really good. I preached about how church ought to be a place where you can have real feelings, including the need to cry if you want to.
So then, I kept thinking about Studs a little more. And I wondered if our Ecumenical Book Group should read one of his books this spring. I asked them about it and they seemed interested. The only thing is that the book Studs wrote that has the most direct connection to anything that could be called a faith issue, is "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" which is basically a book about death.
Normally, Studs' books are full of interviews with famous and ordinary people who have a particular issue in common. In this book in particular, it's a bit different since the thing in common is not something they've all been through, but rather something they (and we) will all eventually go through. I think it's probably a really great book.
My question is: What will it be like to spend 12 weeks or more talking about death for an hour every Tuesday? Will it be too much?
I think we will probably take the plunge despite this concern. And who knows? We might even get some new members this way. I've already interested the hospital chaplain (although he's tried to play along before and can't ever make it).
Here's the thing. I believe churches are vital to our society for many reasons, but one of the most important is their inter-generational nature. (Which, I might add, is endangered by certain types of church growth methods! boo!)
The fact that churches bring young people and middle-aged people into contact with old people outside their own families means that we are given multiple models for how to age and how to approach and deal with death. It may not be a gift we want, but it is a gift we need. And where else would we learn those things? No where, that's where.
So anyway, I think we will read the book about death. And I think we'll be fine. And I may even try to recruit a few more young people to join us.
P.S. And it may not be just the rain that inspired me, so this post is dedicated to the memory of Kay Kelley of Tucson and Diane Thomas of Berkeley, friends who passed away earlier this week.
This year, Studs Terkel passed away 2 days before the service. In doing so, he did me a great personal service (I'm assuming without meaning to). His obituary in the Saturday paper was what reminded me that I'd completely forgotten to print out the bulletin inserts with which we would have our extra bit of ceremony.
(It went something like this: "Oh! Studs died! That's so sad! I wish I could have included him on the list before I printed it. Oh wait... I never did that, did I? Oooops!!! Well, now I can add Studs! Thanks, Studs!")
So I added Studs and the service was really good. I preached about how church ought to be a place where you can have real feelings, including the need to cry if you want to.
So then, I kept thinking about Studs a little more. And I wondered if our Ecumenical Book Group should read one of his books this spring. I asked them about it and they seemed interested. The only thing is that the book Studs wrote that has the most direct connection to anything that could be called a faith issue, is "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" which is basically a book about death.
Normally, Studs' books are full of interviews with famous and ordinary people who have a particular issue in common. In this book in particular, it's a bit different since the thing in common is not something they've all been through, but rather something they (and we) will all eventually go through. I think it's probably a really great book.
My question is: What will it be like to spend 12 weeks or more talking about death for an hour every Tuesday? Will it be too much?
I think we will probably take the plunge despite this concern. And who knows? We might even get some new members this way. I've already interested the hospital chaplain (although he's tried to play along before and can't ever make it).
Here's the thing. I believe churches are vital to our society for many reasons, but one of the most important is their inter-generational nature. (Which, I might add, is endangered by certain types of church growth methods! boo!)
The fact that churches bring young people and middle-aged people into contact with old people outside their own families means that we are given multiple models for how to age and how to approach and deal with death. It may not be a gift we want, but it is a gift we need. And where else would we learn those things? No where, that's where.
So anyway, I think we will read the book about death. And I think we'll be fine. And I may even try to recruit a few more young people to join us.
P.S. And it may not be just the rain that inspired me, so this post is dedicated to the memory of Kay Kelley of Tucson and Diane Thomas of Berkeley, friends who passed away earlier this week.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
And now for something a little lighter...
There is a silly little game I like to play sometimes. (No, it's not the Preposition Game. That game isn't silly. I'll explain it to you all some other time...) It's the "There Are Two Kinds of People in the World" game.
Mostly, I think this game, like many games, is a way for people to express things about themselves to others, thus deepening relationships.
It goes like this:
I say something like, "There are two kinds of people in the world: those who think it's cool when digital clocks say something like 12:34 or 11:11, and those who don't care."
And then everyone decides which kind they are, and some of them might not even fall into either category, which sounds like it defies the premise of the game, but it doesn't really matter, so you keep going.
(You can actually even skip this step where people put themselves into the categories because it's not really the point. The point is that I think it's cool when the clock says 12:34 and now you know that about me.)
Then the next person says, "There are two kinds of people in the world..." and finishes the sentence with whatever sorts of categories they want to make up. And so on.
It's a very silly game. Obviously, there are a lot more than two kinds of people in the world. But I think it's fun anyway.
So if there were two kinds of people in the world, the ones who play this sort of game and the ones who don't, which kind are you? And do you think it's cool when the clock says 12:34?
Mostly, I think this game, like many games, is a way for people to express things about themselves to others, thus deepening relationships.
It goes like this:
I say something like, "There are two kinds of people in the world: those who think it's cool when digital clocks say something like 12:34 or 11:11, and those who don't care."
And then everyone decides which kind they are, and some of them might not even fall into either category, which sounds like it defies the premise of the game, but it doesn't really matter, so you keep going.
(You can actually even skip this step where people put themselves into the categories because it's not really the point. The point is that I think it's cool when the clock says 12:34 and now you know that about me.)
Then the next person says, "There are two kinds of people in the world..." and finishes the sentence with whatever sorts of categories they want to make up. And so on.
It's a very silly game. Obviously, there are a lot more than two kinds of people in the world. But I think it's fun anyway.
So if there were two kinds of people in the world, the ones who play this sort of game and the ones who don't, which kind are you? And do you think it's cool when the clock says 12:34?
BE-ing. It's human BEing.
So tonight, during prayer service, I had a brief thought about how I had been feeling a lot more like a human doing lately than a human being. I know that sounds like a cliche "I'm so busy" pastor thing to say, and it is. But I was thinking about how I keep getting distracted by my to-do list during my morning, supposed to be hanging with God time.
I try not to over think these things though, so I didn't worry about it too much.
Until later in the service, when just for a second, I caught myself sort of almost praying that I would get really sick so I could just not worry about stuff for a while. It was sort of like I was asking God to get my attention in a way that I wouldn't be distracted like I usually am, and then in imagining what that might be like, it seemed like I might have to be really ill. Somehow, that seemed like a bad sign.
Not sure what that's about, but I think it's probably a good thing that I'm going back to the Retreat center Sunday night, for the first (!) time since my sabbatical. Gotta get that back on track. Hope it helps.
Here's hoping God's keeping your attention, at least a little, without having to use plagues!
I try not to over think these things though, so I didn't worry about it too much.
Until later in the service, when just for a second, I caught myself sort of almost praying that I would get really sick so I could just not worry about stuff for a while. It was sort of like I was asking God to get my attention in a way that I wouldn't be distracted like I usually am, and then in imagining what that might be like, it seemed like I might have to be really ill. Somehow, that seemed like a bad sign.
Not sure what that's about, but I think it's probably a good thing that I'm going back to the Retreat center Sunday night, for the first (!) time since my sabbatical. Gotta get that back on track. Hope it helps.
Here's hoping God's keeping your attention, at least a little, without having to use plagues!
What if we built a Church Lending Library?
So I'm beginning to realize that if I insist on this not being a "work" blog, I will have a lots less to write about. So, um, I'm probably going to talk about church things sometimes. So there. My blog, I can do what I want.
All of which is preface to saying that I had an idea last night. Or maybe it was this morning. In fact, I think it might have started yesterday afternoon. Hard to say. It was also sort of moved along by my friend Matt's blog, The Pocket Mardis, which I have now added to my newly added blog roll over there.
So here's what I'm thinking... In these tough economic times, churches ought to create lending libraries for themselves. It could mostly just be an email listserv, or a website, where churches could list stuff that they have that other churches could borrow when they're not being used. Or perhaps a bunch of small churches could use it to go in together on buying a lot of something sold in bulk that each of them only need a little of.
Examples: Yesterday, I needed to get a wick for our acolyte candlelighter thingy. I only need one wick. I've only had to replace it once before in the whole seven years I've been here, so it's not like I need more than one. I called the place I got one last time (a wedding supply place), but they are out, because they are using them less and less. Ended up with a florist who didn't know where they'd put theirs, but was willing to take one out of the candlelighter she could find and give it to us. Supposedly, if you buy such things, you have to buy a whole case. I'm imagining at least 100, if not 500. What on earth would I do with that many wicks? I would lose them, that's what I would do. And then in 3 years, when we need another, we'd have to go looking again. But if a bunch of churches got together and shared an order, it might work.
Or say we needed to buff our tile floors. Do we own a floor polisher thingy? No. But I bet another church in town does. Would they let us borrow it? Maybe. And especially maybe if there were specific conditions already set up.
It would be most beneficial for small churches, and if large churches participated, they would probably be providing stuff more often than borrowing, but isn't that the way it should be? Maybe you could let non-profits in too.
I will have to talk to my colleagues about this. Seems like an idea with potential. Does anyone know of any place where this is already happening?
All of which is preface to saying that I had an idea last night. Or maybe it was this morning. In fact, I think it might have started yesterday afternoon. Hard to say. It was also sort of moved along by my friend Matt's blog, The Pocket Mardis, which I have now added to my newly added blog roll over there.
So here's what I'm thinking... In these tough economic times, churches ought to create lending libraries for themselves. It could mostly just be an email listserv, or a website, where churches could list stuff that they have that other churches could borrow when they're not being used. Or perhaps a bunch of small churches could use it to go in together on buying a lot of something sold in bulk that each of them only need a little of.
Examples: Yesterday, I needed to get a wick for our acolyte candlelighter thingy. I only need one wick. I've only had to replace it once before in the whole seven years I've been here, so it's not like I need more than one. I called the place I got one last time (a wedding supply place), but they are out, because they are using them less and less. Ended up with a florist who didn't know where they'd put theirs, but was willing to take one out of the candlelighter she could find and give it to us. Supposedly, if you buy such things, you have to buy a whole case. I'm imagining at least 100, if not 500. What on earth would I do with that many wicks? I would lose them, that's what I would do. And then in 3 years, when we need another, we'd have to go looking again. But if a bunch of churches got together and shared an order, it might work.
Or say we needed to buff our tile floors. Do we own a floor polisher thingy? No. But I bet another church in town does. Would they let us borrow it? Maybe. And especially maybe if there were specific conditions already set up.
It would be most beneficial for small churches, and if large churches participated, they would probably be providing stuff more often than borrowing, but isn't that the way it should be? Maybe you could let non-profits in too.
I will have to talk to my colleagues about this. Seems like an idea with potential. Does anyone know of any place where this is already happening?
Do I Miss Missing My Teeth?
So I used to have this recurring dream. In fact, I've only ever had one recurring dream. (That sentence doesn't seem like it makes sense, but you know what I mean, right?) The only dream I've ever have over and over again is the one where my teeth fall out. That's actually the only part of it that recurred. The situation wasn't always the same. In fact, I can't say that I really remember the situations, except one where there was a radiator involved.
I had this dream a lot while I was growing up and into young adulthood. At a get-together while I was in seminary, the topic came up, and -- I kid you not -- almost half of the 12-15 people there had had teeth-falling out dreams. What was always weirdest about mine was how visceral they were. Sometimes when I woke up, I had to put my finger in my mouth to make sure my teeth were still there. That vividness was what most of the people at the party remarked upon about such dreams. But it seemed as though the sensation was different for different people. Mine usually felt like they were just dissolving in my mouth. It was creepy, especially since I lost my teeth late (for real) and the last ones sort of did dissolve. In fact, I think that dissolving thing might have been a later development, after the experience of losing those last teeth that way.
Anyway, I never really associated this dream with anxiety or anything else specific; it just seemed like a weird dream to have repeatedly. Then, a while after that seminary party where I discovered other people had had similar dreams, a friend told me that Martin Luther had dreams like that too. Strange. Is this a religious thing?
But here's what's weird lately. I haven't thought about this dream in a long time, because I haven't had one for years. I'm not sure I've had one since I moved to my present location over seven years ago. The only reason I thought about it is because there was a random comment on an episode of 30 Rock (first season) that we watched last week that made it seem like one of the writers has probably had this same dream.
So what do you think? What weird recurring dreams do you have? Have you had the teeth-falling-out dream? And what does it mean when a recurring dream leaves you, potentially forever?
I had this dream a lot while I was growing up and into young adulthood. At a get-together while I was in seminary, the topic came up, and -- I kid you not -- almost half of the 12-15 people there had had teeth-falling out dreams. What was always weirdest about mine was how visceral they were. Sometimes when I woke up, I had to put my finger in my mouth to make sure my teeth were still there. That vividness was what most of the people at the party remarked upon about such dreams. But it seemed as though the sensation was different for different people. Mine usually felt like they were just dissolving in my mouth. It was creepy, especially since I lost my teeth late (for real) and the last ones sort of did dissolve. In fact, I think that dissolving thing might have been a later development, after the experience of losing those last teeth that way.
Anyway, I never really associated this dream with anxiety or anything else specific; it just seemed like a weird dream to have repeatedly. Then, a while after that seminary party where I discovered other people had had similar dreams, a friend told me that Martin Luther had dreams like that too. Strange. Is this a religious thing?
But here's what's weird lately. I haven't thought about this dream in a long time, because I haven't had one for years. I'm not sure I've had one since I moved to my present location over seven years ago. The only reason I thought about it is because there was a random comment on an episode of 30 Rock (first season) that we watched last week that made it seem like one of the writers has probably had this same dream.
So what do you think? What weird recurring dreams do you have? Have you had the teeth-falling-out dream? And what does it mean when a recurring dream leaves you, potentially forever?
Monday, December 1, 2008
History and Beauty Matter
I just now discovered that the State of Illinois indefinitely closed the Susan Dana-Thomas house in Springfield today because of budget cuts to the Illinois Historic Preservation Agency.
This is so not cool. The Susan Dana-Thomas house is a Frank Lloyd Wright house; it has the most complete collection of original FLW furnishings. It is an incredible house. I first visited it on a field trip in high school, thanks to a teacher who loved FLW. I have been back three or four times. It is the one thing in IL I especially wanted my spouse to see. I would take international visitors there if I had the chance. I love this house. It is huge. It is beautiful. It is historic. It has a one-lane bowling alley in the basement, for crying out loud!
The house needs to remain open to the public. People need to have access to things that are large and incredible and beautiful and amazing. Such access is a public good.
May the people of Illinois rise up and demand that the government support the preservation of history. Or may some people in Illinois rise up and preserve it themselves, if the government won't. I would like to be able to visit again some day.
You can learn more about the house here:
http://www.dana-thomas.org/index.htm
You can contact people who can help with this info:
Governor
Governor Rod Blagojevich (D)
207 Statehouse
Springfield, IL 62706
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-0244
Chicago Phone: (312) 814-2121(800) 642-3112
Email: unknown
House Leadership
Michael J. Madigan (D-22nd District)
Speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives
300 State HouseSpringfield, IL 62706
District Phone: (773) 581-8000
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-5350
Email: mmadigan@hds.ilga.gov
Senate Leadership
Senator Emil Jones Jr. (D-14th District)
President of the Illinois Senate
327 Capitol Building
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office: (773) 995-7748
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-2728
Email: jones@senatedem.state.il.us
Republican Leadership
Frank Watson (R-51st District)
Illinois Senate Minority Leader
309A Capitol Building
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office Phone: (618) 664-9108
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-5755
Email: unknown
Tom Cross (R-84th District)
Illinois House Minority Leader
316 State House
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office Phone: 815-254-0000
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-1331
Email: Tom@TomCross.com
IHPA Director Jan Grimes
313 South Sixth Street
Springfield, IL 62701
E-mail: Jan.Grimes@illinois.gov
U.S. Senator Barack Obama
Springfield Office Liaison: Kathy Harrington
607 E Adams St
Springfield IL 62701
Phone: (217) 492-5089 Fax: (217) 492-5099
Email: send on email form at Obama website
IL Senator Bill Brady (44th District)
2203 Eastland DrSuite 3
Bloomington IL 61704
Phone: 309-664-4440 (Karen)
Fax: 309-664-8597
Email: billbrady@senatorbillbrady.com
Email (events): karenotto@senatorbillbrady.com
Congressman Timothy V. Johnson (15th District)
1 Brickyard Dr Suite 201
Bloomington IL 61701
Phone: 309-663-7049 (Beth) Fax: 309-663-9880
Email: rep.johnson@mail.house.gov
Email (events): phil.bloomer@mail.house.gov
U.S. Senator Dick Durbin
525 S 8th St
Springfield IL 62703
Springfield contact: Bill HoulihanPhone: (217) 492-4062Fax: (217) 492-4382
D.C. contact: Deena MorrisPhone: (202)224-2152
Email: send on email form at Durbin website
State Representative Dan Brady (88th District)
2416 E Washington StSuite G
Bloomington IL 61704
Phone: 662-1100 (Rochelle)Fax: 662-1150
Email: dan@rep-danbrady.com
Email (events): linda@rep-danbrady.com
Congressman Jerry Weller (11th District)
D.C. Office Legislative Assistant: Eric Gray
Phone: 202-225-3635
District Office Liason: Tyler Sidwell
2701 Black Rd. Suite 201
Joliet IL 60435
Phone: 815-740-2028 Fax: 815-740-2037
Email: send on email form at Weller website
Website: http://weller.house.gov/
UPDATE: Okay, not all those email addresses work. Like the one for the governor. He's a sneaky one. The one for Frank Watson doesn't work either. Sorry.
This is so not cool. The Susan Dana-Thomas house is a Frank Lloyd Wright house; it has the most complete collection of original FLW furnishings. It is an incredible house. I first visited it on a field trip in high school, thanks to a teacher who loved FLW. I have been back three or four times. It is the one thing in IL I especially wanted my spouse to see. I would take international visitors there if I had the chance. I love this house. It is huge. It is beautiful. It is historic. It has a one-lane bowling alley in the basement, for crying out loud!
The house needs to remain open to the public. People need to have access to things that are large and incredible and beautiful and amazing. Such access is a public good.
May the people of Illinois rise up and demand that the government support the preservation of history. Or may some people in Illinois rise up and preserve it themselves, if the government won't. I would like to be able to visit again some day.
You can learn more about the house here:
http://www.dana-thomas.org/index.htm
You can contact people who can help with this info:
Governor
Governor Rod Blagojevich (D)
207 Statehouse
Springfield, IL 62706
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-0244
Chicago Phone: (312) 814-2121(800) 642-3112
Email: unknown
House Leadership
Michael J. Madigan (D-22nd District)
Speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives
300 State HouseSpringfield, IL 62706
District Phone: (773) 581-8000
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-5350
Email: mmadigan@hds.ilga.gov
Senate Leadership
Senator Emil Jones Jr. (D-14th District)
President of the Illinois Senate
327 Capitol Building
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office: (773) 995-7748
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-2728
Email: jones@senatedem.state.il.us
Republican Leadership
Frank Watson (R-51st District)
Illinois Senate Minority Leader
309A Capitol Building
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office Phone: (618) 664-9108
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-5755
Email: unknown
Tom Cross (R-84th District)
Illinois House Minority Leader
316 State House
Springfield, IL 62706
District Office Phone: 815-254-0000
Capitol Phone: (217) 782-1331
Email: Tom@TomCross.com
IHPA Director Jan Grimes
313 South Sixth Street
Springfield, IL 62701
E-mail: Jan.Grimes@illinois.gov
U.S. Senator Barack Obama
Springfield Office Liaison: Kathy Harrington
607 E Adams St
Springfield IL 62701
Phone: (217) 492-5089 Fax: (217) 492-5099
Email: send on email form at Obama website
IL Senator Bill Brady (44th District)
2203 Eastland DrSuite 3
Bloomington IL 61704
Phone: 309-664-4440 (Karen)
Fax: 309-664-8597
Email: billbrady@senatorbillbrady.com
Email (events): karenotto@senatorbillbrady.com
Congressman Timothy V. Johnson (15th District)
1 Brickyard Dr Suite 201
Bloomington IL 61701
Phone: 309-663-7049 (Beth) Fax: 309-663-9880
Email: rep.johnson@mail.house.gov
Email (events): phil.bloomer@mail.house.gov
U.S. Senator Dick Durbin
525 S 8th St
Springfield IL 62703
Springfield contact: Bill HoulihanPhone: (217) 492-4062Fax: (217) 492-4382
D.C. contact: Deena MorrisPhone: (202)224-2152
Email: send on email form at Durbin website
State Representative Dan Brady (88th District)
2416 E Washington StSuite G
Bloomington IL 61704
Phone: 662-1100 (Rochelle)Fax: 662-1150
Email: dan@rep-danbrady.com
Email (events): linda@rep-danbrady.com
Congressman Jerry Weller (11th District)
D.C. Office Legislative Assistant: Eric Gray
Phone: 202-225-3635
District Office Liason: Tyler Sidwell
2701 Black Rd. Suite 201
Joliet IL 60435
Phone: 815-740-2028 Fax: 815-740-2037
Email: send on email form at Weller website
Website: http://weller.house.gov/
UPDATE: Okay, not all those email addresses work. Like the one for the governor. He's a sneaky one. The one for Frank Watson doesn't work either. Sorry.
White Rabbit!
So today is also the first of the month. So "White Rabbit!" to anyone who knows what that means. I'm not sure I do, but when I was growing up, really when my sister and I were in high school, it became a thing you say to people on the first day of the month. And whoever says it first "wins," which I think meant that the other person owed you a favor. I don't remember any favors ever being performed though. It was mostly just about winning.
A few weeks ago, I caught the end of a radio program ("This American Life"? "Talk of the Nation"? Don't remember what it was.), and a woman was talking about how, on the first day of the month, she said "Rabbit, rabbit" for luck. I suppose that is somehow related. I think she said she thought it came from Ava Gardner or Bette Davis or someone.
So can anybody explain this one? It's very peculiar. And isn't it strange how much we enjoy "winning" even if it's just remembering to say something first?
A few weeks ago, I caught the end of a radio program ("This American Life"? "Talk of the Nation"? Don't remember what it was.), and a woman was talking about how, on the first day of the month, she said "Rabbit, rabbit" for luck. I suppose that is somehow related. I think she said she thought it came from Ava Gardner or Bette Davis or someone.
So can anybody explain this one? It's very peculiar. And isn't it strange how much we enjoy "winning" even if it's just remembering to say something first?
World AIDS Day
Today is World AIDS Day. I was first reminded that it was coming a couple days ago when people started mentioning it on facebook. But then this morning, the front page of our paper had a big feature on how the local AIDS clinic's remembrance was dedicated to a particular person who had passed away earlier this fall. That person was the daughter of a member of my church.
Now, I knew this person was HIV+, even though that's not technically what she died from. And I knew she volunteered at the clinic a lot. Like A LOT. I also knew that, even though she would bring her mother to church for worship, she never stayed herself. And when she died, her mother said that she had made very clear that she didn't want a service. We made do with mentioning her during our annual All Saints Day service, which seemed very cathartic for the mother.
But this article in the paper... the mother was quoted. The daughter had been a very strong and loud advocate herself; quotes from an article featuring her from 2006 were used in this one. But the mother didn't really talk to me about it much. And, in fact, I didn't know about this event and that she was being specifically remembered, until I read about it in the paper this morning. Somehow, that made me feel like I must have fallen down on the job.
One of the things that really had about being a pastor is learning not to take things personally. So I'm trying in this situation, to assume that there are lots of reasons why the mother wouldn't have mentioned it to me. (Like, there are a lot of people who aren't on facebook and don't blog and simply don't assume that other people might be interested in every detail of their lives. Who are these people? They go to my church, evidently!)
So what I'm left with is the history of distance that this person had with the church. Not just my church, but The Church. We don't have a very good history in dealing with AIDS, especially in the Bible Belt state where I live. It's sad. And shameful. And dangerous, when you get right down to it.
So I went to the event tonight. We walked a few blocks in the (southern version of) cold and then heard some speakers and had refreshments. And my member's daughter was remembered, fondly, by the people who were the closest thing she had to a church family. And I'm glad she had them, and I'm sorry we weren't part of that.
This is not an issue that I've been very involved with in the past. I've given it my good vibes, and mentioned it in pastoral prayers many weeks, but not much else. I'm wondering if there's more I should do. My plate is really full, and usually, I say no to new things when that's true. But we'll see how it sits with me in the next few weeks. And how conversations with the mother go.
Here's to all those who have been affected by this nasty virus. May God hold you close, firmly and gently.
Now, I knew this person was HIV+, even though that's not technically what she died from. And I knew she volunteered at the clinic a lot. Like A LOT. I also knew that, even though she would bring her mother to church for worship, she never stayed herself. And when she died, her mother said that she had made very clear that she didn't want a service. We made do with mentioning her during our annual All Saints Day service, which seemed very cathartic for the mother.
But this article in the paper... the mother was quoted. The daughter had been a very strong and loud advocate herself; quotes from an article featuring her from 2006 were used in this one. But the mother didn't really talk to me about it much. And, in fact, I didn't know about this event and that she was being specifically remembered, until I read about it in the paper this morning. Somehow, that made me feel like I must have fallen down on the job.
One of the things that really had about being a pastor is learning not to take things personally. So I'm trying in this situation, to assume that there are lots of reasons why the mother wouldn't have mentioned it to me. (Like, there are a lot of people who aren't on facebook and don't blog and simply don't assume that other people might be interested in every detail of their lives. Who are these people? They go to my church, evidently!)
So what I'm left with is the history of distance that this person had with the church. Not just my church, but The Church. We don't have a very good history in dealing with AIDS, especially in the Bible Belt state where I live. It's sad. And shameful. And dangerous, when you get right down to it.
So I went to the event tonight. We walked a few blocks in the (southern version of) cold and then heard some speakers and had refreshments. And my member's daughter was remembered, fondly, by the people who were the closest thing she had to a church family. And I'm glad she had them, and I'm sorry we weren't part of that.
This is not an issue that I've been very involved with in the past. I've given it my good vibes, and mentioned it in pastoral prayers many weeks, but not much else. I'm wondering if there's more I should do. My plate is really full, and usually, I say no to new things when that's true. But we'll see how it sits with me in the next few weeks. And how conversations with the mother go.
Here's to all those who have been affected by this nasty virus. May God hold you close, firmly and gently.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Who is Lucky Fresh?
Okay, so I'm not really trying to be anonymous. I've just always wanted to have an alias. I am definitely not planning on posting things here that I'd be ashamed for my church folks to read, let alone anything about them!
But I'm not necessarily going to stick to stuff I would say from the pulpit or in Bible study either. If church members are out there, know that when you're reading my blog, it's as one netizen to another. Don't add that extra authority that I know you give to my every word at church to what you read here! (At least, they told us in seminary that you do that...) So the pseudonym is sort of to protect us all from people confusing my official pronouncements from what I write here.
So I'm going to stick to calling myself Lucky Fresh and write as though I am sort of anonymous. I find an alias a bit freeing, and I want to be free here, to be as quirky and opinionated as I like. So there.
So why Lucky Fresh? Funny story -- thanks for asking!
When I was in seminary, some friends and I went to a Prince concert. There was a guest artist, a rapper I believe, who performed at some point during the evening. On the way home, I remarked to my friends that I thought "Lucky Fresh" was a really cool name for a rapper. They laughed and laughed. His name wasn't "Lucky" Fresh. It was Doug E. Fresh. Who ever heard of a rapper named Doug? Bizarre. But since he wasn't using it, I held onto it in case I ever needed it later. Which, as it turns out, I did.
But I'm not necessarily going to stick to stuff I would say from the pulpit or in Bible study either. If church members are out there, know that when you're reading my blog, it's as one netizen to another. Don't add that extra authority that I know you give to my every word at church to what you read here! (At least, they told us in seminary that you do that...) So the pseudonym is sort of to protect us all from people confusing my official pronouncements from what I write here.
So I'm going to stick to calling myself Lucky Fresh and write as though I am sort of anonymous. I find an alias a bit freeing, and I want to be free here, to be as quirky and opinionated as I like. So there.
So why Lucky Fresh? Funny story -- thanks for asking!
When I was in seminary, some friends and I went to a Prince concert. There was a guest artist, a rapper I believe, who performed at some point during the evening. On the way home, I remarked to my friends that I thought "Lucky Fresh" was a really cool name for a rapper. They laughed and laughed. His name wasn't "Lucky" Fresh. It was Doug E. Fresh. Who ever heard of a rapper named Doug? Bizarre. But since he wasn't using it, I held onto it in case I ever needed it later. Which, as it turns out, I did.
Creme Anglaise -- An Introduction
Why name my blog "Creme Anglaise"? A few reasons...
First of all, I love food, especially creamy things. (But I bet I will never post any recipes -- sorry to get anyone's hopes up, but I don't like recipes!)
Second of all, I love the English language.
Thirdly, sometimes I think things sound cooler in French.
Fourthly, I have a feeling this blog will frequently be about "meta" things, the kind of things that sort of ooze in between the other stuff, all soft and hard to get a handle on and such. Or maybe it won't. Who knows?
Why not name my blog "Creme Anglaise"? Only one reason that really matters to me...
It is going to bug me forever if I can't figure out how to put the proper accent on that first "e".
So perhaps someone's first comment can be tech support, teaching me how to add an accent grave to my cream.
First of all, I love food, especially creamy things. (But I bet I will never post any recipes -- sorry to get anyone's hopes up, but I don't like recipes!)
Second of all, I love the English language.
Thirdly, sometimes I think things sound cooler in French.
Fourthly, I have a feeling this blog will frequently be about "meta" things, the kind of things that sort of ooze in between the other stuff, all soft and hard to get a handle on and such. Or maybe it won't. Who knows?
Why not name my blog "Creme Anglaise"? Only one reason that really matters to me...
It is going to bug me forever if I can't figure out how to put the proper accent on that first "e".
So perhaps someone's first comment can be tech support, teaching me how to add an accent grave to my cream.
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