Pithless Thoughts

Fathers and Daughters

2008-07-21T20:25:00.001-07:00

Something far more mystical and glorious than the mysterious red rocks and harrowing skies of a summer storm over the desert is the mystery of love and family. These are two daughters who were out on the town with their elderly, failing Fathers. The pictures tell it all.

This one slowly shuffled to his pace and he held her arm as they negotiated the puddles and curbs and rough sidewalks of Jerome.

This daughter sat and chatted with her Father as he dripped strawberry ice cream down his chin, over his hands and onto the sidewalk. He couldn't lick it faster than the sun ate it.

This Was Worth the Trip

2008-07-21T19:47:00.001-07:00

Sedona is a couple hour drive from my house. Wifey and I took a weekend vacation and caught a rare Arizona rainstorm while driving around. Photographers wait for lighting like this for ages. This was taken from the side of the road near dusk with my cheap digital camera. (I didn't upload the 5 MB version of this shot here so its a little less impressive). Sedona is one of the top destinations in the world and has a reputation for being a spiritual "new age vortex". This is why (click the image for a full screen view).

Clients from Hell

2008-07-16T22:56:00.000-07:00

I went to a house today to do some "punch list items". A "punch list" are things that need to be fixed or completed at the end of a project, usually flagged by the owner before or immediately after they move in. This was probably my dozenth trip to the house to do the "final punch list" as a favor to the architect/builder who is an old friend of mine because he cannot get the original subcontractors to return to do the lists any more. The owners put little pieces of blue tape on everything wrong with the house. The first time I went it looked like blue chicken pox. After hours of "fixing things", we get called back a few days later and there is MORE blue tape the next time, not less. This switch plate got "blue taped" today...

I could not figure out what the tape was for. I pondered the switches. I looked at the edges to see if there was a gap in the drywall around it that needed caulking or painting. I checked it for cracks or black smudges and fingerprints. Then it dawned on me.

I thought, "No...not that.....that's not possible."

I looked at the outlet below it. "No....that can't be."

I went out into the hallway and looked at the hall light switch. "No....no....."

I walked down the hall to the next bedroom and looked inside the doorway at the light switches. I looked at the outlets. My face went blank as a beggar's plate. "NO!"

I ran down the hallway looking at every switch and outlet, my face twisting in horror at the sight of the truth dawning on me.

"NOOOOOOO....."

But it was the truth... THIS is what I saw everywhere I went

...yes, EVERY screw in the house was aligned at twelve o' clock. The upper right hand screw on the blue taped switch plate was at one o'clock.

I fixed it.

There will be more blue tape tomorrow.

Easy Personality Test

2008-07-06T21:59:00.000-07:00

I think it was Dave Barry who said something like, if you want to really know someone just watch how they treat waiters and waitresses. It doesn't matter if the waiters are good or bad, there is a dynamic of human interaction between diner and waiter that reveals the true character of someone.

This is a cheap and easy personality test. If you are dating someone, if you want to know what a potential employee/employer is like, if you want to REALLY know your boss or even your priest (or any spiritual relation), take them to a decent restaurant when it is fairly busy. Then just watch them interact with the wait staff.

Are they polite?
Do they speak to them like human beings?
Are they condescending or rude?
Are they demanding, self absorbed, or act like yours is the only table in the restaurant?
Do they criticize them?
Do they make allowances or adjust their expectations for how busy they are?
Are they complimentary of small services or attentiveness?
Do they say "Please" and "Thank you"?
Do they smile or joke with them or treat them like "servants"?
At any time are you embarrassed by how they speak or act toward the waiter?
And finally, how do they tip? Do they tip with grace or law? (Personally, I tip 25-30%. Jesus says if we are constrained to go one mile go two, give your coat and your cloak. If the service is lousy, tip like Christ crucified: with grace and mercy for the sinner.)

I've been to restaurants with a LOT of people in my life. Dates, friends, employees, employers, priests, monks, abbots and bishops. And this is a fact, the true measure of a person is revealed at a restaurant table. You will know in one hour whether a person is humble, and regards himself as the servant of all or if she or he is an arrogant, self centered egoist. Over the years I've lingered behind to apologize for my table-mate's behavior, I've slipped additional money under my plate to make up a cheap tip or as a propitiation for the rudeness of my friends and, it is sad to say, even clergy at my table.

The measure of a person is how they treat those "beneath" them, one time encounters with someone who has no meaning or purpose except to serve a desire of the flesh. Jesus may as well have said, "By this all men will know you are my disciples, if you have love for waiters."

Life, Death and Love

2008-07-05T21:14:00.000-07:00

"Every willful desire for death is directed toward peace, not toward nonexistence. Although a man erroneously believes that he will not exist after death, nevertheless by nature, he desires to be at peace; that is, he desires to be in a higher degree." St. Augustine on the psychology of suicide. Thanks to Fr. Gregory for the quote from St. Augustine.

I'm posting the final two chapters of my unpublished manuscript, "Life, Death and Love" (most of the rest is available in the side bar of my blog) in response to St. Augustine's observation about the deeper and spiritual motivation for suicide. I have spent most of my adolescence and adulthood with an undercurrent of longing for death. Like many human beings, I've had suicidal thoughts situationally intensified. There is indeed an element of escapism in fantasy about death self inflicted, but as Augustine points out, it is ultimately a desire for peace, to BE at a higher degree. That higher degree is ultimately realized in love, and as St. Paul confesses, the desire to depart is often conflicted with the need to stay. (Phil. 2)

CHAPTER 14 The Gospel According to Romeo and Juliet

“Ah. dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous; and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that I still will stay with thee, and never depart from this palace of dim night again: here, here will I remain (here with worms that are thy chambermaids; 0, will I set up my everlasting rest; and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world wearied flesh.) Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, a the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love! 0 true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die." Romeo

"What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: 0, churl! drink all, and leave no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm! Yea, noise! then I'll be brief - 0 happy dagger this is thy sheath, thet'e rest and let me die." Juliet

"We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us ... the one who does not love does not know God, for God is love." St. John

Romeo and Juliet. Love and death. I am the incurable romantic; I am drawn to death because I am drawn to God.

I wish to die because I am desperately in love with my Beloved. This is the heartbreaking joy of passion, it is the Divine Romance.

All lovers know that love bids us die for the sake of our beloved. This is the beautiful tragedy of love. The romantic amalgam of love and death is the highest, the simplest and most profound of all mysteries held tenaciously by the human heart. This is Truth: Death is the final witness to the true depth of passion of the lover for the beloved. It is not when, at the end of the story, the lovers finally make love that touches our very souls. The most captivating and romantic of all endings is when two lovers willingly and gladly die for the sake of eternity in one another's arms. Death for the sake of love is simply the gospel according to Romeo and Juliet. Death is embraced by lovers because they know in death they will shed all the limits of the world and hindrances of this flesh and be ushered into the final and complete union of their hearts. In death for the sake of love there is a trust as deep as their love that there will be a resurrection of the two as one, inseparable, complete and eternally bound. This is Truth, eternal, inescapable.

The heart of love knows that love and death are indeed a single substance. There has never been a lover who has not sworn he would forsake his very life for his beloved; every lover offers to his beloved his willingness to die for the sake of his love, for the sake of her love, as evidence of the passion in his heart. Love lays down its life for the beloved, sometimes in a single act, more often in acts done singlemindedly over the years for the sake of the beloved. Whether a life is sacrificed in a moment or over a lifetime, it is laid down for the sake of possessing the heart and soul of the beloved, it is gladly and willingly given to the one desired above all others.

But it is when we hear of two lovers choosing the moment, the single act with hope for some eternal certainty of one another's presence that our hearts are touched in a place that is sometimes too fearful and holy for even ourselves to enter and seek its blessing. Our reasonable, calculating minds will tell us the lovers' suicide pact was a waste of life, an eternal mistake, an unthinking and terribly short sighted solution to traverse the barriers of loving in a world that seems hostile to passion. In our world-bounded humanity we resist touching the holy sorrow deep within us that envies them. We try to reason away the inexorable logic of love that, in our hearts, understands the reasonings of the heart broken by the desire for unhindered union with the beloved. We do this perhaps because in our humanity we fear death, and sometimes truly fear love more than death; but somewhere deep in our humanity we know death for the sake of love is what life is truly about, that it is an anchor of hope cast into eternity itself. If we will, and we must, set aside our fears and open wide the door to the mystery of love and death we will find the One to whom both love and death belong, in whose image we are created, whose nature we share. The door opens to the very dwelling place of our eternal Lover, God who gladly died for the sake of becoming one with us, his beloved, for all eternity.

This is, thus far the end of my pilgrimage in my search for the meaning of my desire for death. I can go no further or deeper than the very love of God himself. This is the place I rest, this is where I am content to dwell for now: My desire for death is a witness to the very passion of God that has won my heart and mind and soul and strength. It is a manifestation of my desire dwell forever in the heart of my Beloved; in death alone can I truly know the depth of love that loves to death.

In death alone I know that in love there is resurrection, that the love I share with my Beloved is stronger than death, a flame of passion many waters cannot quench. In death alone I know life is a burden gladly shed for the sake of eternity with my Beloved; all that keeps us apart, all our adversaries, the limitations of my flesh and heart are rendered powerless by death. In death sought for the sake of the Beloved, love alone is sovereign, our true union is consummated, finally and completely, and we will never be lost to one another again.

CHAPTER 15 “…and boy gets girl."

"Let us rejoice and be glad and give glory to him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and his bride has made herself ready. Come, and I shall show you the Bride of the Lamb. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, and made ready as a bride adorned for her husband. 'And I heard a loud voice say, 'Behold, the very presence of God is with his people, and he shall wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying or pain: the first things have passed away. ' " The Revelation of St. John

This is the whole of The Book. It is a story of love, surely, but of a love like all true loves, one that suffers greatly for the sake of finally and eternally possessing the beloved. It is the divine romance, the story of God's passionate pursuit of his beloved through Hell and high water to have her for himself. And the heart of sorrows is the heart touched by this True Love, it is the heart that longs for the ending of the story.

The Revelation of John is at the end of the story, an epilogue of sorts, told in images of such high definition cataclysmic, epic proportions with surround sound, that the mesage cannot be missed if we will stand back from the screen instead of standing with our noses to it. It is simply a retelling of The Love Story in ghastly and beautifully awesome images in case we did not understand when it was told in the terrifying human drama in which it actually happened: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy and girl both suffer greatly, insurmountable odds are overcome, boy gets girl in the end and they live happily ever after.

And this is the end of the matter for the heart of sorrows, the One bruised and beaten by and for the sake of Love. This all lovers know, to this all lovers will say it is so and Amen: In the end, in love, nothing, but nothing, matters except the presence of our beloved. If that presence is ours we at once lose everything and possess all creation. This is Truth: When I finally sit in the presence of my beloved, embraced in her unconditional passion and love for me all the pain and sorrows of the joining of our hearts, the hell of the fear of rejection, all my longings for her in her absence, all of my doubts about her love, all of the darkness of being abandoned by her because of doubts and fears, all of our unbelief, lack of faith, all of it is consumed, all is swallowed up in our love. None of it matters, none of it is of any consequence, none of it is even remembered, all the first things have passed away, all things are new in her present embrace. There is now only my beloved; no belief or unbelief, no fear, no doubts, no past, no future, no sense of the passing of the present moment, only the two now one in a mystery and the eternal sense that it is now as it was intended from the beginning. For that moment love reigns supreme, the world, the two of us, God himself and all his creation is a seamless tapestry; everything is woven together by the bright threads of romance and passion. This is the final and best mystery, the hope to which all we know about human and divine love, and that to which John finally points us.

This is the eternal moment I long for most desperately. To rest in the arms of my True Beloved, to sit in the presence of His divine passion for my heart and soul, to be lost in Him, to be one with Him, finally and completely. It is then that I know all of life with its tears and desperations, hopelessness and fears and sorrows will be swallowed up in His holy and fearless love. It is then I will know that I am, but it is truly more than knowing: I will be, yes I will BE my Beloved's and He will be mine.

"Arise my darling, my beautiful one. For behold the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers have appeared in the land. Who is this that grows like the dawn, as beautiful as the full moon, as pure as the sun? I am my beloved's and his desire is for me. Come my beloved, let us go out into the country. Let us spend the night in the villages. Let us rise early and go to the vineyard, let us see whether the vine has budded and its blossoms have opened, and whether the pomegranates have bloomed. There I will give you my love."

"The Spirit and the Bride say come…"

Finally! Orthodox Ketchup

2008-06-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

I was taking a picture of the ketchup tonight and my daughter said, “Didn’t you already blog about ketchup?” I said, “Yes, but Heinz was worldly ketchup, this is ORTHODOX ketchup.” She looked at the label and said, “Ohhh yeah… we say something like that at Church, huh?”

Yes we do. It is the words to a hymn sung mainly during the Lenten season during communion service of the Presanctified Liturgy:

O, taste and see.

O, taste and see that the Lord is good,

That the Lord is good.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

It is interesting that this hymn is the core of the Presanctified communion during the Lenten season, a season of fasting. The Presanctified liturgy is the midweek communion to sustain us through our Lenten discipline which is intended to wean us from our worldly attachments and our inner passions and lusts. Our fallen nature craves food, we eat for taste and pleasure, our passions seek sensory experience, titillation and gratification (the sooner the better).

The ironic beauty of this Lenten hymn, in the midst of the fight to disarm the powers of pleasure and passions, it is about pleasure, it is about gratification and sensory experience. It is about the whole human person experiencing God, the eternal Manna for which we were created to eat and enjoy.

2 Peter 1:3 says God has called us to His own glory and virtue and goes on to list the attributes of "true knowledge of Jesus Christ": moral excellence, knowledge, self control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness and love.

In the end, the only path to belief is to taste. Intellectual arguments can only list and discuss the ingredients, and perhaps convince someone that the Divine Condiment is good to eat. Until we squeeze It out of the bottle and put It on the French fries and eat It we have no Ketchup in us.

We can be convinced intellectually of the attributes of a Good God. We can discuss and theorize about the goodness of God without ever tasting God. But until we live in the goodness that we were created to experience as the icon of Christ , taste and experience the pleasures of holiness in our bodily existence, we cannot truly “see” how good the Lord is.

Taste and believe.

I Am My Dad

2008-06-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

At some point in our adult life we should realize that we are our parents. A man is his father and a woman is her mother. Even if you despised them and swore you'd never be like them, you are in more ways than you think.

My dad and I didn't have a lot in common as I was growing up. I was an artist, religious (even as a pre-schooler), scared of a thrown baseball and not athletic by any stretch of any man's imagination, a pacifist, hippie, writer and musician. My dad was agnostic, a football player in high school, joined the Navy, was a Boy Scout Master, read "Guns and Ammo", was a hunter and fisher. He ridiculed my long hair, my religion, my girlfriends and my politics (I registered as a concientious objector to the Vietnam War). I ran away from home to avoid having to get a haircut on the eve of my high school graduation. My mother found me and told me to come home, my father would leave me alone. "Father and Son" was my anthem. In short, I wasn't my dad.

We had a cordial but strained relationship for the next few years. I went to college to become a preacher. I know it was difficult for him to introduce me to his friends. One year when I was in my late twenties, I decided I'd go deer hunting with him to try to bridge our gap. He lent me a .308 British infantry rifle that weighed welll... more than anyone would want to carry all day. I think it was calculated to humiliate me in front of his friends. I ended up being the only one in the party to shoot a deer, and I think he was truly proud of me that day. A couple years later, at age 51 he had his first heart attack. As they wheeled him into the operating room for his bypass, he squeezed my hand and said, "Pray for me."

But to digress...It was a ten hour drive to the hunting area. Along the way I saw my dad in some new light. It wasn't quite "revelations" because I knew these things, but I guess I just never really took them in. Along the highway we stopped at gas stations, little grocery marts and a small diner. Everywhere we stopped the people greeted him by name, and he them. My dad shot the breeze with them and they caught up on a year's worth of history in ten or fifteen minutes. He spoke to the new people working at the places as if he'd known them from childhood. He knew waitresses, cashiers, cooks, gas station attendants, forest rangers... and they knew him. He was the quintessential "Good Old Boy". But I knew that, I just never saw it as a virtue until then. Several years later, one of my employees said to me at the end of a day, "Do you know everyone on earth and does everyone know you?" It dawned on me, I was my dad.

Over the next two decades, the realization that I am my dad has become more and more profoundly real. Even my kids have pointed out to me I have the gift of "good old boy gab" he has, I actually have some mechanical abilities I never knew I had until I was forced to use them to raise my family, I avoid conflicts and give people the benefit of a doubt like he does, I let people take advantage of me and give too much sometimes, I stick up for the underdog and make excuses for people's shortcomings and failures, I'll help you even if I had other plans and not say anything, I avoid asking for help if I need it, I talk a mean game but let offenses slide, I bear my pains and sorrows in silence and solitude, I collect stuff and never throw anything away but will give it to you if you need it, my hands are beginning to shake like his do, I even sleep in a chair like he does, hands folded over my belly. Over the last two decades, I've realized I've been blessed to be like my dad.

He is living on borrowed time after two bypass operations and a stent inserted in his heart. He has an artery that is inoperable and waiting to close up for good. I'm blessed to be able to tell him I'm glad I'm his son. I know he's glad too. I never would have thought we'd be like this, but here we are... Father and son, two generations of Good Old Boys, on his front porch last weekend. I'll miss this when its gone.

Superman Song

2008-06-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

One of the best songs of all time.
For all you superheroes out there.
It makes me weep.

I've Always Suspected This...

2008-06-07T13:16:00.000-07:00

The quiz confirmed it. But don't tell anyone my secret identity, OK? Thanks.

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman		75%
Green Lantern		75%
Iron Man		65%
Supergirl		60%
Catwoman		60%
Spider-Man		55%
Robin		50%
Wonder Woman		50%
The Flash		50%
Batman		45%
Hulk		40%

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero am I?" quiz...

Meat

2008-05-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

I love to cook. Here is my latest Mexican food meat experiment: carne asada fajitas (barbeque meat and veggies) which is a cheap cut of meat marinated then cooked and served up with tortillas and vegetables. (OK... here's an old Mexican food joke first: The Mexicans have really snowed the American public with their cuisine. Its really not all that hard. What's a taco: tortilla, meat and veggies. Burrito: tortilla, meat and veggies. Tostada: tortilla, meat and veggies. Chimichanga: tortilla, meat and veggies. Fajitas: tortillas, meat and veggies. Enchiladas.... well, you get the idea.)

Anyway, here's the fajita recipe, you'll need... guess what: meat, tortillas and vegetables.
Get a cheap cut of meat (flat iron steak works but it is getting popular and expensive. London broil or any meat about an inch thick works too... actually this marinade is really good with chicken and any white fish too).

Squeeze two oranges, one lime together. Add two cloves of fresh garlic minced, a half a poblano (or anaheim) chile diced small, or some canned green chiles if fresh chiles aren't available), half a teaspoon of cumin, half a teaspoon of chili powder, half a teaspoon of paprika, a handful of chopped fresh cilantro (or a heaping tablespoon of dried). Mix together in a shallow cake pan, then put the meat in it and cover with plastic wrap. (Or you can put it all in a gallon ziplock bag). Put in the fridge and marinate for at least 24 hours. To cook: Barbeque to medium rare. Or, fry in a HOT cast iron skillet: get the skillet hot enough to "dance" a drop of water, then put a dash of oil and then the meat, and sear both sides. Remove from cooking method and thin slice in strips for fajitas.

To prepare vegetables: coarse slice onions, zuchini, bell peppers and mushrooms. Heat a skillet with a little oil then add vegetables. Spice with half teaspoon of each of cumin, garlic salt, chili powder and paprika. Stir together then squeeze a lime into the skillet, stir and cover and steam until cooked but still firm (about 5 minutes).

Serve meat and veggies on separate platters (people put their own fajitas together) with large flour tortillas, dishes of warmed up refried beans, fresh cilantro, sour cream, salsa, grated cheddar/jack cheese and fresh tomatoes.

Enjoy!

What I Do in My Spare Time

2008-05-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

About five years ago at the request of a priest who knew I was in construction, I visited St. Paisius Monastery to help build a laundry facility for the Sisters. We finished it over the course of two months of weekends and dubbed it "Hagia Laundria", which made the Sisters laugh, which is a no-no. They asked me if I would consider helping them with their next building project, a room addition for more bedrooms for the Sisters who had been living in 4 by 8 foot un-airconditioned "sketes" (sheds) around the property. I agreed. They handed me a drawing of the floor plan drawn by a volunteer architect. There were no architectural or structural specs, no blueprints, no electrical, plumbing or mechanical plans. Over the next year of weekends I worked and coordinated an ever dwindling crew of volunteers and local contractors who filled in when we couldn't find someone who could donate time and materials, and we played it by ear, making up every detail as we went. We took the roof off the garage, gutted the garage and breezeway, then added a second story, 8 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms a foyer and a workshop/office area. These are a few pictures of the construction.

Here we have removed the roof of the garage and I'm showing Mother Abbess Michaila how to use a framing nailer to make floor joists.

This is the front of the garage, the roof is gone, the floor is framed, and the walls are going up.

This is Sister Anastasia, who is meek, all of 5'5" and 100 lbs WITH a 300 knot prayer rope in her hand (of course its hard to guess exactly with them in habits...) driving the SkyTrak putting the trusses on the roof with precision. The framing carpenters were quite humbled and impressed to say the least.
This is our "roof celebration" when the last truss was set.

This is me framing and sheetrocking the apse windows in the Sister's rooms.

This is the finished building.

But that's all done. I went to the Monastery this past week to begin the interior work on the new Church. For the past two years they have been putting up walls and recently started the roof structure. I'll be doing the interior design and building the domes, ceilings, arches and apses. (Again, with no blueprints. ) This is the interior of the Church.

These are some pictures of the work I started this past week in the two small side chapels. This is the existing roof structure with the altar apse in the front. I'm going to frame an arched ceiling under the steel trusses. You can see the shape of the ceiling we finally landed on after 3 hours of trial and error on the front wall.
This is Sister Anastasia again, standing steel studs in the apse framing for me.

This is the partially finished ceiling structure. The radius track is up, all the dimensions are calculated and I will leave filling in the dozens of studs for the Sisters to complete over the week I am gone.

I know there are people all over the world who would love to have the privilege of doing something like this. It is quite humbling to be able to participate in building a monastery and a Church, to say the least. At the end of a 12-14 hour day there is a deep peace in the exhaustion of the flesh. And God willing my flesh will last long enough to finish the project; and at the end of it all my funeral will be in this Church and I'll be buried in the Monastery cemetery where Mother Abbess said my grave will be tended by the grateful Sisters until Jesus comes again. What more can one ask?

"Best of..." This Blog

2008-04-27T21:25:00.000-07:00

I find new blogs all the time that I'll visit and bookmark. Some of them have been around a while and my challenge is finding time to fish around their archives for "good stuff". Well, for newbies to this blog I thought I'd make a short list of posts that I think reflect best the kind of stuff you're going to find here. I'm an Orthodox convert, but this isn't a "convert blog" where everything I post is about "my journey". It is about my life and what I think about stuff from sex education to Pop Tarts, to modern marriage. So for those who don't know me yet, this is me.

This is me.

My Father in Law's Disease

Childhood Betrayal

Sleeping in Sewage

Eavesdropping on a Private Conversation

God Damned Circle of Life

The Tree of Life (Photograph)

"Healthy Pop Tart" Heresy

On Capital Punishment

On Turtle Relationships

Ordinariness

Tom Cruise and Childbirth

Walter and Gil Dying

06-06-06

Pitiful Appeal Chain Letter

What I do for a Living

Orthodoxy and Homosexuality

Marital Intimacy in the New Millenium

Virginia Tech Mass Murderer

Blog Envy

Advertising and Theology

How to Close a Door

Well, that's about it. Welcome to my life. Thanks for dropping by.

Kate Walsh on Sex Education

2008-04-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

WARNING: R - RATED POST

From Newsbusters

On Friday’s CBS "Early Show," co-host Julie Chen teased her upcoming interview with "Gray’s Anatomy" actress Kate Walsh on sex education: "She is one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood today due to her roles on "Gray's Anatomy" and "Private Practice," but she's also passionate about sex education for American teens, and she took her campaign to Capitol Hill. We're going to ask her why this issue is so important." ... Walsh, who is a board member for Planned Parenthood, said during the interview:

"…there just needs to be a comprehensive sex education program, and we can't be relying on, you know, private foundations, or parents, or, you know, teens' peers, to be educating each other. We really do need government help on this. It's, you know, it's a shame to me that we spend money educating our kids on, you know, history, math, science, and English literature, and we -- we can't educate them sexually. And, you know, and it's proof in these -- in these statistics (20% of girls ages 14-19 have STDs). It's just shameful to me that in our country that these young women are being infected because they honestly just don't have the information. Abstinence is one -- abstinence is one aspect of sex education, but it is not the complete aspect. And to expect, I think, everybody to remain abstinent is just -- it's like asking them not to grow. It's like we don't ask people to not try out for sports. We don't ask people to stop learning. It's just a natural human process, and we need to be educating people. If abstinence-only did work, we wouldn't be seeing these kind of statistics. We wouldn't be seeing these young women suffering like this."

OK… I’ve never seen Gray’s Anatomy. I’ve never seen Private Practice. I wouldn’t know Kate Walsh from J-Lo if she stood naked in front of me. I have no clue who this person is or what makes her, you know, HOT…at least for today.

It seems like we have a strange idea of what qualifies a person to, you know, speak authoritatively on an issue. The “hotter” you are, apparently the more respect you command. If you are, you know, the star of TWO hit shows, maybe that means you think with BOTH sides of your brain. In fairness, I will grant that the fact that she does work in television it means she can read, and perhaps has read some stuff about this topic.

Fine. Enough ad hominem cheap shots. The real concern is in the assumptions that don’t even lay beneath the surface of what she is espousing here. Let me just take her comments in order of appearance:

“…and we can't be relying on, you know, private foundations, or parents, or, you know, teens' peers, to be educating each other. We really do need government help on this.”

The government educating our children about sex? What can the government say about sex to ANYONE, much less a teenager? Even if it WANTED to, it cannot say anything based on morality or religion. It cannot offer a theological explanation of the sacredness of the body, the sanctity of sexuality, the holiness and beauty of virginity, the spiritual/psychological damage of premarital/extramarital sex, the objectivity of the human being in the image of God and all that means. All the government can say with its own self imposed post modern restrictions is, “Hey kids, these are the polite names of your parts. This is how they fit together if you are male and female. This is where they go if you're homosexual. You decide what’s best for yourself, but here’s some information about disease and here’s some free condoms. Be careful out there. But if you’re not, we have a government program that will pay you for not listening to us.” So now kids have “information” from the government.

Information. Information is the savior of the western world. If anyone does anything stupid it is generally because of “lack of information”. The American mantra is, if we just had more education, more information, more booklets, more videos, more commercials, more warning labels people would stop doing stupid things. “Education” is the key to Utopia. In Kate’s Hollywood world, kids armed with information will stop doing self destructive things. And then as “educated” adults they will continue to act responsibly. Right. That is why we have so many single mothers with multiple kids by various fathers, men who impregnate anything that offers the chance for an orgasm, people who hand out STDs to virtual strangers like Halloween candy. They may not have a government DVD, but its not like they have no clue where those kids come from, why those women keep getting pregnant and wanting child support, and where all those warts and blisters on their genitals came from. What information the government can supply can only inform and warn. It cannot and does not form a person to care about self worth, self preservation, self control for the sake of future joy, concern for the soul of another and the meaning of love as opposed to situational passion.

Kate goes on to say, “…abstinence is one aspect of sex education, but it is not the complete aspect. And to expect, I think, everybody to remain abstinent is just -- it's like asking them not to grow. ”

I agree, that abstinence is just one aspect of sex education. However, the “other aspects” that she brings out here need to be unpacked. To ask someone to remain abstinent is asking them to “not grow”? Kate…tell me, grow into WHAT? What is it that a human being can grow into that REQUIRES premarital sex as a teenager (or even as an adult)? What aspect of the heart, soul and psyche of the human being is stunted and weakened for not having sex as a teenager? What bit of self knowledge, what revelation will come that will enlighten and illumine a teenager who “makes love” with someone when they have one year of experience (more or less) knowing what “love” is? What emotional and spiritual maturity comes with knowing how to give someone a blow job? What growth takes place when a girl finds out she’s a sperm depository for guys who say anything to get in their pants even if it takes them months? What great epiphany comes when a teenager discovers that sex won’t keep a boyfriend or girlfriend? What maturity comes with having to explain to your current boyfriend about the guys before? What does a boy grow into who has “governmentally informed” sex with “informed” girlfriends? Have you ever visited a dog park? Been around a pig pen? Ask any man who was 16 what his imagination was about. To be a slave to hormones, feelings, passions, or just plain fun is “growth”? To hook up with anyone who will provide an orgasm is “growth”? Or even to give in to the biological urge based on “loving feelings”, it is de-evolution to the level of dogs, not growth as a human being gifted with reason, rationality, and a heart and soul connected mysteriously to the act of sex. We do not “grow” from having sex. We grow up then have sex as grown ups who know who we are, what people are, what relationships need, and where our sexuality fits in the big picture of what it means to be a human being and not a dog in heat.

Kate goes on to say, “…. It's like we don't ask people to not try out for sports….. It's just a natural human process, and we need to be educating people.” Oh, Kate. So, sex is like professional sports, only natural. It’s just a game people play, scream a little, bump around and sweat a little, score some points, then go home. In the end its just touch football with an orgasm instead of a touchdown. Its all about how “good” you were in bed, or under the dining room table or whatever. You sound like the Boston Medical Group appeal to men’s fragile sexual egos: “Get examined today, perform tonight!” So how many men have you tried out? What is your criteria for a “first string” sex partner? Would you settle from someone coming off the bench if you’re REALLY horny? How many guys think of you as their starting quarterback? Do you know how many think you are second string? How much education do you need to learn to do like a superstar what is “natural”? Dogs don’t need education to do what is natural, except when they are trying to slam dunk on your leg, but then all you have to do is kick them. Don’t you, somewhere in the depth of your soul, find this the slightest bit DE-humanizing? You are a human being reduced to a performer of sex acts, and how well your human pretzel performance matches up with his internet porn queen fantasies determines how “deep” your relationship is going to get. You try out, and if your partner is as vapid, inhuman and soulless as you are, depending on how skillfully you drive his hot rod, you may or may not get invited to sit on the “pole position” at the next race. Does it ever occur to you that you are being used for a cheap thrill (or even an expensive one…since you are really “hot”, I’m sure you’re not cheap anymore). Do you ever feel hollow using someone else for a good performance. Do you ever feel heartless when you discard a human being because your orgasm wasn’t a Cosmo screamer? Or did it occur to you that maybe he really didn’t care about yours because he got his anyway.

Kate finishes, “We wouldn't be seeing these young women suffering like this (referring to having an STD).” Given the choice, I think I’d rather suffer with an STD than suffer the ultimate loneliness and dehumanization of the mechanistic soullessness of Kate’s philosophy of sex. I’d rather sleep with one woman for my entire life than try out for the team with a dozen like her. I’d rather spend a lifetime learning to have decent sex with someone I know loves me and will care about me when our bodies fail and our bed is for sleeping, than try to please someone who tomorrow will spread her legs for someone who looks just a little hotter than me. In the nights she spends alone and she lays in bed staring at the ceiling (or even when she’s staring at the ceiling with some new rookie on top of her who isn’t making the team), I wonder what really goes on in the dark empty corners of her heart? STD’s can be cured and you can still become a human being. I don’t know how you can cure not having a human soul.

Arizona in 2010

2008-04-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

Day Laborers and immigrants. CLICK HERE

Washing Hands

2008-04-07T21:06:00.000-07:00

Sunday I was ordained to the sub-diaconate of the Orthodox Church by Bp. Benjamin. It wasn't an aspiration, but I was called to serve so I obeyed the call. The first thing a subdeacon does after the ordination is hold the pitcher of water, bowl and cloth to wash the Bishop's hands before he enters the altar to begin serving the Divine Liturgy. Then it is traditional for the newly ordained to stand before the icon of Christ at the iconostasis holding the pitcher, bowl and draped with the cloth until called to wash the Bishop's hands a second time at the beginning of the Cherubic Hymn before he begins to offer the Gifts on the altar (for the uninitiated, about 45 minutes). It is then that the new sub-deacon enters the altar to finish serving with the rest of the clergy and altar servers.

To be called a "sub" deacon is fitting. It is not a grandiose title. It is not "clerical". It is actually somewhat demeaning... a sub-servant. It is one who washes things, puts things away on the altar, arranges the table of preparation, lights the candles, pours water and carries away the remnants. In short, a clerical bus-boy, the low man on the totem pole in food service. And yet, when I stand in front of the icon of Christ with the pitcher, bowl and draped in the towel I see the Creator of my hands, my feet and see the one who on His last day of earthly life, took up a pitcher of water, draped a towel around Himself and knelt and washed the filthy feet of those who would shortly run from Him on those same feet He had cleansed in humility and love. And He told Peter, "A servant is not above his Master... if I do not wash your feet, you have no part of Me. "

Sub-deacon. It is truly the title of God, the washer of my feet that have run to sin, the One whose blood cleanses my hands that have reached out to iniquity. My feet will now walk within the Altar, my hands will touch the holy things of God. To be deemed worthy to be the lowest servant in the Holy of Holies in order that the people of God may receive Christ's flesh and blood is to be called to imitate Christ. May I be found faithful in the small things.

A Timepiece for the Deluded

2008-03-28T22:21:00.001-07:00

The "constant remembrance of death" for those who mistakenly believe the next minute or next appointment time is guaranteed. (The only thing missing is the "second hand" should say "Repent"). Buy it here

How to Close a Door

2008-03-08T19:52:00.000-08:00

I read somewhere recently about a person who purposely tried to exercise patience in a parking lot. He waited for pedestrians to cross at the Walmart entrance. He let people turn left in front of him. He let someone take a parking space. And it was hard, even for ten minutes in a parking lot. It was an exercise in "living on purpose" rather than living according to habitual obliviousness to our passions and lack of virtue. The lesson was self awareness is a difficult spiritual discipline.

I recall about 30 years ago determining to live every moment of my life "on purpose", even to the discipline of how I walk when going somewhere. Since I've become Orthodox, I read that to live "in the present moment" and be totally aware of everything around us and our relationship to it is called one of the most difficult spiritual disciplines by the desert Fathers. I recall reading a Monk who said it took him a year to learn how to close a door at the monastery.

We are distracted by the past and future so easily... and not even the "distant future". We are going shopping, so we need to get there. We need to park close to the door, and soon. The "goal" supercedes the people we encounter even in such a mundane and ordinary experience as parking our car. It seems most of our life is lived in the past, the distant future or the immediate future, but seldom in the present moment.

One very simple and daily action that is a manifestation of our obliviousness to our surroundings is how we close a door. Some 30 years ago, I listened to my house. No matter what was going on, doors slammed shut, drawers in the kitchen slammed closed and the silverware rattled. Car doors rocked the car when pushed closed. Cabinet doors banged shut. I started being aware of my body, the force I used to close things and set things down, the quiet of the night, the peace of the house and the noise I created. When people were sleeping or on the phone or watching TV, I began to close the doors by turning the knob, pulling the door int0 place quietly and releasing the knob silently when the door was closed instead of the "slam, bang and click" we normally hear. I closed drawers and cabinet doors pushing them quietly into place. I didn't drop and slam dishes and pots and pans into the sink or on the countertops, but placed them there deliberately. At dinner I put down my cups and glasses and silverware deliberately rather than dropping them with a bang and clatter. These seemingly minor exercises translated into heightened awareness of the immediate moment. Ideally, the goal is that every second of my existence is gracefully "on purpose", with total awareness of what I am doing, who is in front of me, how I exist. I deal with reality as it is happening, not the reality I am thinking is in the near or far future, not the reality that lies behind me that has "conditioned me" to react in certain ways. Every movement, every event, more importantly, every person is a gift of God and to be accepted and reacted to with grace, peace and joy.

On the eve of Forgiveness Vespers, I think of all the relationships I have and the offenses I've y given by lack of attentiveness, the offenses I've taken because of my past baggage, the relationships that are tense and shallow because of resentments and living in the past and fear of the future. I thank God that He deals with me in the present moment. He forgives without resentment of the past. He loves without fear of the future. Every moment is a present reality and nothing is accidental, unconciously done, or without awareness.

May I always be faithful in the small, seemingly meaningless and inconspicuous things of my life. May I always live in full awareness, in absolute conciousness of everything that surrounds me. May the closing of a door, the setting down of a cup be a manifestation of grace, an act of peace and consideration, a silent witness to the awakening of my heart to the fullness of the relationship I have to all things.

The Things I Do for Money...

2008-02-06T14:41:00.001-08:00

This is one of my recent projects. We're building 22 foot high walls in a warehouse. This is us sheetrocking part of the wall. Twelve foot sheetrock weighs about 125 pounds a sheet. It is a lot heavier at 55 than it was when I was 35 for some reason.

This is what Thomas (my helper) and I did today....The elevator control room needed a thirteen foot high one hour fire rated ceiling installed (two layers of 5/8" sheetrock on 16" centered metal framing.) We had two step ladders and an extention ladder in a 10 by 7 foot room that had 8 square feet of floor left showing due to transformers, hydraulic controllers, electrical panels etc.. That is Thomas standing on a ladder set on top of one of the control boxes. In the room there are 6 electrical panels, an air conditioner, the hydraulic controller with the open front that is two feet inside the door (note the warning sign...Thanks, Sparky!). To get up and down off of the control boxes and put ladders on top of them, then to frame and sheetrock the ceiling over the open panel, we had to set up an extention ladder 6 inches in front of the open panel and be careful to not back into it on the way up and down while carrying tools and sheetrock. We hung the ceiling in four foot by four foot sheets because there were so many pipes and conduits running through the room we couldn't get full pieces of drywall up in between them. As we say in construction: "This is why I make the BIG money!"
(This is Thomas measuring for the next piece of drywall to go up.)

Reading Lossky

2008-02-04T21:08:00.000-08:00

This is an excerpt from Vladimir Lossky's "The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church", the very first "Orthodox" book I ever read, which I found in the library at the Episcopal Church I was attending fifteen years ago. It had been checked out once in fifteen years. I still have it checked out.

"Here there appears an idea which one never finds in Dionysius, and which draws a line of demarcation between Christian mysticism and mystical philosophy of the neo-platonists. If Plotinus rejects the attributes proper to being in seeking to attain to God, it is not, as with Dionysius, on account of the absolute unknowability of God: and unknowability obscured by all which can be known in creatures. It is because in the realm of being, even at its highest levels, is necessary multiple: it has not the absolute simplicity of the One. The God of Plotinus is not incomprehensible by nature. If we can neither comprehend the One by discursive reason nor by intellectual intuition, it is because the soul, when it grasps and object by reason, falls away from unity and is not absolutely one." p. 30

As a priest once commented when I mentioned I was using Lossky's stuff for radio program material, "Well, Lossky lost me."

I recommend "The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church" as a primer on the foundations of Orthodox theology. However, it IS a deep wade, a slow, frustrating read and something you probably will revisit several times as you get more "Orthodoxy" under your belt.

Here are my "Instructions for Reading Lossky"

Do not attempt to read Lossky under the influence of any medications, while operating heavy machinery, after a heavy meal or Vigil, or just before bedtime. Keep a large dictionary closeby. Reading out loud and very slowly helps. As with any exercise program or lifting heavy objects, do not attempt to lift too much at once... two to three sentences at a time to begin, then add short adjectival phrases and subordinate clauses as you get comfortable. You will find doing several reps (repetitions) of the same sentence will be necessary in the beginning to build up your stamina. Above all, cool down after Lossky with something light, like Gregory of Nyssa or Alexander Schmemman. If you experience brain strain, take three Motrin, and consult a spiritual father if the pain persists after 3 days.

Where Memes Go to Die

2008-02-02T08:18:00.000-08:00

I've recently been "tagged" with a meme.

Just in case someone has been living under a blog rock, a meme (from what I've been told) is kind of like a "flattering nod/chain letter/networking tool/fun thing to get to know people" blogging game. Someone starts something like "Name the last five sauces you've spilled on your shirt in a restaurant, and the relationship to the person you were trying to impress..." and then "tags" other people who have blogs, who are then asked to tag other people, who are then asked to tag their blogging friends.

Unfortunately, the Orthodox blogosphere is a small town. So, if you are like me and kind of like an Amway "downline", by the time a meme gets to my blog, 93% of the Orthodox bloggers that I read (and there are only a few from what I see in other people's links) have been tagged. The other 7% of Orthodox blogs are written by folks who were probably the kids who used to sit on the benches at recess and play chess instead of tag, red rover or dodge ball... their blogs are just not "fun" places and a meme on their blog would be like singing "Up From the Grave He Arose" during the Paschal liturgy. So they are meme-resisitant by nature. Anyway, what that boils down to is my blog is kind of like the elephant graveyard, meme's tend to migrate here to die. Like all things, there is a finite number of human beings on earth to tag with anything. Its like Amway: what happens when everyone in the world is a downline?

So, here's the meme that I've been tagged with by a couple friends:

1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages). ("No cheating" was added by someone, probably so our inclination to either want to look smart, or humble or literate and peruse our library for an appropriate book that would present a good facade would be avoided).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

I didn't cheat, but on the other hand I was tempted to cheat...I wish I could have reached for something less pretentious sounding than Vladimir Lossky, like maybe Mad Magazine's 50 Years of Don Martin. But, since I've been working on our latest radio program series on "Essence and Energies" this was the closest book to my research desk.

So here is page 123 of "The Vision of God" by Vladimir Lossky.
In the state of union we know God at a higher level than intelligence- "nous"- for the simple reason that we do not know Him at all. We have here the entry into darkness (skotos), an entry concealed by the abundant light through which God makes Himself known in His beings. Knowledge is limited to what exists; now, as the cause of all being, God does not exist, or rather He is superior to all oppositions between being and non-being.

And welcome to the Meme Graveyard.

What is Wrong With This Picture?

2008-01-14T21:56:00.000-08:00

No, it is not the cholesterol laden meatballs with sour cream, rolls and real butter.

Look closer.

You might think it is enough that we are constantly indoctrinated with post-modernism, relativism and humanism through movies, television, radio, music, art and magazines.

I'm eating supper and reach for KETCHUP...

On my supper table...lowly KETCHUP is now a billboard for the gospel of relativism and humanism: "YOU BE THE JUDGE" it teaches your children every time they pick it up. A small thing? Sure. But if you load enough pennies in a sack eventually it will weigh enough to crush someone.

I am reminded of a quote from "Platitudes Undone"

Holbrook Jackson writes: "No opinion matters finally: except your own."

to which GK Chesterton replies: "...said the man who thought he was a rabbit."

More My Speed

2008-01-08T22:41:00.001-08:00

When I became Orthodox the "Prayer Rope" was a cool new "Orthodox badge". I asked my spiritual father about owning one and he said sure... keep it in your pocket in public. I was sorely disappointed but obeyed. After a few years of seeing people with prayer ropes used as jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, and ropes as long as jumper cables dragging on the floor as someone conspicuously whispers "O,Ljshskshmshymeashnnr" over and over during the Liturgy, I got the message. Its tough to wear one or use one in public both piously and unvaingloriously... (at least for me. Forgive my presumption in projecting MY impiety and my desire for attention on those whom I've judged over the years.)

That said, after 8 years I now wear three prayer ropes on my wrist and I'm sure I'll be judged according to the judgement with which I judge (sigh). Anyway, one was a gift from a dear friend from Mount Athos, a hundred tiny knots. The second was a gift too, a beautifully irregularly spaced twenty knot rope tied by the most innocent guileless young lady I know who had just begun tying prayer ropes and prayed for me while making it. But after ten years of trying to pray the Jesus Prayer, I have another gift. I finally own a prayer rope that actually represents the truth of my prayer life. It is my goal to truly use it once a day and actually say the Prayer without distraction, thoughts or an impure motive. Of course if I ever accomplish that, I suppose I couldn't tell about it could I? Dang.

Advertising and Theology

2007-12-12T20:44:00.000-08:00

This is essentially the text for the newest Toyota dealer's radio ads here in the Phoenix metro area. It is lifted off of their website's "Guest Services" page:

More pampering while you wait

Our exclusive guest services area is nothing like you’ve ever seen! From a full-service nail salon, barbershop and shoeshine and massage salon, our new facility has something for everyone.

Book an appointment with a licensed cosmetologist to coincide with your vehicle service and save time out of your busy day.

Our exciting children’s play areas are equipped with a pirate ship and video games.

There are three customer lounges with large screen TVs and comfy couches so you can relax while we take care of your vehicle.

Catch up on some work in one of our wireless Internet computer stations.

We also offer shuttle bus service to and from Chandler Fashion Park so you can get some shopping in while we handle your vehicle.

This Changes Everything

In the radio spots there is a dramatic pause after all of the amenities and services are enumerated (including a massage parlor, a gourmet sandwich and fresh baked cookie shop, Edenic environments, among other things), then the announcer breathily whispers... "THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!"

First of all, does anyone for a moment really believe that a car dealer offering a manicure and massage, a miniature Disneyland for A.D.D. kids who were dragged to their parent’s “car buying experience”, a gourmet sandwich shop, a TV set playing Dr. Phil, or a shuttle to a mall to kill time, or wi-fi for the workaholics or the internet addicted really changes EVERYTHING?... In what reality? In whose world? Is there really a planet or a universe that exists that will be radically altered because someone can now buy a car and have all of their passions, vanities, obsessions and delusions fed at the same time? The fact that someone even THOUGHT of this “tag line” and even THOUGHT that it would speak to a target market, and even THOUGHT that it sounded “punchy” or had ANY substance to it is utter insanity. It really should be the punch line to a Monty Python bit, or a wry, sarcastically delivered review of some inane and vapid reality show starring Paris Hilton (or whoever the equivalent du jour is).

But, no, someone really sold this as a serious ad to Toyota. Someone really thought it said something to a target market. And the sad and frightening reality is, it does speak to a real market.

The other sad reality is that this does not change anything, it merely AFFIRMS everything about THIS planet, universe, reality and existence. People are captivated by pleasure, ease, comfort, entertainment and the illusion of being cared for. The reality is the same reality that was presented to Eve in the garden: The fruit looked good to eat, it promised pleasure, and it was a painless shortcut to attainment of the goal of “fulfillment”. St. James calls it "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the vainglory of life". The universe revolves around me, my desires, my wants, my comfort, and I deserve it all, .... after all, McDonalds has already told you that you DO deserve a break today, remember?

Like the Serpent, Toyota appeals to the passions and our vanity and presents us with the illusion that it is all about the customer, they care about our well-being, our comfort, our desires and needs. But in reality, they care about our dollar, not us. The promise of free pleasure and pampering, providing for our every fleshly and psychological desire is a snare. The reality is, the spiritually darkened human being is manipulated to extract the dollar. There is no true “pampering”, no concern for the person. It is manipulation and lies, an illusion presented for an ulterior motive. But the “market” believes them. And the “market” flocks to the dealership and eats the fruit.

But nothing changes.

Everything stays the same.

More Vintage Photos

2007-12-06T19:51:00.000-08:00

Between my sojourn in the acapella churches of Christ and my conversion to the acapella Orthodox Church, I made a pit stop in the Episcopal Church where I could actually play a guitar in public. We did a couple fund raising dinners for the parish. We managed to put a decent band together with our multi talented choir members. This was circa 1994. This is me, the Wrong Reverend Stevie Ray, lead guitarist for "The Episcopresleyans". Our intro included among other things, "We asked ourselves, what would give this act some real class? And we thought, what do you see when you go to a symphony? MUSIC STANDS! ...." After the band member introductions I'd say in the "Cool Hand Luke" drawl, "What we have here is a failure to excommunicate."

I have to say, we tried this "schtick" at an Orthodox Church and ummmm.... Episcopalians are a whole lot more fun. We should have learned an Arabic version of "Radar Love". Oh well... WE had fun.

Old Photo Albums

2007-11-27T21:21:00.001-08:00

...yield the strangest things.

This was taken in 1972. I was 20 and visiting my Grandparents in Cabot, Arkansas (just north of Little Rock). 1972. Little Rock. Arkansas....

I was sitting at a McDonalds, outside at a wooden picnic table eating a Big Mac and sweating so much my hair was dripping. It was probably 98 degrees and 90% humidity. I didn't think it wise to eat inside the way the diners were looking at me.

Can you say "Deliverance"?

Anyway, I'd been there maybe ten minutes and a police car pulls in and circles the parking lot once. Twice. Three times. Ring around the hippie.

The car stops at the curb and the cop gets out of his car. He was the "Southern cop cliche". Aviator sunglasses. Big gut. Swagger. He steps up to my table. I look up at him. He drawls, "Yew 'bout done?"

"Um...just about," I say half cheerfully, trying not to sound sarcastic.

He tugs at his belt as if his pants are going to fall down. "Mebbe yew didn't git it...Yew 'bout done?"

I got it. "Yessir, I'm done." I start wrapping my burger up and stuffing it in the bag.

"Good. " He looks around slowly and says staring off into space without looking at me, "It's kinda busy round here and we need places fer folks to sit."

I look around. I'm the only one sitting outside. "Yessir. I see that. I'll make room right away."

"Awright. And it stays pretty busy here, so I wouldn't come back anytime soon, y'hear?"

"Got it. Thanks for the warning."

I get in my 1968 Volkswagon Beetle with the smiling sunrise painted over the back license plate light and head to my grandparent's house. He sits in his car and watches me drive away. I watch my rear view mirror to make sure he stayed put.

I suppose I was lucky he didn't see a tail light out or something that might warrant an arrest somewhere along the ten mile stretch of highway between Little Rock and Cabot.