cheztudor

Make your mark

2012-01-20T05:48:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we work really hard at building something. We spend a lot of time and energy and make some "thing". We experience the thing we have created and are proud of our work. Perhaps others also are able to appreciate the thing we have created.

Some people build companies, some create paintings, some compose sonatas. Some people build homes, some raise families. Many things we create may have beauty and value for a long time, perhaps even longer than our own lives. We have "left our mark".

Sand castles give us the great gift of being fleeting. Right to our faces. Even before we start them and during all the effort we spend on them, we know they will not last long. In fact, absolutely nothing we build, create, compose, or raise will last forever. Everything is a sand castle in some amount of time.

Except for love.

I believe that the love we create is the only thing that cannot ever be destroyed. When we love one another, to me, that love becomes part of God; part of the mystery that our souls yearn to join fully.

While you are working on your "sand castles" today, think about really "leaving a mark." Create some more love.

In the midst of life....

2012-01-07T06:31:00.000-08:00

I am in a place I've never been before and will never be again. I am in between the two memorial services for my mom.

As Fr. Joe said during the first service, mom liked to organize. She liked it so much that she had managed to organize several versions of that pre-funeral "vigil" service. It all came together, of course, in that wonderful way irrelevant things coalesce when you remember *why* you are really doing something.

Last night's service included a time for family and friends to share memories of mom. I had been asked to start the sharing with something short, biographical and up-beat. Simultaneously nervous-as-crap and honored-as-hell , I cobbled something together in the hour before the service. During a rehearsal reading / fact-checking session in the car on the way over, I went into an abysmal Irish brogue when saying my mothers full, legal, and very Irish-Catholic name. I was dared to do that during the service, which I did:

On May 4,1938, her aunt Aileen's diary says "Took Mick up to McGlaughlins. Peggy born today. 7# 14 Onc." Mary Margaret Delaney was raised in a veryIrish Catholic family. She had an olderbrother, two younger brothers and a younger sister. She always told me that her father adored hermother. Her mother died of cancer whilemom was still in college.

Mom was abeautiful bride in 1961, next to my tall, lanky, geeky dad. In 1963 my sister Kathy was born, in mom'swords, "the long-awaited, much-anticipated" one. Of the rest of us who invaded shortlythereafter, "the boys were 'gifts', and Anne was 'Oh my God, am I pregnantagain???'"

Collegeeducated in Social Work, she stayed at home and raised the four of us throughthe 1960s and 1970s. She fed us and clothedus and loved us in houses with dark wood paneling and shag wall-to-wallcarpets. She smoked cigarettes, watchedsoap operas and read romance novels which she stored in between the seatcushion and the armrest of the chairs in the den.

One timeshe decided to supplement her income by becoming a contractor delivering phonebooks for the phone company. She droveus kids around in our two-tone green Chevy van and we pitched phone books ontopeople's front walks.

As wegrew up and left home and she and dad split up, she ended up back in this areaof Harris county, near her friend Ruth and working for our former parish priestAl at his new assignment. The rest ofher working life was spent in the church, where she continued to volunteerafter she retired.

Over thecourse of all this, she met all of us. And she probably said something completely crazy to each of us at somepoint, which was at the same time, both completely true and totally hilarious.

I also showed up with a two-minute long slideshow of pictures of mom culled from my iPhoto on a USB stick. Knowing what is involved when people arrive a few minutes before an event and hand you a USB stick with something they want projected during the event, I thanked the music director, Ken, for getting it to work so beautifully with no time to prep.

Friends and family shared some beautiful stories, grandkids cried, and we all marveled at how blessed we were to have known the crazy, bossy, humble woman of faith that was my mother. As the reception afterwards was just getting started, I managed to spray red wine all over my dress shirt. This allowed me to lower the bar on the dress code quite a bit; chatting with people while wearing a white undershirt stained with red wine spots while my dress shirt endured emergency laundering.

With service #1 behind us, later this morning we will gather again, this time for a Mass celebrating Mom's life and her gifts to us. I feel no real need for the church services themselves as acts of closure, but the gatherings they prompt, and connections we share, are the real tributes to a life well-lived. It is the people, after all, that truly matter.

God bless flaky facial recognition

2011-12-29T17:01:00.000-08:00

After writing the last blog post, I started scanning my iPhoto library for pictures of Mom. I'd already tagged several, so I let the iPhoto facial recognition feature try to find the rest for me. It says "Mom may also be in the photos below," and then shows me a set of thumbnails from my library in which it thinks Mom is pictured.

It makes understandable errors based on family resemblance with me and my siblings and Mom's family. And there are a few of my friends that look more like her than I realized. But some of the pictures that it thought had Mom in them were stunning.

The software thinks that Mom is in several pictures of Rochelle Harper, Boz and their friends in front of Trinity Church, a picture of Linda Barnes and Bob Swantek at a Trinity Church Veteran's Day Fair, my mother-in-law skiing, my former choirmaster, a couple of the organizers of RiverBuild, my husband with a friend of his, Tam cooking with Bill at Trinity, and best of all: Bill in a Dr. Frank-N-Furter Halloween costume.

I realized that Mom is in these pictures. She's there in the love, generosity, humor and faith with which she raised me. Perhaps we should rename this. Instead of "facial recognition" software, perhaps it should be called "presence recognition". We tend to think of our own lives and actions as having an impact only on those with whom we directly interact. In fact, the gifts we share materially affect more than we can imagine.

If we want to see the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, we should share our gifts with abandon.

I cry in gratitude, part 2

2011-12-29T15:28:00.000-08:00

Mom stopped breathing peacefully in her sleep in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. I could go into the details, but that isn't the point. I will say that her final hours were the most comfortable and peaceful, largely thanks to Houston Hospice. Our nurse, Karen, gave us ways to administer medications without having to rouse her, and an aide came and gave her the most luxurious bed-bath you can imagine. It was like a spa treatment complete with shampoo, lotion, mani-pedi. She rested, all clean and pretty and smelling of the Shalimar perfume we bought her for Christmas. Though it isn't really my chosen metaphor, I cannot help but imagine her dancing through the gates of Heaven.

The time we all had together was amazing. From the Thanksgiving gatherings through decorating for Christmas and then, the magic of seeing Mom's face when her great-granddaughter arrived on Christmas Eve. Or on Christmas day, when she opened her presents and her best friend Ruth came over to spend some time with her. She got to spend some quiet time alone with each of us over the last few weeks, and we were all blessed with enough time to say goodbye. She got everything she wanted: dying peacefully in her sleep at home and having her body removed before the grandkids woke up.

In the conversations I had with people on Wednesday, I discovered that the one aspect I really couldn't discuss without bursting into tears was the quality of the time I was blessed to have with her. The chats about family, the Church, our theologies, the dogs, the grandkids. While she still loved "Everybody Loves Raymond," her new favorite TV show had become "The Big Bang Theory," so I spent some glorious hours with her doing something I rarely do: watching TV. I discovered how much I treasured her smile, and how frequently she blessed me with it. The hugs and the I-Love-Yous had new power and depth.

The phrase "surrounded by her loving friends and family" kept appearing unbidden in my mind. Her sister; her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren; her friends for decades, and the ones more recent all were present at various times to connect her to those parts of her wonderful challenging, generous, loving and full life.

There are more things to do. The church services must be planned. Schedules have to be coordinated, flights and hotels have to be booked, pet-sitters notified, leaves from work secured. However, I'm going to do what I'm sure she'd tell me to do at this point: take a nap.

Thanks, Mom, for everything. I don't yet have words for how full my heart is. You haven't left a hole. You've left me overflowing.

Unfinished business

2011-12-24T20:51:00.000-08:00

A coffee cup, full of coffee with sweetener and Coffeemate, sits on the kitchen table near an empty chair. Later in the day, I notice a cigarette sitting in an ashtray outside, half-smoked. Unfinished.

Right now, Mom is leaving some things unfinished. Her focus is, understandably, elsewhere. However, what she's leaving unfinished are the trivial things, like how to get the poodles to the groomer on the same day that the cleaning service comes.

What she isn't leaving unfinished is her life. The directives are filed, the assets disbursed, the loving emotions -- and frustrations -- expressed. Each of us has had some quality time. We've shared stories of hurt, love, silliness, pain, joy, tenderness and forgiveness. She's laughed, cried, smiled, hugged, and teased. She's ready. And now we all wait.

What unfinished business do we have? Perhaps now is a good time to forgive someone, or love someone, or just call a friend you haven't talked to in years. Thanks to Mom, I'm learning the importance of unfinished business.

I think Mom is still teaching me things. I suspect she will be teaching me things long after she's done gracing us with her physical presence.

Much like Jesus.

Inspirations

2011-12-24T10:35:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at the kitchen table with my mother. She is asleep in a wheelchair. She breathes better sitting up than lying down, so this is actually better than the bed for some naps. She says she was awake several times last night, so she probably needs this sleep. Around us it is a zoo. There is country and western Christmas music on in the background. The oxygen concentrator machine is purring nearby. Conversations are in progress. Bill is teaching his niece how to bake a Bûche du Noël.

I know that I haven't been writing here much. I've been waiting for something in particular to inspire me. I sat here at the table, holding my mother's hands as she fell asleep. I couldn't help but smile as I reflected on how much she has always loved me, and how full my heart is with love for her. I watched her and wondered where my next blog entry inspiration would come from. Then I realized, she inspires me. She always has.

Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you.

Stupid cancers

2011-11-25T06:40:00.001-08:00

I've been working to raise money this month as part of a campaign to improve men's health and fight men's cancers. It occurred to me last night that cancer is incredibly stupid.

Cancer involves some cellular malfunctions that basically cause unregulated cell reproduction. The mechanisms that are supposed to limit cell reproduction don't function correctly. The resulting over-growth damages the health of the surrounding areas by crowding out healthy tissues and over-consuming resources. As this damage becomes systemic, the host organism dies.

How stupid. The cancer dies too. It's not spreading or surviving; it's just killing its host and itself. This is currently happening to my mom.

But in some ways it's also happening to our world. Unregulated greed has damaged the health of the economy. The mechanisms that were supposed to control this (ie, a government that was *not* controlled by the cancer) don't function correctly. Like the HIV retrovirus, the T-cells of our representative government have become co-opted by the disease. They no longer serve to protect our society, but instead work to crank out more of the virus, further deepening the infection.

Again, how stupid! Shortsighted to the point of suicidal. Unchecked, this process results in self-destruction. We need to recover and restore those mechanisms that serve to control the kind of greed that becomes a cancer in our world. We have done this before. We had times when we allowed businesses to freely hire children or expose workers to inhumane and unhealthy working conditions. We now regulate these behaviors and require workplace safety. It DAMAGES THE PROFITS of corporations, but it serves the greater good of society. In the end, the entire organization is healthier. It is time to rein in our greedy self-interests and remember that we can't survive alone.

Being Thankful

2011-11-20T04:14:00.001-08:00

"The Holiday Season" has begun. For us in the US, this officially kicks off in a few days with Thanksgiving. (Though the timing is apt, I'll forego the discussion of how "Xmas" starts in October nowadays.) At the moment, I'm thinking about families, both chosen and biological. Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, a traditional "family time" in our culture. Faith or religion doesn't drive this. People of any and all faiths, and even no faith, get together with their family on this occasion.

These gatherings can be joyous, messy, or both. Sometimes a lot of both. Let's face it, we're messy creatures. We've got our buttons and the gang we typically hang with at Thanksgiving knows how to push all of them. And we know how to push theirs.

That being said, we hopefully find enough love and charity in our hearts to spend at least some of the time being thankful and giving thanks. We need to "be thankful" by holding gratitude in our hearts for all the amazing blessings that even the motley crew we're enduring this year has given us in the past. It may take stepping away from the chaos for a few moments and quietly reflecting on what family means to you. Then we need to "give thanks" by directing that gratitude outward to the people around us and the world.

Thus, I give thanks for all the blessings in my family and my life. And I thank you, whoever you are, for reading. Have a thankful week.

Just as they come

2011-11-12T08:41:00.001-08:00

I'm back home from another visit down to spend time with my Mom. (If you've been keeping up, you'll already know why.) I had certain expectations about how the visit would go. It didn't play out exactly as I planned. Shocking, right? :-)

In my "movie director" or "family archivist" mind, I imagined setting up organized chronicling sessions during which we'd make video or audio records of us reminiscing. Instead, the end of our visit arrived without us having done much of that at all. I imagine it's just impossible to be both the director and a principal player in a documentary. You find that when the action is happening and you're involved, it's not time to try to find a camera angle that works with the light.

And so it was with this visit to see Mom. She'd head out to the patio for a smoke, and a couple of us would find our way out there for a chat. At the time, it simply would have been too distracting and annoying to try to capture most of these moments. Doing so would have interfered with the moment itself. We got a couple of them down, but mostly, we just spent time together sharing and enjoying the company. In retrospect, that's exactly how it should have been; we were making exactly the right decisions.

There will be some photos around, and there will be some recordings. But mostly, there will be these memories which we'll continue to treasure even if they begin to fade away decades from now. In the meantime, though, we'll take these moments, days, weeks or months just as they come.

My mother would be Occupying Wall St.

2011-10-29T10:33:00.000-07:00

I cannot claim credit for being the only exposure my mom has had to the Episcopal Church. A number of years ago, she and a few other members of her Roman Catholic parish entered a social justice ministry training program at a nearby Episcopal church. I was proud of the denomination I had chosen to join.

For years, my mother has been vigilant, passionate, and engaged with the issues raised by social justice activists. Economic abuse perpetrated by those with power against those without has had a stalwart enemy in the person of my mother. If you were a friend of hers who was turning a blind eye to these issues, she called you on it. She preached the Love of God in the message of justice for all.

Right now, the people who began to Occupy Wall Street have started a global movement to shine a light on the abuses of power and money that have corrupted our governments and economies around the world. Using the same techniques that have toppled some of the tyrannical regimes of the Arab world, they have gathered peacefully in protest of these abuses. At the core of their messy gathering, they are speaking truth to power.

This is the same truth that is echoed in the scriptures many of us will hear this weekend in our churches (Micah 3:5-12 & Matt 23:1-12). It is the same truth that my mother has been speaking for years. If she were here in New York, she'd be at OWS. Thanks, Mom for giving us, yet again, such an amazing example.

Learning from the past

2011-10-27T08:12:00.000-07:00

Around the time of her diagnosis, Mom got a small hand-held voice recorder. She's been keeping it nearby and recording her thoughts when the mood strikes her. A couple of nights ago, Mom told me that she told the recorder the story of a trip from Houston to Chicago that we took when I was just a baby. I'm really looking forward to getting a chance to hear it.

Spending time connecting with the past can help us live more fulfilling lives in the future. Understanding the challenges our parents went through when we were kids, from their perspective, might help us be better parents. Or we may just make peace with difficult times from our past and become healthier adults.

On the other hand, hiding from the future by living in the past strikes me as unfruitful. It starts out as discomfort with changing customs (like men wearing their hats indoors), and progresses to full-blown cranky old-timer syndrome. I'm only 46, but I can sense some of the early stages of this phenomenon. I'm afraid that for some people, their only joy comes from dwelling on the past.

Fortunately, my mom continues to model a great attitude towards life. The future, however short, still exists for her and in her eyes it is bright. She's spending some time in the present capturing times from our past so that we'll have them to learn from and enjoy in the future. Our futures will include sharing lessons we've learned from our past and learning new lessons as we go.

That, for me, is a great reason to be joyful!

Celebrate Today!

2011-10-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

It's Autumn in New York. The leaves are changing and the weather is mild, sometimes cool and breezy and other times calm and warmish. It is a beautiful season.

Autumn will fade and Winter will blow in with its own beauty. It'll set the rules for a while before things start to warm up. Then that special green-yellow hue will start to dust the trees as the first leaves of Spring arrive.

For some of y'all, Fall may be your favorite season, full of cider mills, haunted houses and harvest fun. For others, snow-shooing, skiing, or ice fishing might be your thing. I know some folks who live for the time they spend in their garden in the Spring and others that can't wait for Memorial Day to signal the start of beach season.

Even if this isn't your favorite time of year, take a deep breath and observe the particular gifts it brings. My wish for everyone is that they find a way to celebrate the joys of this day and every day they have to live in this beautiful world.

At the time, who knew?

2011-10-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

The summer before my junior year in high school, we moved from Houston to Baton Rouge. I remember that I went to a facility and was "tested" as part of an effort to enroll me in the local magnet school, Baton Rouge High. Though I met the requirements, I was not admitted. I understood this to be an issue of timing; we had not begun the process early enough to secure one of the limited openings.

It turns out I had no idea how hard my mother had worked to get me into a good educational program. She and her best friend began to exchange audio "letters" by mailing cassette tapes back and forth to each other after we moved to Baton Rouge. Recently rediscovered, now 30 years later, one of these tapes has my mom describing to her friend the day she spent running around to various schools and administration buildings in Baton Rouge in an effort to get me admitted. She describes the visits, the phone calls, and the stonewalling and excuses by bureaucrats and their assistants. She put forth this huge effort while simultaneously trying to get the last of the boxes unpacked, get my two younger siblings registered for their schools, and have dinner going by the time my father got home from work.

In the end, I ended up riding "the short bus" across town to a school which would someday host the Gifted and Talented curriculum for 11th graders, but which had not yet created it. I took 12th grade classes and independent study. It was fun and I made great friends. I still think it destroyed my math education. But I had no idea at all how hard my mom had tried to get me into a better school. Listening to her talk about what she went through, all I can say is, "Wow. Thanks, mom. I had no idea."

It occurs to me now, I suspect parents do this all the time. And in so many ways their kids have absolutely no idea what kind of sacrifices they make for them. So I'm going to say a prayer of thanksgiving for my mother and for all parents for the love they give and the sacrifices they make for their kids.

Three to Six

2011-10-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

My mother has received a terminal diagnosis and has been told that she has 3 to 6 months left to live. She has decided to spend them living rather than dying.

This attitude of acceptance has created an interesting conflict. Mom is quite peaceful. She is active and unconcerned. She no longer has to worry about so many things. She will not lose a limb to diabetes. She won't be a burden on anyone and doesn't have to worry about how any of her children or grandchildren choose to live their lives. She's not worried about people getting upset at her. She feels remarkably free.

Some friends and family are much more preoccupied with the dying part of this process. They are mourning an expected loss. One expressed a desire that she could live much longer. She looked at him like he was nuts. When I've shared the news with some folks, they find that all they've got to say is, "I'm so sorry."

Someone did, however, nail the response recently. "What an incredible gift your mother has given you and all of us by modeling such a wonderful attitude."

The countdown has begun. Soon, instead of worrying if she took her insulin, we'll be wondering about how she would have answered questions we never thought to ask her when she was alive. But for now, we're spending all the time we can asking the questions we can think of, and laughing together at all the crazy times we shared.

We've got three to six months of advance warning. Now, that's a gift!

Tears of joy

2011-07-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

I had a relatively mundane Sunday planned. I thought I'd get up, go to church somewhere in Manhattan, grab a bite somewhere and then head to the office for some disruptive server reboots. I was planning to grocery shop and do the laundry at some point later in the day.

So, I went to the gym instead of church. The exercise felt good, and I have my annual physical coming up so I'm trying to look nice for the doc. While I was trying to sort out the next part of my day, a friend texted me that "the scene downtown is special".

He was just passing by in a cab, but he saw the crowds gathered to take advantage of the fact that today, July 24 2011, same-gendered couples can get legally married in New York. I decided I should go down and see this in person.

Of course, I already knew that all of this was going on. I get the email blasts and I follow all of the GLBT twitter accounts. But when a friend of mine put an emotion to it, something in me shifted. I realized that this wasn't just a simple legislative act finally reaching its predetermined effective date. This was something "special". People's lives were changing.

I think I was crying before I even got into the subway. I've been crying off-and-on ever since. I'm not ashamed of these tears; I'm joyful. I know what it feels like. Christine Quinn said of those celebrating today, "that part of the law that, in words, said they were less than other people, which we knew wasn't true, is now gone." If you've never been treated as "less than other people" by the law, you may not be able to truly appreciate the joy that comes when the law recognizes what you already knew. Say what you want about how our civil rights fight differs from that of African-Americans, or even earlier of women, but I believe that when those discriminatory laws fell, the emotions were the same.

I bet they also cried proud tears of joy.

Mazel tov and blessings to all New Yorkers on this important and joyful day of equality.

"I Don't think that word means what you think it means"

2011-06-19T04:26:00.000-07:00

Where would we be without people who disagreed with us? Probably exactly wherever we started.

Early this morning I was thinking about the upcoming debate on marriage equality in the state of New York. Since I like to try to find a blessing hidden among the thorns of situations like this, I let my mind wander. I thought, "blessing? but they're *wrong*!" Aha!

When has someone told me I was wrong? Some of the greatest blessings we have in our lives are the people who disagree with us and will lovingly tell us. With the right treatment and in the right context, we can move from thinking our world is flat to learning that it is not. Or we can learn that a word we've been using means something inconceivably different. :-)

So, while I know that the opponents of marriage equality are on the wrong side of this particular issue, I know that sometimes I'm on the wrong side of a topic. And I think it's a blessing when someone can help me get past that.

Learning is a good thing. I hope those folks that are currently fighting to continue discriminating against me take advantage of this opportunity to learn, grow and change, like Inigo and Fezzik, instead of just go down fighting like Vizzini. And I'll try to remember to be open to the possibility that I'm wrong when someone tries to tell me that in the future.

More on marriage

2011-06-15T12:14:00.000-07:00

Here in New York, our state Senate may soon vote on a marriage equality bill. A strong majority of New Yorkers support equality. However, there is always the vocal minority arguing against the justice towards which the long arc of history bends. I truly believe that God's love, working in and through us, is why we tend towards this justice.

Roman Catholic Archbishop Dolan has blogged several times in opposition to efforts to bring equality to the state-sponsored institution of marriage. His latest post was yesterday.

Comments are moderated. When I posted my response last night, there were 3 approved comments. A short while ago, there were 96 approved comments, many of which were posted much more recently than mine. The approved comments varied between polite and harsh, short and long, supportive and not yet mine was not among them.

At this writing, there are now 121 approved comments and mine is one of them. However, since it was posted last night, it's not on the first page of comments. You have to dig back to find it. Many won't bother. Perhaps that's why it wasn't approved until there were several more pages of comments posted? Read his brief post first, if you like, then read my reply.

Your Excellency,
I honor your choice to speak out against the rising tide of marriage equality. However, I wish you had done so with more historical accuracy.

As you are aware, claiming that monogamous heterosexual marriage “has served as the very cornerstone of civilization and culture from the start” denies the accounts of King David’s 6 wives, King Solomon’s 700 wives, his son Rehoboam’s 18 wives, everybody’s concubines and numerous other examples of polygamy in the Bible. More importantly, it denies much more modern and reliable history where marriage has been principally a property transaction and/or a political treaty (see Western Civilization up until the late 1800s). Monogamous heterosexual marriages based on love are recent *innovations* of western society and are still not the norm in many cultures and civilizations. Marriage may be the “cornerstone of civilization and culture from the start” but until recently, it was breeding farms and property contracts.

You are right to imply that children in our society are indeed at risk. The most at-risk children are, of course, the ones that are born to under-educated, single women with low self-esteem living below the poverty line. They have few resources and poor health care. I believe the sheer size of this population dominates any statistic comparing the health of children living with a mother and father to the health of children living without. While this can make it seem like one-man-one-woman parenting is advantageous to any other form, reports show that committed same-gender parents provide the healthy, loving environment children need to flourish. What places children at risk is not the gender of the parents, it is the intentions, attentions, and resources of the parents.

Further, asserting that marriage is “the union of a man and a woman in a loving, permanent, life-giving union to pro-create children” contradicts the reality that the Roman Catholic church will gladly marry permanently sterile people who otherwise meet their requirements. You cannot make a “union … to pro-create children” when there is no possibility for procreation, yet the church blesses these marriages as holy. Clearly, an ability to procreate is not a Catholic requirement for Holy Matrimony.

Like you, I believe marriage is one of the most amazing gifts God has given us. I shudder to think of how long it has taken humanity to realize that the unconditionally loving, committed partnership that we now call marriage is indeed the crucible for our greatest selflessness. Sadly, too often is the term marriage used to describe the temporary agreement two modern people make to stay together until one or the other decides to leave. Too often is this a matter of mere months later.

So, as I said, I respect and honor your right as a US citizen to urge others to adopt your point of view. I believe in the sanctity of marriage and its role in the stability of society and in bringing the love of God further into our world. I believe that God blesses the healthy, loving marriages of gay people. To deny this is dishonest and the fact that you must deliberately mislead people to convince them that you are right is proof.

I suspect that you know people like me and my husband of 20 years. Like most bishops, you travel widely in your diocese and have experienced the obvious fruits of the Spirit manifest in two souls knit as one, be they gay or straight. Someday, soon, I hope you are able to give honest witness to this. Until then, I shall hold you in my prayers.

"Every wedding is a royal wedding."

2011-04-29T06:15:00.000-07:00

The Bishop of London, Dr. Richard Chartres, gave the sermon at Will and Kate's wedding this morning. Here's a link to someone who has posted the entire text. It was beautiful and infuriating.

The frustrating thing is that he's got the beauty almost completely right, in my opinion. I've blogged about marriage several times (here and here). He and I agree completely on the gift and purpose of marriage. But his words reject the reality that my marriage to Bill is this same gift, and has this same purpose. And while his words reject my reality, they can't change it. Our marriage continues to be a gift in our lives, and through our love and commitment to one another, it becomes a gift to creation.

The real problem is that his words tell young unmarried gay people that they cannot be a part of this. Littered with the phrases "Man and woman," "King and Queen," "husband and wife," his important message about what marriage should be excludes a huge population of people. People who should be encouraged to love and commit themselves to one another just as fruitfully. And as you can tell in my previous posts, I want that message to get out to those people. I believe in defending marriage. I want people to get married with the understanding that marriage isn't about hooking up for a while until it doesn't feel right anymore.

I have no idea if it is possible for people whose very lives are national symbols to build the kind of marriage I believe in. For their sake, and for the sake of those who look to them, I hope that they can.

Holy Saturday Journal

2011-04-23T11:46:00.001-07:00

April 23, 2011:

Bill's in a meeting at church, so I'm killing some time with coffee and internet at the nearby coffee house, the Met. An acquaintance came over to my table to chat with me while he waited for his drink to be made. After he left, a young man who had been talking to someone else nearby came over to my table, set his coffee down and took a seat. He asked me about my iPad and wireless keyboard.

Spontaneous questions from strangers about the iPad or keyboard aren't a surprise, really. And it is the kind of day (snow on April 23!) and environment (chatty coffee shop) where conversations with strangers wouldn't be odd. The conversation took a strange turn as the young man began talking about a large butane cigarette lighter he had recently purchased. His conversational style was abrupt and uncomfortable. I asked if he worked nearby and he replied that he lived in a group home up the block. He then discussed the money he had borrowed from his housemates to be able to afford the coffee.

He got up and went back to the person I had first seen him with. He needed to call the group home and make sure they knew where he had gone so that they didn't send folks out looking for him. He had borrowed her cell phone in a previous attempt and wanted to try again.

After his phone call, he left to use the restroom. A man came over to me and introduced himself as the owner of the coffee shop. He asked if the young man was with me. When I replied, "No," the owner asked if the young man was bothering me. He explained that they had had "some trouble" with this young man disturbing some patrons. He asked if he should ask him to leave. I assured the owner that it wasn't a problem for me, and that I was happy to give the young man some conversation.

The young man returned and we chatted about whether or not we liked print news or TV news better and why. After a few more minutes of conversation, he finished his coffee, refilled his cup, and left to take the refilled cup of coffee to give to one of his housemates.

I don't know if this young man is regularly more bothersome to customers. I don't know what experiences the owner has had in the past. I do know that I am glad I spoke to the young man. I hope he has a good life, and I'll look for him the next time I'm in the coffee shop.

In reflecting on this story a week later, I struggled to find the words to express why I was happy I met this person and had the entire experience. As I re-read my account, I realized the thread that was under it all at the time: the kindness of strangers. He was kind to me, and I to him. The woman with the cell phone was kind. Even the owner, in his way, was kind.

There is a beautiful energy that is created when strangers are kind to one another. It is the beginning of being trusting, and then loving. Slowly but surely moving towards what I think is really "thy will be done on earth": loving our neighbors.

Next chance you get, be kind to a stranger.

Hospitality

2010-08-14T05:11:00.000-07:00

I'm about to head back up to New Hampshire from a week of working in our Boston-area office. Whenever I visit this office, I stay with our friends, Patrick & Craig.

They're sleeping in as I finish my second cup of coffee and a bagel. This is a picture of them celebrating their 10th anniversary in Hawaii.

In the ancient world, being hospitable to strangers was built into the behavioral norms of various cultures. Greek, Near East, Indian and Celtic societies all have well-documented examples, at least according to Wikipedia.

I think it is a true blessing to find people who are genuinely gracious hosts. And a mitzvah to be a genuinely gracious host. Patrick and Craig are loving, gracious, and sweet examples of wonderful hosts.

Thanks to everyone who still practices Hospitality. May we all find ways to extend Hospitality to not only our friends, but the strangers in our midst as well.

Sunrise, sunset.

2010-06-30T03:39:00.001-07:00

I took this picture as I started my walk this morning. The sun is just striking the tops of the Presidential range in New Hampshire. I treasure the sunrise. Both of the places where I am blessed to live are built on hillsides and face west. They are sunset places. I thought to myself, "I like the sunrise."

"It's better than the sunset. It says 'Hope' and 'New Beginnings'. It's a 'Start' not an 'End'. I'm a Sunrise Person!"

Of course, surrounded by trees, streams, birdsong and all the balance of nature, I didn't take more than two footsteps before I realized the balance of the sunset.

"Sunsets are about thankfulness. They're full of joy at having had the blessings of another day."

Morning Prayer & Evening Prayer, birth & death, visiting someplace new & coming home. Each can be joyful. Hopefully, your day today will be joyful, too.

Claiming the blessing

2010-06-14T04:14:00.000-07:00

Each time I'm drawn to write something here, I make it about blessing. I made a decision when I started this that I would not write scathing critiques of the aggravations or idiocies that abound in our lives. The drive to do that is strong: I have a voice, and there are injustices out there which need the light of day shining upon them. My challenge in these cases, therefore, is to find the blessing. Perhaps not surprisingly to some, I do that in the process of composing these posts.

So today's post is drawn from recent events in the political life of the Anglican Communion, of which the Episcopal Church here in the US is a member. The Communion is a confederation of national or regional churches that trace their roots to the Church of England (CofE). The CofE, in turn, was formed when the English broke from the Roman Catholic church over a variety of issues (not just Henry VIII wanting a divorce). The Communion is not hierarchical like the Roman church, but possesses several bodies called "instruments of unity" that meet regularly to consult with one another to further the mission of all the churches in the wider world.

The Archbishop of Canterbury (AoC) is one of these "instruments of unity" himself. In fact, he is the only instrument that is not a committee or conference. He bears the oxymoronic moniker "Primus inter pares," Latin for "first among equals". In other words, he has a special role, but he has peers. He doesn't have ultimate authority in the councils of the Communion.

Yet, on Pentecost he issued a "pastoral letter" effectively claiming authority over the membership of several committees which he clearly does not have. Shortly thereafter, the "Secretary General of the Anglican Communion", who works for the AoC, notified some Americans that they were no longer members of these committees. "Why," you ask? And "where is the blessing, John?" I hope we're getting to it.

Back in 2003, the Reverend Gene Robinson, a partnered gay man living his life openly, became the Bishop of New Hampshire. He was certainly not the first partnered gay man to become a bishop, but was the first to do it honestly. Chaos in the Communion and in the Episcopal Church ensued. In 2006, the Episcopal Church said it would hold off on letting any more gay people become bishops because of all the unhappiness it caused. By 2009, the reactions of some other parts of the Communion made it clear that unless the Episcopal Church set itself on fire and burned to the ground, no love could be felt towards us any longer. So, in 2009, the Episcopal Church decided that it would resume choosing bishops based on our normal process, which does not prohibit gay people from holding the office. Shortly thereafter, the Reverend Mary Glasspool, an out lesbian, became the suffragan bishop of Los Angeles. The AoC's "Pentecost Power Grab" came quickly, kicking us off of some committees.

Many people are now writing many things about this, though it's not getting as much press as some of the previous saber-rattling we've seen. As each "side" works to defend what it believes is right, we behave badly. Whether we do this because we believe the ends justify the means, or because we are simply careless with our rhetoric, we become hypocrites, engaging in classic double-speak. Like the contradictions found in the Bible we base our arguments upon, we create a mess of a case which is then picked apart by our challengers. The words we write to point out these things to one another are thrown back in our faces.

Aha! As painful as all of this is, it can be a sign of growth. As with all significant growth moments in our lives, birth, adolescence, adult independence, pain is an unavoidable component. Not just a side-effect, mind you, but a vital element in the process. The pain of watching the "train-wreck" of this Pentecost Power Grab brings into focus the fundamental idolatry of making these power structures more important than our work to spread the message of God's love to the world.

Regardless of who wins the law suits over the property, regardless of which meetings we are no longer invited to or choose to stop attending, we still have the same mission. And we can take these political events as a blessing: a reminder that they don't matter *nearly* as much as the work we were called to do: Love God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.

Amen.

Ok, I'll be the cat...

2010-04-10T04:50:00.000-07:00

There I was, calmly testing new apps on the iPad at 12:23am, discovering how easy some things are and how other things mysteriously don't work quite like you'd expect. Bill's out of town, so I stay up later than I should. I got out of bed and looked at his nightstand and found this little critter (click the picture for a bigger version):
It wasn't too upset at seeing me. It popped off the nightstand and ran under the bed. I'm thinking, "Where are our cats???" The mouse appeared on my side of the bed and started crawling up the bedpost. Completely aware of my presence and yet entirely unconcerned, he jumped back down to the floor and scurried down the hall and into the office. I set out to find our cats.

It was a cool night, the first in a while, so the cats are almost certainly nestled on Doug's bed where the electric blanket is probably on. So, no cats. Maybe they'll get the mouse later. Maybe it won't return to harass me as I sleep. Maybe I could find it in the office. Yeah, right. (The nightstand above is pristine in comparison.)

I walked back into the bedroom, only to find the mouse had returned while I was looking for the felines. It was at the fireplace and looked at me as if to ask, "Will you please go to bed and turn out the lights so I can forage in peace and quiet?"

Ok, I'll be the cat. Hanging on the firewood carrier were the brand new work gloves I bought a couple of weeks ago. Popped those apart, covered my paws and set to work.

Mice have really amazing feet. At least this one did. Spiderman-like, it ran up the smooth brass rod in the center of the fireplace tool set. Near the top, we had a bit of cat and mouse before I decided to learn from the cats' mistake. They frequently give their prey a little too much freedom during this stage of the process and end up losing their catch. Remembering this, I dove in and trapped our little visitor between my palms, the upper portion of its body sticking up out of my grasp. Victory! It was trapped but alive.

Opening the locked front door with just my fingertips without releasing it was tricky, but eventually doable. In the yard I made an offer to the mouse before I released it: I would keep the cats inside in exchange for it staying outside. It seemed like a win-win to me.

As far as I know, it took me up on the deal.

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T05:17:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to church today.

I went last night -- to the Great Vigil of Easter at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Liturgically, it is the most significant service in the church calendar. And we pack it full. Darkness, light, fire, water, silence, noise. Singing, praying, listening, learning, baptizing, confirming, receiving, reaffirming, communing. And in it all, loving.

It was, like Jesus, human and divine, and all about the love.

It had its human moments. There was the chaos of where to put the reserved seating for the confirmand's friends, and the scurrying about of the vergers as they handled aspects of the evening that were unexpected. The incredible pain inflicted by the "chairs" we were sitting on and the shriek of the chorister who set her hair on fire with her candle. (We paused while she was tended to. She was fine.) All in all, the event was messy and human, to say the least.

Oh, but how divine! The space lends itself to awe. The choir's offerings were inspiring, as was the gusto with which the congregation filled the space with sound. For a nearly 3-hour service everyone was there because they truly, truly wanted to be there. Worshiping in love, joy, and awe. That was divine.

Bill's ex, David, was confirmed. We sat with his other friends: a small family of love and support for this man whose relationship to God and the church is growing stronger. The hugs were strong, the love they expressed is real.

After the reception, we headed out in the dark towards the subway station. A young woman asked to join us for the protection of walking in a group late at night. An actress, originally from Texas returned to NY via LA, now living in Queens and falling in love with the welcoming congregation at the Cathedral. She was born the 5th child in a Roman Catholic family, and her mother had decided by that point to not impose her religion on her daughter. What she did, though, was raise her to love others, do good, and find her way. Our companion wasn't sure how her relationship to the church would proceed. She might not ever choose to be baptized, but she was loving the welcome at the Cathedral and was traveling all the way from Queens to be a part of it.

What is she finding? God's love.

Amen. Happy Easter!

No power & still blessed

2010-02-27T09:05:00.000-08:00

The "Snowicane" came in on Thursday. I stayed home and shoveled the first layer of slush that fell. The power went out at 8pm as Bill, Doug and I sat down to dinner. A branch could no longer support the weight of the snow and snapped our power line as it fell. We lit some candles, called ConEd, and sat and ate dinner. We already had fires going in both fireplaces.

With Verizon FiOS, you get to keep your phones for the amount of time the battery backup lasts, but they cut the internet immediately, presumably to save power for the phones. I thought they told me the phones would last for about 8 hours. They made it about 3.5 hours. So, no power, no high-speed internet, now no phones. Just candles and a fireplace and a warm room and family. Not so bad.

No Internet? NO WAY! I can connect through my cell-phone, though it's slow, but I tweeted and facebooked and everyone who watches those things saw all of that. Friends immediately offered to house us, but we weren't worried about one night. Friday morning everyone else in the surrounding communities had lost power. Most got it back within a few hours. There are some neighborhoods that are still waiting, though.

Forty hours later, ConEd has informed us that they estimate our power will not be reconnected until Tuesday evening at 11pm. Yikes!

We've had more offers of places to stay. Thanks to all of you that could offer. We considered buying or borrowing a generator (Thanks, Lou!). We eventually decided that we'd be fine without it. We've got plenty of firewood to keep the bedroom warm. The kitchen stove and hot water are gas, so we can feed and wash ourselves. It's warm enough outside that the unheated parts of the house are staying above 50F, but still cool enough outside that we can refrigerate food in coolers in the snow.

The fridge is empty and Bill is enjoying the opportunity to give it a good deep clean. We're planning meals for the next few days based on eating up the things from the freezer in order of their longevity. We waited too long for the ice cream bars, unfortunately. Should have had those last night.

At the moment, the snow is melting off of the trees and it's almost 40 outside. I've wired our FiOS up to the car inverter so we have some high speed internet when we want to run it.

So, we're going to camp out here at the house. Nice fireplace, occasional internet, nice food we *have* to eat. Not a bad lot, all-in-all. Pretty soon, we're going to *have* to open that champagne...

Cats want Options

2010-02-21T05:00:00.000-08:00

For those of you with cats, this is a well rehearsed scene: The cat sits near a closed door, alternately pointing its little cat-eyes at the door, then at you, then at the door, etc. The message is clear: "I want to go through the door." So you open the door. The cat looks at the new opening, and doesn't move. It now has options, which in fact seems to have been its only goal from the start.

Doors are a favorite target, but this happens with ice from our ice dispenser ("please drop that onto the floor so I can have the option of ignoring it close up") and with food from the table (same message).

We are blessed with two great cats. They keep Doug company when we're away. They snuggle up to all of us equally. They have their favorite spots and their routines, which they happily adapt as we shift the environment occasionally. They greet our adult guests enthusiastically, but take a bit longer to warm up to the kids. They love anyone wearing a fragrance, and will gladly shed on both the allergic and the immune in equal measure. Doug has the best description, "They are the most canine cats I've ever met."

Until you get to the "Options" thing. Dogs will just go through the door, eat the food from the table, or lick the ice on the floor. Cats just want the option.

Routine Thankfulness

2009-12-22T03:13:00.000-08:00

Standing at the kitchen sink, I take vitamins every morning as part of my “morning routine.” As I stood there this morning, I gazed out the window absentmindedly until something caught my eye. In the garden, sticking up out of the snow on a thin metal rod, is what remains of a colorful ladybug lawn ornament. Designed to catch the wind, the ladybug’s wings were spinning briskly. “Looks windy,” I thought, “good thing I don’t have far to walk.” I thought about checking the thermometer then, but didn’t. I finished my preparations and headed out the door.

In the car, the “outside temperature” sensor has been misbehaving. It’s a $30 part with a $800 estimate on labor to install it. So for now, we will suffer its wild readings. At any moment it can suddenly decide to plummet to -58F, or just slide from the correct reading down to any lower number, then back up. When it just sits at one number, that’s usually the correct reading.

Five degrees Fahrenheit. It stayed there as I drove down towards the train station. I prayed, “Thank you, Lord, for the heat in my house. Thank you, Lord, for our house, and the resources to buy heat. Thank you Lord, for our jobs which pay us what we need to survive when it’s 5F and windy. We are truly blessed.” And I thought about the people I know who are homeless, praying they found “room at the inn” somewhere.

I’m going to make this prayer part of my morning routine.

My Marriage

2009-11-06T18:14:00.000-08:00

I've posted here before about the fact that I am married. Someone recently asked me, "what's marriage for?"

Marriage can be different things for different people. For some people, marriage can simply be a way of feigning "respectability" when someone becomes unexpectedly pregnant. For others, it is about getting access to citizenship in a different country, or avoiding being alone. There are over 1,000 various legal benefits conferred upon married (as opposed to unmarried) couples. Some of these are financial and have material impact on my earnings. Others are not monetary but are even more important emotionally.

If you still have your copy of the program from our "Blessing Ceremony", you'll see how I expressed my vow to Bill (and he expressed his to me):

"With God's help, I John, joined my life with yours, to share my joys and sorrows, to comfort and succor in sickness and in health, to strengthen and guide, to walk on a spiritual journey in this life until we meet again in the heavenly kingdom. Today I reaffirm that solemn vow and pledge my life to our union."

Fundamentally, I think marriage is about not being selfish anymore. I think that humanity's highest achievements come when selfishness takes a back seat to a sense of care and concern for others. I think the vow of marriage, to care for another in sickness and in health etc, provides one of the most productive environments possible for the subjugation of selfishness. Not the subjugation of self, but selfishness.

So must everyone get married? Let's ask "must everyone procreate?" Enough people are straight and breed that we can safely assume that we won't die-off as a species as a result of failure to reproduce. So a certain percentage of the population doesn't reproduce; they add to the world in different ways. In the same way, marriage may be the crucible in which certain parts of human progress are formed. But not everyone is meant for marriage; they provide other parts of the story.

Overall though, I think we recognize the value to our society of partnerships and commitment to another. We legally bless marriages to reinforce this recognition, but marriage isn't just about legal benefits. In fact, society reaps the benefits of marriage even when the marriage isn't approved by the government. Bill and I lack federal legal recognition, and there's uncertainty at the state level, yet we are married. I daresay we are more married than my parents were after 18 years. And our families, neighbors, churches and communities benefit from our marriage, even when our governments deny that it exists.

What is marriage for? To me, it's part of the way that I try to make the world a better place.

So if you have a senator who’s against marriage equality, why wouldn’t you call him or her and make your feelings known. Marriage equality will help the entire society, which includes those who don’t even want it to happen. They may vote on this Monday or Tuesday. Call now. Just google new york marriage equality and dig around to find your senator.

Yuk Yuk Yuk

2009-10-03T08:19:00.000-07:00

Ah, the muse. Whenever and wherever it takes me, if it takes me at all, is always interesting. At the moment, I’m on a train into the city. I have some work to take care of in the office before I leave for a week in New Hampshire. And for some reason, as I flipped around between various applications on my laptop, waiting for the muse to arrive, this phrase, "Yuk Yuk Yuk" popped into my head. Ah, Muse! There you are!

Is it a guffaw? Perhaps just a hearty laugh? Or maybe a sarcastic response along the lines of “um, yeah, that’s SO funny”? It’s certainly not something I think I’ve heard a lot recently. In my head, at the moment anyway, it shows up as a warm, good-natured feeling. I’m feeling kind to all my fellow passengers. I even managed to avoid bitterness towards the conductors. (They did an unnecessarily snarky thing with the doors as I was sprinting down the platform towards them.)

Yet this word “yuk” when not repeated expresses moderate disgust.Or sometimes worse.: I remember “Mr. Yuk” the poison safety sticker parents were supposed to use to keep kids from drinking household cleaners. But we can take the word, double or triple it, wrap it in a cultural context, and invert its meaning. Life is wonderful, no?

So, have a great day! Yuk it up, if you get the chance!

Death is a blessing

2009-09-21T15:32:00.001-07:00

I’ve written about going to good funerals before. I’ve written about how a good funeral can be the most amazing experience. It can remind one to live, love, be closer to God, etc. Even when the death is a tragic one, like last week when brain cancer took the life of a 21-year-old man just starting his adulthood, God can work miracles of love and redemption in our hearts as we cope with the realities.

Sometimes, it isn’t a person who dies, but an organization or a part of our lives. We can cherish and come to depend upon these things almost as much as people. I’ve been a part of spontaneous rituals (weekly Sunday Dinner with friends) that drew people together in loving relationships, but eventually were abandoned. We loved the memories we had from Sunday Dinner. We were proud of the institution we had founded and the ways in which it helped people. We were sad to see it go.

But it’s just a thing. Fleeting by its very nature. Institutions, works of art, entire cultures have existed, been beautiful, and died, all before we were born. The ones we are experiencing now in our lives may do the same. The work of finding the blessing is to find the new beauty around us. When the leaves have all fallen and died, to see the beauty of the snowflakes. When the beautiful snow has turned to brown mud, to see the beauty of the first shoots of spring growth.

This doesn’t mean we ignore the past; studying the past can be a thrilling endeavor. But to live into our humanity, we should be studying the past to better appreciate the present and shape the future. To realize our potential, we have to look around us and then look forward.

Take a deep breath, and ask yourself, “What do I see?”

Tuesday Morning

2009-09-12T12:59:00.000-07:00

Rob gave me a starting point, and for that I am thankful. I've been trying to write this reflection for some time, but it has been very busy at work. Which reminds me: I'm thankful to have work.

I arrived at the 27th floor of 39 Broadway at about 8am that morning. It was cool outside so I had my window slightly open to let some fresh air in. The first plane hit at 8:46. As I recall, the lights blinked and there was a noticeable noise, so I figured a transformer had blown somewhere nearby. Life continued as normal... for about 3 more minutes.

There were only a handful of us at work by then, and it was at that point that the first couple of people came by my office to find out if I had "heard". "Heard what?" "A plane hit one of the Trade Center Towers." We went to open other windows and look out. We could see the north tower burning.

We had an office in the suburbs also, and that is where my husband was working that day. We were having issues sending email from the Wall St. site. I went back to my desk, called him on the phone and asked him to send an email to the rest of the company: "The Wall Street office may be opening later than normal due to some emergency activity in the area." While I was on the phone with him, it became 9:03am. The second plane hit.

This one was different... closer... Some of our employees were leaning out of the windows watching the north tower burn and saw the second plane fly into the south tower. While on the phone with Bill, I heard the jet engines roar by, and felt our building shake as the jet fuel exploded. Until that moment, we had been unsure of how the first plane had come to strike the north tower. We didn't know if it was an errant private 2-seater or a jumbo jet. When the second plane struck, our world changed.

I told Bill I'd call him back and went to the windows where stunned colleagues were watching both towers burn. I called Bill back from a nearby phone immediately and told him.

My first concern was the team's safety. I imagined the situation on the streets to be chaotic and that it would be safer remaining in the building. As several people began to experience their own panic associated with friends or loved-ones who were much nearer the WTC, it became clear that we didn't really have a plan for this.

I looked out the window and down to the street to find the street devoid of traffic and devoid of chaos. I had increasing chaos in the office on the 27th floor, and calm in the streets. I said, "everybody go home." and we all left. I made a final call to Bill requesting another email: "The Wall St. office will be closed today." Some went home, others went towards the WTC to try to locate their friends.

I was expecting the Wall St. subway station would be mobbed. Instead, a large crowd of people was assembled in the intersection of Broadway and Rector, where the presence of Trinity Church's cemetary provided an unobstructed view of the towers burning. I went down into the subway station.

On the subway platform, everything looked normal: there were a typical number of people waiting for the train and nobody was hysterical. But something immediately struck me.

Strangers were talking to one another. "What did you hear?" "Do you know what it was?" The subway train arrived at 9:15. At 9:30 I was in Grand Central Terminal. I was on a 9:50 commuter train out to Pleasantville. It's a 10-minute ride through the tunnel under Park Avenue. Again, everyone was talking to one another. Cell phones were pretty worthless in the tunnel at that time, but we were all sharing the information we had. As we emerged from the tunnel, anyone who got a call out to someone immediately drew a crowd in the train car and relayed information to us.

A tower collapsed. Other planes are involved. The pentagon's been hit.

I made it safely to our outlying office. We began a concerted effort to locate all of the employees normally expected to be in the Wall St. office. We also began to copy source code repositories over to our London office. That ended at 5:20pm when 7 World Trade collapsed and destroyed the underground power station.

I was conflicted during the day. We needed to focus on finding everyone and making plans, and that's what we did. But I wanted to go home, watch TV and find out what was going on. I probably wanted to feel safe again.

PTSD surprised me. For about 6 to 9 months, I had involuntary adrenaline surges triggered by any sudden noise. Low flying aircraft bothered me for about 2 years. The widespread power failure in August of 2003 evoked fear of terrorists attacking our infrastructure. The night the cat knocked the lamp off of the dresser brought Bill and I both out of our slumber screaming in fear of our lives. I dreamed frequently of needing to load everything into a car and abandon our house to escape to New Hampshire because NY was under attack again. Wide awake, I would find myself making these plans; going through the steps, planning the routes to take.

Things are different now. NYC Local Law 26 requires that our office building constructs and files an Emergency Action Plan, separate from standard fire evacuation procedures. Tenants must select EAP Wardens for training. Many of the requirements come specifically from lessons learned on that Tuesday. People who were not there roll their eyes when they sit through these training sessions, or when they go through the semi-annual "stairwell familiarization drills". I point out to them that if we had been this organized on 9/11, lots more people would have made it out alive.

Our friends lost friends. Many people we knew, like Rob, had plans to be in or near the Trade Center that morning, but were detained elsewhere by traffic delays, broken alarm clocks, and other seemingly random events. Blessings in disguise.

That’s one of the reasons I write this blog. Which I realize I haven’t added anything to in a long time. The blessing of my job kept me pretty buried throughout July and I was trying to recuperate during August. Well, September is back. Work is still crazy, but EfM starts up again and “nine eleven” is a great reason to take a deep breath and thank God for all of the blessings in our lives.

Peace.

Wipe your feet

2009-08-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

One of the local bears tracked muddy footprints onto the fresh pavement near Doug's cabin in NH.

I was thinking about preparing myself for worship this morning and looking at the pictures I had on my camera. We were brought up to wipe our feet before coming inside so that we didn't track mid all over the house. In a way, we prepared ourselves to enter the clean house.

In preparing to be in God's house, in one sense we can't wipe ourselves clean. God has done that for us. In another sense, though, there are things that we *can* try to leave behind as we begin worship. We can let go of our expectations of God. We can let go of our grievances with others. We can let go of our feelings of inadequacy. These are the things that we can wipe off of us at the door of the church.

And if we find them too firmly adhered to remove by ourselves, we just pass through the doors. Take a seat and let God know. I usually find that he can handle whatever I need to let him take care of.

Vacation Blessings

2009-06-30T04:17:00.000-07:00

I have work to do right now, but this entry needed to be written. So, work can wait for a moment.

We just returned from a week of vacation on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. As I write this, I am riding the train to my second full day of work since coming home. Out the window, a calm morning mist, lit by the first orange rays of the sunrise, covers the smooth waters of the Hudson River.

The vacation trip wasn’t without its bumpy spots: the spiral staircase that everyone had to hit their head on at least once, the pain of overexposure to sun or alcohol, the traffic we all sat in on our rides home.

But it was a remarkable and wonderful experience. The next generation is entering adulthood. They went off by themselves on shopping trips, fishing trips and errands. They made good use of the video games they brought; yet they still gathered around the table for boisterous games of Yahtzee in memory of Grandma Enid. We all ate, drank, and played in a fairly low-key mode for the entire time. At least that’s how it felt to me.

Remarkably, the feeling I’m left with now, after a day back at work in NYC, is one of deep thankfulness. I’m thankful for the blessing of time and the resources to enjoy it.

On the final night of our vacation, we went out to dinner. When we returned to the beach house, the setting sun hit a departing thunderstorm and put an entire rainbow in the sky over the ocean. For the first time in any of our lives, from ages 14 to 50, we were able to see from one end of the rainbow to the other. Though it wouldn’t fit in a single frame on anyone’s camera, we stood on the deck taking pictures and appreciating the special ending to a great week.

Thanks, God.

Serious remissness

2009-05-19T05:14:00.001-07:00

Sorry. I've been seriously remiss in blogging. I've started a couple of entries, but I don't like to publish stuff I haven't given a good bit of attention to, and my schedule has made that kind of focused editing difficult to do.

But, I will use this space, briefly, to toss another nod over to my good friend, bpo. bpo lives in Israel and the Pope was making a visit there last week. Here's a bit from bpo's blog:

The pope is in town. I thought he came to see Depeche Mode - that they're still performing is some sort of miracle. He went to visit the "Wall", and not just the one in Jerusalem. No, he went to visit the security barrier where he told us "it's tragic" seeing walls being erected. It is. But Dude! Don't you think that the whole anti abortion, anti gay marriage, anti birth control, anti ordination of women thing is like a wall between you and the real world? When are you going to tear that down? And those guys are not even trying to blow you up on buses.

Go Pete!

Bryant park

2009-04-27T14:01:00.001-07:00

The lawn is open.

Good morning, gender.

2009-04-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

On my vary quick ride down the hill to the train station this morning, the song "We are Family" was playing on the car radio. I was drawn into thoughts of Drag Queens, "Gay Anthems", and the line "I got all my sisters with me." After that, it was a short mental jump to thoughts of how some gay men give each other feminine names when camping it up. Then given my natural tendencies towards intellectual exercise, I was awash in gender thinking.

Perhaps nothing is more fundamental to how we view ourselves than our gender. It is one of the most powerful human forces in existence, regularly being used to elevate, subjugate, celebrate, ridicule and entertain. But like Peter Parker learns in "Spiderman," "With great power comes great responsibility." Unfortunately, we rarely take that responsibility seriously.

As our culture and society develops, we are learning that gender is far from a binary condition. One doesn't even have to tap into the breadth of gender experience provided by the homosexual community to think of effeminate men or masculine women. Yet even using those adjectives implies a false black-and-white distinction in a true reality that is the full spectrum of colors.

In the same way that television was black-and-white for years, we have been living in a reality of reduced richness. Our notions of gender, rather than being constrained to two-color comparisons, should find expression in something more like a color wheel: no "ends" or "corners", just infinite variation. Then we won't have to feel so bound to think of everyone else as "man" or "woman", or think of ourselves in that way, either.

This is just the tiniest tip of the gender issues iceberg, of course. But I wanted to take a moment to thank God for the blessing of gender: the differences, the variety, the craziness, the joy, the infinity of our Creator expressed in the infinite variety of the creation.

IMG00289.jpg

2009-04-18T06:59:00.000-07:00

Spring has sprung. The first blessings of today are the happy fragrance and beautiful colors of spring.

Wearin o the green

2009-03-17T16:11:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patty's Day! While the pseudo-Irish were busy greening the streets of the city, some people were hard at work greening my park.

The grass for Bryant Park's lawn arrived last night from Long Island. The dirt has been ready for almost a week; I've been ready for a bit longer. The fork lifts started at about 6am and the entire lawn was laid by 6pm.

Though I am half Irish, and I love a good excuse to party as much as anyone, my favorite green today was this:

Victory

2009-03-07T08:51:00.000-08:00

A reflection in images that came to me while participating in the Landmark churches quiet day, Finding Calm in the Storm:

The scene opens with a foreboding, large clock face.
People surround it. It towers over the people, who worship it blindly.Jesus cries to see people enslaved by this worship of deadlines and "productivity". The people are not conscious; they are empty. But, slowly, green things grow up from the ground. A little plant sprouts.

The plant grows, fed by God's blessings of sun, rain, and earth. It grows into an ivy that attaches itself to the clock tower. It spreads and spreads, digging its roots into the stone...
It obliterates the clock and destroys the tower. The people are freed from their slavery to the clock by the slow yet deliberate gifts of God that are found in nature all around them.

Feed your plants.
-J.

Photo Credits in order:
James Christie, http://www.flickr.com/photos/ukjc/
Sonja Pixie Tierney, http://sonjatierney.com/?tag=worship
Tico Bassie, http://mindpetals.com/the-force-of-life-is-in-the-seed/
GreyArea, http://www.flickr.com/photos/34427465501@N01/162292

Poisoning pigeons in the park

2009-03-05T13:55:00.000-08:00

Some of you may recognize the Tom Lerher song title. If you don't, I recommend that you go on "the google". I, of course, have no desire to exterminate the pigeons, regardless of how obnoxious they are. But then one hasn't shat on my nose in quite some time.

I mention the song only because it starts out with "spring is here. Ah, spring is here.". Today, leaving work with the sun still up and in 40 F made a lot of New Yorkers think of the impending spring. What a wonderful blessing the upcoming spring will be!

-J.

Bryant Park Fountain Ice

2009-03-03T16:28:00.000-08:00

I took this picture a few weeks ago as I was passing through Bryant Park on my way home.

I found out today at my mandatory "Emergency Action Plan" training session that Bryant Park is one of the two "pre-designated" assembly areas should a building evacuation occur. Since I am the EAP warden for my company, I have to know these things. Mandatory EAPs are the law in post-911 New York.

I did flashback to that Tuesday morning a number of times during the rather uninspiring presentation. As a result of my proximity to the Trade Center that morning, I may have had a deeper appreciation of the goals of the EAP exercise than many of my classmates. Though admittedly, I'm not sure how likely a direct terrorist attack is against 575 8th Ave.

Still, perhaps my relationship to that day is responsible for my current mood. When I woke up this morning, I was pretty depressed, quite frankly. At the moment, even on a crowded train blogging from my phone, I'm kinda happy.

After all, I am still alive. There is great wonder in the world yet to be experienced, like the unexpected joy of finding the Bryant Park fountain turned into a kinetic ice sculpture. Those are blessings to be thankful for.

Immunity

2009-02-25T08:46:00.000-08:00

Today I'm thankful for immune systems. I've had a bit of a cold for the last couple of days, and it's messed with my scheduled commitments, work, church, etc. But if I didn't have an immune system, I suspect something like this would kill me quickly. So, while I'm coughing up euphemisms, I'm reminding myself that I'm alive.

The sky is blue. The sun is shining. Spring will be here shortly. There is much to be thankful for.

Regularity

2009-02-17T02:50:00.000-08:00

Well, it's time for my semi-annual experience of Mercedes Fashion Week. You know, that lovely time twice a year when the fashion industry gathers like a flock of migrating geese and craps all over Bryant Park. See my guest spot on Peter's blog from last fall.

But my blog isn't dedicated to the art of the perfectly entertaining kvetch. Instead, I try to look at the blessings in my life. How do they inspire me?

So, to start with, let's begin with the inspirational image:
This is a box, about 6 feet long, 3 feet wide, and maybe 2.5 feet tall. It's wrapped in black plastic garbage bags and red duct tape. It sits beneath one of the Fashion Week "command trailers" and has several large diameter white PVC pipes leading into it. Yes, friends, this is where the people who work for the fashion show store their crap. I'm sure it fills daily and must be emptied by somebody.

I think we like to keep the nastier parts of ourselves hidden away. We like to pretend that we don't have these parts of ourselves. But even if we manage to contain them as neatly as they do in the image above, someone still has to deal with it eventually. Our spouses, our friends and neighbors, perhaps. And we, in turn, have to deal with others' buried "issues".

Personally, perhaps the blessing of this season's Fashion Week can be a simple reminder to me to acknowledge and deal with those parts of me I'd normally like to pretend aren't there. Maybe that resonates with you, or maybe Fashion Week can be a blessing in a different way.

-J.

I cry in gratitude

2009-02-11T02:12:00.000-08:00

Before you read the rest of this post, close your eyes and count slowly to 10 and while counting, think about how much you are loved. Go ahead, do it now: bask in that love; I'll wait.

I am now old enough to have been through a number of funerals for family members, friends and even folks I had never met. Some were great, some were weird. To use a travel metaphor, funerals can be experienced like "international border crossings" in our faith life: they can bring us directly to a contemplation about what we believe is the next step in our journey.

Funerals can be loaded with other things: drama from the estranged children, the distracting malfunction of the wireless mic, or the consuming focus on "how can I help" or "what can I do"? But they can also be a time to examine what "country" you are a "citizen" of, and what that citizenship means to you.

As you enter a foreign country, you touch your citizenship. You hold your passport and someone examines what country you claim as "home". You then look around and compare where you are with where you're from. "Wow! What cool cafés/mountains/farms/buildings/trees! We don't have those back home!" You become more conscious of the place you call Home than you are when you're actually there.

Returning to your home, you have a related experience. You again touch your citizenship as you pass through immigration and then think "Wow! I really missed the cafés/mountains/farms/buildings/trees we have here." Even if you are a dual citizen or have traveled enough to be reasonably comfortable in both places, you still experience your citizenship and the differences between Home and Away.

For me, anyway, funerals are like that. We gather to "see someone off", to thank them and God for the time they've spent with us. But I also find myself focused on that "border crossing". I remember that I am also, hopefully even more so, a citizen of that other place, and I feel a longing to go Home. And while I make my home here for now, and struggle and live and work and love life joyfully, I look forward to that time when I get to go Home.

Welcome Home, Mother Bonnie. I cry tears of joy for you and for all the wonder you've brought into all our lives in the short time we've known you. We'll be along Home shortly.

Mother Bonnie Shullenberger
(1948-2009)

Omnes quae tango factus est merdam

2009-01-29T05:54:00.000-08:00

I like to focus on blessings. Positive things. In the world we live in, I think it's easy to get dejected, so I "gird my loins", as it were, with a conscious effort to focus on giving thanks. So today, I will be thankful for humor. And also thankful that yesterday is now, finally, over.

"Omnes quae tango factus est merdam" is Latin for everything I touch turns to sh*t (thanks to John Cunyus for the correct translation). This is the phrase that settled rather unavoidably in my mind as yesterday progressed. Actually, I think perhaps "de-gressed" might be a better way to describe the day's trajectory.

In fact, it started out reasonably well. It was snowing, so I decided to work from home. I made a mostly-egg-white omelet with jalepeño, garlic, pepperoni and cheese that I managed to flip in the air without a single blemish. It was delicious. Then I managed to make sure the office alarm wasn't tripped by employees without a code. I made plans to do laundry and make a couple of bean soups (lots of time where the beans just soak) while I worked. The snow turned to sleet, and I figured I'd trust the forecast that it was going to turn back to snow. I planned to go out after lunch and use the snowblower to clear the driveway. Bill would be arriving at the train station after 11pm, and I'd need to get out at that point. The "best laid plans..." as they say.

My morning was spent in choruses of "I can't login to my email. No wait, now I can. What did you do? (I'm thinking: 'Nothing, as usual'...)" so lunch time arrived quickly. Beans were soaking, laundry running; I heated some leftover turkey casserole to sate my hunger. Back to work in time for my 2pm conference call.... during which I discover that our Boston office is completely cut off: no internet or phone. Ditch the con-call and get otp with my team (who did a great job all day, btw), do quick triage and get verizon on the phone. Make contact w/ Boston via cell phones, start assessing situation at their end. Crap, the beans need draining. What? Verizon? Yeah, tell 'em it's down (drain the beans, move the laundry). It's raining outside, I should run the snowblower, but Boston is off-line and I need to find a way to resolve that. On a con-call walking non-technical folks in Boston through steps to get us some back-door access. Verizon says nothing's wrong but the line is still down. Got to start cooking the soup. It's getting dark outside, the driveway is now covered in several inches of wet snow and it's still raining. Finally get access to Boston equipment and get Verizon back on the line. Verizon again says nothing's wrong so we reset the line for the Nth time and it comes back up. Now we have to decide what to do with it (have them test it or leave it alone), and I've got to shut off the beans, chop the onions, add the ham and try to decide what risks to take with the Boston circuit at 6pm at night. I'll do the driveway later, in the dark; Bill's not arriving until after 11pm. I go to move the laundry but the laundry room is dark and the lights don't work. The breaker is tripped. Diagnosis of this issue leads me to discover the washing machine is now broken.

Putting the laundry out of my mind, and deciding to risk letting the Boston folks go home and that the link will stay up, I sit down and have a bowl of one of the two soups at about 8pm. The other one needs pureeing still, but I'll worry about that later. Out to the driveway to try to clear it with the snowblower.

Have I mentioned that I'm not the one who runs the snowblower? I mean never. Bill loves it and we love him for loving it. It won't start. Needs gas. Found that (in the dark), spilled it all over the machine (in the dark), and got some in the tank (in the dark). Have I mentioned that it was dark? Oh, and windy. At least it wasn't too cold, probably 35 F.

Finally got the snowblower running only to discover that the snow was too soggy to pass through the machine. It would only clog up in the exit chute. Snowblowing operation now officially a complete failure. Dig a path for water to run to our drains and pray it doesn't get too cold later. I think I'll go back inside and puree the black bean soup.

Yes, you already know what's going to happen now, don't you? I'll spare you the details. With the day going as it had, I should have just gone to bed. As I cleaned the soup off the Cuisinart and the counter and everything else, Doug and I just laughed.

-J.

Nobody reads this

2009-01-18T18:44:00.000-08:00

People blog about many things. My blog is about blessings. Today, there were many.

We planned a slide show and presentation at church today. The three youth who went on the RiverBuild trip with us were scheduled to talk about their experiences. It snowed heavily and we typically don't get may people to show up on such a day. We had a great crowd.

The plan was to run some random slides from the trip while the guys talked about their experiences, but the Holy Spirit was in charge. Jason started talking as I started the slide show. He, Edward and Stephen were unable to see the screen; they just started describing their impressions from the trip as the slide show ran.

As Jason mentioned the sleeping quarters, the slide show arrived at that picture. As Edward mentioned the meals we shared together, the mess hall slides appeared. When Stephen talked of learning how to build a steel frame house, the pictures of us working with the steel frame sections came on the screen. If you had tried to coordinate a script with the slide show, you could not have made it match this well. It was entirely the work of the spirit.

After church and the vestry meeting, I left for Boston. The snow stopped for the duration of my drive, and conditions were relatively easy on the drive. I've arrived in Boston safely.

Now it's time to sample the blessing of rest.
-J.

Back at it

2009-01-05T05:43:00.001-08:00

The holidays are over. The mission trip is done. Coming up now are performance reviews, budget spreadsheets, annual reports and meetings, office relocation planning and audits.

Somehow in the midst of all the busy-ness, I will try to remain mindful of the blessings in my life. The list is truely endless when I stop to think about it for a moment.

At my job, I work with some really great folks. I met some wonderfully fun, generous, and endearingly quirky people on the mission trip. I have a great family and pretty good health.

I think I may just smile a bit more than usual today.

-J.

Stay Tuned

2009-01-03T15:34:00.000-08:00

I've only got a few minutes to type. I've been in the city doing maintenance on my computers at work most of the day. I've been updating www.riverbuild.org with links to the various newspaper and TV stories people have alerted me to. I've started a facebook group for the RiverBuild gang called "riverbuild" to host discussions and sharings for the future. I'll try to put together a set of links to my blog postings that are ordered by time, since I know it's kinda wierd to try to read things from start to finish when the blogging system tries to get you to read the most recent stuff first. And I've finished making notes on my pictures and will upload them to my facebook album tonight.

Bill is planning to combine photos from lots of folks into a DVD / web video which we'll share broadly. And I'll post some final RiverBuild thoughts when I have some quiet time in the next few days.

Peace,
-J.

Miller time

2009-01-01T14:17:00.000-08:00

We're done here. Time for a final shower and a beer or two.
We got the rest of the main roof trusses up. The front and back gables still didn't fit right so the next batch of volunteers will need to work with the steel guys to sort that out.

roof discussion.jpg

2009-01-01T04:34:00.000-08:00

Colin taught us well enough that we were able to keep building while he figured out the next phase. While we were finishing up the wall sections on day 4, he and Travis worked to decipher the roof plan. As you already saw, we were able to sort it out enough to get going on the roof on day 5 (yesterday).

We're about half way done with the roof and really hope to get it almost completely finished today.

so far, no major injuries. Minor scrapes, bruises and the like. Gloves and boots are critical, but sometimes the job requires even more. Charlotte was on a project that involved crawling in an attic. The roofing nails sticking out above her head were a hazard to say the least. So she MADE a hardhat! She found a dogfood bowl, inverted it and taped it onto her head. I hope there are pictures of that!!!

Ty's truck

2009-01-01T04:23:00.001-08:00

I promised pictures of this.

One of our fearless leaders was apparently a little too fearless in his parking operation. As he tried to leave, the back tire began to spin slightly and that was all it took. Gravity took advantage of the slope, lack of friction and the weight of the truck and you can see the result.

The front loader came from a nearby quarry. Kathleen drove over to the quarry and sweet-talked the crew into sending this beast over to help out.

The rest of us took a bunch of pictures and got back to putting the house together.

midday day 4.jpg

2009-01-01T04:21:00.000-08:00

This is about midday on day 4. Colin, our crew chief, trims off some excess sub-floor, more of the crew secures the most recently added section, and a few of the steel guys observe or work on figuring out why certain parts were missing.

Dorothy dancing

2008-12-31T16:49:00.000-08:00

The dancing instructor shows Dorothy some moves before dinner.

Day 5

2008-12-31T07:43:00.001-08:00

Roof

2008-12-30T19:15:00.000-08:00

So, after we had the conversation with Travis regarding the correct numbered parts and where they were supposed to go on the plans, we boogied on over to the worksite and began to get ourselves organized.

Jon Bernz & his team worked on the front deck while the rest of the team worked on erecting the wall sections.

Stephen Belcher, Dorothee & Sean Caulfield and I worked on organizing the stacks of parts according to what the erecting team would need next. We identified two pieces that were missing and one part that was the wrong size. The team from the "plant" "called it in" and they began re-building those sections today and will bring them tomorrow. In the meantime we were able to build almost the entire wall-plan. This gave us an incredible sense of accomplishment.

I haven't been able to be able to organize all of the photos yet, but basically we got the wall sections organized based on what the team would need next. They erected the walls and made sure they were "plumb" and worked forwards from the back of the building.

Everytime the "building" team called for part "X", Stephen and I were already there with the needed wall section. We overcame the mislabeling errors and got the right piece into the system at the right time.

Tomorrow we hope to get the missing wall sections and get the roof on. During the day, Ty got his truck stuck in the ditch and I'll post photos about that later.

Tonight, the local "Chris" from last night fireworks is hosting an oyster party (cooked and raw). We are waiting for some cooked/greasy/food to arrive so we can continue.

Love to you wall,
-J.

-J.

Plans in hand

2008-12-30T06:54:00.001-08:00

Folks back in Mobile worked over night to get the plan snafu fixed. We had a call with them this morning and fixed our copy to match the pieces we have.

So we're on the way to the site to get to work!

Day 4 begins

2008-12-30T04:53:00.000-08:00

Breakfast is being wheeled from the kitchen trailer to the mess hall; I can hear the cart outside.

At the wash & wear house, we finished the joists and put in the sub-floor. At that point we were stuck, since we don't have the plans to match the kit we were sent. The report is that it is the plans that are incorrect, not the kit, so we're supposed to be receiving the correct plans this morning. We all really hope to put this house up!

Up in Lumberton, the demolition crew worked all day, but has another day to go.

Sheetrocking, painting, plumbing and a garage are all going on as well.

breakfast!
-J.

Mystery

2008-12-29T12:21:00.001-08:00

While the floor was being laid, several of us began to sort the pieces. We soon discovered that most of the parts weren't on the map we had and most of the things on the map we can't find in the pile.

Planning

2008-12-29T08:14:00.001-08:00

While work continues in the background, Colin, Kathleen, and the "steel guys" review the plans and decide what we need to pick up at the Lowe's.

Progress

2008-12-29T07:30:00.001-08:00

Beginning of day three at the new house

Rain rain go away

2008-12-29T07:14:00.001-08:00

It rained heavily last night. First one to guess what that does to a dirt worksite wins use of the hip waders.

Ugh!

facebook album

2008-12-29T05:13:00.001-08:00

I organized my first couple of days worth of photos and put them on facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=67919&l=53e98&id=699387820

busy busy busy

2008-12-28T20:21:00.000-08:00

So, you've seen the pictures on earlier posts. Sorry I didn't have the time to type much. I'll try to fill you all in now. I've borrowed Rick's computer for the evening and "found" my way onto the wireless network here.

So, there are several active projects:
1. New house by Katrina Relief. Known as the "wash and wear" house, this is the structure that the Amish volunteers set the pylons for last week. We've been trimming the pylons, setting the floor joists, preparing the decking and transporting materials. There are pictures in earlier posts of us after we loaded the trailer with parts for the house, and then one of the crew after they were done unloading the trailer. The site is pretty muddy, but we have some very experienced construction professionals on this project and they're teaching everyone how to do everything.Their patience is astounding.

The manufacturers of this house are expected to arrive tomorrow so we'll learn much more about its construction then.

2. Taping. There is a project that involves much finish work: taping, painting, etc. I haven't been on this project, but I understand that Michael Aicheson is on this one, so there is nothing to fear.

3. Lumberton Demo: This demolition project began today with cleanout of the structure to be demolished. I drove a crew to the first site this morning, then returned to MOB and brought a crew up to Lumberton, which was just over an hour away. The crew got the house mostly cleared out in preparation for tearing it down. Because it is so far away, we are sending nearly 30 people tomorrow, so that we can get the entire demolition job done in one day. This will prevent us from having to drive back and forth to that site on Tuesday.

There may be other projects that I'm not aware of.

I spent most of the day driving a van, shuttling work crews around. I spent some time with my team at the wash and wear house. I cut some wood and ran the nail gun for a while before I had to return to Lumberton to pick up the demo crew. Tomorrow I will be at the new house the whole day, I think.

We had church on the beach this morning. The pictures don't really capture the beauty of a sunrise Eucharist on the shore. We had spontaneous singing and a great preacher.

Since we don't get bacon & eggs for breakfast, several organizer-types decided we'd get eggs, pancackes, bacon, sausage, etc, for dinner. "breakfast for dinner" we called it.

This evening, someone tripped over a hose faucet that was sticking out of the ground and broke it off. It was directly attached to the main water line in the property. Nobody could take a shower for a while while the town and MOB volunteers tried to coordinates repairs. Nobody could find the main cut-off for the property. In the end, one of the townsfolks broke off a broom handle, whittled it down to fit, and stuffed it into the broken fitting and called it done for the night.

One of the construction pros working on the new house is putting together a time-lapse video when we''re done.

Time for me to go to bed. More tomorrow.
-J.

Church on the beach

2008-12-28T10:51:00.001-08:00

730 am. After this we went to work sites

No time to type

2008-12-28T10:46:00.001-08:00

Just pictures. We're working hard. This is all yesterday.

Sandbagging

2008-12-27T08:13:00.000-08:00

After about an hour of replacing sandbags at the camp, a number of us were loaded into vans to go to a work site.

None of us knew what we were doing but we got busy. The snakes frogs and other bugs living under the old sandbags kept the job interesting!

Off to the next assignment!

Getting organized

2008-12-27T07:16:00.000-08:00

We're all here getting organized.

We're all here

2008-12-26T20:58:00.000-08:00

Two planeloads of riverbuilders have arrived in bay st Louis. I'm in the second batch and we're in the vans on our way to the camp. Everybody's excited about starting the work tomorrow, even though we're not sure what our assignments are going to be.

It's a good-natured group and I'm glad to be a part of it.

What it's going to be like

2008-12-26T08:25:00.001-08:00

This is a picture of what it will be like when I'm blogging from the road. Wish me luck!

The boot picture

2008-12-25T15:34:00.000-08:00

Hopefully I won't forget to attach the picture every time I post...

Getting ready

2008-12-25T15:19:00.001-08:00

This is my first post from my handheld. The picture is of my new boots. Hopefully they'll be tough and tall enough to keep my feet safe and dry in Mississippi.

And on that note, I'll just beg for some indulgences in advance: I'm not taking my computer. I will be doing everything from my blackberry pearl 8110. The camera is good but the keyboard is not full qwerty. So "SureType" is going to be keeping me away from "multitap" as frequently as possible. I expect to be a complete pro by the time I get back, as long as I haven't developed an RSI in my thumbs.

So, many thanks for coming to read snouth our trip. And for those of you who were able to donate to the cause, thank you very much for your support!

-J.

Absence

2008-12-15T02:16:00.000-08:00

Been gone for a while, apologies. Be back soon.
-J.

When I'm an old woman, I shall wear purple

2008-11-01T07:40:00.000-07:00

Today's blessing comes to us in the form of this poem, by Jenny Joseph. Enjoy. -J.

Warning
by Jenny Joseph

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Taken from the book
When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple
Editd by Sandra Martz
Papier Mache Press--Watsonville, California 1987

It Takes All Kinds

2008-10-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

I think today's blessing is variety. I wanted to find a way to thank God for idiots, and I think this is it. If we were all the same, life would be no fun at all. In fact, in a very real sense, there would be no life at all.

Our differences bring many challenges, to be sure. Certainly it can be tough to understand someone who is from a radically different culture. Even if we speak the same language, there are volumes left unspoken and frequently misunderstood.

We have different strengths. Some are inspiring orators; others are compassionate listeners. Some are ebullient and draw you out; others offer mirrors that let you look inside yourself.

If I was the advice-giving type, I'd suggest finding someone who's uncomfortably different from yourself, and find a way to see them as a blessing in your life.

4 out of 5 dentists surveyed...

2008-10-25T18:03:00.000-07:00

As I was walking to work on Friday, I was thinking about what I would count as a blessing for the day. My week had been long and stressful, the city was smelly and disgusting, and I was having difficulty finding something positive to focus on. Then I smiled, because I realized what it was. What blessing had I found to focus on in spite of all the evidence of negativity around me?

Just a smile.

I smile for myself. I smile for those around me. It's not a very safe thing to do in New York City. Generally, carrying a stern look as one walks along the streets of the city is safer. People will get out of your way and generally leave you alone. A smile says "gullibility" and "weakness". A stern look says "power" and "don't mess with me".

I smile for the people I pass. I smile because sometimes I need to see a smile as I walk in Manhattan. I smile because maybe we forget that everyone smiles at some point. And a smile can be the most healing thing.

Um.... What's that smell?

2008-10-16T05:08:00.000-07:00

Today's celebration of blessings comes to us from the "Mysteries of Life" department. "Oh, that's just one of life's little mysteries," we find ourselves saying at times. On my walk from the GCT to the office in the morning, I come across countless mysteries. Too frequently these are the result of the alfresco operation of someone's gastrointestinal system. But there are many less-stomach-turning wonderments to see. I particularly like some of the carvings on some of the older buildings in midtown. I find myself wondering what it would have been like to have lived when those buildings were new.

There is a foundational honesty in our awe and fascination with mystery. Fundamentally, we live in a world of mystery: where did the universe come from? what will happen to me tomorrow? Mystery is a core part of who we are (as far as we can tell, anyway), so wallowing in it can be a very grounding experience.

So, I count as blessings the big mysteries, like "what really happens to my consciousness when I die?" And the the smaller ones, like "ew, what's that smell?". Hopefully I'll remember my positive attitude towards mystery as I get older and have to start dealing with "ow! what did I do to my back??!!"

Sunrise, Sunset

2008-10-14T06:25:00.001-07:00

I look westward. Our home in New York is built into the side of a hill and faces west. Doug's cabin in New Hampshire is similarly situated (the picture here is a New Hampshire sunset). As a result, we see incredible sunsets on a pretty regular basis. In fact, one of the most unhappy things about winter is not being able to get home in time to see the sunset.

But a consequence of living in westward facing houses is that I get to watch very few sunrises. And sunrises can be equally breathtaking. They're usually my favorite moments whenever I'm at the beach. So, in the spirit of finding blessings where I can, I love the fact that the winter days start in the darkness. It gives me time to get up and get going and get out and watch the sunrise.

From the train as we cross from the Bronx into Manhattan, or from the office building where I work. Or just looking eastward down 42nd street. If every day is a gift from God, then the sunrise is, for me, the satin ribbon tied into a bow that adorns the gift before you open it.

Thanks, God.

I haven't snagged a good sunrise picture from my train ride yet, but here's one from a sailing vacation Bill and I took a few years ago.

Train Friends

2008-10-06T04:51:00.000-07:00

Being on the same train nearly every morning is a blessing. Over the years I've called a couple of different trains "home" for my morning commute. The afternoons are more variable for me, owing to the general uncertainty of my workload.

On the "651" that I used to take into the city, there was such a large crowd of us that looked forward to seeing one another that we filled several rows. My first time, I happened to sit amongst this group of friends. Soon I was involved in the conversation. A friend from church boarded at the next stop and I discovered that he was already a part of this group of "train friends". Introductions were made.

There have been barbeques at people's houses and happy hours at city bars. During the transit strike a few years back, it was this group that organized themselves into the needed car-pools. When those occasional transit nightmares hit and the system shuts down midday, cell phones start to buzz about who can help whom get home.

My next-door neighbor takes my "521" train with me in the morning, but we come home (usually) at different times. When my car or his car isn't going to be available, rides are freely shared. In fact, insult is somewhat genuinely taken when one of us discovers that another "didn't want to impose". We like to help each other.

Finally, there are the conductors. I can think of a number of them that I've become familiar with and fond of. Our normal morning conductor is a cheery (at 5:21am!) person who's always ready to joke, tease & laugh with us. Her smile is a fun part of my morning.

So, while in many ways I prefer my summer-time commute from the kitchen to the dining room "office", I am thankful for the blessings of my train friends.

Chaos and Guardian Angels

2008-09-29T04:46:00.000-07:00

I don't generally leave a lot of time in my trip between the house and the train station in the morning for handling unforeseen delays. There's another train after my normal one that's just fine. But I'm usually the only car on the road and if I'm a little behind schedule, I don't always obey the speed limit.

This morning was deer season on my way to the train. I didn't hit any, but it would have been a mess if the deer running along the side of the road had jumped in front of me at the last second. A half-mile later, Bambi and his mother were crossing the road. As I completed this particular level of inverse Frogger, I thanked God for getting me through it safely. Living in my head as usual, I then pondered the concept of Guardian Angels, wondering if I should be thanking them instead. I decided that thanking God probably covered it, regardless of how such good fortune was implemented.

I moved on to making my train, keeping my coffee from spilling while on the train, wondering about the other folks on the train, reading my comics and generally messing with my computer during the ride into the city. I was compelled to write this post because of what I saw on my walk from Grand Central to my office.

It's now rather dark at 6:15 am in Manhattan. I walk across 39th street westward from Madison to 8th. At the 39th street intersection with 6th Ave, the light was green for the 39th street traffic. I was close enough to the intersection to see the man riding his bicycle slowly into the intersection, disobeying the traffic signal, as is the custom with all non-motorized movement in the city. I could also tell from the headlights and the noise that there was a cab on 39th racing towards the intersection so that he could make the green. One didn't need to have obtained an A in Differential Equations to figure out that this was going to be a disaster. I'm not a city dweller, but I watch the traffic here enough to know the difference between people cutting it close skillfully and an honest near-death experience.

The man on the bicycle never looked at the cross street. The cabbie didn't break until the last second and with a slight swerve avoided the guy's rear tire. I was still reaching for my phone to dial 911 when I realized they had missed one another.

I don't think you can convince other people that there is or isn't a God, but I'd like to think that moments like this morning can make the incredulous consider the possibility.

"Oy, I'm getting verklempt." (actually, I just have to get to work). Talk amongst yourselves. Here, I'll give you a topic: Are there Guardian Angels or is the whole universe is just a chaotic mess of rising entropy?

Going Broke

2008-09-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

Hey, everyone. Yeah, I'm talking to both of you, my dear readers. With the impending financial disaster looming over our heads (and it is looming, regardless of the 700B bailout), I've found it tricky to find the time to come up with great positive things to share with you. However, focusing on my discipline of trying to do this daily helps immensely.

So, today's small joy to share with you is www.woot.com. They sell one item each day at substantially less than its typical retail price. It is worth a look just for the gut-busting-brings-tears-to-your-eyes advertising copy they write about each object. Visit daily for best results.

We now return you to the meltdown of the global financial system, already in progress.

Beautiful Soul

2008-09-24T06:36:00.000-07:00

In recent years I've gained a better respect and understanding of feelings. I've spent a lot of my life living "in my head". Something is lost, I now believe, if you don't let strong feelings have a voice. If you muzzle them constantly, you can lose their message. Their message is usually important.

So, when I'm melancholy now, I'll go with it. I try not to bring others down, but just quietly give my sadness a good listening to, which really means just letting myself feel it as deeply as it wants to be felt. This usually also lets the feeling move on. It's where I got to this morning at the end of the train ride into Manhattan.

People on the train aren't the happiest looking folks on the planet. Let's face it, they're not jumping out of their seats at 6:10 as we near Grand Central because they're going to spend the day lying in the sun near the pool sipping a cold drink and reading a book. But something I realized a few years ago, in another moment of having a strong feeling, is that each stranger I saw had a beautiful soul. I was on the Long Island Expressway (another bastion of unhappy-looking folk), and I could literally sense the beauty in the souls of the people on the road around me.

That connection left me marked. I can remember that feeling and remind myself that it is just as true on the train arriving at GCT and in the crowds on 8th Ave as it is at home.

The Day After

2008-09-12T05:16:00.000-07:00

I don't remember if I went to work on Wednesday, Sept 12, 2001. I'm pretty sure I did. We had spent the previous day attempting to locate all of the employees that hadn't checked in. I'm sure we spent Wednesday trying to understand what had happened to our development projects, what we were going to do now that our Manhattan office was inaccessible, and how everyone who was at Interop was going to get home while there was no air travel.

I don't remember any of that, though.

I remember the smell of the burning buildings when the wind was from the south. I remember the sound of the fighter jets as they roared low over the Hudson river. I remember the video clips of people falling from the trade center.

I also remember the smiles of the Manhattan-based employees as some of them found their way to our suburban office, happy to see one another again. No code was written, I'm sure, but people were able to build bridges to their pre-nine-eleven world. Co-workers shared stories; people helped one another figure out what to do next. We connected with our London colleagues. We traded information about who had heard from whom.

What's the message here? I guess it is that life goes on. It's different, now, but it's still life. In the years since then, just like in the years before, I have had some gloriously fun times. All of the bad things that used to happen from time to time still happen. But there is still so much joy to be found. A couple of weeks ago, we had a sunset so breathtaking that strangers bought it up in conversation the next day in the grocery store. The first small-talk question of the morning was, "Did you see the sunset last night?" What a joy when an event can be so naturally beautiful that people are drawn closer to one another.

Enjoy your day. As for my friends and family in Ike's path: go outside and smile at the sky for a moment. Then get back inside and play a game of cards with the kids or read a book. I'll be praying for you.

Shhh......

2008-09-08T05:08:00.000-07:00

We hosted a book club discussion at our house yesterday afternoon. The group had read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. (I am still reading the book.) In the discussion, various people talked about meditation and the challenges of being still (ie, not moving, quiet, at rest/peace) in today's world.

I may have mentioned this before, but so much of what we become focused on in "developed" societies is centered on "productivity". After generations of this behavior, the importance of balance seems to be lost: spending time with one's family, resting, relaxing, connecting with nature and one another are equally vital. We respond to the damage that this causes in our bodies by adding more activity, going to the gym to get healthy, and taking medications.

During our discussion yesterday, someone mentioned the "fear" of being quiet. When one is quiet, just listening, scary thoughts can emerge. We frequently battle these internal demons by never giving them a chance to speak to us. The problem is that, unanswered, they just fester. Further, the strength to answer them, which also lies within us, goes untapped.

Try being quiet. If storm clouds gather over the peaceful meadow you're resting in, imagine yourself dancing in the rain. When the lightning flashes, catch it and hurl it back into the sky like fireworks.

Peace.

The Rest of the Story

2008-09-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

First, before you read this, you have to read part one. I did it as a guest blog entry for a friend. Click here to go and read it, then come back.

Now that you've done that, I can tell you, as Paul Harvey is famous for saying, the Rest of the Story.

I mentioned that Fashion Week takes over the park twice a year. The other time is in February, when folks aren't using the park for relaxing. However, they are using it for ice skating. Bryant Park hosts the only free admission ice skating rink in the city. And while the diesel generators are once again stationed on 40th street to power the shops they erect alongside the rink, it remains fun to pass through the park in the winter.
Anyone can skate there. If you don't have skates, you can rent them. Citigroup sponsors the rink, and they provide free skating lessons at various times during the week. The park hosts free events on the ice.

It can still be freezing well into February, but you know, the Fall lines of the various designer houses need somewhere to be feted (or should that be fetid?) so they tear down the rink to start erecting the tents. They add a bunch more generators and trailers, and presto: Fashion Week again.

Summer in the park has lots of fun. Every Monday night they show a free movie on a gigantic movie screen. Folks show up at 5 with a blanket and a picnic and the movie starts at dusk. It has become so popular that the lawn basically becomes entirely full. It's fun to walk by see all the people with their friends having a good time.

The park is a wonderful place. And, while I was bopping around on the 'net, I found an interesting news story. The park is looking to get out of its contract with Fashion Week. According to this article, the Bryant Park Corporation is realizing that the fashion event interferes with too many of the other things the park is good at (the ice rink, the grass, being open to the public, etc). So they're hunting around for an alternative location for Fashion Week. Hopefully, if they find one, the Fashion Week folks will agree to move there.

Then I'll get to take my shoes off and touch the grass again on the way home.

Back to School.

2008-09-02T05:05:00.000-07:00

This young man is speaking to the teachers of the Dallas school district at their convocation just before the start of the new school year.

This is impressive. I've watched a number of videos of kids that are obviously copying the preachers they've been watching all their young lives, making them little more than good child actors, IMHO. This boy may be doing some of the same, but if you're going to work to inspire a group, this is a great group to work on and a great direction to send them in. Let's hear it for teachers who care. I've tried to do my part by paying attention to the school board actions in my community, and voting to make educational systems more successful, even though I don't have kids. My nieces and nephews all know how important I think school is for them.

At a technical level, there aren't that many people who are this skilled at presentation. This is an inspiring video to watch the morning of your "big presentation" at the office. We all need to go into that conference room and preach that new system architecture! Can I get an AMEN????

Let the one among you who is without sin...

2008-08-28T04:46:00.000-07:00

On this day in 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his "I have a dream" speech in Washington DC. I watched this speech this morning on YouTube. I watched the entire thing, not one of the tribute versions that just focuses on the end of the speech.

Something I noticed while watching. Though delivered powerfully and artfully, he was reading his speech for the first 10 minutes or so. It was when he stopped reading that he first said "I have a dream." It was at that point that the speech took off; when the magic started. It was at that point that the speech became an historic event.

Preparing a heap of posthumous praise for King in my entry today, I ran up against claims of his adultery and plagerism. It will be interesting to see if Barak's acceptance speech tonight holds King as a flawed human or a flawless icon. I will have to read reports tomorrow, or ask someone who will watch the speech. I dislike watching the bald sales jobs that the speeches of a political convention seem to be.

But I think my final wish is that we all still take inspiration from King's speech. Can God work through a flawed human like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.? Do we give God much of a choice? My prayer this morning would be that each of us works to inspire one another to be better to one another.

Saving old things

2008-08-22T19:19:00.000-07:00

Preservation of history has long been a fascination of mine. Our house in New York was built in 1927 by a famous actress of the era (Jeanne Eagels). The New Hampshire log cabin that Doug hopes to leave to us in his will was built before 1900.

At several opportunities, we have opted for a more preservationist route. Our home in New York has a new slate roof because the old slate was crumbling and we couldn't bring ourselves to substantially alter the look of the structure. Up here in New Hampshire, our discussions with contractors and preservation specialists have been driven by the question: what must we do to maintain the cabin.

Maintaining the cabin may be financially infeasible. It is quite possible that it doesn't make "sense" to do the things necessary to avoid tearing down the structure. But it has surprised all of its critics: looking healthier in its nooks and crannies than anyone expected. So who knows?

We'll keep hoping and praying that the memories we've built here as a family, get to be maintained here over the years.

Making an effort

2008-08-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

Today was the day of the drain pipe.

Heavy heavy summer rains here in the mountains had caused the edge of the driveway to wash away. It left a bit of a ditch and washed the gravel down into the yard. We watched where the water came from and where it seemed to want to go, and thought we could help it.

So, Bill went shopping and then went digging, sawing, and gluing until we had completely installed a catch basin and the drain pipe to run the water away without taking the driveway with it. This is a picture of the project half-way along.

The thing is, we really have no idea if it will help. The next batch of heavy rain might well rejoice at the thought of being able to run down into the yard without having to carry large portions of the gravel driveway with it. Or it may happily ignore our contributions and continue to erode the landscape, most likely taking our little pieces of plastic and storing them off in the woods at the bottom of the hillside.

We won't know until that next rain, and none is forecast in the next few days. But hey, we made an effort. And sometimes, that's what really counts.

Taking the garbage out

2008-08-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

Up here in the mountains of New Hampshire, we have many wonders of nature. We have a blueberry patch behind the cabin, a bat that flies around eating insects in the evening, mice that keep the cats entertained, and water that springs from the ground ready to drink.

We also have forest animals like the bear pictured here. Our bear has been spotted recently wandering by the house and into the blueberry patch for a bit of dessert after eating whatever it is he eats when he's not at our house. I haven't managed to get a very good picture of him yet, so you get this one from Wikipedia. When we get our own snapshot, I'll put it up.

Last night he made another visit. He broke through the back screen door into the mud room where we keep the kitchen garbage. He then took the 20-gallon garbage can, without the lid on, and left. On his way out, he took a huge dump on the ground just outside the door.

The mystifying thing is, and if he's reading this maybe he'll comment, that "gift" by the back door was the only mess he made. Even though the garbage can had no lid on it, and could not have gone through the back door upright, there was not a loose scrap of garbage anywhere. And we still haven't even found the garbage can. Anywhere.

The Challenge

2008-08-19T16:16:00.001-07:00

So here's my challenge: write about something interesting every day without complaining or ranting. Thoughtful and reflective is ok, even if it's on sobering topics. I can be so critical in my general life, that I'd like to work to develop non-critical observational skills. That's what I'd like to do with my blog. As you can see, I've been less than successful.

So, certainly facebook is at fault. It sucks all of my available time. I have to admit that I love checking in with my friends and family this way. It's probably just a fad and will fade soon, as all fads fade. (I had to type that just for the chance to put two words next to each other that were only one character apart and so related semantically.) But facebook is a lot of fun. It was even more fun when scrabulous was on it, but I'm making do with scrabulous.com.

But there is a connectedness to it; as there is with any active community. I suppose it's no different that USENET groups were in the past: everyone had a newsreader and tracked their favorite groups with a passion. Everyone commented. Commenters developed reputations. It was a social network with fewer bells and whistles. With facebook I can participate in various groups, discussions, sharings. I can vampire bite my friends, plant virtual plants in their gardens, or play word games with them. We can all display an intriguing status and see what all of our friends' intriguing stati are.

But in the end it all boils down to community. Connections are what life is about, anyway. Last Friday I told one of the guys on my team at work, who had tried quitting smoking a few months ago and failed, that if he ever wanted to try again and needed some accommodation from the company, that I would do whatever I could to support him. I told him that I appreciated how hard it would be to break that habit and that if he needed any help from me, I'd be happy to provide it.

I found out today that he's stopped smoking again, and was going to surprise me with the news when I returned to NY on Tuesday. He doesn't know it, but I cried just now.

Human connections are a good thing. Period.

On to tomorrow....

Staten Island Ferries in your mirror are closer than they appear

2008-08-06T08:35:00.000-07:00

Bill and I hooked up with some folks from one of the local churches last year to share expenses in a sailboat that a couple of them owned. It is an 18' Cape Dory Typhoon and a lovely boat. Here I am on it last summer, sailing on the Hudson with Ossining in the background:One of the owners has been hunting for a larger boat for some time. The right boat eventually appeared on the market, so the syndicate recently acquired a C & C 24. After purchasing it, we needed to get it from Long Island Sound to our marina in Ossining. This entailed a 13-hour trip from Mamaroneck, east through the Sound, through Hell Gate into the East River, down the East River into New York Harbor. Then around the Battery and up the Hudson to Ossining. Here I am at the helm as we begin coming up the Hudson. The buildings behind me are the World Financial Center and Battery Park City:
It was a great day, even if we had to motor for most of it. We didn't run out of gasoline (which we used a good bit of, well for a sailboat anyway) and we didn't run out of beer (which we used sparingly, especially for a sailboat.)

I look forward to some fun sails on the Hudson later this summer.

Anyone want to buy a 18' Cape Dory Typhoon that's in great condition?

Dates in Calendar are closer than they appear

2008-07-31T14:12:00.000-07:00

This quip resonates deeply with software development folks. We are forever underestimating the time it will take to do things. So we usually end up faced with looming deadlines and monumental tasks. But this statement has another, Rocky Horror-esque, dimension: "time is fleeting."

Indeed, a theme of my entire adult life has been that "time is fleeting". As a college student, I grew to understand that a long life was not guaranteed; friends died while they were quite young. When I met and fell in love with my husband, his medical condition led both he and I to expect that he would be dead within 24 months. Seventeen years later, we still realize "it" could all end tomorrow.

What a wonderful gift! Though we haven't lived entirely in "the moment," we have nonetheless shaped our lives around a realization that tomorrow is not to be taken for granted. Life must be lived every day. I pray that each day I may look at myself in the mirror and say, "If I die today, I would have no regrets."

To be completely honest, I've forgotten why I originally started this post, but looking back on it a few hours later, I don't care. It's a sentiment that I'll stick with regardless of what prompted it.

Let me clarify the senator's remarks....

2008-07-26T13:18:00.000-07:00

According to a story published in the New York Times on July 16, Senator John McCain's statement on adoption by gay parents was "clarified". Instead of "I don't believe in gay adoption," his campaign says that the senator believes that it is a matter that should be left to the states and that he does not support a federal ban on such adoptions.

Is it just me or does it seem that politicians are simply desperate for you to hear what you want to hear, and that their actual feelings on an issue are entirely irrelevant? They will say pretty much anything they think will get them elected, and then have their staff "clarify" their remarks for folks who wanted to hear something different.

I'd like to ask for a moment of silence as we mourn the dearth of actual leadership in politics. Surely someone's got a theory of how this is all wonderful and in the service of the greater good of mankind?

-J.

Choices

2008-07-21T20:33:00.000-07:00

What should I really write about? The power of the water running down the hill after a heavy rain? The recent behavior of the Archbishop of Canterbury? The quality of the story-telling in "The Dark Knight"?

I woke this morning after heavy rains last night and found the river in the valley running strong. The power of nature is a fertile ground for contemplating one's experience of God.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was asked about the presence of non-Anglicans as "full participants" at a conference to which a legitimately consecrated Anglican bishop was specifically banned. +Gene is there witnessing to the love of Jesus Christ anyway. I wonder if the Archibishop is thinking "Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?" I wish he would stop equivocating and state what he believes is right. I pray for his soul.

The movie was long. It seemed to be a few stories strung together. Perhaps some of them were not strong enough to stand on their own. It certainly was value-for-money, though. I felt as though I saw two or three Batman movies for the price of a single ticket. And Heath Ledger's performance was haunting. It was impossible for me to find him, or Ennis Del Mar, in the Joker. His portrayal of this bizarre character was inspired. Kudos to an actor who was a bigger talent than I knew.

Perhaps the power of God I saw this moring in the river, is present at the Lambeth Conference. I certainly hope so. Though some of the comments from people at the conference are as haunting as the Joker I saw this evening. And some of those people are Ennis Del Mars: hiding their true feelings until they are crying over what they've lost.

Home to New York soon. Just for a while then back up here to the mountains.

The Price

2008-07-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

There are a number of events at Lambeth that are open to the public, it seems. Large numbers of Anglicans, non-Anglican Christians, and non-Christians are invited.

However, there is one person who is not officially welcome at any of them. The organizers and their leader have felt it necessary to specifically ban the one Anglican bishop who has chosen to be honest about his sexual orientation.

He is not the only bishop who supports same-sex marriage. He is not the only bishop who supports the full inclusion of GLBT persons in the life of the church.
He is not the only bishop who believes he ought to be a bishop. He is not the only gay partnered bishop. All of those bishops are invited.

He is the only one to be *honest* about his orientation and relationship. He was honest about it before he was consecrated a bishop of the church. And this is the price for his honesty.

Lowest, Common Denominator

2008-07-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

I guess my biggest challenge in writing about the following topic, is trying to keep it from turning into a rant. I might make it an entertaining rant, but is that really worth the time?

The topic I'm trying to write-without-ranting about is the fact that appealing to the lowest common denominator of our society is what makes artists rich. Brad Paisley's song "I'm still a guy" was seemingly written specifically to throw anti-stereotyping folks into apoplexy.

The trick is, as with most stereotypes, it hits at some truth. I mean, I'm a guy and a back rub is almost *never* "just" a back rub. At least not in my testosterone-soaked brain. And I don't deny a bit of that; it's real, raw, human, natural, sexy and fun. So, then, what's wrong with some fun "Hey, I'm still a guy" quips?

The problem is that this teasing comes at the expense of others, at least in Paisley's song: "In a weak moment I might / hold your purse at the mall / walk your sissy dog..." Anyone who likes picnics by a lake, French paintings, and forest animals that aren't targets is not "a guy". I think you can be funny about your stereotypes without putting down guys who like art.

Fun trash-talk is one thing, but when a song like this is made and rises to the level of an us-vs-them anthem, it becomes dangerous. It's fine for it to reinforce being who you are, but there are times in relationships where you work *with* your partner, and these should not be projected as "weak" moments.

This probably just hits at the fundamental insecurity most men feel about their masculinity. We're raised as boys to be "tough", and "tougher" is better. Anything associated with softness in ourselves is bad. Telling ourselves that others are weaker than we are makes us think we're stronger. And we tell them that we're stronger / better / more manly than they are. Hurray for us. Boo to the girly-men.

Name-calling is for children. You want to know what really constitutes "growing a pair"? Growing up.

-J.

hat tip to 80%

2008-07-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

My old friend, now known as blackpetero, writes frequently on his blog The 80% blog. 80% refers to the fact that, in general, the entire world considers 80% good enough. The value of the other 20% is negligible, usually, so work stops quickly after 80% is achieved. An example, perhaps, from my own observations: food handler's gloves.

Perhaps a US phenomena, but food workers in the US usually wear clear plastic disposable gloves when they handle food. This is to keep the non-food things that they touch, like the cash register, money, and the insides of their ears, from getting involved in the food we eat.

Leaving aside the discussions about how eating dirt is good for you because it lets your body's immune system get a little exercise, this glove-wearing is a reasonable pursuit. I would not willingly wipe my food on any of the above-mentioned items and then eat it happily. The gloves make sense to me.

However, most food handlers I've seen seem to think that the gloves are there to keep the food from getting under their fingernails. They will happily assemble your sandwich with their gloves on, press keys on the cash register (gloves still on), take your money and make change (gloves still on), pick up the knife that was recently wielded by a non-glove-wearing employee (gloves still on), and cheerfully (or more frequently, sullenly) assemble the next patron's sandwich.

But at least their hands are not sullied by other people's food when their shift is over. Not very many people get that sick, I guess. Ah, 80%.

-J.

"Oh, and I'm MARRIED!"

2008-06-19T03:47:00.000-07:00

A quick read of a friend's blog and I realized that I really do want to keep blogging. However, I think it's one of those things that you have to work into your life somehow.

Anyway, I've missed petero and his wonderful family for years, and I'm happy to have found him on Facebook and to have found his blog. And it prompted me to think about this blog and my recent neglect. "No more!" I say. Neglect, that is, not blogging. There will be more blogging. Starting now. And I have a family vacation coming up so that'll provide plenty of fodder.

But I did want to take just a moment to mention to everyone that I'm MARRIED. This will not surprise people, because most who know me know that I've been married for a long time. In fact, I keep getting married just to make sure. Conveniently, it's been to the same man every time. This, by the way, takes much of the unpredictability out of the honeymoons, but the rest of the business of a honeymoon gets along quite well now that we know each other better. Therapy is probably the best investment I've ever made.

Oh, right, back to MARRIED. So, yes, I am. Have been for more than 16 years. Recently, however, the state I live in (New York, not 'confusion') has been told by its courts that it must recognize marriages performed in other jurisdictions. Our new governor responded in support of this by issuing an executive order telling state agencies to get their forms and processes adjusted. The certificate we got in a lovely garden ceremony in Ontario a couple years back should do the trick nicely.

I phoned the director of HR at my company, with whom I get along quite well, and said, "Hey, does your database say that I'm MARRIED?" "Hmmm… not sure." "Well," I responded, "I'd like it to say that I am." "No problem."

Next stop, the feds. Best not to hold one's breath. Sigh.

Happy Onion Day.

The "Church"

2008-03-26T04:21:00.000-07:00

Early in my adult church life, starting when I was 14, I assimilated the concept that the "Church" was the organization, headquartered in Rome, and that the "church" was the people themselves. God's church was me, my family, my friends, my parish and the others around it. We were the church. In a way, it was a way to reconcile the love and acceptance I felt in that environment with the dogmatic reprimand waiting just around every official corner. The latter was the "big C" church and came from a weaker moral authority, I felt, than the love I experienced in my local church.

To be sure, I credited the "big C" outfit with some important moments. It got personal and real in a very moving confirmation rite, and was redemptive in a way I had never before felt during a particular one-on-one confession. Sacraments in the true sense: outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. But the concept that the people are the real church became more and more meaningful to me as I grew.

I was able to remain in the Roman Catholic Church because of this. At college, I found a church community that winked and looked the other way if you weren't a fan of all of Rome's decrees. They just treated you with love anyway, leaving the judgment part for God, I guess. I leaned on them heavily as I dealt with my own coming out; they just never knew it. That community of faith, being as we sometimes say "the church in this place", was an outward and visible sign. It was my rock and constant reminder of God's love for me.

So with relatively modest amounts of angst, I grew to incorporate my whole being, including my orientation, into the scope of that love. Thanks to the earlier separation between Church and church and the local parish.

A couple of decades later now, I find myself learning even more about Church vs. church… But more on that another time. For now, I just wanted to share these thoughts.

-J.

Easter Joy

2008-03-24T15:16:00.000-07:00

For Christians involved in church ministries, Holy Week can be a stressful time. Even though we did not have services in our parish until Thursday, preparing the music for high-church Anglo-Catholic worship takes a good deal of time. Add a mid-week catastrophic computer crash to the mix, and you have a week that will send you right to your knees.

God has blessed me in so many ways. I heard from two different parishioners that the Good Friday service was unexpectedly meaningful to them. It's great to hear when all the effort we put forth bears spiritual fruit in the congregation. And after Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Great Vigil and Easter morning services, one could hardly be faulted for wanting to crawl into bed and sleep for a couple of days.

But we have a 5:30pm meditative service on Sundays. So, after a nice Easter dinner with friends, it was back to the church to prepare for the final service of the day. A few extra people attended, mostly parishioners. One regular brought a friend. Then a stranger came through the doors at the back of the nave and tentatively moved forward in the candlelight. I encouraged him to join us near the front.

Chatting after the service, he shared that he had a very rare day off, working 7 days a week at a restaurant. He walked by our sign daily, and, on his day off, after not having been to church for nine years, wanted some "God time".

What a wonderful gift! The Benedictines say "laborare est orare".

Blessed Eastertide.
-J.