I’m sitting here eating a few saltine crackers as an afternoon snack. Like many people who grew up Protestant, I have a . . . weird relationship with saltines. Don’t get me wrong, I love saltines. I’m enjoying the hell of out my snack. But they will also always be associated in my mind with Communion.
I know some churches have special wafers. And some use honest to God wine. But at the Church of Christ we had crackers and grape juice passed as the “unleavened bread and wine,” this is my body, this is my blood. (Is it any wonder that I love the vampire and zombie stuff? Holy Communion is pretty lurid.) I now know that my church actually used kosher matzo crackers. But to me, it looked like they were passing around saltines. I was a southern WASP. What did I know from Manischewitz?
Of course, my church is one that believes in the “age of reason” and you can’t get baptized, and therefore can’t participate in Communion, until you’re at least an adolescent. So, Communion was one of those things that were definitely “not for kids.” And what do kids love? Crackers and grape juice. Not only do they pass them around, they put them on special fancy Communion plates. And you could hear the snap of the cracker as the person who dragged you to church broke off their bite, and then the redolent tang of grape juice (wine never tastes as good as grape juice smells). Insult. Grievous injury. None for you. Awwwwww. Of course, we’d imitate the ritual on our own. Raiding the pantry for saltines to put on paper, and Hi C to put in Dixie cups snatched from the bathroom. Profane little monkeys. But at church, the plates would be held high, away from any little hands that might be looking for a sacrilegious treat.
Fine. Didn’t want any anyways. I’ll just grow up and buy my own. And so a lifetime of heresy begins.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Mini Me
I got to spend the morning baby-sitting my nephew, D. Of all the kids, D is the one most like me. Funnily enough, because he looks just like my brother did at that age, and my brother is my sibling least like me.
There are moments when I’ll just look down at his little two-year old self and see me so clearly reflected. He has Aunt Julie’s sugar jones (sorry, kid). He has my tendency to pick at something until he has it figured out. We both have storm cloud temperaments – the negative emotions are fast and hard, but the sun comes out pretty quickly again. Bossy, of course ("Clap, Dulie, clap! No, like this!"). And if something isn’t working the way he thinks it should, he’ll just whack on it until it does. Don’t know where on earth the kid got that.
It’s funny to look down and see all the little impulses I’ve been operating with for 40-odd years being acted out by a tiny human being. And, of course those 40 years have given me a perspective on those impulses (if I didn’t at least have some insight by now, I’d be in sorry shape). The temptation is to try to give him a life crib sheet. Do this, look at it this way, go that direction. Give the little guy a leg up on all the stuff I’ve figured out. But you can’t do that. First, half of life’s fun is figuring it out. Can’t rob him of that. Second, I think D is just a little bit smarter than I am. He may get to those answers faster than I did. And come up with some better ones too, if I don’t get in his way.
What I can do for him is empathize. I told my Mom, “Poor, D. Nobody is ever going to understand him the way his Aunt Julie does.” But, really, that’s not such a bad thing. At least one person should be able to see things the way you do. I think I would have liked that when I was growing up.
There are moments when I’ll just look down at his little two-year old self and see me so clearly reflected. He has Aunt Julie’s sugar jones (sorry, kid). He has my tendency to pick at something until he has it figured out. We both have storm cloud temperaments – the negative emotions are fast and hard, but the sun comes out pretty quickly again. Bossy, of course ("Clap, Dulie, clap! No, like this!"). And if something isn’t working the way he thinks it should, he’ll just whack on it until it does. Don’t know where on earth the kid got that.
It’s funny to look down and see all the little impulses I’ve been operating with for 40-odd years being acted out by a tiny human being. And, of course those 40 years have given me a perspective on those impulses (if I didn’t at least have some insight by now, I’d be in sorry shape). The temptation is to try to give him a life crib sheet. Do this, look at it this way, go that direction. Give the little guy a leg up on all the stuff I’ve figured out. But you can’t do that. First, half of life’s fun is figuring it out. Can’t rob him of that. Second, I think D is just a little bit smarter than I am. He may get to those answers faster than I did. And come up with some better ones too, if I don’t get in his way.
What I can do for him is empathize. I told my Mom, “Poor, D. Nobody is ever going to understand him the way his Aunt Julie does.” But, really, that’s not such a bad thing. At least one person should be able to see things the way you do. I think I would have liked that when I was growing up.
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Lizard by Any Other Name
You know, I know that everybody is getting their panties in a bunch about Newt Gingrich and the “open marriage” stuff that’s coming out from his second ex-wife. Personally, the misuse of SuperPAC funds that got him fired from public office 15 years ago would be plenty to take him off the menu for me.
And frankly, I don’t think marital shenanigans are any of the voters’ business. Politics and a wandering eye go together like peas and carrots. Being able to keep one's pants on really doesn’t make me any never mind as to whether a candidate can do the job. I don’t really see any correlation historically between good Presidents and good husbands. So, what goes on between a candidate and any other consenting adult on a planet isn’t really my business.
Except in one very specific arena: if you run on a family values/good Christian/holier than thou platform, live it. If you have an extensive history of running around, shut up about other people’s morals. The ability compartmentalize one’s morals and still preach decency to others smacks of a level of hypocrisy that I would find absolutely disqualifying for any elected office. In fact, I’d say Jesus would be with me on this. Remember that thing about pointing out the speck of dust in other people’s eyes when you’ve got a log in your own?
So, if Newt is able to dismiss his own moral turpitude by saying he and God talked it out, I think he should assume that other people are having their own conversations with God about their failings. And by the way, if you asked God for forgiveness for lying to him in a marriage ceremony, I think he may have said, “Dude, talk to your ex-wife. I’m out of this one.”
You know what, I’ll say one thing for George W. Bush. He talked the conservative Christian line, but he also lived it. The man stuck by his wife. It may not have made him a great President. But at least he wasn’t a hypocrite.
And frankly, I don’t think marital shenanigans are any of the voters’ business. Politics and a wandering eye go together like peas and carrots. Being able to keep one's pants on really doesn’t make me any never mind as to whether a candidate can do the job. I don’t really see any correlation historically between good Presidents and good husbands. So, what goes on between a candidate and any other consenting adult on a planet isn’t really my business.
Except in one very specific arena: if you run on a family values/good Christian/holier than thou platform, live it. If you have an extensive history of running around, shut up about other people’s morals. The ability compartmentalize one’s morals and still preach decency to others smacks of a level of hypocrisy that I would find absolutely disqualifying for any elected office. In fact, I’d say Jesus would be with me on this. Remember that thing about pointing out the speck of dust in other people’s eyes when you’ve got a log in your own?
So, if Newt is able to dismiss his own moral turpitude by saying he and God talked it out, I think he should assume that other people are having their own conversations with God about their failings. And by the way, if you asked God for forgiveness for lying to him in a marriage ceremony, I think he may have said, “Dude, talk to your ex-wife. I’m out of this one.”
You know what, I’ll say one thing for George W. Bush. He talked the conservative Christian line, but he also lived it. The man stuck by his wife. It may not have made him a great President. But at least he wasn’t a hypocrite.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Yes
Well, so. I’ve been fumbling. I’m trying to come up with New Year Resolution 2012. Nothing’s really coming. I mean, nothing. I had trouble last year. But I eventually came up with the 5 fruits/vegetables a day thing (pretty successful, by the way, happy with the way it turned out, thumbs up). But this year, the new smell is pretty much off of 2012, and I got nothing.
Usually, that means I’m avoiding something. Like it’s something I know I should do, but don’t really want to. Like the time I gave up TV for Lent (ugh, I still get the willies off of that one). Didn’t want to, hated every minute of it, but it needed to be done. This year, I don’t even think there’s anything I really don’t want to do (e.g, should do).
Obviously, there’s stuff that I should be doing. I’m a mess. There’s always something I should be doing. But I’m not feeling, you know, compelled this year.
So, just to get this off the list, I’m going to steal a page from the book of someone wiser than myself – William Shatner. A friend read his book, and was pretty much surprised about how much she ended up just liking the guy. And one of the big things she was impressed with was his philosophy of saying “yes” to things. Pretty much “yes” to everything. If someone asks him if he wants to do something, he says “yes.” The most compelling reason he has for doing something is that somebody asks him. It’s kind of a Zen way to live your life, no? Accepting what comes to you. Trusting that there is a universal gestalt and that you are offered opportunities for reasons you may not immediately understand. Not rejecting on the basis of the intellectual process of what you do know. Geez, that’s a terrifying.
Not that I could say “yes” to everything. Okay, that’s hedging and I admit it. I don’t have that much trust in the Universe. How about say “yes” to more things? Okay, now I sound like total pussy. That’s it. “Yes” to every opportunity that’s offered. If somebody asks me if I want to do something, I’ll say “okey-dokey, artichokey”. Now I’m worried. How much stuff do I get offered to do? Not that much, right? Surely.
I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into here. And, yes, if you’re wondering if I sometimes just make this stuff up as I go – indeed I do. And here’s where I’m going. To a place of “yes.” One year. What can it hurt? Yeah, I know. Famous last words.
Usually, that means I’m avoiding something. Like it’s something I know I should do, but don’t really want to. Like the time I gave up TV for Lent (ugh, I still get the willies off of that one). Didn’t want to, hated every minute of it, but it needed to be done. This year, I don’t even think there’s anything I really don’t want to do (e.g, should do).
Obviously, there’s stuff that I should be doing. I’m a mess. There’s always something I should be doing. But I’m not feeling, you know, compelled this year.
So, just to get this off the list, I’m going to steal a page from the book of someone wiser than myself – William Shatner. A friend read his book, and was pretty much surprised about how much she ended up just liking the guy. And one of the big things she was impressed with was his philosophy of saying “yes” to things. Pretty much “yes” to everything. If someone asks him if he wants to do something, he says “yes.” The most compelling reason he has for doing something is that somebody asks him. It’s kind of a Zen way to live your life, no? Accepting what comes to you. Trusting that there is a universal gestalt and that you are offered opportunities for reasons you may not immediately understand. Not rejecting on the basis of the intellectual process of what you do know. Geez, that’s a terrifying.
Not that I could say “yes” to everything. Okay, that’s hedging and I admit it. I don’t have that much trust in the Universe. How about say “yes” to more things? Okay, now I sound like total pussy. That’s it. “Yes” to every opportunity that’s offered. If somebody asks me if I want to do something, I’ll say “okey-dokey, artichokey”. Now I’m worried. How much stuff do I get offered to do? Not that much, right? Surely.
I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into here. And, yes, if you’re wondering if I sometimes just make this stuff up as I go – indeed I do. And here’s where I’m going. To a place of “yes.” One year. What can it hurt? Yeah, I know. Famous last words.
Friday, January 6, 2012
It's a good look
http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/06/living/fashion-tips-look-younger-rs/index.html?hpt=hp_bn8
You know, I pretty much disagree with everything on this list. Frankly it’s what I think is an “old fashioned” view of fashion. One that is based on the idea that if you’re fashionable then you’re “correct,” no one can make fun of you. Fear-based fashion. Which is certainly one way to go. Not everyone can or wants to be unique. But if you do – break every one of these rules. With glee.
But you know what I think ages women more than anything? Worrying whether someone else thinks you look alright. Worrying about being “alright.” Uhgh. If you like matchy, matchy jewelry, wear it! Because it’s what you like, you’ll be better at pulling together a matchy, matchy look than anyone else. It’s called “style,” and it belongs to you. But nothing is more retrograde and aging than putting on something that you don’t like or apologizing for something that you do like because it’s not what the world likes.
If what you like is something that would pass without comment, great! Go for it. But if it’s not what you like, if it’s not what you feel good in, if that still small voice inside tells you that you should be wearing harem pants with stilettos, lucky you! Never apologize, never explain. If you like overalls with poet shirts, that’s good too. Be true to yourself. Listen to your own voice. Confidence is your best accessory. Believe it.
You know, I pretty much disagree with everything on this list. Frankly it’s what I think is an “old fashioned” view of fashion. One that is based on the idea that if you’re fashionable then you’re “correct,” no one can make fun of you. Fear-based fashion. Which is certainly one way to go. Not everyone can or wants to be unique. But if you do – break every one of these rules. With glee.
But you know what I think ages women more than anything? Worrying whether someone else thinks you look alright. Worrying about being “alright.” Uhgh. If you like matchy, matchy jewelry, wear it! Because it’s what you like, you’ll be better at pulling together a matchy, matchy look than anyone else. It’s called “style,” and it belongs to you. But nothing is more retrograde and aging than putting on something that you don’t like or apologizing for something that you do like because it’s not what the world likes.
If what you like is something that would pass without comment, great! Go for it. But if it’s not what you like, if it’s not what you feel good in, if that still small voice inside tells you that you should be wearing harem pants with stilettos, lucky you! Never apologize, never explain. If you like overalls with poet shirts, that’s good too. Be true to yourself. Listen to your own voice. Confidence is your best accessory. Believe it.
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