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Sunday, January 3, 2010

The first Sunday of the Nude Year

Yesterday I went to the funeral of my friends mother. She was a very nice devout Christian lady. My people were there. I met up with some people I have not really seen for years.
It was a nice Memorial service. The preacher preached the power of God and the way to salvation. They sang "Blessed Assurance," and this other song which I remember from my childhood that goes something along these lines, "let us pray for each other, not faint by the way, in this sad world of toil and care, for that home is so bright and it's almost in sight and I know in my heart you'll go there."
I understand the social significance all of this. I understand how this all makes us focus on God and not on ourselves, how it gives us hope for the future and how the deep emotions of this kind of a cultural event bring us back into line with our traditions and our cultural belief system. I understand how it all works.
I don't feel as sad as I do uptight and anxious. I don't even know how to say or explain it in words. I am just very very uptight...
I went up to my friend and I really had nothing to say. I shook his hand and we exchanged the sorts of pleasantries that are fitting for such an event. I stood there for a while. He stood there. Finally I said, "look, I've got nothing to say really. I'm just standing here to be supportive. If you have someone to talk to or get in line for food it is ok."
He said, "That's ok, I've got nothing to say either. Thanks."
And we just stood there and didn't say much for 10 minutes or so. It kind of looked like we were talking I guess. People kind of flowed by. It was kind of nice.
I ran into another friend. We were all at a little Bible School in Ohio together. I haven't really talked to this fellow since 1984 or so. He said we got into a lot of trouble together.
I said I was feeling a bit tense with all the folks around and kind of tended to keep to myself in these situations. He said I was once a very outgoing, friendly, and kind of crazy person. I don't even know, doesn't really sound like me at his point in time. I said I was overcompensating. He laughed and started telling his wife and kid the trouble we almost got into. We really never got caught at anything. Kind of funny. More depressing than funny. I didn't think I did what he said I did but I just smiled and nodded.
My tenseness has carried over through today.
That evening my wife and I went out for dinner with some friends. A and M are our age. A was a friend of my wife in college. I've always like A and her husband M is a nice fellow as well. They may in fact read this as my lovely wife has been emailing people links to this site instead of the Scribd repository of the DS. If so I would like to note that if I seemed a bit on edge-well I was, but it was nothing personal...
We went to a newer restaurant in Newberg. I can't for the life of me remember the name of it. There were few customers and we talked loudly. We did not swear or tell dirty jokes, but the rest of the customers soon left. Perhaps they were done eating. M and I ordered steaks. He had the Texas rib eye-I think, and I had the New York 8 oz. M pointed out that they did offer a smash potatoe in the menu. I have never had the pleasure to dine on a drunken tuber but I did resist the urge to order it-instead I had a baked potatoe with all the trimmings. It was a very good meal. I ordered the steak medium well and that is how I got it. When i stabbed it with my fork it did not bellow nor did my fork bounce of the seared flesh and bounce onto the floor. It was tender and tasty and just the way I like it. Best of all it was somewhere in the $10-12 price range. It is pretty much impossible to find a good $12 steak in this day and age.
Afterwards we ambled down the street looking for place for dessert. We ended up in front of Jimmy G's which is no longer Jimmy G's. It now serves booze and featured a barmaid showing lots of tattoo's and skin. Fortunately for M and I she was no Saint Pauli Girl so the urge to ogle was more akin to waiting for the train wreck than anything else.
We shot a few games of pool at which I was terrible. At this point my brain was trying to bore a whole through my right temple, probably to escape the pounding 80's rock music which did little to suppress my tenseness.
I woke up tense as well.
There was a discussion of Church and we started to get ready. Somehow that degenerated into another discussion and we stayed home. I took a nap.
I woke up still uptight.
We delivered a thank you for Sadie's Christmas present, and a rent check for storage of our remaining stuff that is in the barn at our old house, to our former landlord. They always give S. a present for Christmas. His wife is not able to get around much so we stayed and talked for a while. He showed me several interesting guns and a sword used by a Japanese war criminal to kill himself. I have to look that one up on the internet. Landlords friend was an MP and kept the sword.
I was a little less uptight.
Wife and S. went to see wife's sister in Salem. I am laying on the couch.
I am a little less uptight.
I find it depressing that I am unable to be of the same moral character of my parents.
Oh well...
Ed W. emailed me a link to NewAgTalk. I think he wanted me to defend the faith by responding to this Athiestic fellow. Instead I responded to this poster. I felt more qualified in this area today... So I thought I would make a really long post to The Lazy Farmer and listen to some music and retreat to my "Bubble" as I have heard it phrased. People will believe what they want to believe.
Here's a link to follow, Waylon didn't write this song and they don't play this sort of stuff on the radio no more...
Three Fingers Whiskey Pleasures the Drinker
Moving does more than the drinking for me
Willy, he tells me that doers and thinkers
Say movin's the closest thing to being free
Other folks call it escapism, avoiding responsibility..

Tomorrow is back to the real world.

I feel much more relaxed this evening.. Thanks Uncle Rod! Beats one of those lottery tickets!


  1. Low down freedom you done cost me eveything I ever lost. You're as empty as my pockets.

  2. I guess only tortured souls make good art...


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