I would start my own church but for two reasons. We have one that meets the second and forth Sundays at a retirement center, and (2) I am not the church builder type. I'm the one who sits in the back and avoids responsibility but then ends up being the usher for 30 years. Not the firebrand organizer type. Sort of a bench filler if you will. I would also advocate for strict standards which I would then violate at will in my personal life causing people to get hypocrisy and indifference and the person who make the old fashioned chicken would leave the church and thus ruin the potlucks.
I have no way of winning....
Somewhere I went wrong in life not the stuff of Hank William's, Lost Highway but some sort of dead end none the less.
But, I digress...
Since I am alone and have been instructed by my wife to sleep and since I am unable to sleep after she called me at 8:30 a.m. and woke me up to tell me she was on her way home, I decided to repair the dryer vent.
This merely requires some special aluminum foil tape I acquired somewhere and now I have lost. Earlier I lost my coffee cup and was about to call my daughter (whom I shall hithertoforafter refer to as "Lulu"-I discussed this with her after it was brought up by someone that I should not use her real name on the internet-I don't remember why, but I am sure it was a compelling argument) but I realized that she would be somewhat "nonplussed" to say the least and would most likely threaten to break my ribs again for bugging her. (Give them a little power and they think they run things-this is what will make her grow up and be a gangster! or a banjo player)
But, one again I digress...
I pulled the washer and dryer away from the wall and then remembered I was hungry. I knew there was some leftover calzone which caused me to wonder why the BlueGoat does not add Calzone to the menu. That is sort of gor-met, not your "pedestrian pizza to go," and you could probably put green olives and pear sauce in it and toss in a little goat meat and Amity folks would feel down right sophisticated eating it. Would work good in that fancy oven they have there. And they could make them to GO! Which would make won of my readers very happy. But, the BlueGoat does not want my suggestions. Which reminds me I was going to take my wife there last Thursday but she made some really good soup and I thought of it too late.
Which brings me to the problem of my failing mind.
I'm cracking up quietly and a little bit at a time. Not the big train wreck you read about in the newspapers, rather the bizarre eccentric old guy that occasionally wets himself but has really interesting junk.
After tossing the calzone crust out the slider to the dog, I wandered into the "den" looking for the aluminum tape in my bag of random tools. There I discovered a pile of books my wife is sorting out of the bookshelf. Aside from "Gun Digest-1968" and "The Kodak Darkroom Handbook," I found "Attending Marvels A Patagonian Journal," by George Gaylord Simpson.
Naturally, I opened the book and started reading at random and became engrossed.
So, I'm sitting in the house on a sunny Sunday, I'm listening to the Louvin Brothers sing, "Satan is Real," and reading "A Patagonian Journal." I have the blinds closed so no one will know I'm home and try to buy chicken feed or talk to me about Teff hay.
It ain't normal...
(well if they fit my standards of what I consider a true believer and they are not crazy nuts predicting the end of the world or advocating craziness so I guess I should say I just admire certain sincere people who I just choose at random)
Ira was my favorite brother, but Charlie has my utmost respect and admiration. I suppose I'm just a product of modern culture. (or is that post modern? Is there a post modern, post modernism? Like postpostpostmodernism...)
PS, I found this book on my bookshelf with an inscription from my grandfather dated 1973. I was in what, second grade. Perhaps I'll read this to Lulu. Read her a testimony and then ask her if she really things she wants to go to public school... The book is called, "Dying Testimonies of the Saved and Unsaved." You can download it on PDF here.
"He went to her bedside, threw his arms around her, and told her of the Savior's love for sinners, but she cried, "It is too late for me, Charley; I am lost, lost," and she continued repeating this until her soul took its departure," (Page 259)
The book comes out of the Christian Holiness movement of the 19th Century. My Grandfather's people were Methodists and remembering his sermons I think I can see the influence. I'm betting the nice lady at the local Methodist church is not using illustrations from this book for today's lesson...
I leave you with The Edge...