Smiles Matter

Who had no room at the inn?

2011-12-28T20:08:00.000-08:00

In preparing for a Christmas Eve service this year, I found myself re-reading Luke 2:7.

Now we have all heard stories of Mary and Joseph wandering around Bethlehem looking for a room... and finding none until a friendly innkeeper said "I don't have a room, but you can sleep with my animals!" Or something like that.

But the verse is much simpler.

scripture4all.org gives a very good literal translation of a Greek text, and I assume it's one of the accepted texts.

And/she-brought-forth (gave birth to)/the/son/of-her*/the/"firstborn"/and/swaddles/him/and/"cradles"/him/in/the/manger/"because-that"/not/"there-was"/to-them**/place/in/the/"caravansary"

Words in quotes are idioms, I think... "caravansary" is actually 'Down-loose' for example... sort of like 'fleabag' might be hard to translate...

But the two interesting things are marked with asterisks...

*of-her Why is this not 'of-them'? Perhaps it is reflecting the subject (her) or perhaps Joseph is not in the picture. Also, the possibility that it was not his firstborn child exists. (the/son/of-her*/the/"firstborn" = her firstborn son)

**to-them "For there was no place for them in the inn", or so we learned in church. But who is 'them'? I always assumed it was Joseph and Mary, but the previous verse says, essentially "while they were there", not "as they arrived." This implies that they had had space to stay already, rather than going door to door pleading.

If we make 'them' be Mary and Jesus, then there is another simple interpretation. There were no private rooms in those days, and a woman giving birth is not only noisy but also ritually unclean. Instead of staying in the (crowded) women's hall, making everyone ritually unclean, Mary and sympathetic women might have moved to the stables, where her screaming would not disturb folks (as much), and the blood etc. wouldn't get on people. Oh, maybe Joseph was there too... we don't know. I also don't know if there was a 'women's hall' in the inn... just a speculation.

So there may have been space at the inn, just no space "FOR THEM" inside... where "THEM" is a woman actively giving birth.

There is a tradition that Jesus never cried... (except in the verse where he wept) but there is no similar tradition that says "Mary gave birth silently." At least I don't know of that tradition.

We do know that Joseph and Mary worried about ritual cleanliness, see 2:22.

That's my observation for today!

The spillway takes the pressure off New Orleans levees

2011-06-05T20:25:00.001-07:00

Today (5/15) I had off work (I worked yesterday) and so after a very nice nap, I decided to go see the river. The best place to view the Mississippi is just north of the Bonnet Carre Spillway, in Norco, LA.

In the image above, the Mississippi is on the right, and the normally dry spillway is on the left. it leads to Lake Pontchartrain.

The scale of the thing is hard to photograph... each hole is pretty big.

I tried to capture a photo of the fish trying to swim UP to the Mississippi, but ran out of memory first.

This is the "Airline Highway" designed to be well above the bayous and a safe way to get out of New Orleans. The designers didn't expect 20' of flood waters from Bonnet Carre!

And a few trees seen from Airline Highway.

Locally, everyone seems to be on edge. The big debate was the opening of the Morganza Spillway, north of Baton Rouge, which will flood houses built in the Atchafalaya floodplain, but take pressure off the New Orleans and Baton Rouge levees.

Unlike the surge from Katrina, the Mississippi River's water is well above sea-level, and could flood the entire city (and Metairie, where I live) to a greater depth if those levees fail. This includes areas that didn't flood in Katrina, like Uptown and the French Quarter.

So we have reason to be nervous.

The paper (nola.com) has articles about wildlife and how they will escape the rising waters. Friends to the west in Morgan City and Bayou Sale are behind levees, so they shouldn't flood, but sandbags are being filled anyway.

We have had a drought here this past month. I hope we get some rain, but not that much.

(update June 5)
The spillway is still open... though the river has come down a bit. We still have a drought.

More pictures of the spillway, this time closer to the lake (further north)

2011-05-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

A few days after seeing the Bonnet Carre gates I had a chance to go up to Baton Rouge... so I snapped some pictures of the Spillway:

In front of me, Interstate 10, a long elevated roadway west of New Orleans.
On The Left, Lake Pontchartrain,
On The Right, The spillway!
(New Orleans approaches are almost all elevated highways, from the north, east and west.)

The water is flowing under the train tracks and under the highway.

Still very dry weather, which is good.

Poem

2011-04-15T20:18:00.000-07:00

Today we had a silent retreat as part of the chaplaincy program. I wrote several poems, and I think this is the best:

I SEE YOU

I see you, said God
Hidden in a rock
As if it were so
As if a rock could hide God's shadow
Contain all the holy-
ness rolled up

And Moses, like my beloved nephew, ran round the other side to see.

King Arthur

2011-02-28T20:14:00.000-08:00

Ok, yesterday I threw hundreds of dollars of stuff at people on the street... all clamoring for it to be thrown to "me me"... it was a fascinating experience.

Marching units!

Floats

And ME

Christmas In Metairie

2010-12-05T20:06:00.000-08:00

Last year I went to a Christmas lights show in New Orleans... this year it's a show in Metairie, which is a drive-through show, mostly made with little tiny lights. The LED lights don't show up the right colors on my camera, but you'll get the idea of what I saw.

Here's old Nick!

And nine tiny reindeer... actually.

And I didn't have to walk a mile for these!

Which is lucky, because tonight is cold and windy in Louisiana!

Oh! the little teddy bears... and santa in a roadster?

And I think what he said, as he drove out of sight...

Was Merry Christmas to all.. and to all... brrr! it's cold... I'm going inside.

(finally posted in JUNE, 2011)

Another Pre-Thanksgiving!

2010-11-22T20:12:00.000-08:00

First you make the onions...

Then you serve:

Turkey
Cranberry compote
Stuffing & dressing
Gravy
Butter
Butternut Squash
Celery
Rolls
Onion & Mushroom Quiche
Creamed Onions

yum
Oh yeah, my own 'customized' pumpkin pie and sugar-free vanilla ice cream too...

Lonely Women...

2010-11-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Below is an old assignment from my preaching class... It is far from perfect, but I thought I'd post it, maybe it will help someone, somewhere.

Homily Lonely Women March 9, 2009
"No one knows the blues like Lonely Women do."
These are the words of Laura Nyro, a composer and singer of the 1960s and 70s in her song "Lonely Women"
"A gal could die, without a man. And no one knows it better than, Lonely Women"
How do we honor this observation? How do these words from forty years ago resonate today?
I think they resonate all over the place.
"Blues, the blues that make the walls rush in..."
How many of you know a lonely woman? And if you know her, how do you describe her? Do you use adjectives to keep yourself safe... like "she's the crabby lady who lives next door and hates my kids" or "she's a most peculiar woman"?
Now the purpose of the homily is not to blame you for their loneliness... or put responsibility on your shoulders-- heaven knows we all have too much responsibility on our shoulders already.
The purpose, I suppose, is to spend a few minutes thinking about worth and dignity. To make a brief acquaintance with the blues and perhaps examine our automatic actions, our unthinking life, and maybe find a way to look at this shared life from a different angle-- to quote from the Broadway musical "Le Cage Aux Folles"
But I don't want to spend this time spouting lyrics... though I do have one more, one very important one to me and to my life. It's from the musical "Hair", and specifically a tune called "Easy to be Hard":
"How can people be so heartless, How can people be so cruel?" the singer asks... and then "How can people have no feelings, How can they ignore their friends?" "Easy to be proud, Easy to say no"...
And especially people
Who care about strangers
Who say they care about social injustice
Do you only care about the bleeding crowd?
How about a needing friend"
and she continues saying: "I need a friend"

I heard this song, and the Laura Nyro song when I was in Junior High School... and the words have stayed with me. "I need a friend".
So where do people find their worth? Where do they store up their dignity to weather the indignities of society?
Friends is one way.
I want to shift my thinking for a bit, shift to a movie called "The Full Monty". It's a movie with almost no lonely women in it, but it is full of lonely men. In fact, it is a study of male loneliness, and the blues which make the walls crush in for them.
The movie takes place in the former steel center of Sheffield, England.
Gaz is a divorced father, unemployed and living on the dole. His loneliness is reinforced by his ex wife and her new husband, who want sole custody of his son-- and the movie follows Gaz as he struggles to say "I love You" to the boy.
Dave, played by Mark Addy, is also unemployed, but still married. His struggle comes from a negative self-body-image. He believes the folks who say thin is beautiful and fat is worthless or disgusting. And he sees himself as fat.
Scrawny, mousy, Lomper is an obedient son to a disabled mother. Unlike the others, he has a job-- a lonely job guarding the closed steel mill.
In one pivotal scene we see Lomper in his car, trying to kill himself with carbon monoxide, but the car won't start... and who should wander by but ever-helpful Dave-- who helps him get the car started. After being rescued, Lomper confessess that he has no friends, and his life is worthless. Dave replies that he is Lomper's friend-- after all, he helped him try to kill himself!
Now, the movie's plot revolves around these men's desire to be Chippendales-- or rather, male strippers-- as a way to make money and pay off one of Gaz's debts.
But it's really about self respect-- a journey where they help each other to see their inherent worth. And... to see themselves as "SEXY THINGS"
It takes friends to do that.
In "Walden", Henry David Thoreau penned the line "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation", and certainly the men in The Full Monty are in that mass...
Thoreau attributes this despair to "when you are the slave-driver of yourself." He observes a wagon master taking crops to market, working all day and whipping the horses with his frustration, never thinking higher thoughts. He observes ladies "weaving toilet cushions" as a way of pretending that they are not concerned with the future... and he calls these people slaves to "the slave driver of yourself."
I don't agree that the slave driver is within. I don't agree that we all have the wisdom to get out of desperate cycles by ourselves.
I see the master in Society. The master who makes fat men and women go on diets of self-denial. The churches, states and armies who make gay men and women deny who they are in order to make a living. The abusive partner who keeps a woman pleading for respect rather than reaching out for help. All these masters are the shapers of society.
But here's the prophetic moment. The bondage can be broken, but not by those people who worry about social injustice. The bonds can be broken when someone takes your hand and says:
"Come, I need you to be my friend."

Pumpkin Party

2010-11-01T19:20:00.000-07:00

Actually, I had two parties. Robert and Johnny couldn't make the main one, so we had a little pre-party.

And then the main party on Saturday Afternoon...

That's all for this year!

ps: I had trouble posting for a while... but now it's working again!

Well that was fun.

2010-07-09T16:32:00.000-07:00

Graduation at last!

This was actually back in May. But like so many things, it doesn't exist until you get the photos back... this one from Starr King's photographer.

The school allows each graduate to speak for two minutes.
Here's what I said at graduation:
------
"Spirit of Life, Come unto Me
Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion."

My name is Charlie, I'm just finishing up a ministerial internship in New Orleans, LA,

And I have one bit of learning I would like to share with those who are going to be ministering, where ever that may be...

And this learning has to do with compassion.

Now "Compassion for" is the usual form of compassion-- helping the poor, feeding the hungry.

But Starr King introduced us to a different paradigm, "Compassion WITH"-- the idea of being an ally. Companioning others on THEIR journey. COMPASSION WITH is an important tool for social change.

And when I took the job in New Orleans, I thought I would be present for the congregations, in a compassionate way.

What I did not realize was that there is a third compassion--
"Compassion OF"-- Being a part of a compassionate community.

THOSE WHO COME TO WORK with those in southern Louisiana learn it...

Even in OUR struggle there is joy.
Even in disaster,
YES Tears!
But also dreams,
and music,
and deliciousness.

The Compassion With keeps us separate.

Ministry, as I see it NOW, is all about compassion OF.

I AM Singing in MY heart, all the stirrings OF COMPASSION.

Always Use your Best China!

2010-05-04T16:17:00.000-07:00

So this past Sunday I preached a sermon at First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans.

The title was "Always Use Your Best China" and it was inspired by a set of tiles in the Rockridge BART station in Oakland, California.

Here are the tiles:

Do you always use your best china?

If you right-click and save the images, you'll save them full size... or right-click and "view image" to see full size.

2010-04-27T20:26:00.000-07:00

Last week I went on a retreat in western North Carolina at a place called "The Mountain"

Yep, that's the view from the cabin's front porch.
A very magical place.

Charlie goes to Jazz Fest!

2010-04-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

I went to day 2 of "New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival" to hear two acts...

The first was Cowboy Mouth... I've posted on them before!

The second was Simon and Garfunkel!! really.

While the tornadoes missed us... the bad weather had made the whole field muddy.

By the time S&G appeared, though, people were standing in the puddles, and the sun came out! The music was nice... they played almost entirely old covers, though one of the songs... maybe Cecelia(?) had what sounded like a Grateful Dead tune stuck in the middle of it... which was fun.
I wonder if this is the last reunion.

That's all for now.

Gay Easter Parade, French Quarter, New Orleans

2010-04-05T15:02:00.000-07:00

Ysterday there were several Easter Parades... this was the latest one in the afternoon... the gay one!

As the crowds gathered on Bourbon Street....

First a band...

Then lots of carriages, and pickup trucks

That's it... caught some beads... some other guys caught teddy bears or teddy ducks.

Aint life in New Orleans strange?

2010-02-22T18:17:00.000-08:00

New Orleans... what can I say?

Saturday afternoon... here come horses

And a coffin!

And mourners wearing paper bags!

It's the Ain'ts funeral... the end of a tradition of loving the Saints even though they never win anything.

So now the Ain'ts have had last rites, and are gone for ever.

Who dat?

The Last Parade of Mardi Gras!

2010-02-17T08:16:00.000-08:00

Well, all those parades... I felt very much like an observer at Carnival... But that changed on Fat Tuesday itself.

I took part in the Saint Ann's Parade... from Marigny to the French Quarter. It was nice to be something other than an observer, and I didn't care that there were no fancy doubloons being thrown.

But first, a bit of Zulu, the parade traditionally done in blackface (sort of)

Zulu started at 8 AM... and went on for a long time. I only caught one thing... a mini-frisbee. Unlike others, this parade had a sort of tailgating aspect to it... clearly a family affair, smaller in scale, and more about community.

I also caught two cups... and promptly gave one away.

I left after a few floats to catch up with my friends Dale and Dave in Faubourg Marigny (The Marigny Suburb) just outside the French Quarter. The goal was to follow a parade of home-grown costumes. If I had known better I would have created a more elegant costume. For example:

Dave got dressed up a bit...

As did a couple at their B&B... I guess they'd be house organs then? They had a small cassette player playing Bach under their frock.

Folks were gathering in Marigny, just milling around.

this is us...

He looks super!

At some point things started to move...

I bet his name is Jack...

These women were dressed as "Air Nagin" flight attendants... hoping Mayor Nagin flies away soon.

Once in the French Quarter, there was a costume competition...

Costumes are from the various balls...
This one was from a ball called "things that have vanished"
The French Opera house burned down almost a century ago.

And K&B was the local drug store chain.

By the way, the other costume was De-gas-ga a sort of combination of lady gaga and Degas.

It was a zoo in the French Quarter!

There were lots of others in line... but the crowd was a CRUSH... so we took a few snaps and split (or actually popped out of the crowd like watermelon seeds!)

Charlie, reporting from Mardi Gras!

"Merry Christmas!"

want more? Here's a pre-K view of the parade:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHg7ZUtKVsU

Mardi Gras: Endymion

2010-02-14T12:07:00.000-08:00

Saturday's supposed daytime parade didn't get going until dark... but I hung out with the guys setting up each of the incredible Endymion throwing machines (floats with two layers full of guys with things to throw!

Too many photos this time... here are two!

Tbere were 24 floats, each with two characters. Had a blast.

Mardi Gras: Krewe d'Etat and beyond...

2010-02-14T11:41:00.000-08:00

On the heels of Hermes... the Krewe d'Etat, a satyrical krewe.

Another parade lit by flambeaux... at least partially.

With horsemen (some of these had doubloons! (The guys called me a doubloon whore... I got several)

Each float had something it was making fun of...

Stimulus Package?

Dictator's Float:

Greed:

And then the camera died!

I missed getting pictures of Morpheus, which re-used some floats from Sparta... and also Muses... the most fun and creative of the night... with dancing shoes, fluttering butterflies and a float called "Put the seat down!" with a toilet. The superbowl parade did have one of the Muses floats... the lit shoe... for the two SAINTS kickers, so you get to see one float anyway.

here's the shot from last tuesday:

Mardi Gras: Hermes

2010-02-14T11:36:00.000-08:00

There were four parades last night... my camera batteries died during the second one!

The Parade was Krewe of Hermes, a sort of prelude to the big parades.

More bands! They were very good... considering how cold it was

COLD!

Robert and Johnny...

At one time the only lights for the parades were "flambeaux"... kerosene flaming lights, carried on long poles. Take a careful look!

The rule is that you should tip the flambeau guy. I gave one of the first ones all my change.

The floats were all Egyptian gods...

How about a nice cold beer?

BRRRR!

Mardi Gras: Carrollton and King Arthur

2010-02-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

Where am I this time?

Hum... just saying you are in Australia doesn't make it so.

But it looks like a bizarre religious cult...
Heck, you see that sort of stuff on St. Charles Avenue!

The guys lined up for two Parades, Krewe of Carrollton and King Arthur on an almost not cold Sunday morning. We had all sorts of snacks, drinks and even our own porta-potty.

My friend Johnny made a special hat for the occasion.

Folks asked to take his picture all the time.

Here is a bit of tradition... a horseman... most parades have masked riders on horseback, after my precious, no doubt!

The return of the king

Strike up the band(s) Lots of them

Lots of floats... some with reference to the Superbowl... which was later that day.

After a bit of delay... Parade #2, King Arthur
More bands, more floats

We all had a great time...

I managed to get a jesters cap from Carrollton and a plush crown from the King Arthur himself!

Mardi Gras: Sparta and Pygmalion

2010-02-14T11:23:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday had two parades on Canal Street in New Orleans: SPARTA and PYGMALION

First:

SPARTA!
The floats were pulled by tractors... the subject matter was fairy tales.

Here's the King of Sparta!

I caught a few beads, but it was cold!

Next PYGMALION!

You can't catch beads if you are photographing... and I have my priorities!

Note the Frog Pendants! And the sea turtle

stay tuned, I'm going back tomorrow!

Saints Parade, New Orleans

2010-02-09T21:31:00.001-08:00

The Saints had a parade in downtown New Orleans.

And so Johnny and John and Robert convinced me to go (that wasn't hard!)

The crowds were huge... traffic was a mess getting there.

First off there were police, EMS, sheriffs, and police motorcycles.

Then came the firefighters, including our friend Duaine!
They weren't really marching, sort of coming down the street celebrating!

There were many floats with football players, cheer leaders or coaching staff on them.

The major krewes lent floats from their parades... this one is from the women's krewe "Muses"

Nifty thing... it changes colors!

I mostly spent the time catching beads... until the end.

This is an entire train of a float... filled with staff, all throwing beads.

Congratulations New Orleans Saints...

There was a remarkable amount of love in the parade... everyone was joyful... it was wonderful.

Little Rascals Parade (Mardi Gras #2)

2010-02-04T13:33:00.000-08:00

The second parade of last weekend was a parade "for children"... there were no burning bushes (see my previous post)... just good clean fun.

The parade took up one half of Veterans Blvd... the biggest road in Metairie, the first western suburb of New Orleans. The parade is more spread out, with lots of grassy median (neutral ground) to stand on... or...

This is the standard way to let kids see the parade... a ladder and a box with wheels:

The parade was at noon, so (don't tell) I didn't go to church! Instead we got a good viewing spot. Here are Robert and Shannon... waiting for the parade...

...and here I am with Shannon,

No mules pulling things here...

...Most were pulled by tractors.

Here are the King and Queen!

And I SAW HIM, I SAW HIM...

There he was, lip-synching his hit! whoever he was...

And look! Navy recruiters in a float!!
They were throwing notepads!

There were a couple of equestrian units.

some without horses...

And more floats...

The theme was bedtime stories...

These are the famous nutria of Louisiana!

Robert commented on how most of the parade was "dance teams"... girls and women dressed very suggestively.

We saw more pompoms in this parade than I knew existed on the planet.

We gave up half way through and went to IHOP for all-you-can-eat pancakes. But I did bring lots of stuff home... including one die and two krewe cups... and a real metal coin. And a cup from the Navy recruiters... They threw it right at me. Maybe they think I have another career waiting!

I kinda like the stuffed crawfish... it's a local delicacy, you know.

Krewe de Vieux Parade, January 30

2010-02-01T13:20:00.000-08:00

My first Mardi Gras season parade, the Krewe de Vieux!!
(based in the "Old" French Quarter)

I been in the right place! Front row on a corner in the Marigny.
("I been in the Right Place, but it must have been the wrong time.." Dr John)

This parade is unusual in that no motorized floats are allowed... only animal drawn.

The theme "Fired Up"

Sometimes interpreted as cooking politicians (and the Colts) in boiling oil...

And sometimes reflecting the crisis in leadership...

This float was from the sub-krewe of "drips and discharges"

Dr. John was the Grand Marshal of this parade, and the mood was a bit creepy.

Mayor Nagin as Nero...

sorry folks, I'm not showing this one...

I missed getting a picture of "New Orleans rises from the ashes of Katrina"...

But I did get a couple of phoenix hat shots...

Don't ask...

After a brief interlude...

A second Parade!!! The Krewe d'elusion, I think... With Harry Shearer as GM!

In normal Mardi Gras style, there were many things thrown at the crowd. I managed to get a golden dredel... and lots of beads and a few 'coins'. The clown nose came at the end.

And one float was handing out recipes! Sort of NSW for language...

Wow... that was an odd parade. Done by 8 PM, but it felt like midnight.

Christmas in New Orleans

2009-12-26T09:26:00.000-08:00

Oh Little Town Of New Orleans...

My Christmas dinner was downtown... at one of the hotels on Canal Street. A group from the churches met for a very fancy buffet.

After that we went to the Roosevelt Hotel, famous for its decorated lobby, which runs through the middle of a city block.

The most interesting thing in it was this clock... well, the clock is actually below the pendulum...

Here is a side view:

The pendulum goes in circles, pushed by a spring wound finger... it's not an 'escapement' per se, since nothing ticks... it just rotates.

And for those who can squint... and are really interested:

A New Orleans Style Christmas!

Christmas Eve on the Mississippi

2009-12-26T09:22:00.000-08:00

One thing I've learned, in Louisiana things are done differently! Come on along as I'm shown a different side of Christmas....

Up the Mississippi River from New Orleans are the "River Parishes," home of Cajun Culture.

My friend Russell, who lives in St. Charles Parish, agreed to show me how the residents celebrate Christmas Eve. It was a rainy drive... part of a record breaking rainy December.

It seems that Papa Noel lives deep in the bayou... making toys for children. On Christmas Eve he gets in his bateau and, pulled by eight aligators, navigates the interlocking canals and passageways along the river.

But often it is foggy on Christmas Eve, so the locals build bonfires to help guide the bateau. This one had a sign "Cajun Fireplace"

There are quite a few of them built... and, if the weather breaks, they will be lit just after dark.

It's a family tradition, with certain families owning rights to build the fires.

Sometimes folks get creative...

And this one, built by the fire department (!!) is beautiful!

Russell and I drove back downstream and got some lunch, and it was still raining.
But when I got back to Community Church for the Christmas Eve service, the rain had ended.

Joyeux Noel, y'all!

For anyone interested...

2009-12-17T19:25:00.000-08:00

Things will be busy for me in the next few weeks:

Dec 20 at 11 AM -- Preach: North Shore Unitarian Universalist, Lacombe, LA
Dec 20 at 6 PM -- Labyrinth Service, First UU Church of New Orleans
Dec 24 at 6 PM -- Christmas Eve Readings & Carols: Community Church UU
Dec 27 at 10:30 AM Preach: "Sweatpants Sunday" at FUUNO
January 3 at 10:30 Participant: "Jazz Funeral For The Old Year" FUUNO (joint service)

Then I get a bit of a break.
-Charlie

Celebration In The Oaks - part 2

2009-11-25T16:32:00.000-08:00

Five Pictures of Cowboy Mouth.

You've seen me post on these folks before! Cowboy Mouth played at the reception, and gave a wild performance!

They do their own music usually... this time they changed some lyrics to add the phrase "ten-and-oh" to a chorus, and "the saints will win the Superbowl" to a verse. The crowd loved that, and if they could scream even louder, they did.

At one point a guy asked for "Some BRUCE!"... Fred made him give an additional donation of $200 to the parks before he played one tune... I think it was Born To Run.

I think JP's younger brother was invited up to play some drums...

The lead guitar, John Thomas..

And everybody loves Fred..

The crowd was in tuxes, and suits and basically well dressed.

This is Charlie, reporting from the Botanical Gardens!

Celebration In The Oaks - part 1

2009-11-25T16:28:00.000-08:00

ME AND....... Mister Bingle. We got a groovy thing...

...Goin' on

Mister Bingle, the snowman with the ice cream cone hat is a fixture here in New Orleans! Just saying his name has brought tears to the eyes of locals...

The occasion was a fundraiser reception at the Botanical Gardens...

It was a rather formal affair, but also it was raining! So it looked rather like a Monet painting. These fellows were serving Gumbo:

Each year City Park is filled with lights, mostly hung from the big oak trees. "Celebration in the Oaks" it's called. Pre-K it was a drive-through affair, with lines of cars waiting to go along the roads. Now it seems to be a walk-through thing. This was the preview party, for society types, patrons and the like. I didn't mind spending the money, I'm only here one year.

The place really did have an other-worldly quality to it. Fortunately, my new camera is back from the repair shop, and taking (somewhat grainy) pictures in the dark!

One musical sculpture was a walk-through "Musical Light Harp"... laser beams, when broken, made tones... so one played it rather like a Theramin...

"White Bird, In a Golden Cage,
On a Winter's Day,
In the Rain!"

But the white bird, just sits in her cage, Alone! (It's a Beautiful Day)

Free liquor,
Free food,
Free deserts!

And later, free Cowboy Mouth....

Oh yeah, Robert likes Mr. Bingle too!

Pre-Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T16:25:00.000-08:00

I heard you saying "Why I wonder if Charlie had a Pre-Thanksgiving party?"

Have no fear!
The crowd assembled...

Hey, I wanted leftovers!!!

Turkey, Gravy, Stuffing, Dressing, creamed onions (without any cream-- olive oil and red wine!), Butternut Squash, Mushroom-onion Quiche, Spinach Quiche (which didn't get used) and various desserts!

I hope your Thanksgiving is so wonderful!

Lake Town Festival- Kenner

2009-11-12T15:49:00.000-08:00

Greetings from the Lake Town Festival...

Here was the lineup...

Robert and I went to Kenner, the other end of the New Orleans area, to another music festival, like Gretna, but smaller-- only one stage.

Still, two of our favorite bands were there (but that comes later)
Start with the food...

So many choices!

We settled on the combo platter

and then we were hungry for some music:

The Chee Weez

This group had on the same outfits at Gretna... but back then the Saints were only 2-0... now they are what? 7-0?

The band is a cover band... doing mostly 70's stuff... Neil Diamond, Journey... that sort of thing. The lead singer is most of the show...

But the rest of the band plays pretty good cover material!

They tired me out... and then...

Cowboy Mouth

This was my third time seeing them...

They are a quartet, doing original rock-n-roll.

The leader is a man named Fred... who sings and plays the drums.

But the lead guitarist, John Thomas is also colorful.

The whole group is energetic

And Fred gets the crowd involved, singing along, yelling, jumping...

Makes me want to use some special effects...

That was enough excitement for one night.
We didn't stay for Eddie Money.

As they say here... Geaux Saints!

2009-11-05T08:54:00.001-08:00

GO SAINTS...Monday night football, November 2, 2009.

Welcome to the Superdome.

I was a bit apprehensive about going to the Superdome... it has many memories for many people.
It was the topic of a one-man show I saw this summer
Blanche Survives Katrina In A FEMA Trailer Named Desire
( http://blanchesurviveskatrina.com/ )

Then here in New Orleans I heard a singer who had been raped there. The place has memories, not good memories. Slowly fading memories.

These days it is all cleaned up inside... and actually has been for years. Rev. Jim wanted to take me to a game, and this was our big chance!

Our seats were up there (three rows from the top)

The view wasn't too bad

We could see the big picture of what was happening. On the other hand, the announcements were unintelligible!

Quiet... the game's starting....

Who am I kidding... it was a VERY LOUD GAME.

"Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say dere gonna beat dem Saints"
(approximately correct, usually all they say is "Who Dat?")

It turns out the answer was NOT the Atlanta Falcons, who tried, and came within 8 at the end, but no dice!

Saints still undefeated.
Charlie's ears still ringing.
Superdome seen.

All Saints Day in New Orleans

2009-11-05T08:27:00.000-08:00

Sunday I preached at First Church UU.

My text was from George Odell:

All our lives we are in need
And others are in need of us

It is traditional to clean graves of your ancestors on All Saints Day. It is a school holiday, though this year it was on a Sunday, so it didn't matter. Big signs advertised vigil masses and other special services.

After the service we went to the grave of the first two ministers of First Church, Rev. Sylvester Larned and Rev. Theodore Clapp.

Nice location... "we have a place on Orange Street"...

Here they are!!

It's been a while... since 1850 or so.

Me, down with the Rev's

Our crowd, from First and Community Churhes...

Next stop, St. Roch Cemetery

Including the room of thanks, where the first photo came from...

A wall of above-ground tombs... the individual spots can be re-used. It takes about 8 months between burials.

Those who got in early have the best location...

Is it time yet?

Gretna Heritage Festival 2009- Sunday

2009-10-05T14:06:00.000-07:00

The weather on Sunday was not so good.
Still, the Gretna Heritage Fest is rain-or-shine...

Some of the food offerings were different on Sunday:

But all of the music was different. This group was reggae... playing in high winds and rain:

This guy got the covered market to play in. Good New Orleans music!

These guys had a huge area to play to. We actually messed up, and thought they were a substitute and that we were at the "Main Stage"... where the Guess Who were playing. But this was the "Riverfront Stage". There were no obvious signs to the "Main Stage" which looked identical but which was behind the Ferry Landing. Oh well, no Guess Who for me.

The Chee Weez were good though! Covers, but done very energetically by a solid lead singer.

And then there was a parade!

I think the sousaphone was too loud.

And the reason we came: Better Than Ezra, a New Orleans hometown band.

"All across America, people cheer when we say we are from New Orleans!"

Ok, now my ears are really ringing! Home again...

Gretna Heritage Festival 2009- Friday

2009-10-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

A Health Food Moment...

Come along on my adventures at the Gretna Heritage Festival, across the Mississippi from New Orleans... This was Friday.

Lots of choices available:

Folks brought chairs and had a party...

Booths were manned by local charities and local eateries...

These were tempting.

I ended up eating a crawfish pistolet... not bad!

Of course the reason for the Festival was music. My friend Robert and I did see several acts, including:

Anders Osborne:

And Home-town favorite Cowboy Mouth:

I had seen Cowboy Mouth in San Francisco this past spring. In SF they did a song "take me back to New Orleans" which was really wonderful. They didn't do it during the concert, and I hoped they would do it for the encore. Instead they did a fantastic job on "Won't Get Fooled Again" which was an interesting comment on the ever-present topic.

And then, ears ringing, we drove back across the toll bridge to New Orleans.

Stained Glass- First Unitarian Universalist of New Orleans

2009-09-28T15:09:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday I was off! Yeah! But I still went to church, to the congregation I hadn't seen since August.

So this is The First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans, on S. Claiborne.

One week earlier "FUUNO" had a dedication of some stained glass windows:

These three show the church (flaming chalice) and city (fleur-de-lis) and the waters from the flood. The third pane shows the recovery after the waters receded.

The second window set honors local New Orleans and Louisiana heroes, the Gordon Sisters (http://www.lib.lsu.edu/soc/women/lawomen/gordons.html)

These two worked for several important causes in New Orleans and Louisiana... they were fearless in the causes of Suffrage, Care for the mentally ill, and Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

They also advocated for closed sewers... replacing the open sewers which must have been pretty awful!

Why only one sister? One of the two died first, I think it was Jean, and the window was designed for her. Then her sister died later that year, and the combination of windows surrounding it were dedicated to the both of them! These windows were made in the 1930's... but only briefly assembled to be shown, then they went off to storage for a generation or three.

Both sisters names appear at the bottom (sorry, focus is lousy!)

The quote is from Tennyson (Sir Galahad):

MY good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

(changed to "Her"... though if it were made later it would probably have been "Their"... )

The labyrinth was finished in time for the ceremony, too!

But the rest of the floor still needs to be tiled... but that's happening!

New Orleans Garden Party

2009-09-28T15:02:00.000-07:00

No, it's not another political organization...

Last Wednesday I went to the Botanical Gardens to a "Garden Party" with food and a very nice concert by the Voice of the Wetlands All-Stars!

This is Jumpin' Johnny Sansone...

And these are the Voice of the Wetlands All-Stars:
Jumpin’ Johnny Sansone, Cyril Neville, Anders Osborne, and Waylon Thibodeaux, with drummer and bass player whose names I never got (and they never did solos.)

And here's another member, Big Chief Monk Boudreaux.

They played for over two hours at the Botanical Garden... $10 to get in, and they had $2 sodas, and $4 hamburgers and $5 etouffe! A very classy evening, not too expensive.

The concert was a great combination of Cajun songs, like "Row Row Row That Pirouge" and Mardi Gras songs, like "Here Come The Indians Now"

http://backbeatfoundation.org/

Their leader, Tab Benoit, was away for this performance, but I hope to see them at a festival on October 10 in Houma.... if I don't have to be at a wedding.

Maybe Someday...

2009-09-23T06:22:00.000-07:00

I pledge Allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America,
One nation under God, indivisible,
With liberty, justice and care for all.

...maybe someday.

Katrina Rebuilding

2009-09-21T18:53:00.000-07:00

In my last post I talked about destruction.

But before you count me out, notice a couple of things in that post. Most of the houses were damaged or only slightly repaired.

In a small area of the Ninth Ward, you could see some unusual houses:

These are the handiwork of an organization headed by Brad Pitt called "Make It Right".

One goal is to find a better alternative to the "shotgun shack" which is still common in New Orleans.

Here are some of the houses they are creating:

It won't be enough to change the world... but it is an effort. They even have a wetlands recreation project. I met some Tulane U. students come to work on it for the day, along with staff from the organization supervising them:

people are walking around with "Brad Pitt for Mayor" T-shirts!

Katrina Commemoration

2009-09-21T18:38:00.000-07:00

The fourth anniversary of Katrina was actually at the end of August, but I'm only just getting around to posting these photos.

There were bigger "authorized" commemorations, but this one seemed to be the one advertised on the streets.

The event began in the Lower Ninth Ward. This section of town was the scene of incredibly destructive flooding which came from the industrial canal. The area is poor, and many folks had no car. The North Claiborne Street Bridge crosses the Industrial Canal and is the main access road in and out. Many folks decided to stay in their houses, often with their pets, and to hope ride it out.

The ceremonies began near where the levee breached.

Groups gathered for the march

Then, mostly to a drum beat, we headed across the lower ninth ward.

A group of students from Tulane carried lists of those who died that day:

We marched down a dozen blocks and across the lock bridge to Bywater... toward the Superdome, the French Quarter and Marigny.

A view back toward North Claiborne Street Bridge:

I didn't march the whole way. I had to walk back to my car. On the way, I noticed just how many houses had been wiped away. This once had houses shoulder-to-shoulder:

Charlie Preaching #1

2009-09-21T18:34:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I did my first "real" preaching.

This time it was at Community Church UU in New Orleans.

Immediately afterward I raced across the lake to attend an "Annual Budget Drive" meeting near Covington. That lasted until 4PM, then I drove home via Slidell, made bacon and eggs for dinner (I hadn't really had breakfast) and wrote a bit in my journal.

The snapshot is from my video of the service. I don't have the heart to watch it with sound, though I think it went well. Something about seeing and hearing myself on camera needs a bit more distance from the event. So I skipped around, and found a few places where I looked up instead of down at the podium.

The service included two rituals-- very unusual for Unitarian Universalist services. One is a ritual of combining waters brought from home, or from a trip, or some other life event. Each person gets to say where their water is from, and why the source is important to them.

We had stories of strokes, and trips to Canada and one about "the unpleasantness" as Katrina is often called (very sarcastically). I got to learn quite a bit about the 30 or so people who shared their water. It was very heartwarming.

The second ritual was to use that water to bless the hands of the teachers, recognizing the importance of their job in guiding our children. That ritual was not so smooth, but it went 'OK'-- in my opinion.

I have a committee of seven congregants drawn from the three congregations who will guide and evaluate me. Five of them were at the service. I talked to three of them, and they said generally positive things. I have lots of polishing to do! We will have a meeting in early October to share feedback.

One important note:

The New Orleans Saints were playing in the Superdome... game time 12 Noon! My service went over 10 minutes, to 12:10... Well, they missed the kick-off! (unless they have TIVO!)

Three random pictures of New Orleans...

2009-09-21T18:27:00.000-07:00

And one nearby (of the Causeway)

Moving In to my New Orleans Apartment

2009-09-21T18:11:00.000-07:00

Here comes the cube!

Here's where the stuff is going, my apartment is the back, one story portion.

The inside of the "Relo-cube" looked pretty much like it did when I packed it in Berkeley, back in June! Thanks to Karen, MarySue and Shams... and John!

This was two weeks ago... a few of the boxes of books are still not unloaded.

Tales of City Park #1

2009-09-21T18:01:00.000-07:00

A couple of weekends ago I visited City Park in New Orleans and a few of the attractions there: The
Botanic Garden and the Sculpture Garden.

LETS GO!

The Sculpture garden is actually closed, but you can see in...

The Botanic(al?) Garden is open! It's a bit off-season for flowers, but there were a few...

I will have to come back to both of these... and maybe ride the train in from the streetcar station!

Renovations at First Church Unitarian Universalist of New Orleans

2009-09-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

Back in 2007 I visited First Church in New Orleans, and took this photo of the interior:

The hall had been flooded about a foot deep, and all the pews were ruined.
Now it's 2 1/2 years later, and the place is starting to look different...

The changes are not dramatic... but the effect is.
The lighting works again.
The ceiling is now covered.
The place was painted.
And then there is this:

First, notice the wood... that's new wainscoting, made from the flooring of the stage which had to be torn down.

But what about the Labyrinth?

Bit by bit, and using donated tiles, the concrete floor of the sanctuary is turning into a huge labyrinth. It's about half done, with custom cut pieces and two different types of tile. It's going to be fantastic when it's done!

This is one of the three churches I'll be serving.

Across the Causeway!

2009-08-18T10:50:00.000-07:00

My adventures in New Orleans continue!

Today my friend Robert took me across the Causeway, to Abita Springs and to a Fontainebleau State Park. ( http://www.crt.state.la.us/parks/iFontaine.aspx )

This morning I headed over to Robert's house, and we jumped in his truck and went across the Causeway... 24 mi. to Mandeville, LA. We stopped at the visitors center and picked up several fliers, including a wonderful one showing the history of Abita Springs.

So we headed to lunch at the brewpub in Abita Springs, a few miles inland.
( http://www.abitabrewpub.com/AboutUs.html )

I had a muffaletta, and a sampler of the Abita beers... most of them are very good... the amber is so-so, but the wheat was very good. The sandwich was good too, but if I recall correctly, the one I'd had in the French Quarter was better.

Then we went searching for a Venus Flytrap Park listed on the brochure... but couldn't find it... so we settled for going to the State Park on the lake.

The park was one of Mandeville's estates. This is the old sugar mill... or what is left of Mandeville's mill.

The ranger said the mill was in operation until 1860... but there are no known photos of it when it was in operation.

It's a nice park. In the Visitors Center we saw a man making arrowheads from flint. He was delighting a 10 year old boy and his mother, and making a very intricate head-- flaking bits of flint off of it as he talked.

While we were in the Visitors Center, a thunderstorm passed.

After it cleared we headed for the marsh path...

and finally, the beach:

32 oz big-gulps in our hands, we headed for home. The Dr. Pepper ran out before the causeway did.

Arrival in New Orleans.

2009-08-11T15:33:00.001-07:00

I arrived in Louisiana yesterday. I drove down from Springville, a town north of Birmingham, Alabama, where I was visiting a friend's farm. And while Sunday night was filled with farm food and a silly comedy video "Role Models," Monday was a day filled with 75 MPH highway.

Interstate 59 comes out of Chattanooga, TN, on the southern end of the Great Smokey Mountains. It runs between the Tennessee River and Lookout Mountain, following the mountain through Georgia and into Alabama, then goes down a valley between long rolling hills down to Birmingham. After Birmingham, it begins to flatten out... and once I entered Mississippi, the high points in the road tended to be bridges over creeks and floodplains.

Mississippi was not entirely routine driving. The skies were no longer clear, though the air wasn't much cooler than the weekend. At one point the sky ahead looked especially opaque... indeed, the road seemed to vanish. It was a Mississippi downpour. The road was completely dry at one place, then three seconds later it was a complete deluge. I hydroplaned briefly and coasted down to 40 MPH, windshield wipers going full blast. And then, after perhaps twenty seconds of travel, the rain had stopped and the road was dry-- not drying-- dry! This pattern repeated a few times over the next hour, once with a flash of lightning. By now my eyes were crossing from staring through a wet windshield, so I pulled over for pie and coffee. While sitting at the truckstop a big storm came through, with heavy rain and plenty of lightning. Twenty minutes later, after checking some e-mail on their WiFi, it was over and I headed south again.

Coming into Louisiana means crossing the Pearl River, a small stream with a large flood plain. For the next half-hour I was still in the country. The only way I knew it was Louisiana was the large Welcome Center, and a new map for my collection. The Welcome Center personnel were watching Fox News, which was loudly discussing how angry America was with Obama for calling those who silenced debate on health care un-American... or something like that. Every phrase seemed to twist and insinuate. I couldn't get out fast enough... but it told me that yes, I am in The South. And yes, many Americans have opinions not heard in Berkeley, CA!

So I was thinking about that, and the large billboard announcing "RUSH LIMBAUGH HAS A NEW HOME IN LOUISIANA- 99 FM!" as I went across the causeway from Slidel to New Orleans. I caught myself driving too fast a couple of times. I will learn serenity.

The directions I had included a turn-of onto I-610, but I went on to a surface road paralleling the elevated highway just before the interstate, and drove across the neighborhood called Gentilly. I was surprised to see how little had changed from two years ago. The drive-through Daiquiri place looked like it had been cleaned up, but several shopping centers were just fenced off and boarded up. Churches were abandoned. The surface roads have holes, and the concrete squares on the road are not all level. It makes driving somewhat like a video game, with sudden hazards to avoid. Some houses look wonderful, with landscaping and toys on the driveway, while the house next door still has an X on the siding, and boarded up windows. And maybe next to that is an empty slab. The X indicates that the building was searched... in each corner of the X is: Who searched, When, How many Dead, and something else which I can't remember. The houses I saw all had "0" in the How many dead corner, thank goodness.

I drove over to the big city park, and across it to try to find Community Church, in Lakeview neighborhood. This is where my office will be. It is on Fleur de Lis Street-- a boulevard. In happier times it seems to have been two lanes with a wide park-like divider. Now only one lane was passable each way, and you could not safely go more than about 10 MPH. There were broken concrete slabs and holes... and sometimes entire blocks of missing road. You had to divert to the side street to continue. With hundreds of miles of broken roadways, it's clear that Fleur de Lis is not on the top of the list for repair.

The church, or rather, the vacant lot where the church had been, is on a corner lot. Community Church operates out of a converted house next to the vacant lot. I parked in front of it, went up and rang the bell. Inside I met David W. who is a member of the finance committee. I got the quick tour-- the large assembly hall was formerly the dining room, living room and family room, while the minister's office was a former bedroom and the kitchen was a slightly modified kitchen/social hall area. There is a tiny upstairs, with a bathroom and a library. I think my desk will be up there, or maybe I'm in the walk-in closet (now book supply closet) next to that room. It's nice to have my own space... but it will be "modest." Fortunately, it is air conditioned, and well lit. The "Annex" as they call it is a wonderful small church. I can imagine that it gets pretty crowded on Sunday, and it will be good to have more space for meetings, children's classes, etc.

David showed me one wall hanging called the "Tree of Life", done for the original church building. It has all sorts of threads and beads sewn into the fabric, and must have been marvelous, two stories high in the church. CCUU had retrieved it before the church was torn down, and sent it to an art college in Florida to be restored. It now hangs from ceiling to floor, folded to make it fit in the one-story assembly hall. I imagine that when the new building is dedicated, the moving of the tree of life will be an important part of the ceremony.

David also talked about where he lives, which is across the Mississippi, on the western side in Algiers. He says the rents are cheap, and that the bridge isn't too bad for a commute. If I get a place within bicycle distance of the ferry, I'd have easy access to the French Quarter, too! I'll look at the area, I'm not sure it's for me.

I decided to take a trip over to First Church after that. It's a bit of a drive, including a short stretch of freeway. South Carrolton was in better shape than it was two years ago, but still not perfect. The intersection with Napoleon had two huge front end loaders parked on the wide median-- like lions guarding the entrance to the Boulevard! I drove around First Church, then walked around the building. They are renting out the assembly hall to Gymboree, or some similar organization, and signs for that dominated the outside of the building The "First Church Unitarian Universalist" sign seemed unimportant, and the stonework still has the old Evangelical congregation's name on it (in lovely lettering.) I felt a little bit like First Church was just renting space in the building rather than telling the world that they are alive and open for business.

The doors were all locked, so I headed out to the Frostop for a catfish dinner -- where I had enjoyed eating two years ago. A big TV had MSNBC blaring, making digestion impossible. So I downed the fish and got out of there. This time I drove back to the freeway and off to Gentilly to my Bed and Breakfast home. I'm staying in a very nice rebuilt home on a bayou-- an inlet from Lake Pontchartrain-- and have two rooms, one for a study and one with a double bed. It's very comfortable!

The house I am in isn't actually a B&B, but it takes in guests from other Unitarian Universalist churches during Mardi Gras, as a fund raiser for the congregation. The homeowner had gone to Texas during Katrina, and had to have the entire first floor repaired. We talked for an hour about the recovery, her family and the church. Then I excused myself and went to bed.

I am angry about the lack of progress of recovery. Back in June I went to Iowa City to see where the Mississippi River flood had been, and it all looked repaired. It was only a memory. But four years later New Orleans still has decades of road repair to do... the scale of the work is astounding. There are tens of thousands of homes yet to be rebuilt. Even in the classy neighborhood of my B&B, one house is just steps to a slab. My host told me of one church member stuck on an overpass for three days, waiting for food or water. Now whole neighborhoods are waiting... waiting for road repair, or schools or community. I'll have to listen for what all that waiting has done to people's self worth, and to their souls.

I am also angry at how the healthcare debate is being avoided by Fox and MSNBC... hour after hour not talking facts, instead talking about opinions about opinions. I also have started to hate the word "THEY", as in "they think this is...." painting groups, including the Democrats with a very broad brush-- "othering" them. Recently I began listening for the word "should" and now I am going to add the word "they" to my list.

I am happy to be here. My spring term was spent waiting for this adventure. My summer so far has been a vacation from the process (or driving around the USA to get here.) Everything has been some form of "not doing," but now it's time to "do." I still have a few weeks before work starts, and I need to concentrate on getting a place to live. It is like the dress rehearsals... not quite showtime, but clearly this internship exists, and I am making decisions which have an effect on what it will be like.

So off I go... time to learn the city enough to figure out where to live!

Charlie as Intern in New Orleans

2009-08-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start using this Blog again...

I've moved out of Berkeley, and am now in New Orleans, working as an intern for GNOUU, Greater New Orleans Unitarian Universalists. Come follow along with my adventures!

Third Person Singular Unspecified

2009-03-13T20:17:00.000-07:00

Consider this sentence:
"Because everyone in the room spoke Spanish, I addressed him in that language" (I believe this is from Elements of Style: Strunk and White)
The grammar is correct, because "everyone" is singular, To match the pronoun to it's noun, "I" must address a singular object, "him." The default gender for singular pronouns is masculine. If the entire audience were women, "her" would also be correct. "They" is not correct, though it is a popular way of speaking these days.
Then there are situations like:
"Everyone in the room for my talk on penguins spoke Spanish, so I addressed them in that language."
Who did you address? "Everyone" (singular) or "the penguins" (plural)?

Grammarians like E. B. White made a strong case for the standard English usage of his day, and it was a noble fight. But it is lost. Everyone says what they want, and we all understand it... usually.
I believe it's time to either standardize the new grammar or introduce new words into the language. English is an evolutionary language. It has changed, even in my lifetime. The most major introduction I can remember is "Ms"... a title for women that does not have information about marital status. This word allowed our thought processes to shift out of the "Miss or Mrs." era in into an age where women had the same right to privacy as men. Our culture shifted, and our language shifted with it. Instead of letting English blur singular and plural, I propose that we add more words to the language.
The words I want to introduce are general replacements for the hard-to-say pronoun combinations "his or her", "s/he", "her- (or him-)self" and the like. The proposed words are actually even more general than these limited combinations. Instead of being "masculine or feminine" they have unspecified gender. This allows us, for example, to look at a baby in a crib and say something other than "Isn't he cute-- it is a boy isn't it?" Indeed, even if the child has a sexual identity that is neither male nor female -- intersex, hermaphroditic, or other description -- the child (it would be grammatically correct, but absurd to say "he" here) would be included in the new pronoun.
Some people have proposed new words like "ghe", "zhe" and "per", "hir" or "gher" as ways of referring to new genders, those associated with transgender, intersex, and gender-queer persons. I have no argument with this, but these new pronouns only complicate the combinations: "Let every voter go to his/her/per/gher/hir voting place!" When the list is used, it is clear that the speaker is being inclusive in his/her/per/gher/hir language, though the order of pronouns may be criticized. But sometimes a speaker will simply forget, leaving transgender and intersex individuals off his list. Is this a passive-aggressive act, or accidental?
The solution is to make a set of pronouns that are explicitly non-explicit. They are third person singular unspecified pronouns. And rather than find a new set of sounds, I propose that the new pronouns sound fairly much like the most common substitutes, that is, the third person plural words. The proposed words are:
THAY (nominative pronoun) "Thay is in the way!"
THAM (objective pronoun) "I see tham!"
THAIR (possessive pronoun attributive) "That is thair height!"
THAIRS (possessive pronoun predicate and absolute) "It is thairs!", "Thairs is a hard life!" and,
THAMSELF (reflexive) This is equivalent of himself, herself, itself, etc. It is a new construction, not the direct modification of "themselves," which would be "thamselves." "During deliberations, a judge should eat by thamself."
The word "thay" is actually much more general than the traditional "he or she." It can also mean "it" in situations like: "If there is any source of noise, make sure thay is silenced!" -- the source of noise could be a person or a mechanical device.
The words should be easy to say using standard English pronunciation rules for the community, so the words will sound similar to the third-person plural words, with broader vowel. Exact pronunciation will vary depending on location. (For example, a Bostonian may make "thair" two syllables, as thay sometimes does with "their.") Differentiation between the singular "thay" and plural "they" may not be possible without listening for context. This is similar to the situation in German, where "she"="sie" and "you (formal)"="Sie."
The grammar will sound a bit lower class to some ears, especially when using the singluar subject "thay" with singular verbs. This can't be helped. A similar criticism was heard against "Ms." People commented that it sounded like a slurred version of "Missus." But grammar is already broken, and this provides a way for everyone to say what thay means in a grammatically correct and inclusive way.
Simply because a new, unspecified gender pronoun exists, it does not mean that it should be used when a specific one is known. As a rule, when a specific pronoun can be used without loss of ambiguity or inclusiveness, use the specific pronoun.
For example:
"If the captain says that the compass is stuck, strike tham on the side!"
This would mean striking the captain, since it matches the captain's lack of specific gender. It might also match the gender of the compass, but the compass is known to be neuter, so "it" is the simplest and therefore correct pronoun for that meaning. The problem is more complex in the following examples:
"If a guard says that someone is moving in the corridor, thay is to be believed."
"If a guard says that someone is moving in the corridor, thay is to be shot."
English is still a confusing language. These additional words don't fix everything.
These new pronouns are introduced for the purpose of providing simple, easy to pronounce substitutes for alternative words or phrases that are either grammatically incorrect or that contain too much specificity for the situation. As a side effect, the new pronouns eliminate the need for hyphenated, slashed or parenthesis-ed pronominal phrases and provide natural ways to make speech gender inclusive.

Charlie

Hard times?

2009-03-13T15:52:00.000-07:00

A friend sends this around (amounts deleted):

"Got an email today from the CEO with exciting news: We've just received a $xxx million donation! That brings us up to $x00 million in donations! We continue to serve a record number of patients! Staff reductions to begin in April!"

To what extent have modern economic theories invaded the non-profit sector? How does your thinking about religious community support depend on modern business models?

Dorothy Day used a different economic model... she did as much as she could with all her resources, and more resources appeared.

This might be the abundance model... contrasted with the scarcity model of modern capitalist enterprises... or it might be something else.

A set of questions I'll be thinking about!

Neighbor Water

2008-09-07T20:03:00.000-07:00

So I didn't go to church today... but I am reading Rebecca Parker's book Blessing The World... and for no real reason, as I read her proposal that we should tithe, we should enforce a day of rest into our lives and we should go on a shamanistic journey, at least those of us who can afford it... I got a crazy idea...

In many Unitarian Universalist congregations it is traditional to begin the church year with a 'gathering of water' from the families in the congregation. Folks bring water from their travels... sometimes from exotic places like Russia or France... or from a summer camp or a canoe trip.

But I'd rather propose a different tradition. Instead of having the water in a water communion come from YOUR summer, what if it instead came from a NEIGHBOR'S house? Each member of the congregation is asked to knock on the door of a neighbor, introduce themselves and ask for a cup of water. The water communion would then be a celebration of the community, and the collected "neighbor water" would be diverse, rather than based on one's ability to pay for a vacation.

I am a big fan of blessing hands with this collected water... teachers, musicians, etc.

Wake Now Compassion...

2008-08-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

My Sermon "Wake Now Compassion..."
Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Marin, California

The reading was from "Here if You Need Me-- a True Story" by Unitarian Universalist Minister Kate Braestrup. Kate is the chaplain for the State of Maine's Game Wardens. Her work includes praying over the bodies of hunters, snowmobilers, and hikers, and counseling the wardens themselves.
In this excerpt, Kate is preparing to say Grace at the annual Game Warden's Dinner, a dinner cooked by a group of wardens including Fritz Trisdale. (The reading followed here)

Sermon:
Although it's not traditional here, I'm going to start my sermon with a Gospel reading. I found this tiny bit in the Gospel of Thomas, the most recently discovered of the major gospels... and I'm only going to give you a fragment of saying number 6, though there is a similar sentiment in Luke chapter 11:
"His disciples asked him and said to him... How should we pray?" (Five Gospels, Hoover, Funk)
That's all... just that simple question. In the two different gospels where the question is asked, Jesus gives very different answers. In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus replies that God knows everything anyway, and in Luke Jesus responds with a version of "Our Father"-- the prayer commonly called "The Lord's Prayer."
But... I am savoring the answer to "How shall We Pray" we find in Kate Braestrup's book when she writes: “Heigh Oh Silver!”
As a Unitarian Universalist, I’m much more comfortable with a prayer that begins “Heigh Oh Silver” than one that begins “Hail Mary” or "Our Father". But over the last two months I’ve actually said more Hail Marys than Heigh-o-Silvers.
I want to thank Sally Schroeder for asking me to be with you today. Sally and I go back a few years, when we both lived near Princeton New Jersey.
I lived in a community called Kingston, and like most of the men in town, and a few of the women, I served as a Volunteer Firefighter.
Kate Braestrup's memoir of the Maine Game Wardens touched my heart in that it resonated with my firefighting past.
Kingston had lots of open space, and when someone gets lost—a suicidal teenager, an Alzheimer sufferer—the fire companies are the quickest way to get lots of people searching the forests and swamps.
Elsewhere in "Here If You Need Me" Kate Braestrup tells about another lost-person search, on an icy, rainy November night.
Chaplain Braestrup is asked by one of the wardens: "Listen, Reverend Mother, as long as you're here, could you pray for it to stop raining?" Kate replies: "I'm a Unitarian Universalist. We don't DO weather." (109)
So, from Braestrup’s point of view, UU prayers should not ask a supernatural power to change atmospheric patterns. And, believe me, I’ve been out on lost-person calls on snowy nights, and if I thought they’d do anything, I might have acted differently.
Two summers ago I saddled up my minivan left New Jersey, an engineering career, and volunteer firefighting and drove across America, to come out to Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley. My goodbyes didn't include a prayer, but "Heigh o Silver" would have been a perfect.
At School when I inquired how to pray, the students who were further along would say: “Charlie, wait until you are a Hospital Chaplain Intern — then you will learn how to pray!” So I waited.
As with many denominations, the training of Unitarian Universalist ministers includes a critical step, called C P E. That stands for “CLINICAL PASTORAL EDUCATION”, and it’s a process in which we learn how to be a pastor in a clinical setting.
Each ministerial candidate is required to do CPE. We can choose to be a chaplain in a Hospital, a Prison, a Hospice organization, or a Mental Health facility.
My choice was a VA Hospital.
I wanted to work with Military Veterans, and specifically to work at the Palo Alto VA because that hospital has a wide variety of units.
It has almost 1000 beds, and everything from Hospice and Nursing Home units to addictions, blindness and spinal cord injuries, as well as the usual heart bypass and hip replacements.
So two months ago I appeared at the Palo Alto VA Hospital… ready to learn how to pray, to pray and also to be present to patients.
There is a saying. A chaplain must meet patients where they are.
If a patient is Jewish, I am a Jewish chaplain.
If they are atheists, I am atheist.
If they are Catholic, I am Catholic.
But I’m not a Rabbi, or a Priest or even a Minister. If a patient is Catholic and wants communion, I arrange to have a Eucharistic minister to come to him—or her, though most patients are male.
If a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints wants to talk, I will provide a compassionate listening ear. If they need a ritual, I will contact the Mormon minister on call.
I spent some time wondering... is working for the VA really working for the military-industrial complex? Another of our chaplain interns was actually challenged on this point... challenged so strongly that his ability to be ordained came into question. But he and I see it this way:
A recent study shows that one-in-five returning OEF/OIF (Those are the official names: Operation Enduring Freedom, in Afghanistan, and Operation Iraqi Freedom) …one in five… has symptoms of what is called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and is at a higher risk of suicide. Last year a national suicide hotline got 22 thousand calls from veterans.
In my opinion, it does not matter that our incursion into Iraq was based on deception and out-and-out lies... the soldiers who fought and are fighting there are human beings.
AND If a Gulf War veteran is suffering Gulf War Syndrome, he or she deserves to be cared for spiritually as well as physically.
And those my age, who were drafted into Vietnam-- only to have their sense of safety permanently destroyed-- they also demand our attention. They were IN THE WAR, but they were NOT THE WAR. They deserve dignity, just as all human beings deserve to know that they have worth and dignity. So I chose the VA.
One thing I should tell you... because of privacy concerns in healthcare, in this sermon I will be fictionializing patient names and information.
For our internship each chaplain selects several units to cover, one or two days per week. The rest of the time is spent doing classwork.
Of the twenty possible assignments, I selected THREE to work with all summer.
One is a ward full of Vietnam-era vets suffering from alcohol and drug addictions. And when the alcohol is withdrawn, the nightmare of Post Traumatic Stress reappears... sometimes with hallucinations.
It is a locked ward where patients have no belts or shoelaces -- a precaution to prevent suicides.
Another of my wards holds paraplegics and quadriplegics, some on ventilators.
And my third ward is a relatively normal hospital ward, full of old farmers, car salesmen and teachers spending a few days or weeks in surgical recovery for cancer, diabetes related conditions, back problems, and things like that.
How would you pray for these precious people?
Maybe you have had a friend waiting for a cancer biopsy result. What would you say to your friend other than "It is God's Will"?
Maybe you have a friend who suffers from the disease of alcoholism, drug addiction or depression, whose life spirals into chaos. What do you say to your friend that doesn't drive you two apart?
Maybe you have a friend who has lost physical abilities, through accident, through disease, or simply because of how they were born. What do you say to your friend when "Don't Worry" just sounds hollow?
And what do you say to yourself? How do you comfort YOURSELF when you are in relationship with struggle?
I must confess, I have had friends in all these situations, and I've never known what to say.
At the start of my internship I also had to be explicit about my personal goals. The other five interns also wrote out their own goals, and then we shared the documents, so each of us could help the other.
One of my goals was to "Experiment with Prayer"... and for how little I knew of prayer, I might have just as reasonably said, "Experiment with Heart Surgery". But once stated, you know, a true desire cannot be withdrawn. And so I have been mindful of this goal in my work.
For example, as part of the addictions unit I learned the "Serenity Prayer"-- a standard part of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, though it dates back at least to the time of theologian Reinholt Niebuhr...
God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change.
The courage to change the things we can.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
AA leaves the understanding of "God" to the particular group and individual. The one AA meeting I attended was in a church, and the serenity prayer had a Protestant Christian preamble, but this need not be so.
The patients in the addictions unit are mostly desperate, and in dire straits.
They have burned bridges with family and friends, lost house, car, savings, job, and sometimes health. To accept that the ex-wife, the condo or their drivers license-- accept that all these things are gone... that is a step toward recovery. And while I don't participate in their AA meeting, my job is to support the words of that prayer.
And one step at a time, the VA will help them build a new life... if they can learn serenity, and work to change.
The spinal injuries unit has not involved saying any prayers. For these men and women, the "things I cannot change" are as obvious as morning bowel care. They will never be what they once were.
For them, prayer takes the form of presence.
To listen to their lives and hopes, to be with them as they suffer setbacks when bedsores reappear and progress when they are healed again, to embody a sense of their worth, that is my prayer for them. It is a prayer of joy.
The surgical ward has had the most prayer in it.
One day I was asked to pray the Hail Mary and the Our Father in Spanish… I took German in High School.
My pro-nun-cia-tion was horrible, but the patient was,...... thankfully patient, as I read the words off a tiny card.
Another prayer was with a young veteran's family, where we all held hands.
I asked him to start... His start included an invocation of "Our Lord Jesus Christ" and statements of humility and unworthiness... and he continued for several minutes asking for blessings on the hospital, his nurses, and even me. When he had mentioned everyone and everything I could imagine to lift up in prayer, he turned it over to me. All I had to do was say "Amen!"
I had given my first fundamentalist prayer.
And consider George... "George" is an old veteran recovering from a painful procedure. I sat at his bedside as he talked of his life, losses and what he held dear. When it came time to go, George started the prayer in his traditional way, but he didn't do the whole thing. He let me take over:
Let us be mindful of our friend George as he does the hard work of recovery,
Let us be mindful of the love he felt for his mother and his father, and the love he feels for his children. (And, after a few more like that I said:)
May he find peace amidst the work of healing. May he get enough sleep, (and so on)
Amen.
I was nervous. My mind raced... It was awful... but it was perfect.
Back in our reading, Kate Braestrup gives a prayer: "Oh God, whose name is love and whose work is justice, I offer thanks to you for this day and for this fine and funny company" (104)
And now I understand.
Prayer is like my goals for the summer. It is the way to make explicit, to expose, develop and place in public view that which is within the heart.
For Kate, it was the love she felt for the Game Wardens of Maine.
For the recovering alcoholic, prayer can be a reminder of need for inner peace and an affirmation that there is a way to change.
Prayer can also expose sadness, loneliness, fear, and anger. Prayer speaks personal truth into the world beyond the self.
I can see how directing your prayer to "Abba"-- the Aramaic word meaning "DADDY" could be comforting-- Abba, translated "Our Father" is the word used in Luke at the start of the Lord's Prayer.
And I can understand how using a female name for "the divine" provides more comfort to others.
For Reverend Braestrup, "God whose name is love" is beautiful, biblical, non-AN-THRO-PO-MOR-PHIC and not gendered.
But others do not need God as a witness. Declaration to the community, declaration to the trees or the sea or a picture on the wall, all these are prayer if they come from the emotional center we call the heart.
Where one person might say, perhaps: "Oh Lord may this snowstorm stop and my daughter arrive home safely." It's not about the weather. Another person might say: "I love my daughter, and am afraid for her as she drives through the snow."
Both statements name the emotions of the heart. Each could be a prayer.
And so, last Sunday, after I heard of the murders at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church, I thought for the first time that prayer might be worthwhile in my life.
I have no illusion about being able to change weather patterns, to change the past or change what occurred that day. I cannot undo the damage of the shotgun blasts. I cannot give them life again. But I can speak my emotions to the world.
So with this definition, do you think we can pray together, TODAY?
I want to add a COMMUNITY PRAYER here in our order of service.
Let's change roles... a moment ago you were audience, now you are a participant.
I want to give some time for those of use whose hearts were touched by the attack in Tennessee, and who want to try verbalizing it in prayer.
For some of us, the children on the stage, witnessing the events at the door is a vision of profound sadness. For some it is the bravery of Greg McKendry, the usher... and the bravery of the parishioners who tackled the gunman.
Perhaps it is the loss of innocence in liberal religion -- an awareness that violence can touch us even during our worship service.
Or is it the sad story of Linda Kraeger, a visitor to church that Sunday, who was also shot dead.
Let's take a moment, let's give ourselves space to speak the prayers of our hearts to our assembled community. May we take a few minutes?
Here's how it will work. We are creating a shared prayer... each of us contributes a sentence. If you wish to help create our shared prayer, stand or raise your hand, we'll point at you... and shout it out your statement or whisper your words.
It is the saying, not our hearing, that is important.
And I will start, using Kate Braestrup's formulation:
"God whose name is love and whose work is justice," we turn our attention to the murderous attack at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. May we share this morning with this our community the emotions and meditations of our hearts.
May we remember the loving action of the usher, Greg McKendry.
(a community sharing of prayers followed)

I rather like this line...

2008-05-02T21:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's fun to take something drecky and turn it around. We were chatting about our carbon footprint...

"And then I stopped and looked back on the sand, and 6.7 billion sets of footprints were beside me!"

Ok... where is this ORIGINALLY from...

2008-03-27T19:25:00.000-07:00

Here's a wonderful, fascinating website, and specifically a manic talk by Clifford Stoll, who wrote " The Cuckoo's Egg", a book about tracking computer hackers. I read it back when I was an electrical engineer... But now he's thinking a bit more broadly, as you can see in the video:

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/237

He ends the talk with an inscription on a bell, in the bell tower at SUNY Buffalo:

"All truth is one.
In this light, may science and religion endeavor together for the steady evolution of Mankind:
From darkness to light,
From narrowness to broadmindedness,
From prejudice to tolerance,
It is the voice of life that calls us to come and learn."

I assume that this is something said by the school's first president... or at a building dedication...

But it was interesting...

Miracles (by W. W.)

2008-01-20T18:44:00.000-08:00

...

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass--the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all
       that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the waves--the ships, with
       men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

2008-01-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

ARE YOU HUNGRY?

Yea, I knew you were in the mood for Chicken and Waffles too! And where better to get them than Oakland California, at "The Home of Chicken and Waffles"??

So my friend John agreed to show me one of the Oakland hotspots, in exchange for lunch. We jumped into his GTI and headed down to Jack London Square.

No, not to build a fire, but to eat chicken! Here's John showing you the history of the eatery...

It seems it started way back in 2004.. as part of the Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles chain. But then they went independent and 'upscale'! I think there's now a Roscoe's in New Brunswick, NJ, but I didn't make it there, saving myself for Oakland.

To order, you can just look at the wall: I got a Lord BJ's...

And John got something light... with Mac&Cheese instead of the grits...

It's a great place, if you like trains...

Even if you like passenger trains...

Another wonder of Jack London Square is the Star Wars creatures...

It seems George Lucas lived in Oakland for a while, and his imagination ran wild.

And speaking of imagination... we spotted this futuristic item on the way back to John's VW...

I guess they are now for sale! I better put my order in... if I fit in it. There's a SmartUSA dealer in SF.

John dropped me off back in Berkeley, and then went to shop for diet books. Time to do some serious digesting!
-Charlie

Sermon- Washington Crossing UU Church.

2008-01-06T20:35:00.000-08:00

This sermon was composed especially for my home congregation. The three lines that are repeated is the congregations "Chalice Lighting", a sort of centering ritual at the start of the service.
---

Opening words by Margaret Gooding, "Why not a star?"
Reading: Matthew 2:1-12
Children's story: "Fish is Fish"-- Leo Lionni, up to Fish's dream.
Sermon "Preacher Teaching- A Seminary Journey"

Let us open our eyes to see what is beautiful;
Let us open our minds to learn what is true;
Let us open our hearts to love one another.

I'm very glad to be back here and to be back in New Jersey. I love how warm and welcoming the community has been to me.

But today's sermon is about seminaries... specifically about Unitarian Universalist Seminaries, and even more specifically about my experiences at Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley California.

I want to talk a bit about what's unique in UU ministry, so I started with something Christian. Most Protestant and Catholic churches are using this Sunday to teach about Epiphany... the reading that Bonnie just gave us is being recited in one form or another at thousands of churches across the USA. For those ministers, the struggle is to find something fresh to say about the Gospel.

Unitarian Universalists, on the other hand, have Margaret Gooding's words "Some bright star shines somewhere in the heavens each time a child is born." which takes the story somewhere else...

And I could have, if I wanted to, ignored the Christian calendar, and looked, perhaps, for other days to celebrate. But, except for the Muslim new year on January 10th, there isn't much happening this week.

So I thought we'd think about today, the day the three Magi arrived to visit the baby Jesus and Mary. I thought it might be interesting to do an exercise I'd learned at seminary.

And the reading from Matthew is perfect for this activity! It's called Biblical Exegesis, and it means 'close reading' of a Biblical pericope.

At Starr King we have several Muslim professors... they use an interesting learning technique. When they are teaching a new word or concept, they have the class to repeat the word whenever they say it...

So here are the two new words

Exegesis -- meaning a close reading, and

PERICOPE -- meaning a snippet... a story, aphorism, parable, event or other unit of narrative in the bible.

Pericopes can be long. One very long one is in John: Jesus talking with a Samaritan Woman for a dozen bible verses. Or they can be very short, Mark 10:46 has on that is only four words "They came to Jericho"-- that's it-- very mysterious!

In seminary I took two courses in the bible, and they taught me to exegete pericopes like the one about the Magi...

The story, it seems, is about a group of 'wise men'. The Greek word is Magoi, and while scholars are not certain about this, it seems most likely to mean men of the Magi caste in Zoroastrian Persia. This priestly caste studied the stars, and would have been able to travel.

Note two things-- first, they are not Kings, they are priests or astrologers. Second, the bible doesn't say how many there are! There might have been three, or four, or maybe even just two. So the song "We Three Kings" is technically a distortion of the BIBLE...

If you were a fundamentalist, you'd be angry that we sang that Hymn! [We 3 Kings]

For close reading we start by defining the narrative:

FIRST, the astrology charts say that "a new king of the Jews is born"

SECOND, the astrologers go to the logical place to find a new king-- the PALACE!

They were thinking logically-- go see the current king and congratulate him on having a new son! But here we have a literary twist!

One lens we can use to view the Bible is to look at their literary structure, and this is the big setup-- the king has no new son!

So, in the next part of the story, you and the king, and all Jerusalem are on a quest to find the meaning of the astrological chart.

You might suddenly be aware that the story's narrator knows many things-- he is privy to happenings in Herod's palace.

He even knows Herod's thoughts and motivations!

You might wonder who recorded those thoughts for Matthew?
You might wonder what part is history and what part is storytelling.

When Herod discovers that this new king is the Anointed one-- the Christ or the Messiah, the story takes a new direction-- The Magi are sent out of town to I D the child, and bring the info back to EVIL KING HEROD.

But then comes the TWIST: two magical things happen-- first, the star guides them to Jesus, and second, they are warned against Herod in a dream.

What role does magic play in the narrative?

Seminary also teaches us to look at what is missing in a story-- who has power, who has privilege.

One thing missing in this pericope is Joseph. I'm not sure why, and scholars don't know why either-- he gets no mention at all. Was this story, perhaps, part of a group of myths that existed before Joseph was 'invented' to make Jesus legitimate? We really don't know.

I could go on and on about this exegesis stuff, but that's not the point of the sermon.

Let us open our eyes to see what is beautiful;
Let us open our minds to learn what is true;
Let us open our hearts to love one another.

This is supposed to be a Unitarian Universalist sermon, so I suppose it should have some Unitarian Universalist history in it-- and I wouldn't want to disappoint. Let me tell you a true story!

Consider Thomas Starr King. It's the 1840s, in Boston Massachusetts. The Reverend Starr King-- that's what he called himself-- is a small fish in a big pond. He was raised Universalist, son of a Universalist minister, and, after his father dies, he takes over his father's ministry.

But then he's called to be the minister at an important Boston Unitarian Church-- even though he's Universalist and doesn't have a Harvard degree. He becomes famous speaking forcefully on the two big issues of the day... Slavery and Temperance.

But Starr King is rather sickly. And to earn enough money in expensive Boston he's had to lecture almost every night in addition to preaching three times on Sundays.

He's wearing himself out, and so he takes a job at the First Unitarian Society of San Francisco-- a place where he doesn't have to lecture to make ends meet... and where it's warmer in the winter, and not so hot in the summer.

Starr King moves to California to relax and recover...

UNFORTUNATELY, by now it's 1860, and the Civil War is about to break out.

Starr King sees that the Californian state Government is pro-Confederacy, and is likely that California is going to declare independence from the Union once the war starts.

So he ignores his health needs, and 'expends all his strength' on the lecture circuit to keep California a part of the United States.

Once the war has begun, and that issue is resolved, he founds a chapter of what would become the Red Cross, raising a million dollars for the US Sanitary Commission.

But all of this, it was said, "Condemned [him] to the slow suicide of overwork" and he was dead before the war was over.

So Thomas Starr King didn't found a seminary in Berkeley California. That was done forty years later by another guy, Earl Morris Wilbur, and for the first few years he was the only professor.

And that school, Starr King School for the Ministry, is still a small school, with only about 60 students.

It is part of a consortium of religious schools-- from Catholic to Buddhist-- called the Graduate Theological Union, and the schools try to offer complimentary courses. For example, I took my Bible classes at the Pacific School of Religion, and my classmates in Introduction to Preaching included Jesuits and Pagans in addition to UUs. I'm taking a course at the Buddhist school this spring.

Each school offers its own degrees. It takes four years at Starr King to get a Masters of Divinity degree-- that's what I'm working for... but there is only one required course.

It's a jumbo sized one called "Educating to Counter Oppressions and Create Just and Sustainable Communities"-- and if you like, you can imagine that it is a sort of survey course covering all four of our Candles of Fellowship. Coming from Washington Crossing, I was pretty much in tune with this course.

Beyond that, we are on our own. I've had courses in Preaching, in Sex-- well, in Comprehensive Sexuality Education-- in Listening and in Death.

I've red Gandhi and Martin Luther King Junior... Les Feinberg and Dorothy Day. I've worked on worship services and gone on a pilgrimage to the Japanese American concentration camp in the California Desert.

But I have come to realize that most of these courses are just eye-openers. They make me a better student because I know the material, and can remember the facts and events.

But they don't make students into ministers.

Let us open our eyes to see what is beautiful;
Let us open our minds to learn what is true;

The next part of the seminary experience is harder to nail down. It is the process of learning what is true.

This is done through what is called "PRAXIS" The practical application of learning.

For example, I wanted to understand teenagers.

So I took a course on Comprehensive Sexuality Education for teens.

But, at the end of that, I still knew nothing about teenagers-- other than perhaps some statistics about pregnancy rates in students who were given Abstinence Based Sex Ed...

So this year I'm teaching Our Whole Lives-- the UUA's Sexuality Education program-- to teens in the Bay Area.

I'm putting my course work knowledge into action... and trust me, through PRAXIS I'm discovering LOTS of THINGS about teens.

For many students, PRAXIS comes during chaplaincy training. This is either a summer, or a year long "Unit" where students go away and are chaplains in Hospitals, Prisons, Hospice Programs or Mental Institutions. Some have arranged to work in Homeless Shelters.

My course in Death, Dying and Bereavement taught me lots of facts and techniques, for dealing with people in need... but it will be during my chaplaincy training-- called CPE-- that I will have to develop an understanding of what is TRUE to me.

Let us open our hearts to love one another.

There is one more step in becoming a minister. And, after all the education on oppression and violence and death and exploitation... students have a good idea how bad the world is.

This step, taken in either the third or fourth year of Starr King's program, is working as an intern minister at a Unitarian Universalist Congregation.

It's here that students change speed, and begin to understand LOVE. Many of my schoolmates have gone off on internship either this year or last year. What I hear is that the congregations show them what it means to be a minister.

The Praxis of working as a ministerial intern changes them. Students don't forget the horror stories that we hear in school, but they realize the sheer quantity of good, of possibility, in the Unitarian Universalist movement-- in the everyday members of our congregations.

That's because the congregants are the professors, are the advisors, and the coaches for these new ministers.

At the same time, the congregation receives from the intern another point of view and new ideas from the broader association of congregations.

I'm talking all romantically about this, but it's something I haven't done yet. The school doesn't assign students... it's a job they have to apply for themselves. The students have to determine when they are ready-- and then get hired.

So either next year--- or the year after, I will be going away for a year, joining another community and learning to LOVE the job.

In Unitarian Universalism, the rules of ordination acknowledge the simple fact that communities, not schools develop leaders.
When the time comes, the only body that can ordain a minister is a congregation.

So Now, a good minister will tie in the reading and end the sermon... But I think the story of the Magi is overdone, so INSTEAD

I'm going to tell you how "Fish Is Fish" ends. We sang the children out at the point where fish was imagining what the world above the water was really like. Of course perception and reality were very different.

On the next page he determines to jump out of the water and see for himself.

As he lies on the shore gasping for oxygen, Frog finds him, and pushes him back into the water. LIONNI continues:

"Still stunned, the fish floated about for an instant. Then he breathed deeply, letting the clean cool water run through his gills. Now he felt weightless again and with an ever-so-slight motion of the tail he could move to and fro, up and down, as before.

"The sunrays reached down within the weeds and gently shifted patches of luminous color. This world was surely the most beautiful of all worlds. He smiled at his friend the frog, who sat watching him from a lily leaf. "You were right," he said. "Fish is fish."

It's a sad version of "happily ever after", isn't it?

Fish fails... if that's the way you want to measure things.
Fish learns... if knowing one's limits is a form of learning.
Fish has a friend in frog... who is now from another world, with stories of fantastic things.

Let us open our eyes to see what is beautiful;
Let us open our minds to learn what is true;
Let us open our hearts to love one another.
amen.

CLOSING HYMN #402 From You I Receive, To You I Give.

Dilution of Madonna...

2007-11-14T08:57:00.000-08:00

Hey you.

This post may be disturbing, especially if you have been involved with a traumatic situation in your life.

This is the story of a song, a song a schoolmate is using in a set of dramatic monologues... in fact, I should be memorizing my monologue at this very moment.

But back to him... he liked the song "American Life", and how it asked "This type of modern life, is it for me?"

Madonna's music video of this is pretty brutal and gruesome.

But this American Life includes both what we see at the mall AND what we are doing with our government's policies and what modern life does to people, so why not show them all?

(You need Flash to see videos on YouTube. Click to open up another window)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R55xDxaXw5E

Here is a bizarrely different version, cleaned up, with a somewhat different effect. What is shown, what is now hidden? How is the focus changed from society to be personal?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN_vQIYuXdA

Did you notice how all non-fantasy images of soldiers and blood are removed from the second one.

And, it seems Warner released a third version... if you just want to hear the song, look at this one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3Z_Z899kPA

Pumpkin Carving

2007-10-29T17:19:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin Carving!

I thought you might want to see what I was up to yesterday. I had some friends from school over, and attacked some vegetables.

Here's a shot of Luke... he is working with a special scraping tool

These two guys are Kent and James. Kent is asking "do you feel what I feel?"

Never try this at home...

James again...

My creation complete with acne:

So we put them on display...

Turned out the lights...

And took a picture...

Happy Halloween!

Student Sermon...

2007-09-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

Last spring I composed this sermon for a class in Homiletics. It isn't perfect, there was some good feedback on things I could improve, but I thought I'd post it, in hopes that someone read it and comment on it here. The proposed audience was those at my seminary, though I suspect it applies to your church or social group as well.

So, without further ado:

Eyes Right
HM - 4002 Introduction To Preaching, Sermon #2

Our reading this morning is one of the most violent, most cruel passages in the Hebrew Bible.

It's an odd passage, in that it was not in the King James Version of the Bible-- it was only discovered in the 1940s, when the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered.

Perhaps some copyist accidentally deleted it, or perhaps some ancient scholars decided it was too violent. Whatever the reason, we now have it in modern translations and it fits with today's sermon.

It is from the Book Of First Samuel, Chapter 10 verse 27 following

Now NA-hash, king of the AM-mo-nites, had been grievously oppressing the GAD-ites and the REU-ben-ites.

He would gouge out the right eye of each of them and would not grant Israel a deliverer.

No one was left of the Israelites across the Jordan whose right eye NA-hash, king of the AM-mon-ites, had not gouged out.

That's all I'm going to read. You get the idea.

------
Eyes Right

I'm very sorry to have selected such a cruel reading for today. But when I red it, I saw us. I saw myself. I saw a message that needs saying.

There are several ways to use this reading. The blind leading the blind might have worked--- but the people of GAD and REUBEN aren't completely blind.

I could have talked about the way that people have blinded themselves with sorrow, or with love, or with drugs-- that might have been an interesting angle--- but they would be situations where individuals blind themselves, rather than having blindness inflicted on them.

In the reading, the Gadites and Reubenites lost a battle against NA-hash, and chose a life of semi-blindness over the alternative, which probably would have been death.

So, I am thinking of a situation where a nation loses a battle, and chooses blindness. Can you imagine what I'm thinking of?
----
Sadly, you are right.

Let's take a straw poll... How many of you have thought about this statement today: "our nation is at war"? ...
How many of you have made the war an important part of your day?

"America At War" is the headline... or was four years ago.

The United States of America is at war, in Iraq and in Afghanistan.
Forgive me, I'm going to use a popular shorthand, and I'm going to call the USA "America"-- as millions of us Americans do.

Sadly, these are real wars. Real people are fighting them. Real people are going half way around the globe, serving, and either returning or dying... and WE put them there.

Do you notice?

Every morning, as you shower and load your iPod with the day's music, a completely invisible part of our nation awakes to war. The war is the first thing on their minds, and every night, as they try to sleep, the war is the last.

But for us here at our seminary, where is the war? Like the tribes of Reuben and Gad, we have lost our vision in that eye. We don't see the war, we don't taste the war, we don't pay the bills of the war.

Indeed, I lament our current situation. I lament my own blindness, I lament our school's blindness, I lament our community's blindness.

Laments are important, but eventually weeping must change to resolve.

So I think the answer lies in this morning's reading.
Or maybe it lies in your heart.

Here's how I see it.

Plenty of people will tell you that we need to OPPOSE this war.
I'm here to tell you that we need to BECOME A PART of this war.

Let me repeat this point.

Plenty of people will tell you that we need to oppose this war.
I'm here to tell you that we need to become a part of this war.

And opposing something isn't the same as being a part of it.
I'm not going to say if the war is right or wrong. I'm saying it's ours.
-----
Now there are three foolish things in how the American public engages with the war, and there are three remedies.
-----
Let's go back to the reading to help frame this.

The reading described a time when Israel had no single leader. Instead each tribe lived for itself.

The story involves the tribes of Gad and Reuben. Most of the twelve tribes of Israel were west of the Jordan River, but Gad and Reuben were out there, EAST of it, in what is now the Kingdom of Jordan.

Now [NA-hash], the king of the [AM-mon-Ites] had defeated the two tribes, probably in battle, nobody knows whose fault it was... nobody knows if the tribes attacked NA-hash or if NA-hash attacked them first, but we do know that NA-hash won.

Now King NA-hash just wants peace, and he wants the income from the farms. To get the income, NA-hash wants the Reubenites and Gadites to be passive vassals.

To make sure they don't rise up and object, he has them all blinded in the right eyes. This is actually better than earlier battles, when victors simply killed all the losers-- you can read about the battle of Jericho, if you want a real bloodbath. So we could say that NA-hash is a compassionate innovator.

Think about it for a moment. If you hold your sword in your right hand, and you don't have a right eye, can you see to fight? Nope. You will be blindsided.

You can't do anything but submit to those in power. Sure you can still plow fields, you can still milk cows... but you have been effectively passified.

I'm sure you are all wondering about how the story turns out... do the good guys win?

Not really. The other tribes of Nation of Israel come to help. In the end there are tens of thousands of bodies rotting on the face of the earth. And after a generation or two, they have another war, and more are killed.

YOU KNOW THE OLD SAYING: There are only three types of people in a war: The living, the injured and the dead.

OK, enough physical violence for one morning. End of lament.

Let's talk about the three foolish things I mentioned.

The first one is obvious. It is the myth of separation. People talk about this being a "red state war" or a "blue state war". People claim that because they elected a Congresswoman or Congressman or Senator who voted in the minority on some authorization bill once upon a time...
That this somehow makes it somebody else's war. It is foolish. The war in Iraq and in Afghanistan is everyone's war.

I'll bet you've figured out what the second one is... It is that we are blinded. Some of you will assign blame for the blindness, but I don't want to go there.

Suffice it to say that somehow, and I don't care about why, we have been blinded, become passified milkers of cows, passified plowers of fields unable to raise an effective sword, or even an effective pen. Our number has been are disconnected. We don't see the soldiers. We don't see the families. We don't see the coffins, or injured, or abandoned.

The third foolishness is that we think we are doing something.

Sorry to seem so down, but protests come and go... vigils burn lots of candles, contributing in their own small way, to global warming.

Do you think that last week's protest rallies changed the course of history?

Sad to say, I doubt it.

But that's not true of all the protests. Let's think of why some are different.

In the summer of 2005, a mother named Cindy Sheehan and members of the "Gold Star Families for Peace"-- they are families of those who had died in the war-- began a protest.

The protest, outside President Bush's ranch in Texas, was effective because the people protesting weren't Berkeley college students-- they were people involved in the war.

They were worthy of attention because it was, and still is, their war.

Without participation we are powerless. If we don't make the war our war, we can neither support it nor oppose it.

I don't care if you think the war is a crime, or if you think declaring war was right. I just want you to turn your remaining good eye and see the situation for what it is. I want our whole nation to do that.

For the past four years we have been dis-involved... intentionally.
- We pay no taxes for the war,
- We attend no funerals, and see no caskets,
- We knit no woolen caps for the sailors.

That's a story worth remembering. It was a big thing in WWII... my Grandmother and all of the ladies of South Orange, New Jersey did that... They would each spend four hours a day knitting... they get together weekly, turning in knit woolen hats for the war effort.

To knit a cap for a merchant seaman on a freighter going across the North Atlantic was to have a personal interest in the cargo.

And when you had knit the cap as an act of love, that sailor was your cargo.

Each Nazi torpedo was aimed at you.

You know, this war has been sold to us as free, fought by volunteers-- volunteers who see signing up as a way out of poverty, or gangs or dead-end living.

Volunteers who bought the dream of civics class,

Volunteers who answered GOD'S call to defend the country.

Whatever the reason, we sold it to them. WE, our government, our nation.

These wonderful volunteers keep our war out of our sight, out of our mind.
-------------
They say that if there were a draft, if it were our brothers, and perhaps our sisters, in a literal sense, who were fighting in the desert, our vision would be restored.
------
I think it's time we hear the words "One Nation" and understand that it really is "Indivisible"... and start thinking of those being killed or injured as OUR brothers and sisters.

Only by opening OUR eyes and embracing OUR responsibility can we BE a part of the solution.
----
And I'm proposing three remedies.
----
To me they don't involve forming committees or public policy study groups. They don't involve pointing fingers and assigning blame.

The solution is in the word "Indivisible." The solution is in becoming one nation again.

The solution is to re-engage, with voice, hands and hearts with those who are part of the war.

The men and women fighting under the American flag in Iraq and Afghanistan have the same blood types as we do. Their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers and children cry in the same way we do. The broke and broken soldiers worry about the rent, and face fear just like us too.

To be engaged with them, they get our respect, our support, our love and prayers.

Our principles speak of worth and dignity.

How might we show them that they have worth? Perhaps by insisting that persons in harms way be well paid, be well cared for if injured and that they have guaranteed, professional emotional support after return to the routine of life.

Ya know, they did their duty for us. We need to show them that they are worth-ful. This is going to cost us money. It should. The Veterans Administration hospitals should provide the best care, not the worst care in the nation, and
Playing economic politics with those who are disabled is simply unconscionable.

It's time we taxed ourselves to pay for this war.
----
But the men and women fighting under the American flag in Iraq and Afghanistan need more than the promise of care when they return. They also need support.

Our hymnal speaks of mutual support-- we need one another.

Here's where America is divided. In conservative circles it is seen as a religious duty to support our troops.

The men and women fighting under the American flag in Iraq and Afghanistan can have all their support from conservative Christian groups, OR they can have support from all of our nation. Which should they have?

How might we show support for those in uniform?

Now being in the US Army in Baghdad is very different from being a kid at sleep-away summer camp, but a friend who is just back from there reports that "Care Package Day" was always special for his unit. School kids, church groups sent a taste of home, and for an hour or two, it was like they were family.

But back home, there are fewer care packages. Their families are often strapped for cash, strapped for time, struggling for resources. Do we contribute to relief organizations? Do we know how to offer personal help?

This needs work... we need to better learn how to support our troops... our web of mutuality needs to include them.

But beyond support, the awareness of love is the greatest gift.

Our Judeo-Christian tradition speaks of LOVE

And this is most important, the men and women fighting under the American flag in Iraq and Afghanistan need to know that they are loved.

They certainly have heard the stories of LIBERALS spitting on soldiers returning from Viet Nam. I know, none of you actually spat. But that's word on the street.

They have been prepared to be hated. Can we change their perceptions?

They already have prayers from those who believe in vengeance, why can't they have love and prayers from those who know that God is Love? Why can't they know that the entire nation sees them as worthy and loved?

AND How could we express love? I have a few ideas...

If each day we here at the seminary stopped our routine. If, for the duration of the war, we stood for one minute, our thoughts and love inclined to them, how could we stay blind?

What if, for the duration of the war, we honored the dead of the week in our chapel service, as if they were our fellow students, how could our hearts not go out to the families and those they loved?

These are both wonderful practices (if I do say so myself), but they don't invite the rest of the community to see... to fight their blindness.

What about if we erected public prayer stations, so that as we walk to classes we could pause along le Conte, or Ridge Road. For the duration of the war, we might pause to pray for, or simply remember people in the many different groups involved in the war: Army soldiers, Navy Sailors, Marines, members of the Air Force, Families, Contractors, affected civilians, families of the dead, the injured. If we could erect simple wooden signs-- each with a name of a group on it-- as public prayer stations, placed around the GTU like stations of the cross. Then every day we could draw our hearts to the many facets, the many human faces, the scope and scale of this war, would that be love?

Would these things involve us in the war?

Would being involved like this teach us, as individuals, help us grow in understanding? Would it get us away from the variety of opinions we hold AND INTO a different place, a place INDIVISIBLE?

In spite of the way this war has been orchestrated,
and blinded as we are, can we learn new ways to see?

Can we learn new ways to go beyond milking cows and become a nation again?

Could this restore our nation's ability to see the war? Could our actions spark others to put up prayer stations across the country. Could they give focus and help the general public becomes aware, aware of the many human dimensions of the conflict?

I don't know, but I can't see another way to do it. And I don't see anybody trying.

Only with our respect,

Only with our support,

Only with our love and prayers... do we have a chance to influence the future.---- Though we may only see the problem with one good eye, the answer has to be with us.

This must become our war.

Well, not quite PKs...

2007-09-05T09:58:00.000-07:00

The soon-to-be-released movie "Preacher's Sons" (http://preacherssons.com/) is going to be interesting, and, I think, wonderful.

The name is a play on the term "PK", meaning "preacher's kids". Perhaps you know some of them... I knew one or two when I was growing up. They have two lives they must live, the public one related to their parent, and then, there is their life. It's a heavy burden. I knew one who was perfection itself-- football, public speaking-- but to look in his eyes was the only way to see the him that was inside. Another PK was wild, played electric guitar, etc.

So now we have Stillman and Greg's kids-- all adopted-- all former foster kids. What's inspiring to me is that being a PK is a step up for them.

So I am looking forward to seeing it this autumn.

Poem "Almost"

2007-08-11T17:15:00.000-07:00

Almost

It's a simple system, really.
In dots and dashes all words can be expressed
All things communicated.
A simple system of talking 'round the world

And you may think it's a joke,
But even numbers say certain things
To most, seventy-three is just a number,
Who knew it meant "Best Wishes"?

Or the much more amorous eighty-eights,
Old and married men feel no shyness,
When saying "Love and Kisses"
To twenty year old women.

But these were meant for telegrams,
And not for signals bounced,
like super balls, in the atmosphere.
For distant strangers, faces unseen.

Some nights the solar wind is steady,
and signals come through strong and clear.
A chat of dashes spaced with dots.
You weep to hear his syncopation.

Reclined, around a crackling fire,
Ensconced in weathered leather.
Speaking with your fingers,
And listening with an open heart.

Two strangers were never closer.
"My daughter's getting married"
"I've got a new job"
"They want to try more treatments"

Our sun's afflicted with flares and spots,
and earth is full of storms.
Crackles overpower the beeps,
Chats become struggles, and nothing is clear.

Gone are armchairs and the personal beat,
Thunder crashes pain the ears,
Stripped of nuance, it takes your all,
To tell him "I am here!"

And even after he is gone,
And the radio is put to bed,
Antenna disconnected, grounded wires
It seems the beeps live on.

In the shower, can you hear it?
Was that an "L"? Was that a "V"?
Was he talking to me, in the
rushing of the water?

You listen for words from the dryer,
Or hope from the dispose-all
The rumble of traffic holds an eight,
or perhaps just a seven...
... and was there a second number?

-CBD

More Memorial Day bits...

2007-05-28T23:40:00.001-07:00

Three photos from the USS Hornet museum. I think this area is being developed for a "Women at Sea" exhibit.

Memorial Day...

2007-05-28T23:29:00.001-07:00

From the very messy desk of Charlie...

It's Memorial Day, and I'd spent many years working on the Battleship New Jersey... but now I'm in Berkeley... so I can't go down to Camden!

So I felt especially driven to go the aircraft carrier USS Hornet, in nearby Alameda. I took the bus... the 51 to the 63.. which took an hour, it being a holiday... and got there about 12:30 PM.

Here is the USS Hornet:

Now most of you would say 'wow, big ship'... but I took this picture because there are four white antennas on the right hand side... it's the ham radio operator in me!

Here is the view from the "island", looking forward. The Oakland hills are in the background.

And here's our tour guide, explaining what we were about to see:

And this is what we were about to go see, the flight control center:

I had a few more pictures, mostly of radios and the like. I won't bore you with them.

After that I went below decks to the hangar deck. This was the Memorial Day ceremony:

I missed most of the speeches, but caught the blessing. Next, the wreath was brought outside (sorry about the blur):

And everyone was offered a flower:

After a blessing by the chaplain:

Then we threw our flowers overboard:

I tried to think of who my tulip was for, but in the end it had to be for everyone-- yesterday, last week, last year, last war.

Rest in Peace.
---

That was my day.
Peace,
Charlie

(Taps)

But, Well, You Know...

2007-05-25T08:08:00.000-07:00

But, Well, You Know

I had an odd dream last night... yea, I know-- when has anybody had a dream that isn't odd-- but this one was interesting in being uninteresting.

In the dream I was waiting somewhere. Maybe I was in an airport lounge, or maybe I was waiting in line at a Stuckeys or one of those other restaurants they have near the interstates in the south... I know I was in the south, though, and I was waiting.

I'd struck up a conversation with a family. Mother and father were in their late 30's, maybe early 40's. She was taller than he was, but he was a substantial man, possibly a farmer, with well groomed, black hair. There were maybe three or four school-aged kids, staying close to mom and dad, but not saying anything, and looking rather bored.

Dad was saying: "When I have off we like to go see things."

Then, after a pause he added: "Normally we'd go to New Orleans, but well, you know..."

That was it. I woke up.

"But, well, you know" Those were the last words.

Now Jung and Freud would probably explain this dream as having something to do with unresolved childhood issues, but fortunately, I'm not up on all that. Instead, as I slowly woke up, I thought about what I would have answered. "But, well, you know"... in fact I didn't.

I thought about that maybe the father was trying to say "there are homosexuals in that city" or "there are Negroes there", but, well, there has been racial diversity and visible Lesbian and gay businesses in the Crescent City for generations, so why would he say "Normally we'd go to New Orleans"?

In fact, NOLA is less racially diverse, it's "Whiter" today than it was a decade ago, thanks to the disproportionate loss of housing in majority-black neighborhoods. But that wasn't the conversation I was having... in my dream.

"But, well, you know" If my mind hadn't made that phrase up, I'd be very offended. I certainly have heard others use it, it's a common conversation stopper. And maybe that's the whole point. It's like those big steel bumpers they put on railroad sidings... you know, to keep boxcars from going off the end of an incomplete track. It might have meant "I don't want to go any further." But, I'm the type of guy who wonders what's around the next bend. Where would the conversation have gone, if I'd pressed on?

What if I'd said something like: "I'm not sure I understand, tell me more." What would he, or his wife, have said?

In my mind, I see them saying something like: "Well, you know, they had some trouble down there." Can you imagine someone saying that? Maybe you've said it. "Some trouble", and more importantly "they". Another level of conversation stopper... like a big block of iron, welded onto the rails... "this should stop any boxcar that rolls down here, and maybe a runaway locomotive too!"

So I searched the faces of the people in my dream. The kids were easy, the older teens were looking at the floor or off into space, bored. They were so familiar with dad's attitudes, they'd heard it all before. And they were not happy that he'd taken them away from town and their friends, but they'd become resigned to a month of motels or RV parks.

The younger ones, the ones who still looked up to the parents, were still trying to make sense of the world, and dad clearly understood the mysteries of life, though they weren't sure why he was talking to strangers. They told volumes in their posture and clean double-knit shirts.

Dad himself was at ease. Probably a church-going man, he had a job, maybe in sales? Probably in a small town. One could imagine he sold propane or combines or ran a carpet installing company. Something needed, something conventional. The mom might be a teacher, or she might homeschool the kids. She wasn't going to interrupt her husband, and besides, she thought the same thoughts he thought.

I've met these people a hundred times in a hundred places. They are good people... as they say.

So why the "But, well, you know"?

Since I dreamt them, I can continue the conversation any direction I like. And today I think I'll go somewhere biblical... not my usual style, but as I was waking up I realized I was trying to apply a passage about caring for the sick, and visiting those in prison.

The triplet in the bible: Clothe the naked, care for the sick, visit the imprisoned is an interesting one to try to fit into the situation. The scene isn't a charity scene, it's a vacation. New Orleans, Louisiana isn't a town to be pitied... it's a city, a city recovering from a flood, and recovering from the attitudes and platitudes of the flood recovery. NOLA is a city that knows what it means to be dismissed, to be quietly made a non-place. Well, you know.

So when Jesus talks about the three actions that will get you into heaven, clothing, caring for and visiting, you would think he wasn't talking about summer vacation.

It isn't just because it's called "The Crescent City", but I'm imagining NOLA as a sort of woman with breast cancer. The sudden diagnosis of a lump is a shocking thing... To bring the men into this, imagine finding a lump on one of your testicles. I hope you never do. But this lump, wherever it is, is not good. It is going to kill you. It needs to go, and you need radiation and chemotherapy too. It is going to make you very sick for several months, longer than you expect. But someday, you are likely to be cured.

Cured is an odd thing for a woman who has had a breast removed. It might be similar for a man who has lost a testicle, but a woman is reminded of the whole episode every day. Even on vacation.

When it comes to clothing the naked, most post-breast-cancer women experience shame-- and that's a pity. I, for one, think a woman who has survived is as beautiful as one who has never experienced adversity. And I'm not just saying that because my mother was one.

So the phrase "Clothe the naked" can mean various things... It could mean that they should be hidden away under layers of muslin, veiled, keeping secret the effects of the cancer, keeping up appearances. But it doesn't have to mean that. It could also mean keeping our recovering friend warm, giving them a place of honor and a fine new outfit.. perhaps a new swimsuit that shows off their new figure, rather than pretending that it is the old one.

Here's where the testicular cancer analogy doesn't work that well... I don't think I'd advocate the creation of custom Speedo bathing suits for the 'one testicle man'... so we'll leave that thread, ok?

But we need to get back to New Orleans. Why does our friend shy away from visiting the Crescent City? Is it because he is un-Christian? Is it because he fears his children will have nightmares, nightmares of abandonment and panic? Or is it because he's decided NOLA is a "they", not an "us"? Has he decided to shun 'them'... But, well, you know... because they don't fit his family's lifestyle? Is New Orleans the breast tissue cut away with the cancer?...simply lumped with the lump, made non-existent to protect the health of the rest of society?

I'm left this morning without a good answer. It was, after all, only a dream. I'm left with no words to say to my nocturnal friends to make them see that "But, well, you know" is not a Christian way to end the conversation; it is not Christian for the happy and healthy family to restrict their view to the happy and healthy parts of the world, to imagine that shivering nakedness, sickness and imprisonment only happen to the unworthy.

But the dream is over. I can't go back and tell them, they are gone. And in real-life I'm not sure I'd do much better. In real life there would be excuses, reasons to visit an aunt in Florida, or a new vacation community in the Ozarks. And real life families are never so perfect. He's worrying about the new boss, their son's friend died suddenly, maybe she's recovering from cancer. In real life, I probably wouldn't even be having the conversation, and that's a pity too.

Oh, I went back to sleep for a bit, and had a second dream... it involved pecan pancakes, and lots of syrup and two eggs over easy, and sausages, deep fried sausages. And of course grapefruit juice, because I'm on a diet.

More Our Glass.

2007-05-19T08:58:00.000-07:00

(Note, first word pronounced as the locals do...)

Louisiana
Gentlemen
all just
love
deer
meat stew-
venison
Jambalaya.

Our Glass Poetry

2007-05-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

Ok... so it's an art form!
In a couple of recent poems I noticed my tendency to juxtapose lines with successive lengths... and with "Uncle" I wrote the whole poem that way...

It seems rather like a 1920's parlor game, and maybe someone invented it long ago, but, in case they didn't, I hereby dub this "Our Glass Poetry"

And that means rules... like haiku rules.

1) The poem's first and last lines have the same number of syllables.
2) Each line has one fewer than the previous, until
3) Two lines with one syllable words.
4) These two words must have the same meaning in some sense...
5) They do not have to be used to mean the same thing
6) They can be visual synonyms, or aural synonyms, or actual synonyms.
7) Then each line has one more syllable than the previous.
8) Ok, simple?
9) Syllables are the way you hear it... rhythm has 2, spelled has 1.. or two if you want to sound Elizabethan.

Examples

How you
cook
toast
matters

To our
cook!
Toast
your glass

And in the
midnight
hour,
time
can be
so cruel

It is
our
time
to shine

Shed a
tear!
Rip
your shirt!

Enough examples... enjoy!
Charlie

Uncle

2007-05-19T00:26:00.000-07:00

I love Walter Cronkite!
His short clipped mustache,
Eyebrows that jut,
And the way
that he
looks
sees
so much.
Decades of
America.
War, death and pain,
Fraud and impeachment,
with a crinkle cheeked smile.

Happy Pesach from the Dominican School!!

2007-04-05T11:27:00.000-07:00

Happy Pesach...
I went to the Dominican school for a Sephardic Passover service tonight...
Here are the kids doing the four questions:

Here are some schoolmates studying the Haddadah:

More friends...

Good fish balls, good music, good matzohs (round ones)... and macaroons! And since it was Sephardic, we had green beans and hummus with dinner.

It turns out that the Dominican School had a hall the right size, that's why we had it there.

Noisy New Year to you!

2007-03-04T14:00:00.000-08:00

What are these people waiting for?

It was the Full Moon, and that means it was time for... not just earthquakes, but since it is also New Years in the Chinese calendar, it's time for a Big Parade in San Francisco.

Sorry about the dark pictures, it was... um... dark. Here's an immortal favorite:

Guess what year it is?

Planes, cablecars and automobiles...

And the boys in the band...

I wish my pictures of the Boy Scout Marching Band, or of Miss Laos came out better, but they didn't... so you are lucky to have another float picture:

And dozens of groups with dragons... these folks cheated a bit, putting it on a float (but it was well lit!)

Well, gotta go catch up with my parade!

-Charlie

Stations of the Nations Prayer Site

2007-03-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

I'd like comments on this.

I can think of several UU Churches or Congregations that might be good locations for such a prayer site.

I am sad that so many of us ignore the state of War that exists in our country, and maybe this could help to bring it into community consciousness. Notice that nothing here is specifically UU or specifically pro- or anti- War. I like that. The War is everyones responsibility. Note that, with the exception of the word "prayer", there is nothing which people could consider religious about the Site, and nothing explicitly Christian.

Charlie

The Stations of the Nations Prayer Site

This is a proposal for a temporary Prayer Site for prayers related to the War declared by the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan. These Prayer Sites should be open to the general public, and in a public place. They might be placed on the grounds of a church or other religious building.

The Prayer Site can consist of a series of "Stations", with a place for one or more persons to sit, stand or kneel.

Stations can be as simple as a series of wooden signs at eye level. More sophisticated Stations could be made with two sturdy vegetable crates-- one for sitting, and one with the name of the Station inside it (to keep the wind and rain off of any words or images).

Each Station should draw the attendee's attention to an aspect of the War. Stations could be identified by the name in simple block letters. It could also include simple pictures or graphics (for example, a Navy flag) and other information (for example, the number of Navy personnel currently deployed into the War Zone.) These are places of prayer, not reading rooms. Offensive decorations should be avoided.

Stations should allow for prayer, and not block traffic or be otherwise intrusive.

While stations may be combined, we suggest that Stations be established for:
U. S. Army Personnel,
U. S. Navy Personnel,
U. S. Marine Corps Personnel,
U. S. Air Force Personnel,
Other U. S. Government Personnel,
State Military Personnel
Local Military Personnel deployed overseas,
Contractors and their Families,
The Families of Military Personnel,
Military Personnel from Other Countries,
Military Personnel who have died due to the War,
Contractors who have died due to the War,
Civilians who have died due to the War,
Children orphaned,
Military Personnel injured due to the War,
Civilians Injured due to the War.
The Families of those dead or injured
Persons in love with those dead or injured

If you wish, and depending on local religious practice, a Prayer Site might include:

Management and Owners of Corporations providing Contractors
The Earth

Some faith traditions require that even one's enemies must be prayed for. These might be included:

Enemy Combatants
Persons financing Enemy Combatants
Enemy Combatants who have died due to the War

If all Stations are not fully accessible, a Station with the list of Stations might be included as well.

The Prayer Site should include an explanation, such as the following suggested text (If several languages are common in the community, translations should be posted as well):

-----
This Stations of the Nations Prayer Site has been established for the duration of declared War.

Different Stations have been set up to focus attention on different groups involved in or affected by the War.

1) It is a place of prayer and meditation. You are welcome to visit, even without praying.
2) You may select one, several, of all of the Stations, and may visit them in any order, taking as much time as you wish. You are free to skip Stations.
3) Different traditions pray in different ways, please feel free to pray in whatever way you feel is appropriate.
4) Please be respectful of others and their prayer and meditation practices. In some cases, this may require you to skip Stations or change your order of visiting.
5) If you have no tradition, you might say: "I turn my mind to (name of station), and acknowledge the wish that they might be safe and healthy at the end of the War" or "I acknowledge the deaths of these men and women"
6) Please do not add religious symbols, decorations, incense or candles
7) Go in peace.
-----

A poem.

2007-02-11T13:29:00.000-08:00

Legion

The gray haird man in the Legion Hall
Wasn't really talking to me, or to my beer,

It was the air, perhaps, or something on the wall
An old team photo? A plaque? A faded dream?
Or maybe the olive drab they'd painted the ceiling
Some wag with surplus paint.
A sky of green, faded, peeling.

Once I snapped-- the winning point,
Back, before the war.
Once I blocked-- gave him time to escape
To get off that bullet.

And we were the victors.
We were.
We were victorious
I was a part of it all
I was a part
A part.

-Charlie

Bless Snickers!

2007-02-09T15:42:00.000-08:00

The folks at M&M Mars have done a wonderful thing. Think about it.

The release of Brokeback Mountain was a noisy interval in the history of the United States. Theaters across the nation had that **shameful** movie's name on the marquee... and everyone had to walk by. Lots of folks talked about it, but many more were able to avoid the subject.

But at the Superbowl something amazing happened. Perhaps 50 Million men saw two auto mechanics kissing... kissing in the process of sharing a Snickers Bar. A simple fact. And more amazing, if we assume 10% of all men are gay (whether they know it or not), perhaps 5 Million men who are physiologically gay saw the kiss.

Even if the numbers are wrong, millions of men actually saw an act of homosexual affection, saw it before they could look away.

What followed was a few seconds of 'cultural compensation'. The two men attempted to act macho by ripping out their chest hair in an attempt to compensate for their socially unacceptable act.

The folks at Snickers have done a wonderful thing, may blessings be upon them. But all blessings have consequences, and all joy has sadness.

We live in a culture of lies, and when one is exposed to us-- when something that touches our vitals-- an image of an execution on the streets of Saigon, or poverty in the dust bowl or Biafra, or death in so many places, we are, in the twinkling of an eye, changed. In an instant the denied reality shines through. And hiding in the midst of a Superbowl commercial was a bit of reality, one denied by a huge fraction of the public in the USA. A shocking truth wrapped in humor.

What about the men who suddenly discovered something about themselves? What comfort will those five million men have? Their lives are topsy. If they are married, they now see themselves living a lie. If they are near one of those highway rest areas, they can destroy themselves, their wives and their families with unsafe, anonymous sex. If they are rich they can hire an escort. If they are not, they can drink themselves to death. Perhaps they can give their lives, or their life savings to organizations that teach hatred. Perhaps they can kill themselves.

Every joy has a sadness.

The gay rights movement did the right thing too. The hooted and hollered about the unfairness of the ad. The complained bitterly about the self-destructive macho behavior that followed the kiss. Why did they do that?

"If I didn't hit ya, he was gonna. And he's a whole lot bigger than me!" I'm not sure what movie that line is from, though I think John Wayne said it to Jimmy Stewart... obviously after Wayne knocked Stewart to the ground. The attack from the gay rights movement was a framing attack. It put the commercial into the news, but it put the second half of the spot on the spot, and robbed the affection-control elements of society from asserting the evil of Snickers' subversive act, for to do so would be to agree with the evil gay rights fringe! Further, it put out the message that one need not react self-destructively, that there is another way.

There is hope.

So we have a story with legs... Did you see the Snickers ad? Did you see those men kiss? Did they really kiss, or was it technically not a real kiss? If the ad had been placed in another event would it have done as much? The Rose Parade? Ellen? Queer Eye? No. There is no place else in the television schedule where a commercial will be seen by more men than the Superbowl. Someone understood that, and exploited it perfectly.

Brokeback Mountain exposed many people to the very existence of men kissing-- normal men-- mechanics and cowboys. But the act itself, and the demonstration of the physiological brain reaction was kept safely away, like the Playgirl covers on the top shelf at the airport, you have to seek them out to see them. Snickers found a way to bring one bit of truth into fifty million middle-American homes, while they were looking.

It was, in fact, brilliant. It was, in fact, a public service. It was, in fact, a blessing.

A bit of a party...

2007-02-06T14:26:00.000-08:00

Here's a quick update... As I said, last week was the start of the term, and now I'm in the groove. First week, first book down. Last Saturday I took a course in Biblical Research, learning how to read various biblical study tools... good things to know, but it ate up my Saturday. This weekend I don't think there is anything but Feast Night at school.

So Starr King doesn't have a big pile of traditions, but one happened last week, the "Mustache Party". The rule was that everyone had to come with facial hair, or similar. Judging was going to be in 4 categories: Fisherman, Mister Potato Head, Fantasy and overall.

Here I am, being a hairy fisherman:

The costume consisted of ink-jet printed fishing lures, held onto the hat with safety pins. And yes, that's mascara darkening the facial hair.

I came in second in the fisherman category, but, probably out of pity, I won the Mister Potato Head category, and came home with a lovely Sigmund Freud action figure!

Not bad for a 30-minute costume.

Term has started... unexpectedly.

2007-01-31T06:55:00.000-08:00

I know what you are thinking, Thursday followed Monday or April followed May... no, the unexpectedly part of the title is what's happening this term.

Monday I brought a big pile of Marti Gras beads to my class I'm taking next door (to Starr King) at the Pacific School of Religion, called "Interpreting Sacred Texts", or "NTOT" in the rather archaic terminology of the school. The lecture has sixty students, and so it was easy to spread the gifts around. A few of the guys were shy about taking beads... but many were fine with it, including a couple of PSR folks who have become my friends. Mostly the women enjoyed it, though I had to think about a couple of rejections-- was this a political statement about the wearing of ornamentation? Was it an unwillingness to receive gifts? Was it a cleanliness issue? or was it that they wanted nothing to do with me?

Well, the beads weren't the unexpected part. The class went normally, and enjoyably, just like "OTNT" last term.

Monday afternoon I have "How Did We Survive This?", taught by Rev. Dr. Dave Sammons, or simply "Dave". It's a survey of events in Unitarian and Universalist history, concentrating on the ones that almost sank the ship-- from the Dedham Case to LRY. I took a class with Dave last term, and so I think I know his style, and what's expected.

Tuesday morning I went to "Introduction to Preaching", with Rev. Alma Crawford. Alma is both a UCC and UU minister, and the class spans denominations from Catholic to Wiccan. It's oversized a bit, 24 of us, but the diversity will be fun. I have to preach three times for this class. Lots of reading, lots of writing, lots of speaking. Again, I expected this.

Then it was time to pay the bills. I had my once-a-semester chat with the Registrar, Becky Leyser, and she asked if I would take my New Orleans experience and do a "Write Up" for credit. I really didn't think of NOLA as school work, in fact I was overjoyed that it had no readings, no papers and no sitting and listening. (not that those are bad...) I thought maybe I'd get a sermon out of it.

So what should I do? Spend time reliving my two weeks, in hopes of coming up with something very distinct from this blog? I left a good number of loose references in the blog, for me, not for you the reader. If I left those breadcrumbs, shouldn't I go and follow them? Hum!

The administrative assistant for student services, Trudell Webster, is actually relocated from the Crescent City, so I spent a good while talking to her about my trip... it made me feel better about the questions above...

Becky also noted that Starr King School for the Ministry has a minister this term! I'd noticed a face in Tuesday's chapel, but assumed he was a 3-rd or 4-th year student, back from internship. Nope, it's Rev. Sean Parker Dennison, who has his own blog... read all about him!

Sean and I had been chatting before my apointment with Becky, and we talked more after. I'm glad he's here. The SKSM staff is very protective of the professors-- always reminding us to not take up their time with non-academic matters (we got another memo on this last week). Fall term I got the feeling of being a mouthless child in a candy store... ministers behind every door, but a rule that they were not to act like ministers to me. Rev. Sean will have plenty of work to do... plenty of human interaction and listening.

This brings me to the unexpected part.

I came back to school for my evening class, mysteriously called "Spiritual Companion:Artist" As I came in the door I saw a circle of chairs and several students I knew. I chatted with one guy from San Francisco Theological Seminary, and some others from SKSM. But just as the class was starting I learned that I was sitting in "Intro to Islam" or something like that. My class was meeting downstairs in the reading room.

And I am the only student.

Seated at the table is an old Irish woman, Dr. Dorothy Donnelly. The class description said that the class would be learning do's and don't's of pastoral listening, allowing the Spirit to guide us. The first crisis is: should we even have the class? The second crisis is: This is a bad time, when should we have the class? The third crisis is: How should the class be taught? Dotty, as she is called, lets me decide these, maybe... or maybe she just wants to read my eyes.

We go through a long process of talking times and days and methods, while I am still uncertain what the class was going to be about... I have fallen down a rabbit hole.

So now we will meet for tea on Mondays, and she will assign readings for me, so she doesn't have to simply talk to one student for three hours a week.

Homework: I am to pray for her, and to pray for myself. This may end up being the hardest class this semester.

2007-01-28T10:41:00.000-08:00

Time to say adieu to the Big Easy! I took Friday off, and went into town for what was, in hindsight, a rather mild good bye.

On the bus in, a very Forest Gump-like man was sitting across from me. He had many bags filled with beads... several years worth of collected beads, and was putting them on, and telling me, and anyone else who would listen, when he'd gotten them. It was a cheery monologue, and I couldn't catch many of the words over the rumble of the bus, but he was obviously a parade junkie. He also told me that there would be a parade in the French Quarter at 2 PM. I didn't quite know whether to believe him, but what the heck... I'd look for it.

As I entered the Quarter I heard a very loud calliope! Where was it? Block after block it got louder-- not like the usual music that floods out of the stripper clubs! I walked about 10 blocks before seeing it. It turns out it was on the Natchez, a paddle-wheel steamboat at the waterfront. This was their pre-departure concert... a very effective crowd-getter for their river tours.

After that ended, the riverbank became more quiet, almost contemplative.

But I had to find that parade... It turns out it was for a new musical opening at Harrah's Casino-- "Hats"

This woman, it seems, just jumped into the start of the parade-- and was having a fine time strutting along... The drum major was fine with this, and even loaned her the baton.

Of course the music was the important thing...

and the very simple, horse or tractor drawn floats, where they threw beads... I wish they'd had coins too, but for an off-season parade, this was pretty good. I ran out of pocket space to hold red and purple beads.

The parade went through the Quarter, then up--and down Canal Street. By the time it got there, nobody much cared, and I had had plenty of beads thrown at me.

With that out of the way, I could have gone to a museum, or a Gray Line tour... I decided to do the cheap thing, and take the free ferry across to Algiers-- the part of New Orleans that is south of the river. Once there, I could have toured the warehouses where they assemble the Mardi Gras floats, but I was getting hungry, so I turned around and took the ferry back.

Here's a view of the French Quarter from the boat:

And the obligatory streetcar shot... not quite Desire, but something.

I spent the next four or so hours visiting bars, eating more beignets, poking my head into shops. There were large groups of volunteer workers... Presbyterian, Catholic, and a group of guys with "CAW-TCA" on their shirts and caps-- I'd seen one of them at the Rock-n-Bowl, so now I had to ask. It turns out they are all Canadian Auto Workers. It's true that volunteers are what's keeping the economy afloat, judging by the way these guys shopped.

I ate at the same place I'd eaten on the first night-- though this time I didn't have the fried food, I had some sort of sandwich with olives and ham and other meats... and it was VERY GOOD. Wish I could remember what it was called.

The day made me look at the French Quarter from a different angle-- as a place, rather than an amusement park. It's full of residences, some very elegant, as well as topless and bottomless shows, bars and souvenir shops. At one narrow sidewalk I yielded right-of-way to a nun who was late for 5 PM mass... she was heading down the street in a white habit, at full speed! Maybe it's that aspect that makes New Orleans real and wonderful and Las Vegas so plastic.

But, like the entire New Orleans adventure, my day too, had to come to an end. I took the bus back along St. Charles... I couldn't figure out where the South Claiborne bus stopped on Canal, or if it still ran that late at night.

Forest Gump wasn't on the bus, but there was a large man with large round glasses, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking like a character out of Confederacy of Dunces, or perhaps an oversized Truman Capote... He pulled out a book of expert cryptic crosswords and started in working. Oh I love this town!

Saturday morning I woke up and packed. Thanks to Sharon and George who drove me to MSY-- the New Orleans airport. I got back to Berkeley about 7:30 PM... almost ready for the term to start.

It was a great two weeks... good bye New Orleans

A tour, a dance and a bowling alley

2007-01-26T11:21:00.000-08:00

After lunch we went back to the work site to pick up a pickup that a firefighter friend had loaned to George. They wanted to do more work, but I was beat, so I snoozed in the cab for an hour.

Then we all went off on a tour of town. Here's a view of the lower ninth ward, from a bridge:

And we got talking about how scenes of destroyed homes and businesses had started to seem routine... we were getting acclimatized to the destruction.

We saw whole shopping centers with nothing done to them, just wood on the windows. Mounds of junk cars... and houses with the Xs on them... I didn't see any where "Number of bodies" was not 0, but one said "K9" and several said "SPCA". I assume that means dead pets. One said "SPCA feed dog--->" sounds like a guard dog left in a house.

But in other ways, the town seems like any other town.

We ate dinner at Frostop... and I had to have red beans and rice... just once. Afterward we slept a little and then went out to the amazing "Rock N Bowl" for Zydeco night!

Geno Delafose's band was on stage, near lane 1 of the bowling alley, and the hall was jumpin! The alley is on the 2nd floor, so no flood damage-- 20 lanes, all busy, and a dance floor and bar. What a trip!

We met up with a professor friend of Sharon's (he'd joined me, Nick and Beth for dinner last week), and the four of us mostly talked, though each of got a chance to dance. The tunes were mostly in French, but a couple of familiar tunes appeared, "Easy Like Sunday Morning" works well as a Zydeco tune, as does "Cool Jerk"!

Got home about midnight, just as the half moon was setting. It was cold last night again, though Friday should be warmer. I'm taking Friday as a tourist day, seeing the town, and thinking about all the stuff I've seen in the past two weeks.

Thursday... work party.

2007-01-26T11:20:00.000-08:00

Well, I fly home Saturday, and am taking Friday off to sight-see, so this represented the last work day I had on this trip to New Orleans. It started off with the gift of jewelry..

Actually, this is a tree I passed on the way to the bus. I took the St Charles bus (they are working on re-stringing the St. Charles streetcar wires) over to Canal, then walked briskly across the French Quarter and on to ACORN.

The folks who I met yesterday were very concerned about me when I didn't show up at 7:30... of course, the bus connections were lousy, and I'm amazed I got there by 8 AM. The house was a smaller one, but also plaster, so a big crew of people were in a small area swinging crowbars. Also, the floor got covered with lath and nails... we flatted one wheelbarrow, and folks were getting lath attached to their shoe soles... definitely a boot day!

I worked on some things, but after swinging a crowbar for a while, I just had had it. Here's a picture of what the group had done by noon:

At noon we went over to St Luke Assembly of God, a church near ACORN, for a nice hot, franks and beans lunch. They had canned water, specially made by Anhauser Busch for relief and refugee use.

There we met folks from yet another relief agency, associated with the church. George mentioned that he is a plumber, so they asked him to come help them on a project Friday, while Sharon goes back to ACORN. The AofG folks seemed very well organized... better than ACORN, who are quite well organized already. It's good to see the variety of folks working to rebuild the city.

That's it for now... look for me tonight!

Another cold day of destruction!

2007-01-24T20:31:00.000-08:00

Just a quick report today... I have to get up early tomorrow, as today we finished the site near where I am staying.

Once again, I worked with ACORN:

The house we were working on was across the street from an unused elementary school... so much of the city is simply missing, that schools are sitting idle. This is a view of the entryway floor:

Today the bicycle people didn't show, but Sharon(?) did. She's from Maine... "oh, you must know Nick and Beth!", "Why yes, I do!"

So why do the Canadians get offended when I assume they know everyone else in Canada?

The site was so close, I walked there, and walked part of the way home, pausing to take a picture of a bird.

It looks like Sharon, who was down over Thanksgiving, and George, a plumber friend who will also be working with ACORN, will end up at the church too.. I had dinner with them at Voo Doo BBQ, which was actually great... though the building was cold (it's chilly out there!)

Tuesday... with a crowbar and spacesuit

2007-01-23T20:09:00.000-08:00

Hi there, this is me:

Today I'm working with ACORN, an advocacy group with a chapter in New Orleans. They also get some of their funds from the same Unitarian Universalist fund that supports the other work I was doing. Since I'm the only one here at the moment, ACORN has adopted me.

The day started early, with a cross-town bus ride, starting right in front of the church.

Connections were awful, so I had 30 minutes at Cafe Du Monde to get coffee. Then I took the Elysian Fields bus to St. Claude where their office is. Unfortunately, the project was actually quite near me... near Louisiana St. The house was being gutted. Fortunately, it was dry inside, and gutting was easy, except for all the pink walls.

The house is pretty old, as you can see by the wiring... anybody know what the wiring method is called?

The only other ones on the bus were this couple, who are riding bikes across country from Pennsylvania to Seattle:

Here's what we did today:

And here's the very efficient sanitation folks taking it all away!

The little one got to pick up the scraps:

All gone!

And I should get to sleep... another early day tomorrow. ACORN works from 8 AM to 2:30 PM.

Question Time...

2007-01-23T18:38:00.000-08:00

Ok, I have a few more days here, but before I go I want to make sure the Blog addresses important questions about my visit here.

I could make up my own questions, but that would be a monologue. If anyone is reading this, click 'comments' and leave me a question or two. Does that make it dialogue or polylog?

thanks
Charlie

Monday Post... oops a little late.

2007-01-23T18:35:00.000-08:00

I wrote this Monday night, but didn't get it to the blog:
---
No pictures today... tomorrow maybe you'll see me without my beard... it seems the work tomorrow needs a respirator... and that needs a good fit to the face... so bye bye beard.

The NOLA buses are pretty rare, but that's how I'm getting across town... have to leave at 6:45 to be sure I catch the connection to get to ACORN by 8 AM. Oh well, at least they are working.

Today I ate lunch at the Frostop, and got canned ravioli for dinner... with "Bunny Bread"... that's what I said! It's worse than Wonder Bread... or maybe just the same, I haven't tried Wonder Bread for several decades. But Walgreens had it, so I ate it.

No more... must go chop beard.

Who's reading this blog?

2007-01-22T08:54:00.000-08:00

Hi! Click on "Comments" to say hi back.
Tell me a name or nickname, and where you are.

Charlie

Sunday, a day off (in several ways)

2007-01-21T20:21:00.000-08:00

The morning began with a warm wind... and the threat of thundershowers. Betty, John and I went down to the French Quarter for breakfast... back to the Cafe Du Monde for coffee and beignets.

John had loaned out some tools to a church member for the Saturday work party, and needed them back before he left for Texas. So we made a rendezvous at the church, and transferred the goods. The church member noticed that she had no turn signals, and wanted some help on this. After John left, I worked on the problem, finding that the brake light fuse and the turn signal fuse were both burned out. The church sexton went off and bought her some fuses, while I went off to church.

Church was ok... it was teacher recognition Sunday, but only one teacher showed up, so she got lots of recognition. The minister explained that this was the first Sunday in many weeks where there were no religious education classes scheduled, so the half dozen teachers were taking advantage of the break!

Last Sunday, after the service we had a group go to brunch, and we also did a sing along at the piano. This week there was no such activity, as everyone scattered for their football parties. The service was over about 11:30, and the game started at 2 PM. The minister expressed thanks that church was no longer at 2:30 PM (before this new location was rehabilitated, they shared another church building, and had an afternoon timeslot), as she was sure nobody would have attended.

So at 2 PM I was still working on yesterday's blog entry, but I finished by 4, and decided to go see what was up with the Saints. The warm rain had ended, and the main street's sidewalks had huge wet patches, so I took another route through the neighborhood. As I walked through the back streets it was clear that every occupied house was watching the game. Cheers or moans would come from all directions as if the town was haunted by demons. My goal was to visit the Frostop-- we had gone back yesterday for lunch, and the catfish po'boy was worth having again, but it was closed today, so I went to a Mexican place down the street. A small crowd had assembled to watch the game, and when I walked in the Saints were down by 2. Almost immediately things turned for the worse, and I left before the end, figuring I'd jinxed them somehow.

That's all... I chatted online for a bit, and began reading "Thematic Preaching", trying to find inspiration for sermons in what I'd seen today... in snow and fumbles. But then I gave up, and took a nap.

Texas to the Rescue!

2007-01-21T13:48:00.000-08:00

Saturday I spent with a new group of folks, this time from Texas. It reminds me of the joke about the farmer from Texas and the farmer from Maine... but John and Betty (yes, they are both married, but not to each other!) are two wonderful folks from the Houston area. They come east for a couple of days each month to do what they can in rehabbing houses. Here they are with Reese (left), the homeowner on his porch:

It seems that in the Broadmoor section of town, raising up houses above the flood level is what folks are doing... here's the house across the street, being worked on by a group from Honduras:

Each month, in addition to the Houston folks, a group comes down from Baton Rouge. About a dozen came down this weekend, and they worked on a half dozen projects. On Friday Betty and John had put a 'blue roof' on another house across town. Another group was cleaning out a back yard.

Here is a picture of our project's crew:

The youngster, Cody, was too short to spackle, so he got the job of filling mud trays, and was declared "Official Mud Man Cody", working as hard as the rest of us. We went through 2 1/2 buckets of wallboard compound in one day... and that's with half of us sanding. One nifty thing I learned about was corner tape with metal bonded to it-- it makes very pretty corners, even when the wallboard didn't quite make it to the edge (and this is common with volunteer labor!)

Reese's house is actually a two-family 'shotgun' house. Each half has four rooms: Great Room, Bathroom, Kitchen, Bedroom. His daughters will live in one side, and he'll live in the other.

It was a very jovial work party, both John and Cody's grandfather enjoyed singing bits of old songs as they spackled. Reese's three dogs, who could chase each other circularly around the two halves, kept it fun, too.

Afterward, folks from all the groups went to one house for beers. I got to meet folks from other workgroups, including Irene (http://katowoman.blogspot.com) who writes a wonderful blog, and takes better pictures than I can.

The host is a very creative woman, and the small-ish house was filled with interesting touches. She designed a custom-built spiral staircase for the back of the house. It goes to a tiny second floor apartment (just in case it floods again). Take a look at the wrought iron!

John wanted oysters for dinner... so we went off to the Garden District to Felix Oyster House, for good oysters and very easygoing service.

Now that's two groups of people I'm going to miss! John and Betty headed home to Texas on Sunday morning.

Day 6, Fire and accomplishment.

2007-01-20T16:46:00.000-08:00

We were back at the same site as the previous day, putting mold-resistant drywall in a house. This was the last day of work for the Maine folks, here's a picture of them with a small piece of drywall behind them:

They left Saturday morning for Maine... after fixing a flat tire.

But back to Friday... investigating a bit more, I found that the house, in the Gentilly section of town, had been pretty deep underwater. Time to play 'find the water level' again...

At one point we were returning some tools, and were just coming back to her house, and just as we arrived I saw black smoke... house fire smoke. Yep, a block a way a house that hadn't even been gutted had burst into flames, and was beginning to have the glass break. Of course I was not able to do anything about it except watch. Three engines and a ladder came, and were there for a couple of hours.

We went back inside and hung more venetian blinds until the homeowner came back with her 10 year old son. They were moving in, even though the place wasn't finished. There had been a shooting in front of the house they were living in across town... a man shot 14 times at 4 AM. So they were moving in to the new place early.

Dinner was at the St Charles Tavern, a local bar/diner that we decided was about our speed... simple local food.

Another Day In The Crescent City

2007-01-18T21:21:00.000-08:00

Ok, Day 5.

Today we worked at a different site. This is a house that is almost ready for the resident to move back... actually, she bought this house after hers was torn down, but it's hers now! Nick and Beth were working on drywall, and putting blinds up, and I was taping drywall, and getting a bit better at it.

The project's neighborhood has mostly brick houses, and is coming back more quickly than the first one... maybe 25% of the places show signs of being worked on or occupied. One sign of this came in the form of two moving vans which stopped outside the house.

Out jumped two fellows selling bedroom sets door to door... like some sort of Fuller Brush Man thing. They rang the bell and started their spiel, but we said we weren't interested... still, a couple from down the block came out. We watched as the stairs came out, and the rear van was converted to a sort of showroom. Capitalism at its best!

For the first time I had two different projects to compare. I spent a long time thinking about who should be helped when the whole town is hurting... the first project was for a disabled war veteran, and a Native American. This one is for a woman, I've never met her. Does any of that matter? Shouldn't it just matter that the homes are owned by people? This has been puzzling me, and I don't have a good answer.

I now know the projects I'll be doing after tomorrow... the weekend I'll be doing things for church members, and next week I may be working with Project Acorn, in the lower 9th ward... or for another local group... we shall see.

My back was slowing me down a bit... I didn't do exercises this morning, and that may have contributed to the situation.

As we were going out to the site, we passed a dump truck with stuffed animals on it. I guess the driver didn't have the heart to throw these lost toys into the landfill, so they get a home on the rails. Tonight the truck was parked across from the church, so I got a good shot of it. It makes for a small bit of jolliness in an otherwise grim landscape. I can't imagine being a kid in the city these days.

At dinner the waitress heard that we were down to work, and she came over and said thank you. A sweet and genuine end to another day of work.

Day 4 in NOLA

2007-01-17T21:21:00.000-08:00

Today we stayed closer to home.

It was clear that our work at the first site was done yesterday, so today we hoped to go over to another work site. In the morning we tried to contact the work coordinator, but couldn't. We'd been given a couple of simple jobs that needed doing at the church, so we did them.

Here are Nick and Beth, the folks from Maine, hanging a door.

Around 1 PM we took a break, having replaced a plywood wall with an exit door in one part of the church complex. We headed off to a drive-in hamburger joint called FROSTOP. Someday maybe they will re-mount the giant mug of root beer!

On the way back we wondered how deep the water had been. We didn't have to wonder long:

Remember, the surge was 2-3 feet deeper.

We then looked for the right interior door for another exit from the gymnasium/theater room in the church. Finally, Nick got a call from the coordinator and decided to pick up the key for tomorrow. I stayed behind, finding and hanging the interior door. The place has about 50 different doors-- from leaded glass doors to plain hollow-core doors, and if there was a system to how they were stored, I couldn't figure it out. But by measuring the location of hinges relative to the top of the door, I found one that fit.

When the other two returned, we decided to take a bus to the French Quarter... we took what would have been the St Charles trolley, but that isn't repaired yet, so it's a city bus.

Nick wanted to go to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, but it seemed to be not-open (Believe it or not, they said they were open!) So we went across Jackson Square (see first photo) to the Cafe Du Monde

Nick is on a no-sugar, no-flour diet, so he only had 2 1/2 of these beignets. I had the same number, and we then walked down Bourbon St., finding a nice place to eat, Sammy's. Where he had a steak, salad and cheesecake. (I had catfish and then bread pudding.) We had a good time walking back to the bus on Bourbon street... it was pretty dead, but the music was plenty loud.

Well, it was a nice break, and the weather, which started out near freezing in the morning, warmed up to almost 50 degrees. The heat down here is all heat-pump, and that doesn't work well when it gets really cold.

That's it for now.

Day 3 in New Orleans

2007-01-16T14:54:00.000-08:00

Today saw me spackling wallboard with one of the Mainers, and also cleaning the back yard of the same house as yesterday.

The man who lives there has a young dog, a replacement pet, who lives in the back yard during the day. The dog is very friendly, and made my camera shake:

Today was colder, with rain showers. We closed every door, and even had a heater running, but it was still chilly.

I also used a sawsall to cut the whole for the dryer vent... here are the experts hooking things up:

Oh, one more thing... after the flood every house was inspected and marked with an "X" like this one:

I am not certain about what the symbols mean, but I've heard that:

CA8 = California National Guard 8th Division
EXT = Exterior check only (?)
0 = No people, no bodies found
9/9 = September 9th check

Each neighborhood was checked by a particular Guard unit, and as far as the locals are concerned, the National Guard are the heroes of New Orleans.

Charlie's trip to New Orleans begins

2007-01-16T06:41:00.000-08:00

It's now Tuesday morning. I got here Sunday, and have had one day of work. Now it's time to share what I'm up to.

I'm here for the first time, and am learning a lot about the reality of the town. Imagine if there were different realities for every city in the USA... well, maybe Berkeley has its own rules, but not like New Orleans, LA, or NOLA to the locals.

New Orleans was always said to be 'different', though now the different is different!

The town looks rather like Indianapolis. Flat, lots of strip malls, a downtown with some tall buildings, big overpasses, lots of churches. Like Indy, folks seem to own their own homes, modest or fancy, on tiny plots of land. Seeing an apartment building is an exception.

But NOLA has canals, and streetcars (or at least the desire for streetcars-- most of the lines are not working these days). The canals were what flooded 90% of the land area, but they are also a big reason why the city exists, on the northern bank of the Mississippi. Oh yes, and most of the strip malls have no businesses in them, just boarded up storefronts. We passed what was obviously a Pizza Hut once, now with the name painted over, forgotten.

NOLA is also different because so many houses are just empty. The city is only up to 40% of population, and a good fraction of them are living in trailers or jammed in with relatives. Empty buildings are everywhere... except where the waters just wiped all the buildings away. I haven't been over to that area, but I hope to get a chance to go there sometime during the visit. Block after block of slabs.

I arrived yesterday, around 10 AM. I am staying in a Unitarian church... they have converted the classroom area into a dorm. Because it was Sunday, I went to church... though the church service was actually in the social hall of the Presbyterian church across the street. It's very nice that the Presbyterians let them do that, their church wasn't damaged as much as the Unitarian Universalist one... though even that seems to have been minor. The UU church had water in the first floor, so the flooring and pews are gone. Electric also had to be redone.

The sermon was, of course, on Martin Luther King, Jr. but also on the minister's experience of riots in Harlem in the 60's, and how she, as a 10 year old Latina, could not understand what what was going on. The sermon was about how MLK worked to explain different experiences to those who could not comprehend others. Not unlike understanding NOLA.

So after church there was an informal sing-along at the piano. One woman really liked my voice and made me sing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning" and a few other songs. After that we went to brunch with some church regulars... at a Lebanese place. Then I took a nap... having had only one hour's sleep on the plane in. After that I sat through the 'debrief' of a group from NYC, who had been in NOLA for 5 days, and would leave in the morning. They had just gotten back from a tour of the lower ninth ward... where there are just slabs or slabs and stuff...

Oh, here's a shot of the dorm room.

Then we set off for the French Quarter! The local businesses are kept going by volunteer money, so we feel it's our duty to go out to eat, to buy shirts, etc.

We had a so so dinner and some good strawberry daiquiris near Jackson Square, then walked to Frenchman street, where the combo shown above was playing jazz... mostly standards, but then they did "When The Saints (win the Superbowl)" and everybody got up to dance!

When I got back to my sleeping bag, I was wiped out, and slept the night.

This morning I had two possible work groups... the NYC folks were doing rip-out, but only for a half a day. The other was the Maine group (two people one a contractor and one a clerk, who had been down over Thanksgiving, and knew that they had to come back and do more.)

I decided to go with the Maine folks. We were fixing up a house that had been gutted, fumigated and was being rebuilt. The owner is a Native American, disabled, war veteran, who had carried babies on his shoulders to get them to high land. The house had a leaky roof, and was being rewallboarded, and new plumbing put in. It's in pretty good shape!

The resident lives in the trailer on the right, we are fixing the house on the left. There is a faint line, about where the upper window pane is divided... that's how deep the water was for 3 weeks. The top of the window frame was how deep it was during the storm surge.

My job was to patch and then coat the roof. Hey that's me up on the flat roof!

I did that, and then I worked to rewallboard a ceiling. We drove home, and I took a long shower. That was the end of Monday.

More coming-- I'm here for two weeks. I'm using free Internet that comes from Earthlink... so I should be posting most days... unless I am back to the French Quarter, drinking-- or the connection goes out!