AgainstTheWind

Where Do I begin?

Let's see, when I left, my daughter was off to an interview at LSU med school. She felt she'd done her best, putting best foot forward, and trying to make it clear that she does indeed want to "practice" medicine. So the ball is in their court.

I headed off to a bridge tournament, stayed a few days, won a few, lost a few, got one of those wonderful playing in the first bracket KO experiences and hurried home in time to work another election.

I've tried to write a poem based on the experience at the election. Sixty Six Republicans. We had Sixty Six voters in a day that stretched from 5:30 am to 8:30 pm. So the five little ladies of a certain age got another chance to get well acquainted. We do work well together and try very hard to get it all right. This was our third election working as a team.

"What's it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?"

No, Alfie, it is not. Indeed not. There is meaning to this life, much more meaning than just eat, shit, procreate and die. The third there is individually optional, but as a species, it's mandated.

Anyway, the sun is going down, Sunday, the Sabbath is over.

While I was at the bridge table in Mobile, my phone rang and I answered. Rev. Marlsbury called to tel me that he had a copy of the book he'd spoken to me about. It's something I'm to pass to my oldest marrying daughter by way of an introduction to some premarital counseling through the church, in preparation to having someone officate at her wedding.

There's nothing like a wedding to bring out the holes in our holy, the differences in our theological thinking. But this little book, A Geography of God is wonderful, and written by a Presbyterian minister in NYC that might be able to do the pre-nuptual counseling and clear the way for a local pastor to officiate. Meanwhile, Tania and Bartley would be just as happy with "rent a collar" type services...Tara has suggested I pay the fee to become a theologian qualified in the state of Louisiana to officiate at a wedding. Then I could marry Tara and Darryl. It's a thought.

The sermon today had me teary, a meditation on the other carpenter in the Easter story, the rough carpenter who made three crosses for Roman justice. What was his story? Did he know what a horrible historic judicial murder was going to occur on the cross he made? If so, did he have his defenses ready? Someone is going to make the crosses and the profit, why not me. Or, the Romans order, we obey. Or I had no idea the cross would go to that execution.

We are all making crosses of one type or another. And making excuses. What lack of imagination makes us able to participate in evil?
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Meanwhile, my Grandboys are growing up. Tara sent a photo of Cameron having dusted his entire room with baby powder. He's available to a good home, I understand! Here's a photo from shortly after the new year.

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