commitment

It was commitment Sunday at church today. Commitment Sunday is the Sunday when the congregants tell the church the amount of money they promise to give over te coming year. Being a preacher's kid, I know this estimate of giving is very important to operate the church effectively. If they never knew how much money they planned to have, they couldn't hire people or plan programs or incur debt. So when people say they don't pledge because they just "give as the spirit moves them", then they are just closing their eyes to reality.

I, however, plan to give money when I can, but did not pledge. So shoot me.

Dad's sermons on Commitment Sunday were always so intense that they blew the roof off the sanctuary. I remember one Sunday dinner, I think when we were at Dulin, when Mom told Dad, "Your sermon was so good that I put down $5.00 a week more than we had said." Dad went totally ballistic. He was furious, and said, "Honey, why did you do that? We talked about this! We decided how much we could afford!", and she said, "It was just such a convincing sermon.".

Dad was always an incredibly good preacher. He had a Palm Sunday sermon that was so good that congregants from a church he'd served in the past once traveled to his current church to hear it again. He had an illustration for his "suffering love" sermon that was so gut-wrenching that he had to warn us kids each time he used it, or else he knew we'd be in tears. (He repeated sermons we'd heard before after we would move to a new church.)

The gut-wrenching illustration is:
A little boy moved to a new town, and was given a little tiny puppy by his parents. The boy and the puppy loved each other. They played together for hours at a time, they cuddled together in bed at night, and the puppy followed the boy everywhere.

Then one day the boy had a horrible day. The other kids teased him. The school teachers yelled at him. His mom slapped his cheek for misbehaving.

When the boy got home that night, he slammed angrily into the house. The happy little puppy came leaping to greet him and jumped up on his leg. "Get out of here!" the boy shouted, kicking the puppy across the room.

The puppy yelped as it flew through the air. It hit the opposite wall and slid to the ground. The boy collapsed on the ground in tears. His tears were soon dried by the tongue of the puppy, who had limped over to him and was licking his face dry.

Dubious

OMG - there is a show on TV called "The World's Smallest Man". He is a full grown male only 27" tall. His name is "Edvard" He is on a big stage now, in a white' sequined tux, singing and leaping about, and occasionally throwing himself on the ground.

OK - back to reality. They had a "Back to Sunday School" picnic at church which they called a "tailgate party". It was in an abandoned parking lot in the shopping center where the church is located. This was not a real good idea. It was very hot. The only shade was under a big canopy some members brought, and there was no grass, so the kids had to play on asphalt.


On my way over to the picnic, as I passed Safeway, a skinny, dirty guy who was collapsed on the sidewalk said, "Help the homeless? I haven't eaten in 2 days.".

So I said, pointing to the picnic, "Come to that our picnic down there. We have lots of food."

I went on down and I saw the homeless man at the picnic, eating burgers and a bIg plate of salads.

After the picnic I was back at Safeway waiting on the bus. I guess he didn't recognize me, because h said, "help the homeless. I haven't eaten In 2 days.".

I said, "I just saw you eating at the picnic."

He said, "I didn't eat that. I'm allergic."

I said,

Nominal tale

I was at church last Thursday doing my volunteèr work when a woman came in looking for a handout. The pastor asked her what her name was.

"Latrine'" she replied.

"Excuse me?" the pastor said.

"Latrine," she repeated.

The pastor completed his business with her, but, as soon as she left, he expressed his astonishment. "LATRINE!!"' he said. "Who would name their kid Latrine??? A latrine is a toilet!!!"

He chuckled for a moment, then added, "I wonder if her husband's name is John?"

I am much too lady-like to say this out loud, but my thought was, "I bet her kids are a bunch of little terds."

Groove it

The beatnik coffeehouse event that the church holds wasn't as much fun this year as it was last time. There was some sanctimonious self-justification occurring under the guise of entertainment which put a pallor on the event. The preacher did a funny self depreaciating stand-up routine, though, and another guy did a routine on "the evils of drink", and there were a couple real fun poetry readings, and Roger played guitar, which is always a treat, and another guy and his grown son played violen, so that was nice. I just doubt the church does it again, because the other crap gave the whole thing sort of a negative feel. Or at least to me it did.....

I have rhymed for this church on many occasions - remember, for a long time I rhymed for the church at David's request, so that's a lot of rhymes and song lyrics. Last night at the beatnik coffeehouse, after I'd read the poem, one man came up to me and said, "So you wrote us yet another rhyme. It was great, but it reminds me of a story. It seems that there was once a brillant mathmetician. She could complete any complex math problem that was given to her. One day she was given an especially tricky equation to solve. She immediately snatched up a nearby pad of blank paper and began writing furiously. Finally, after hours of work, she threw down her pencil and handed the pad to her professor.

The professor flipped through page after page of neatly completed algorythem.

"So," he said. "I see the medication still isn't working!"

Get it? But why did he tell that story to me?

Palm Sunday

It's Holy Week... I just can't say anything about it because I just really miss David, and this week sort of nails that point home.... I'm wondering if maybe I should get the hell out of Dodge?
(meaning CTS) I have actual friends there now, though. So I'll stay. Besides, I love the "Welcome" Statement.


All are welcome to worship here.
Whether you arrive on foot, on wheels, with some assistance, or in the company of a service animal, there will
be someone to greet you and all who accompany you with a helping hand.

Whether you are living year to year, day to day, or paycheck to paycheck, the coffee will be hot.

Whether you are single, married, divorced, committed, gay, lesbian, straight,
transgendered, or bisexual, the sanctuary doors will be open.

Whether you come dressed in a kaftan, sari, sweater, kilt, chādor, jeans,
kimono, or suit and tie, there will be a seat waiting for you.

Whether English is your first or eighth language, you have spoken it from your first word
or are still learning, the music and liturgy will speak to you.

Whether you are just traveling through, have recently joined us, or helped establish our
church decades ago, there will be friends waiting here for you.

Whether your burdens are heavy or light, you are imprisoned or free, have sinned once or many times,
the grace of God will be with you at the communion table through bread and wine or a blessing.

Whether you find joy in crayons, music, fellowship, pancake suppers,
or the gospel, you will find a celebration here.

Whether you are not sure about church, have just been baptized, or grew up reciting the Lord’s Prayer
and the creeds, there will be a lesson to challenge your thinking.

Whether your talents include cooking, cleaning, reading, woodworking, driving, shopping, teaching, counseling,
organizing, translating, or singing, there will be an opportunity to serve others.

Whether you find yourself on this list or not,
you are welcome here to celebrate, think, and serve.




Anyway, I ain't goin' nowhere until I'm sure that's the tight thing to do.

So I guess I ain't going nowhere.

We picked up a passenger at McLean Bible Church on the way home. It was a huge mega complex like a college. They had a large parking garage, had monopolized route 7 traffic, and had enen hired a real Fairfax County cop ro direct traffic.

50th anniversary

In light of Mom's and Dad's upcoming 60th anniversary, I decided to re-run the poem I wrote for their 50th. We (Ed, Sue and I) - with David's support, dedication,creative input, labor, and supervision, rented the party room in a restaurant, invited over a hundred people, including all of our many out-of-town relatives and all the congregations of all of Dad's old churches (only 2 of which were actually close enough to draw many people), served food, had beautiful flower arrangements (made by Bonnie Hamilton, David's friend from Christ the Servant), and were entertained all through dinner by a professional string quartet. And under David's supervision, it was all very affordable for us, Anyway, at the end, we did a long program where we showed slides of their lives through the years while
Ed, Dayna, Sue, and I alternated reading aloud sections of the following poem. which I'd written for the occasion:

PLEASE REMEMBER, ALL THROUGH THIS WE ARE SHOWING SLIDES OF THE THINGS WE ARE TALKING ABOUT.

DEB
They were so different
In how they were reared,
You’d not expect marriage
That spans 50 years.

For him, northern cities
Were what he called home,
While she in the heart
Of the mountains was grown.

The one thing they shared
Was a hunger for knowledge,
So they both set their caps
To attend Union College.

And it was at school
That they met up one day.
Then in Dad’s senior year
They just both slipped away

Off to get married
At Cumberland Falls.
Then they went back to school
And told no one at all.

They returned to their dorms
With their own separate rooms
And never let on
That they were bride and groom.

Dad graduated.
Mother dropped out,
And they then, together,
Their lives set about.

Now let me just pause
For a moment or two,
For I have a question
I must pose to you.

What, do you think,
Would have been the reaction
If one of their kids
Did commit that infraction?

(Words had previously been distributed to all songs, so all could sing along. David provided accompaniment.)
TO: THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES THEME

Come and listen to my story ‘bout a man named Ed,
Poor college boy, Pennsylvania born and bred,
Then one day he was acting in a play,
Saw Mil there and she stole his heart away.

Next comes the story of a mountain lass.
One look at Ed and her heart beat rather fast.
Thought, “Kentucky boys now all seem rather lame!”
And from that moment on her whole life was not the same.

Next thing you know, young Edward took a bride.
Went for a time up to Boston to reside.
Said, “Virginia is the place we want to be,”
So they loaded up the Ford and the rest was history.

When it comes to kids,
Well, they had their share.
The first was a daughter
Who had no compare.

Look at that youngster!
She’s cute as can be!
And smart as a tack ,
As you plainly can see.

Oh yes, you can tell
That the first was the best.
And the next one, I fear,
Well, he’s sort of a mess.

ED
Hey, wait just a minute!
Now I’ll take the floor,
For next came a son
Whom they simply adored.

The boy was their favorite,
Of that there’s no doubt.
“He’s a fine fellow,”
Our parents would shout.

SUE
Now that’s quite enough!
And I sure don’t mean maybe!
Their favorite, of course,
Was their last darling baby.

She was adorable –
Cute as the dickens.
Beside her, the others
Seemed rather slim pickins.

TO: RAINDROPS KEEP FALLIN’ ON MY HEAD

My brother hit me in the head,
And that stupid jerk will very soon find out he’s dead.
I will have a fit.
That
Edward is going to bite the dust, he’s a goner.
Hey, he just changed off the TV from my show.
It’s my turn to pick the station, which I’m sure he knows!
Give me the remote!
Oh,
Edward’s a freckle faced freak-o, little monster!
Oh, aren’t kids fun?
A joy.
You think they will outgrow it, but you know it…
They never do.
They’re adults now but they don’t show it.
Still each one wants to be the best.
Each one still will put the others to the test
With sheer jealousy.
But
You’ll never stop them from their love of complaining.
No, not these three.
‘Cause they love it, you see.

ED
Dad’s been a preacher
For most all his life.
So Mom, all those years,
Had to be preacher’s wife.

Think of the pot lucks
And bake sales galore.
The picnics, the camp outs,
And, oh, so much more.

TO: THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS

There’s no business like church business, like no business we know.
Everything is done by a committee.
Even things like fixing up your house.
Therefore it would be an awful pity without a witty
And patient spouse.
There’s no preacher like Ed Taylor and
no spouse like his wife.
They go with the youth group to sleep in a tent.
And they have many hours spent
In attendance at each church group’s big event.
They’ve put on a good show!

SUE
Methodist preachers –
They go where they’re sent.
So we’ll show you some of
The places we went.

The very first places
I just can’t recall,
For I was an infant
Or not born at all.

The beach was the place
They gave birth to their boy.
And in Roanoke
To their pride and their joy.

Winchester next.
We all loved it a lot.
No better place
To raise kids could be sought.

And Mom learned to drive
While she lived there, and so
The kids then to scouts and
Piano could go.

Colonial Heights
Quickly proved to us that
It’s not the right city
For good democrats.

DEB
Charlottesville next,
That place was great.
And one year the family
Had two graduate.

For from UVA,
Much to Debbie’s surprise,
She got a diploma.
And, oh, how time flies,

Mom got her degree,
To her family’s loud cheers.
A project that took her
Just 29 years.

To Harrisonburg.
And then Falls Church lurked,
At this time all 3 kids
Found meaningful work.

Then off to Manassas –
And Ed 3’s ambition
Became to create a new
Family addition.

DAYNA
And so Dayna Taylor,
As here you can see,
Became a new branch
On the old family tree.

ED
Then to Roanoke
They quite gladly retired,
Where Dad took three churches
And Mom joined the choir.

DEB
And finally decided
It was in their wishes
To be near their girls,
Though I’m rather suspicious

That’s not the whole reason
They moved here at all,
Into a high-rise
Right at Tyson’s mall.

For Mom has become
A complete shopping nut,
And Dad seems to love it
With no grass to cut.

Whatever the reason
They moved in so near,
We both of us know that
We’re sure glad that they’re here.

TO: THE BEVERLY HILLBILLY’S THEME

Now the next thing you know they’re living everywhere.
Bishop says, “Ed, move away from there!”
Says, “I decided on the place you ought to be!”
So they loaded up their stuff and they moved the family.

The best part of moving,
We, all, of us found,
Is meeting nice people
As you move around.

And the folks sure enjoyed
All their family and friends,
The hours they shared, and
The good times they’d spend.

At magical moments
Distinctions would end
And friends became family
And family good friends.

Sitting and chatting
Or out in the sun.
When they got together
They always had fun.

And holidays, they
Were another fun time.
(Let’s wrap them up quickly,
And so end this rhyme.)

For these verses, see,
They could go without end,
‘Cause 50’s a long time
To cover, my friends.

At least 50 pictures
You’d be forced to see
Of us in our jammies
All under the tree.

And 50 more pictures
Of fine Easter clothes.
And then birthday pictures –
Now don’t forget those.

So let us just quit
And we’ll leave it right here.
And not show each occasion
The whole 50 years.

TO: WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

We have got a lot of pictures,
We have got a lot of pictures,
We have got a lot of pictures
Of holiday cheer.
Of food and of gifts,
Of times that were fun.
We won’t show them all ‘cause we’d never get done.

So we’ve covered friends
And our different locations.
We’ve covered a lot
But we’ve not done vacations.

Our family went somewhere
Away every year.
We always found this
A time of good cheer.

Though have you ever noticed
The wild destinations
Our parents did choose
For their later vacations?

As children they took us
To mountains or beach –
Someplace quite fun
But within easy reach.

So we all grow up
And are no longer here,
And then Mom and Dad –
They shift into high gear.

Off to Korea,
Jerusalem, too.
A boat through Alaska
They decide then to do.

And so, with their luggage
Held tight in their grip,
They’re all the time off on
Another big trip.

But I’ve not been fair,
For they once took us all
Over to Britain,
And we had a ball

Until, I do fear,
On the very last day,
When off to the airport
We all drove away.

And friend Robin said,
With voice that was steady,
“Everyone got
Their passports all ready?”

Mom panicked, of course,
As she tore through her purse.
The rest of us sighed
As we silently cursed.

“Where can it be?”
She inquired of us,
As her frantic hands
Quite dismantled the bus.

The passport was found
In the first place she’d looked –
Safe and secure
In her own pocketbook.

With this ends the story
We’ll tell of their life.
One question remains, though,
Of this man and wife.

What is the magic
That, through all the years,
Has caused these two hearts
To together adhere?

How did they manage
When children threw scenes?
How did they make it
Through three surly teens?

Were there not times
When their money was low?
Times when their ducks
Were not quite in a row?

Yes, they were forced
To face troubles and such.
What keeps them together
Is loving so much.

They love each other
Through good times and bad.
They love each other
When sad, glad, or mad.

They love with a love
That on nothing depends.
They love without limits –
Their love has no end.

TO: BLOWIN’ IN THE WIND

How many years can a couple be wed
Because they desire to be?
Yes’n how many times can strong egos lose out?
They smooch and agree to agree.
Yes’n why do they cling to each other when they
Know that they could each be set free?
The answer, my friend,
Is love that has no end.
The answer is love that has no end.

W

Seals

Went to church and Sunday School today - who would have thunk... In Sunday School, they are studying the book of Revelation. I guess I'd better read Revelation... I've probably read all of the rest of the New Testament I've read it in a piecemeal manner, but I've read it. Mom, who is the ultimate church lady, told me that, if I ever read the Bible, I sould skip Revelation, because it would confuse and scare me. So far, her warning would probably bode true... except....

....except that the teacher was talking about a document that bore seven seals, and he explained that the book didn't mean aquatic seals,
but seals that seal things, and I got tickled.

More later...

a blast from the past

I went and voted absentee today. That took a bit of courage, because I haven't been back in the office since the electoral board from hell fired me for being in a wheelchair. They had everything set up for absentee voting exactly the way I used to set it up. So they must think I had it set up correctly, right? (Except that they didn't have a sample ballot posted on the door, which is something I always used to do, and which is something that seems like a good idea to me.) I never used a paper pollbook and wrote voters names in it when conducting absentee voting. I always assumed the absentee ballot applicant list was the pollbook. The evil and incompetent and ill informed Secretary of the Electoral Board from hell made it a big deal that I wasn't using paper pollbooks and put on a big show of demanding that they be used, but now I see that they aren't using them again. Could it be that she found out that she was wrong?

The reason I went to vote is because Jim Moran is on the ballot, and I feel he's always done an excellent job.

Voting is so important and such a unique privilege and so easy to do that I can't believe that anyone would not vote. But, from what I know of my blog readers, I am probably preaching to the choir.

Once David let loose with one of his frequent heartfelt and poignantly correct sermons during rehearsal. One of the basses raised his hand. "Yes, Stan," David said. "David," said Stan. "You are preaching to the choir."

Punchbowls, part II

My last post ended adruptly and seeemed odd because the caretakers came to take me away right in the middle of writing it. Back to the story...

Mom wanted to give her punchbowl to a church, and mine said they could use it, so Mom asked Ron drive her out, which he gladly did. But Ron happened to think that David had owned a nice punchbowl, and Ron needs a punchbowl about as much as I do, and he donated his, also. So if any of you readers is planning a wedding or formal event, consider having it at CTS, because they've got a punchbowl you can use! Meanwhile, the pastor, looking quite confused, asked me the other day, "What's with all the punchbowls?" I guess he wondered if he would be receiving one a day!

So why did I decide to write a whole blog entry about this? I guess it's because one so seldom has an opportunity to think seriously about punchbowls. And, also, I like writing the word "punchbowl". Sorry, I'll never write another word about a punchbowl again.

I'm hearing now on the TV that the preacher from Florida has decided not to burn the Koran. How big of him........

Buddhism

Leading the Sunday School discussion about Buddhism went OK, but mainly because nobody much came, and, of those that came, nobody much cared. Maybe that's not fair of me. Seeing that the actual point of the book is that one cannot worship God using any of the 8 major religions interchangeably because 7 of them are wrong, this is probably the kind of chapter on Buddhism, one should expect. It made a very serious religion seem laughable, though. He really didn't seem to try to understand, or to present the belief in a balanced manner. He also chose to use inflammatory language when talking about the religion, for instance, he uses the term "fairy tale" to talk about some of the "old testament" Buddhist stories. Would he call "Noah's ark" a. fairy tale?

I got to tell my favorite Buddhist teaching, though. It is that a monk goes to the Master and asks, "Master, what must I do to attain enlightenment?", and the Master pulls out a sword and cuts off the monk's arm!

Having taken 4 or 5 classes in Buddhism about 30 years ago, that story actually makes a vague sort of sense to me. The real reason I remember it, though, is because I used to hang around the "Green Room" in the Culbreth Theater between classes and study, and this was one of the stories I read out loud to the other drama majors who were hanging around, and they all just hooted.

Discussion

My friend Bill, a fellow resident here at the "home", is going quite deaf. Sometimes his hearing aide "sort of" works, and sometimes it doesn't work at all. After dinner yesterday, I told him I was going to go outside and read for a while. He said, "Why?!" I said, "I just need to read some." He said, "Why?" I shouted, "I WANT TO FINISH MY BOOK." He said, "Oh. I thought you said you were going outside to weed!"

So I told this story in Sunday School this morning, and the Pastor respoonded with the phrase "Weed it and reap."

Which just goes to show you to what depths serious discussion can devolve when I am the appointed discussion leader.

Discussion Leader

Guess what! I am supposed to lead the Sunday School class discussion on Sunday. The last time I was actively involved in Sunday School was when I taught the Junior High class when I was in college, and I only did that because incredibly handsome Cliff (his real name) was the co-teacher.

I guess that means I need to read the relevant chapter of the book that the class is reading!

Actually, I did start reading some of the chapter, and I don't like it. We are reading "God is Not One" by Stephen R. Prothero. The premise off the book is that one cannot practice just any of the 8 major religions and say. "What does it matter which religion I use? They all worship God." because they are all fundamentally different and don't worship the same god. We are reading the chapter on Buddhism, and I was asked to lead the discussion because I once told them that I'd "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college.

The reason that I "sort of" majored in Buddhism in college is that my real major was in drama. That got Dad ballistic, though. He kept shouting, "What kind of major is drama? What kind of class is 'Voice and Diction'? What kind of a job do you get with a drama major?!!" So, since he was a preacher, I double majored in religion. That was a useless gesture, because that major isn't employable, either.

I'll tell you more about the book later.

choir jokes

CHOIR JOKES


Q: How many tenors does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Six. One to do it, and five to say, "It's too high for him.”

Q: How many altos does it take to change a light bulb?
A: None. They can't get up that high.

Q: How many sopranos does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: One. She holds the bulb and the world revolves around her

Q: How many basses does it take to change a lightbulb?
A:None. They're so macho they prefer to walk in the dark and bang their shins.

What's the difference between a soprano and the PLO?
You can negotiate with the PLO.

What's the difference between an alto and a tenor?
Tenors don't have hair on their backs.

What's the definition of an optimist?
A choral director with a mortgage.

Q. What do you call a Soprano who can sight read?
A. An Alto

Q. How do you put a twinkle in a Soprano's eye?
A..Shine a flashlight in her ear

divine intervention

I went to church to assemble bulletins today and the weirdest thing happened... I was completely all alone in the church. The secretary and pastor are on vacation, so I was the only one who'd been there all day. I was just sitting in the little work room working away, when all of a sudden the Xerox machine started making ominous noises and then it started working, acting like it was copying something, and spit out a piece of paper. Being that I was at the church, I of course decided it was a message from God. I picked it up with trembling hand and read it with great trepidation...

It was an ad for roof re-tarring.

Had I a roof, I would tar it immediately. As it is, though, I don't quite know what to do with this, and am beginning to doubt that it is of divine origin.

Unfocused day

I went to church this morning to assemble bulletins. It got me out of here. Thenk God that I at least have something to do once a week. (Ha, ha! A double meaning! Get it? "Thank God" like the expression, and "Thank God" like, if it wasn't for God, I wouldn't have any bulletins to fold! Which is what I was doing.

I think I am easily amused.

As in yesterday's blog post, the Metro Access driver spent the entire trip evangelizing. Yesterday was Muslim, though, and todays was Christian. The driver attends the Spanish evangelical church that meets in my church building 3 nights a week. He's studying something having to do with computer networks, so he'll probably make lots of money some day. His evangelizing was not just evangelical "born again" shit, but was atually sort of thought provoking. At least from him it was, because he was never preachy, just kind of empathetic and exhausted.

He looked a lot like a Latin Jerry Lewis (before Jerry Lewis got fat!).

When I got back here, there was a HUGE thunderstorm. I sat out on the front porch and watched it pour, and that was kinda cool.

preoccupied

I went to church out at CTS today. I really don't know why I continue going all the way to Reston to go there. I don't really care to speculate, either. I know that, if I didn't go there, I wouldn't go anywhere. I know I admire their welcome statement.

A minor part of what the guest preacher spoke about today had to do with an Ethiopian eunuch. I forget what this had to do with anything else he was talking about, but it totally blew my feeble mind. Perhaps, if this is all I'm going to get out of a sermon, I should give up and just quit going?

See, the thing is, a long while ago my sister and I, (but mainly my sister), used to be good friends with Ethiopians, none of whom had any physical problems at all. Here is a picture of Nega. So, my mind being minuscule, I heard the sermon with my ears, while my mind was preoccupied with the concept of Ethiopian eunuchs!

I know what you are thinking...... But I don't want to quit going to church! It gives my life meaning and structure to have something to do for one hour a week!

Happy thoughts

"If a group of people stand around in a circle for long enough, eventually they start to dance."
George Carlin

I've actually meta lot of nice people other than church people by going to church all the time. One is the cashier from Safeway who was frustrated with me. I kept showing up there and buying stuff. but whenever she tried to get me to fill out the form for the special Safeway card that saves the customer money, I'd say "Naah, I don't live here and never actually go to Safeway." Finally she said, "You are here all the time, and I confessed that my hand shakes and I couldn't really fill out the form, so she filled it out for me. and we've become buddies.

The second example is fairly odd. (After all, though, it is ME we are talking about.) I've been known to a stop at the Dairy Queen on the Plaza for a coffee or diet coke while I wait for Metro Access. Here are coupons for Dairy Queen. (Coupons which I would never need to download because I get only coffee or diet coke. Anyway, one of the Dairy Queen clerks talks to me freely because she knows I wait for Metro Access, and she dates a Metro Access supervisor. So the other day she asks me (in an odd tone of voice) "Did you have an OK ride home yesterday?" and I said "Yeah. But the GPS took us on an odd route. We went way out in the country and saw beautiful flowers and blooming trees and big mansions and estates." (Although I doubt I said it this coherently. I probably said, "Yeah. We saw some really pretty shit!") And she said, "Well what driver is a weird guy, you know." and I said "yeah", because he wears woolly earmuffs no matter what the weather.
"Well," she said, 'he came in here before he picked you up, and he said that it was a pretty day and you were going home, so you probably weren't in a hurry, so he thought he'd set the cruise control on sight see!"

Another volunteer day

I took Metro Access (the DC para transit system for people who have disabilities) to church this morning and folded bulletins. That was fine, because it needed to be done, and because it really got me thinking about David and belief and I knew that David would have wanted me to do it be cause he was so devoted to making sure that church succeeds (and Lord knows that what they need now is secretarial help!) (Actually, what they very much need is musical help. Let's just say that the music program ain't what it used to be! Which is really too bad, because the congregation really loved the stellar program!)

It was also fun because there were so many beautiful spring flowers and blooming trees on the way. For some reason, on the way back the driver took local Rt 7 rather than the highway, so I got to see lots of countryside. There was a very devout "church lady" there changing paraments, and there was a beautiful purple flowered tree right outside the window, and I was saying how sad it was that the flowers didn't last long, and she said she thought the fact that they died and came back the next year was God's way of reminding us of hope and Resurrection. I or couse, responded that I'd always thought that the fact that the flowers didn't last long was, instead, the reason God had invented cameras. She laughed, thank goodness!

Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe part II

The coffeehouse was last night was GREAT FUN. I really go to a "cool" church. Thanks, David. One guy sang fun ditties and played keyboard and 2 women sang for real, and this guy and his wife did a hysterically funny enactment of some poem called "The Creamation of... (someone - I forget who, but it was real funny), and the pastor read a subursive Ginsburg poem, and I read mine. It was just what I needed yesterday.

Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe

The people at my church are having a coffeehouse called "Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe" on Friday night. The idea is based on the old beatnik coffeehouses of the 50's, and basically it is just a chance for people to get together and hang out and play their musical insturments and stuff. I said I'd write and read some beatnik poetry. Guess I'd better get on it! This is what I sent to the emcee when he asked us to send some biographical information:

I’ve written nonsense verse all my life. Actually, published verse framed my public school career. In first grade, I wrote the verse “My Family” which was published in some children’s magazine. As a high school senior, I wrote the satirical “The Ballad of Poor Harley Miles”, Harley Miles being the assistant principal, which was published in my high school newspaper. What I have to say about this dubious talent is:

Some folks may earn money when
They’ve got some extra time.
They build financial fortunes from
Their nickels and their dimes.

Some folks may write symphonies
With melodies sublime.
I would love to do those things,
But can’t, so I just rhyme.