What happened between Shasta and Fresno backtracking
There are two answers to this ..the first is I don't know where that part of the book went off too , I am not very organized and if it wern't for Lori , there would be nothing left of that project ... I believe I did at one time have a written record of that day ...but not now.
The second answer is I have a very good idea ....
It was early morning when I was in Weed at the gas station, the cold air would have kept me awake and I turned left just out of Weed onto Interstate 5 ...heading south..its a downhill ride from Weed and soon the temperature would have been warming , there was no evidence of the sun rising , but in a few hours I would be getting tired ...more than likely I stopped and found a place in Redding California to sleep ..I like sleeping in a car , it feels safe and cave like ...when you wake up you simply tilt your seat up and go ...Probably as I went to sleep then for the next several hours I owuld have started thinking , really thinking about the turns and twists of my life ...when I remove myself from all the distractions of life I start thinking about me. Selfish perhaps, but there are some times when you look back, you know how it is ...one day you are six years old , you are chasing dandilions and throwing tantrums when you are told to go to bed ...you feel the first startling twinges of independence , and every thing is new ...so much new you simply can't take it all in , so your mind stores up memories which come flooding back to you when you least expect it. I would have started to think about my life in terms of memorable periods ...The early years from six to twelve , High School years , Sandy and the serious dating years , First marriage and college , Divorce , college , and Diana , Karen , Kaisa , and the Store in Sisters . Once I had started putting my life into these spaces I would like putting together a beach cabin Jigsaw Puzzel begin to fill in the middle ...
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Sunset Strip
( Please note that there is a part missing between the Gas Station in Shasta and the trip to Los Angeles )
That evening I decided to drive into Los Angeles. I would be there very late, but I would miss the traffic. The conversation with my cousin had really started me thinking. I went back to the thought about our lives being a tapestry, and I was realizing there is not much difference between a net and a tapestry, and the difference between them. I wondered how many people were caught in nets of their own. When we enter life, we are a part of someone’s work - the life we weave is a part of a larger work and often just our past traps us before we even have a chance to start our own work. Nancy had grown up in Selma; a child of Dust Bowl evacuees, her entire world had been formed around a hub of grape farming. She had inherited her mother’s smile, her father’s laugh and her family’s religion.
I must admit that this has been a huge stumbling block in my Christian life. It has always seemed to me that Christianity does have a cultural component to it, that many people who are Christians in the United States would be Muslim if they were born in Iraq. It has always seemed to me that there are loving and gentle people of good heart who are associated with most of the world faiths, and there are people who love to condemn others in most faiths as well.
Well, the drive from Selma to Los Angeles takes abut three hours, and I was up and over the Grapevine by 2 a.m. I had an urge to Cruise Sunset Blvd. I grew up with television, and Sunset Strip was one of those great icons of my youth. I have seen so many car chases down Sunset Blvd., I knew I would be no stranger there.
Soon I saw an exit that proclaimed Sunset Blvd /Hollywood, and I took it - and for a little bit, I did feel I was in the wrong place. This road of my teenage dreams wound unimpressively through a residential neighborhood, then squeezed past UCLA. I craned my neck, looking for the famous coeds, but none appeared. I drove past the Hotel California, past the famous neighborhoods of star worship - but I saw very few people or cars. Then I surged out of Beverly Hills and into the Sunset Blvd. of my remembrance. It’s not difficult to find temptation on the Strip, and everywhere I looked there were girls: some quietly and some sheepishly offering themselves for sale to the men and boys who flitted like fruit flies on the Strip and the intersecting roads. I saw lots of police, but they seemed hopelessly outnumbered. The words of the Paul Simon song, The Boxer, found their way into my mind: “There were times when I was so lonely that I took some comfort there,” and I wondered what drove the men to circle and the women to offer themselves up to strangers with such ease. I thought, “Somewhere there is a wife sleeping, comfortably unaware; and someplace else, a girlfriend fretting. Somewhere, a family room with a picture of a pert young girl with a flawless complexion looking out over the mantle. How many faces did I see that where in some living room in a distant land, framed with love and remembered in adoration? I wonder how long it takes for a policeman on this beat to lose faith with his or her fellowman, and distill all of us into a caricature of these evening immigrants. They are explorers and inhabitants of a world that borders Suburbia. Sedans and station wagons replace covered wagons and sailing ships - but there is only bitter harvest here. No minerals, no lumber - only broken dreams and passionless passion. I’m sure both seller and customer each will bear the marks of the blows that cut them down. I admit that I was fascinated by this swarm of people – the furtive looks, the outlandish appearance, the men in cars darting from lane to lane. Police with stoic understanding, stopping, questioning. Lights glimmering neon; proclaiming billboards elbowing each other; while in another world, not too far away, families slept and college students worked into the late hours forming paragraphs about social justice and world change. I suspect every major city has their Sunset Strip. It’s always a place on the “other side of the tracks,” just outside our understanding - but close enough to point at. I think each of us has our own Strip as well; it’s a place were we can occasionally blur the line between right and wrong. It’s also a place we can easily recognize in others. And just as it seems that those of us in Portland and Sacramento like to point toward Sunset Blvd. and Times Square, in our own home towns there are streets that slither through the gardens we have built.
I wanted to see Grumen’s Chinese Theater before I left, and I finally found it a few blocks away on Hollywood Blvd. The sun was coming up; the tops of the buildings were soaking in the light. There was a relay going on, and the people of the night were handing the baton over to the people of the morning. The bus stops were filling up with tired-looking people, most of them Hispanic or black, and most seemed to be headed into the richer neighborhoods of Beverly Hills and Belair. I suspect these were the domestics, the ones who mowed the neatly landscaped yards, who tended the dogs and washed the cars and a thousand other menial jobs. Some of these people stared at me with fierce pride, but most simply seemed to be asleep on their feet , thinking of the last moment of love’s embrace or of bills to be paid .
I pulled into a Denny’s for a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. I know I must have had a book with me; if I eat alone, I have to have something to read with me. I’m sure there is something Freudian about that, but I think I will save the money on the exam and use it to buy more books. I was probably in Denny’s for about an hour, and when I came out I saw a new crowd taking the baton. These were the secretaries and the young executives, some at the bus stops and some in their own cars, filling up the Strip once again. As I looked at these people, I saw some staring back defiantly and others asleep, thinking of last moments of love’s embrace or bills to be paid.
My next stop was Chula Vista, just South of San Diego. There was a dear online friend I planned to visit there; her screen name was Quietedone, and her real name was Cathi.
That evening I decided to drive into Los Angeles. I would be there very late, but I would miss the traffic. The conversation with my cousin had really started me thinking. I went back to the thought about our lives being a tapestry, and I was realizing there is not much difference between a net and a tapestry, and the difference between them. I wondered how many people were caught in nets of their own. When we enter life, we are a part of someone’s work - the life we weave is a part of a larger work and often just our past traps us before we even have a chance to start our own work. Nancy had grown up in Selma; a child of Dust Bowl evacuees, her entire world had been formed around a hub of grape farming. She had inherited her mother’s smile, her father’s laugh and her family’s religion.
I must admit that this has been a huge stumbling block in my Christian life. It has always seemed to me that Christianity does have a cultural component to it, that many people who are Christians in the United States would be Muslim if they were born in Iraq. It has always seemed to me that there are loving and gentle people of good heart who are associated with most of the world faiths, and there are people who love to condemn others in most faiths as well.
Well, the drive from Selma to Los Angeles takes abut three hours, and I was up and over the Grapevine by 2 a.m. I had an urge to Cruise Sunset Blvd. I grew up with television, and Sunset Strip was one of those great icons of my youth. I have seen so many car chases down Sunset Blvd., I knew I would be no stranger there.
Soon I saw an exit that proclaimed Sunset Blvd /Hollywood, and I took it - and for a little bit, I did feel I was in the wrong place. This road of my teenage dreams wound unimpressively through a residential neighborhood, then squeezed past UCLA. I craned my neck, looking for the famous coeds, but none appeared. I drove past the Hotel California, past the famous neighborhoods of star worship - but I saw very few people or cars. Then I surged out of Beverly Hills and into the Sunset Blvd. of my remembrance. It’s not difficult to find temptation on the Strip, and everywhere I looked there were girls: some quietly and some sheepishly offering themselves for sale to the men and boys who flitted like fruit flies on the Strip and the intersecting roads. I saw lots of police, but they seemed hopelessly outnumbered. The words of the Paul Simon song, The Boxer, found their way into my mind: “There were times when I was so lonely that I took some comfort there,” and I wondered what drove the men to circle and the women to offer themselves up to strangers with such ease. I thought, “Somewhere there is a wife sleeping, comfortably unaware; and someplace else, a girlfriend fretting. Somewhere, a family room with a picture of a pert young girl with a flawless complexion looking out over the mantle. How many faces did I see that where in some living room in a distant land, framed with love and remembered in adoration? I wonder how long it takes for a policeman on this beat to lose faith with his or her fellowman, and distill all of us into a caricature of these evening immigrants. They are explorers and inhabitants of a world that borders Suburbia. Sedans and station wagons replace covered wagons and sailing ships - but there is only bitter harvest here. No minerals, no lumber - only broken dreams and passionless passion. I’m sure both seller and customer each will bear the marks of the blows that cut them down. I admit that I was fascinated by this swarm of people – the furtive looks, the outlandish appearance, the men in cars darting from lane to lane. Police with stoic understanding, stopping, questioning. Lights glimmering neon; proclaiming billboards elbowing each other; while in another world, not too far away, families slept and college students worked into the late hours forming paragraphs about social justice and world change. I suspect every major city has their Sunset Strip. It’s always a place on the “other side of the tracks,” just outside our understanding - but close enough to point at. I think each of us has our own Strip as well; it’s a place were we can occasionally blur the line between right and wrong. It’s also a place we can easily recognize in others. And just as it seems that those of us in Portland and Sacramento like to point toward Sunset Blvd. and Times Square, in our own home towns there are streets that slither through the gardens we have built.
I wanted to see Grumen’s Chinese Theater before I left, and I finally found it a few blocks away on Hollywood Blvd. The sun was coming up; the tops of the buildings were soaking in the light. There was a relay going on, and the people of the night were handing the baton over to the people of the morning. The bus stops were filling up with tired-looking people, most of them Hispanic or black, and most seemed to be headed into the richer neighborhoods of Beverly Hills and Belair. I suspect these were the domestics, the ones who mowed the neatly landscaped yards, who tended the dogs and washed the cars and a thousand other menial jobs. Some of these people stared at me with fierce pride, but most simply seemed to be asleep on their feet , thinking of the last moment of love’s embrace or of bills to be paid .
I pulled into a Denny’s for a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. I know I must have had a book with me; if I eat alone, I have to have something to read with me. I’m sure there is something Freudian about that, but I think I will save the money on the exam and use it to buy more books. I was probably in Denny’s for about an hour, and when I came out I saw a new crowd taking the baton. These were the secretaries and the young executives, some at the bus stops and some in their own cars, filling up the Strip once again. As I looked at these people, I saw some staring back defiantly and others asleep, thinking of last moments of love’s embrace or bills to be paid.
My next stop was Chula Vista, just South of San Diego. There was a dear online friend I planned to visit there; her screen name was Quietedone, and her real name was Cathi.
Friday, August 15, 2008
ROAD TRIP
Most business have cycles , in Sisters Oregon , the months of January and February are very slow , we would get a little surge on the weekends , and a nice bump on Presidents day weekend ..but other than that it was very very slow. Having survived Christmas , and having done better than I suspected. I looked at the money situation , I was able to pay another months Rent on the store the mortgage on the home that my wife and child lived in , I seemed alittle ahead , and the bills I should be paying seemed much smaller than those big bills and I could make them up during Spring break..so I did the only responsible thing for a financially irresponsible person, ROAD TRIP....
The Datsun which before seemed like it could barely make it to the Pioneer Market , now was perfectly suited to making a 3000 mile journey to California , How it made this change I don't know , it might of been the sun striking it on the dusty hood just right , or the little bit of rubber I managed to lay down when I peeled out in front of a speeding Log Truck , because I couldn't wait 5 seconds longer to get in on the wseeklong sale of frozen dinners at the Market ...no matter what, the car now looked fit to head South.
Sisters Oregon is near Highway 97 which is a North South route which pierces the High desert plateau of Oregon and somewhere near Shasta Mountain connects with the big asphalt river ..Interstate 5 , the drive takes you along side of the Cascade Mountains sitting on your right hand side ..the tall peaks were snow covered and at some place I would cross them , but far enough south that snow should not be a factor.
A journey of that length demands some careful planning ...I got the idea to go south around six pm on January 2nd, made a few calls to my employees, and by seven PM I was packing the car ... I decided against maps because well I knew which direction South was , and I just threw in the few clothes I had with me at the time , considered putting a Frozen dinner on the engine to thaw as I drove , but decided against it ..probably the wisest choice I made in those few hours of planning.
My first stop was in Bend Oregon where I filled up the tank , and provisioned myself with ample Coca Cola , Coffee, Beef Jerky and a few Snickers bars ...my philosophy on road trips is travel light and don't stop expect for bathroom and gas breaks. As I left Bend it was very late , the roads were snow covered , My snow tires would be sufficnent and would soon be clacking away on the Southern California Streets.
I had no real reason to head south , I wanted to meet an Online friend in San Diego , I needed to clear my head , take some time for me , I was concerned that Beverly and I were getting too personal and too close , I just wanted to go somewhere else ...I wanted an adventure , or escape ...
As I headed south I realized it might be a good time to decide where to stay along the way ... In the morning I would call my Mother and get phone numbers of my cousins that lived near Fresno California and at least stay there the next night , for this evening all I planned was to just keep driving . Five hours later I was in Weed California ..looking for a gas station , behind huge bearms of snow ..
in Oregon you do not pump your gas , there are attendants who actually do that for you ...California forces you to pump your own gas, and this required understanding the pumping mechanism which I discovered later was different with each pump. I didn't realize this at first , instead I waited in my car for the attendent to come out and pump my gas. I could see the attendent but he seemed to have no interest in comming out he was chewing on adonut adn c=kept looking out at me , but made no movement to the door. finally i forced open the car door , which has been frozen shut by road slurry .. I slipped across the icy parking lot , and politly asked if the pumps were oppend. The guy with the donut in his mouth mutterd "yeth" I looked quizzically at him trying to nicely say " well I need gas " when it suddenly dawned on him and me there was something wrong ...After a few moments of awkward silence the donut chwer swallond and said ..this is a self pump station ...and suddenly that light went on and I heard myself say " you mean self ? as in I pump it myself ?" Now I remembered so I gave the guy a sheepish look and tramped out to fill up my car I tried to pump but nothing happened , I was standing out in sub freezing weather with a thin shirt on and I needed to pee , I was squeezing as hard as I could for gas and other reasons , and nothing was coming out ! well nothing I wanted to come out ..I was doing this little dance trying to forget that really insistent feeling and alsotrying to pry my fingers off the frozen nozzle so I could go back in the gas station and find out what I had overlooked . Back in the Gas station the attendant has plugged his mouth with a maple bar I asked him for help and he said " how muth " " I don't know" I need a fill up ..." you have to pay futh " he saids ...now my mind was racing at the speed of discomfort and I realized that I needed to pay in advance , but how much should I pay .. if I paid too little I would just have to do this all over again , sooner, if I paid to much I would have just tipped the guy with maple frosting smeared over his chin, I reached in my pocket ..shoved a twenty dollar bill on the counter and walked out to the car ...then it hit me I had forgot to pee...there are times that life can overwhelm you ..I had already paid for the gas , that pump was sitting there like a ripe melon , anyone could use my paid for gas if I raced back into the Gas station , yet there was no denying the insistant cramps that where now making my entire body convulse ..I had no choice I had to find the bathroom and I had to trust that no serial gasoline thief would be watching this from a distant perch on a snow berm ...I went back in to the Gas Station , the attended was chugging chocolate milk from a carton ... " bathroom" I squeaked out ... " in back" he said with a mouth filled with uneated maple bar and chocolate milk...I squirmed out the door choose right , should have choose left when I arrived , the door was locked ...I just about crawled back the the Gas Station , I Looked the guy full in the eye and noticed he was having a Snickers bar he said " you need a key " ..He handed me a key which was attached to a Car license plate which was in turn teathered to a 40 foot chain wrapped around a beer cooler ...at least it seemed that way ..and again I struggled out the door turned left and entered the bathroom, I should have got a clue when I noticed that the Bathroom also doubled as the Ice storage locker ...it was cold very cold , so cold you would want to go out side to warm up ...It was four AM and I just left the door open ... sometimes you just have to go native .
The Datsun which before seemed like it could barely make it to the Pioneer Market , now was perfectly suited to making a 3000 mile journey to California , How it made this change I don't know , it might of been the sun striking it on the dusty hood just right , or the little bit of rubber I managed to lay down when I peeled out in front of a speeding Log Truck , because I couldn't wait 5 seconds longer to get in on the wseeklong sale of frozen dinners at the Market ...no matter what, the car now looked fit to head South.
Sisters Oregon is near Highway 97 which is a North South route which pierces the High desert plateau of Oregon and somewhere near Shasta Mountain connects with the big asphalt river ..Interstate 5 , the drive takes you along side of the Cascade Mountains sitting on your right hand side ..the tall peaks were snow covered and at some place I would cross them , but far enough south that snow should not be a factor.
A journey of that length demands some careful planning ...I got the idea to go south around six pm on January 2nd, made a few calls to my employees, and by seven PM I was packing the car ... I decided against maps because well I knew which direction South was , and I just threw in the few clothes I had with me at the time , considered putting a Frozen dinner on the engine to thaw as I drove , but decided against it ..probably the wisest choice I made in those few hours of planning.
My first stop was in Bend Oregon where I filled up the tank , and provisioned myself with ample Coca Cola , Coffee, Beef Jerky and a few Snickers bars ...my philosophy on road trips is travel light and don't stop expect for bathroom and gas breaks. As I left Bend it was very late , the roads were snow covered , My snow tires would be sufficnent and would soon be clacking away on the Southern California Streets.
I had no real reason to head south , I wanted to meet an Online friend in San Diego , I needed to clear my head , take some time for me , I was concerned that Beverly and I were getting too personal and too close , I just wanted to go somewhere else ...I wanted an adventure , or escape ...
As I headed south I realized it might be a good time to decide where to stay along the way ... In the morning I would call my Mother and get phone numbers of my cousins that lived near Fresno California and at least stay there the next night , for this evening all I planned was to just keep driving . Five hours later I was in Weed California ..looking for a gas station , behind huge bearms of snow ..
in Oregon you do not pump your gas , there are attendants who actually do that for you ...California forces you to pump your own gas, and this required understanding the pumping mechanism which I discovered later was different with each pump. I didn't realize this at first , instead I waited in my car for the attendent to come out and pump my gas. I could see the attendent but he seemed to have no interest in comming out he was chewing on adonut adn c=kept looking out at me , but made no movement to the door. finally i forced open the car door , which has been frozen shut by road slurry .. I slipped across the icy parking lot , and politly asked if the pumps were oppend. The guy with the donut in his mouth mutterd "yeth" I looked quizzically at him trying to nicely say " well I need gas " when it suddenly dawned on him and me there was something wrong ...After a few moments of awkward silence the donut chwer swallond and said ..this is a self pump station ...and suddenly that light went on and I heard myself say " you mean self ? as in I pump it myself ?" Now I remembered so I gave the guy a sheepish look and tramped out to fill up my car I tried to pump but nothing happened , I was standing out in sub freezing weather with a thin shirt on and I needed to pee , I was squeezing as hard as I could for gas and other reasons , and nothing was coming out ! well nothing I wanted to come out ..I was doing this little dance trying to forget that really insistent feeling and alsotrying to pry my fingers off the frozen nozzle so I could go back in the gas station and find out what I had overlooked . Back in the Gas station the attendant has plugged his mouth with a maple bar I asked him for help and he said " how muth " " I don't know" I need a fill up ..." you have to pay futh " he saids ...now my mind was racing at the speed of discomfort and I realized that I needed to pay in advance , but how much should I pay .. if I paid too little I would just have to do this all over again , sooner, if I paid to much I would have just tipped the guy with maple frosting smeared over his chin, I reached in my pocket ..shoved a twenty dollar bill on the counter and walked out to the car ...then it hit me I had forgot to pee...there are times that life can overwhelm you ..I had already paid for the gas , that pump was sitting there like a ripe melon , anyone could use my paid for gas if I raced back into the Gas station , yet there was no denying the insistant cramps that where now making my entire body convulse ..I had no choice I had to find the bathroom and I had to trust that no serial gasoline thief would be watching this from a distant perch on a snow berm ...I went back in to the Gas Station , the attended was chugging chocolate milk from a carton ... " bathroom" I squeaked out ... " in back" he said with a mouth filled with uneated maple bar and chocolate milk...I squirmed out the door choose right , should have choose left when I arrived , the door was locked ...I just about crawled back the the Gas Station , I Looked the guy full in the eye and noticed he was having a Snickers bar he said " you need a key " ..He handed me a key which was attached to a Car license plate which was in turn teathered to a 40 foot chain wrapped around a beer cooler ...at least it seemed that way ..and again I struggled out the door turned left and entered the bathroom, I should have got a clue when I noticed that the Bathroom also doubled as the Ice storage locker ...it was cold very cold , so cold you would want to go out side to warm up ...It was four AM and I just left the door open ... sometimes you just have to go native .
Thursday, August 14, 2008
New friend on AOL Part 2
The letter was friendly and warm , Beverly said based on our IM conversation she had already figured out I was not as young as I said I was , she also indicated she might be a little older as well , she was gracious and understanding and her letter was filled with grace and forgivness ..all of which I soaked up like a cheap paper towel soaks up spilled coke ...For the next several weeks Beverly carried on an ongoing conversation , sharing our dreams , our desires and our failures , after we got the age thing sorted out we realized we were very close to the same age , I was going through a divorce and she was contemplating one ..she had two grown children both heading off to college and a husband who as she explained it was very demanding , overbearing , non communicative.
We both realized that in another place and in another time we might have had a go at each other and based on the openess of our Compter conversations we realized that in fact we might make a very good go of it , but several thousand miles apart , and more hurdles than you find on a High School Practice field we were mature enough to understand having a go would have to pass ... I was hurtling toward the holidays , and I had started to dread them ...Thanksgiving would be the first holiday alone for me in some time ...Since the day after Thanksgiving is a huge shopping day I couldn't leave the area , so I planned to dine in alone and try one of the Marie Calanders Turky Dinners , spend some time on AOL , and putter around the store getting ready for the next day...I called my mother , wished her Happy Thanksgiving and called my Daughter and wished her the same ...Karen and Kaisa were spending Thanksgiving in Portland with her parfents.
AOL was kinda quiet with most of the people even the lonely ones having a brief interlude with real people ...the Frozen dinner was ok , just seemed odd eating your thanksgiving feast off of an aluminium plate ...somehow the meaning and vibe of Thanksgiving was lost , it became just a quiet day with little human contact , the local grocery store was closed , the tavern was closed and as the snow piled up it was a possibility that the mountain passes would be closed as well , meaning a poor sales day and even more worries ...somehow I stumbled into sleep late into the night or early into the day , not sure which.
All the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas became a blurr , buisness was doing ok , not great but better than expected considering the weather and my all nighters on AOL ...about this time I got my first bill from AOL ...I am not sure of the exact amount ..but I remember it was over $600.00...and that was the month woth all my free minutes ...I was a little shocked but so addicted to the chat rooms that I knew I was just going to have to find a way to keep online...bottle collecting, selling blood or other fluids , a host of ideas some good most bad ...
What I feared most about Christmas was simply being alone ...I needed to keep the store opened and I couldn't drive to Portland to be with my Mother , my brother lives even further away, Kaisa would be gone to Portland , and no one had offerd to take me in on Christmas ...partially because I was letting everyone know just how miserable I was and while they understood I am sure they wanted no part of my cynical , crankyt whiney , self to darkend their Holiday ...so as I watched Christmas sneak up on me I planned , and I hoped I had planned well
I had planned the next two days very well. I had food and treats and a new book to read, and several videos - all designed to keep my mind off what my mind was really on. I was lonely and I was desperately sad and I was not even sure if I would make it through the next two days.
I fixed dinner - roast beef with baby reds - and decided to pick up my mail from Beverly. I knew it was there; she had sent both letters earlier, and had marked them Do not read till Christmas Eve, and day. I opened Christmas Eve’s; it was a wonderful letter, heartwarming and encouraging. It ended with this exercise: Beverly asked me to describe myself in ONE word and then write why I chose that word. Looking back, I think this simple exercise was a gift from God. It helped me focus and helped me to take a good look at myself; after discarding COMPLEX, LONELY, and many others, I settled on TAPESTRY. I realized my life was a tapestry, woven together with the threads of many people. This is an image has never left me. Our lives are a measure of not only what we contribute to our work of art, but what others add to it also. Some of our tapestries are vibrant with dazzling contributions from ourselves and others. Some of our tapestries are bland from lack of color.
While working on my homework from Beverly, just on a lark I started exploring AOL. That’s when I found the Religious and Ethics Forum. This area was a multi-faith chat and message board area. I started to look at the message boards, and was amazed at the diversity of thought and, unfortunately, intelligence. The boards seemed to be dominated by far right Christian types, and it was not long before I was entering the cyber fray.
We both realized that in another place and in another time we might have had a go at each other and based on the openess of our Compter conversations we realized that in fact we might make a very good go of it , but several thousand miles apart , and more hurdles than you find on a High School Practice field we were mature enough to understand having a go would have to pass ... I was hurtling toward the holidays , and I had started to dread them ...Thanksgiving would be the first holiday alone for me in some time ...Since the day after Thanksgiving is a huge shopping day I couldn't leave the area , so I planned to dine in alone and try one of the Marie Calanders Turky Dinners , spend some time on AOL , and putter around the store getting ready for the next day...I called my mother , wished her Happy Thanksgiving and called my Daughter and wished her the same ...Karen and Kaisa were spending Thanksgiving in Portland with her parfents.
AOL was kinda quiet with most of the people even the lonely ones having a brief interlude with real people ...the Frozen dinner was ok , just seemed odd eating your thanksgiving feast off of an aluminium plate ...somehow the meaning and vibe of Thanksgiving was lost , it became just a quiet day with little human contact , the local grocery store was closed , the tavern was closed and as the snow piled up it was a possibility that the mountain passes would be closed as well , meaning a poor sales day and even more worries ...somehow I stumbled into sleep late into the night or early into the day , not sure which.
All the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas became a blurr , buisness was doing ok , not great but better than expected considering the weather and my all nighters on AOL ...about this time I got my first bill from AOL ...I am not sure of the exact amount ..but I remember it was over $600.00...and that was the month woth all my free minutes ...I was a little shocked but so addicted to the chat rooms that I knew I was just going to have to find a way to keep online...bottle collecting, selling blood or other fluids , a host of ideas some good most bad ...
What I feared most about Christmas was simply being alone ...I needed to keep the store opened and I couldn't drive to Portland to be with my Mother , my brother lives even further away, Kaisa would be gone to Portland , and no one had offerd to take me in on Christmas ...partially because I was letting everyone know just how miserable I was and while they understood I am sure they wanted no part of my cynical , crankyt whiney , self to darkend their Holiday ...so as I watched Christmas sneak up on me I planned , and I hoped I had planned well
I had planned the next two days very well. I had food and treats and a new book to read, and several videos - all designed to keep my mind off what my mind was really on. I was lonely and I was desperately sad and I was not even sure if I would make it through the next two days.
I fixed dinner - roast beef with baby reds - and decided to pick up my mail from Beverly. I knew it was there; she had sent both letters earlier, and had marked them Do not read till Christmas Eve, and day. I opened Christmas Eve’s; it was a wonderful letter, heartwarming and encouraging. It ended with this exercise: Beverly asked me to describe myself in ONE word and then write why I chose that word. Looking back, I think this simple exercise was a gift from God. It helped me focus and helped me to take a good look at myself; after discarding COMPLEX, LONELY, and many others, I settled on TAPESTRY. I realized my life was a tapestry, woven together with the threads of many people. This is an image has never left me. Our lives are a measure of not only what we contribute to our work of art, but what others add to it also. Some of our tapestries are vibrant with dazzling contributions from ourselves and others. Some of our tapestries are bland from lack of color.
While working on my homework from Beverly, just on a lark I started exploring AOL. That’s when I found the Religious and Ethics Forum. This area was a multi-faith chat and message board area. I started to look at the message boards, and was amazed at the diversity of thought and, unfortunately, intelligence. The boards seemed to be dominated by far right Christian types, and it was not long before I was entering the cyber fray.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
A New Friend on AOL
It did not take me very long to lose interest in the chat rooms, but before I slipped totally away, I did meet a person who would become one of my very best friends and confidants. It happened this way: One night I was in my favorite chat room when I got IM’d. An IM is short for instant message. What happens is you can actually talk to someone in private with others knowing. I believe the IM is the greatest invention of online chat; it makes it possible for more “honest” friendships to occur, and keeps the level of tension at a minimum in the rooms because you can vent through IMs. Anyway, I was minding my own business; my screen name was Scott for Hugs, and I got this IM.
BEVERLY: Is this the Line for Hugs???
SCOTT: Well it’s a very short line
BEVERLY: that’s because I pushed them out of the way...
Beverly and I had a thoroughly engaging conversation. To me, it was clear immediately that THIS was a person I wanted to know more about. The problem was I had gotten off to a bad start. You see, I had panicked and had adjusted my age slightly; instead of 48, I had told her my age was 24. Now, I do believe that a few years are simply trivial to God, and very early into the conversation I managed to come clean and tell her I was really 27 (sometimes coming clean requires lots of scrubbing). After our initial conversation, this slight misrepresentation of my age began to gnaw on me. I realized that this was a person who could become my friend for life, and I had started our friendship by lying to her. She, on the other hand, had cleverly avoided how old she was; women can be so sneaky. I decided at that moment that, from that moment forward until the end of all recorded time, I would never be anything else than what I really am when I am talking online, and except for one brief angry moment when I posed as a Christian Cowboy called Stud for God I have been true to that promise.
All this is very nice in theory but here I was left with the reality that I misrepresented my real age to a person who I really wanted to know better ...and in knowing that person better eventually it would become obvious I was not 27 as I told her ...but much much older ...at least old enough in what might be one of the few brillant ephanies I can lay claim to ...choose to do the unimaginable ...I Immeaditaly emailed Beverly and told her the truth...Not only did I tell her but I begged for her forgivness and understanding. Then I waited for her to reply to my Email ...and waited , and waited ...I beleive I was at first concerned that she did not write me right off , then I was concerned that it was my Computer not working properly so I wrote myself an email , which I got then I wrote me back which I got again..It was nice having someone to write too and for a moment I forgot what I was really interested in , then when I checked for the email which wasn't there I admitt I got a little cranky , after all why wasn't this lady whom I had just had a wonderful conversation with , who must right now be racing back and fort to her computer to see if the dashing young man of 27 had written her back ...writting me back ..well the reason was obvious ..I had fibbed ...twisted the truth alitte bit ..
and Beverly had no more use for me than a tripod without a camera ..than a Bottled bear with out a bottle opener ( although since this was writted the twist top bottle cap was invented , heloing as it were to build up the wrist and tendons of frequent drinkers ) .
As I waited for the Email reply it was becomming obvious that my short lived relationship with this woman was , very short lived ...the wait became unbearable , beads of sweat appeared on my forhead , no easy task in the Winter weather of the Cascade town I lived in which was now buried in snow ...the minutes ticked by , the wait crushed my psyche , like a dead whale could crush a rose ..after the first five minutes ticked off the clock on the wall I was in total despair ...after ten minutes I was wondering if you could take an overdose of Marie Calander pot pies and end it all ...then as I pounded on the keys to check the mail for the umpteenth time there it was ..the reply from Beverly ...I took a deep breath , with trembling fingers I clicked on the Email ..and ...the computer crashed .
In the early days of AOL this was not unusual , being bumped off AOL was as common as being overcharged for frozen dinners ...it didn't last long , usually required rebooting the computer ..waiting a few minutes then starting over again, but when your whole life hangs in the balance , when every nuron, muscle , and fiber in your body is aching from the unkown ..then rebooting takes much longer ....much longer ...finally I was ready to read the letter ...
BEVERLY: Is this the Line for Hugs???
SCOTT: Well it’s a very short line
BEVERLY: that’s because I pushed them out of the way...
Beverly and I had a thoroughly engaging conversation. To me, it was clear immediately that THIS was a person I wanted to know more about. The problem was I had gotten off to a bad start. You see, I had panicked and had adjusted my age slightly; instead of 48, I had told her my age was 24. Now, I do believe that a few years are simply trivial to God, and very early into the conversation I managed to come clean and tell her I was really 27 (sometimes coming clean requires lots of scrubbing). After our initial conversation, this slight misrepresentation of my age began to gnaw on me. I realized that this was a person who could become my friend for life, and I had started our friendship by lying to her. She, on the other hand, had cleverly avoided how old she was; women can be so sneaky. I decided at that moment that, from that moment forward until the end of all recorded time, I would never be anything else than what I really am when I am talking online, and except for one brief angry moment when I posed as a Christian Cowboy called Stud for God I have been true to that promise.
All this is very nice in theory but here I was left with the reality that I misrepresented my real age to a person who I really wanted to know better ...and in knowing that person better eventually it would become obvious I was not 27 as I told her ...but much much older ...at least old enough in what might be one of the few brillant ephanies I can lay claim to ...choose to do the unimaginable ...I Immeaditaly emailed Beverly and told her the truth...Not only did I tell her but I begged for her forgivness and understanding. Then I waited for her to reply to my Email ...and waited , and waited ...I beleive I was at first concerned that she did not write me right off , then I was concerned that it was my Computer not working properly so I wrote myself an email , which I got then I wrote me back which I got again..It was nice having someone to write too and for a moment I forgot what I was really interested in , then when I checked for the email which wasn't there I admitt I got a little cranky , after all why wasn't this lady whom I had just had a wonderful conversation with , who must right now be racing back and fort to her computer to see if the dashing young man of 27 had written her back ...writting me back ..well the reason was obvious ..I had fibbed ...twisted the truth alitte bit ..
and Beverly had no more use for me than a tripod without a camera ..than a Bottled bear with out a bottle opener ( although since this was writted the twist top bottle cap was invented , heloing as it were to build up the wrist and tendons of frequent drinkers ) .
As I waited for the Email reply it was becomming obvious that my short lived relationship with this woman was , very short lived ...the wait became unbearable , beads of sweat appeared on my forhead , no easy task in the Winter weather of the Cascade town I lived in which was now buried in snow ...the minutes ticked by , the wait crushed my psyche , like a dead whale could crush a rose ..after the first five minutes ticked off the clock on the wall I was in total despair ...after ten minutes I was wondering if you could take an overdose of Marie Calander pot pies and end it all ...then as I pounded on the keys to check the mail for the umpteenth time there it was ..the reply from Beverly ...I took a deep breath , with trembling fingers I clicked on the Email ..and ...the computer crashed .
In the early days of AOL this was not unusual , being bumped off AOL was as common as being overcharged for frozen dinners ...it didn't last long , usually required rebooting the computer ..waiting a few minutes then starting over again, but when your whole life hangs in the balance , when every nuron, muscle , and fiber in your body is aching from the unkown ..then rebooting takes much longer ....much longer ...finally I was ready to read the letter ...
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Dating AOL Style Part 2
I did have enough time to sit and ponder the next move; should I be waiting for her, or should I let her wait for me? Each had their attractions and reservations. If I was waiting for her, the attraction would be my dependability - and I could of course orchestrate the best possible posture for her to see me in. First impressions are so important! However, if I was waiting for her, she might spot me and slip quietly out into the eroding evening, leaving me all alone in the winter of my discontent (and Mrs. Williams, my English teacher, thought I was not paying attention).
On the other hand (Have you ever wondered about that expression? Life is generally NOT ambidextrous; there hardly ever is another hand!), if she were waiting for me, she might first meet that airline captain, or think I’m a flake. She might also become so exhilarated by the anticipation she would fall into my arms in a swoon. I settled on being first (Was there ever really any doubt?).
So there I sat, looking as sexy and alluring as a short, pudgy, thinning-hair person could possibly look (did I mention I was getting older also?). Within a matter of seconds, it seemed that everyone knew what was up; I could hear whispering and murmuring.
“See that short pudgy guy over there?”
“...ahhhh, yes?”
“He’s meeting a known axe murderer.”
“No kidding! That’s horrible!”
“Well, that’s not the worst part! For one thing, he got here four hours early,”
“and his pants are wrinkled.”
“And I don’t know if I can tell you this, but...”
“...Yes, go on.... Come on, you can tell me!”
“...Well, OK, but don’t ever tell me I didn’t warn you....”
“Yes?”
“They met in a computer chat room!”
I’m not kidding you; the man fainted dead away. Pausing in reverie, I looked up just in time to see the woman I thought I was supposed to meet walk right past me and, before I could mutter anything, she strolled right up to a very elderly gentleman who was adjusting his teeth and said, “Are you Ken???”
This caused my little heart to soar; I mean, there was no comparison - unless of course the guy was a millionaire. I sauntered up and said, in my best trembling squeaky voice, “Are you _____?” She was.
We sat down and ordered our food, trying to make a good impression. I put a lot of thought into my selection, nothing that would be smelly, nothing that would leave stains on my hands, and nothing that would leave stringy bits of food stuck between my teeth. I think I ordered soup with a straw. We talked and shared brief life stories, we gazed into each other’s eyes. I guess we must have seen no one was home we wanted to get to know because we have never spoke again. Must have been like two passing ships on a stormy sea; both of us lonely, looking for answers and not even sure of the questions. We were polite to each other, but I suspect our real-life expectations did not match up with our online fantasies. We parted in that wet parking lot, me going my way and she going hers.
I drove back to the motel room to get the rest of my stuff; I had no desire to spend the night alone in an unfamiliar town. Somehow, it felt much better to spend the night alone in familiar territory. As I left the room, I took one look in the mirror. I wondered where that obnoxious but clever kid had gone. I looked closely and thought I could see a sparkle in my left eye, but the old guy in me just reached out, turned off the light, and went out into the parking lot and slid behind the wheel of a dirty green Datsun. As the engine klubbered away, I eased out into the road and pointed the car towards home. I passed the old man walking down the sidewalk, his hand clasping a well-worn coat. The coat belonged to the woman he was with, and as we passed, our eyes met - and I realized he was a millionaire.
The return trip was uneventful. I got home early enough to go online and see who was on; by this time. I had started to meet a few people and, even thought they were miles away, there is a comfort to having friends to chat with. A few of my friends were on, and we joked and kidded and (with cyber palms) slapped each other on the back and gave each other comfort.
On the other hand (Have you ever wondered about that expression? Life is generally NOT ambidextrous; there hardly ever is another hand!), if she were waiting for me, she might first meet that airline captain, or think I’m a flake. She might also become so exhilarated by the anticipation she would fall into my arms in a swoon. I settled on being first (Was there ever really any doubt?).
So there I sat, looking as sexy and alluring as a short, pudgy, thinning-hair person could possibly look (did I mention I was getting older also?). Within a matter of seconds, it seemed that everyone knew what was up; I could hear whispering and murmuring.
“See that short pudgy guy over there?”
“...ahhhh, yes?”
“He’s meeting a known axe murderer.”
“No kidding! That’s horrible!”
“Well, that’s not the worst part! For one thing, he got here four hours early,”
“and his pants are wrinkled.”
“And I don’t know if I can tell you this, but...”
“...Yes, go on.... Come on, you can tell me!”
“...Well, OK, but don’t ever tell me I didn’t warn you....”
“Yes?”
“They met in a computer chat room!”
I’m not kidding you; the man fainted dead away. Pausing in reverie, I looked up just in time to see the woman I thought I was supposed to meet walk right past me and, before I could mutter anything, she strolled right up to a very elderly gentleman who was adjusting his teeth and said, “Are you Ken???”
This caused my little heart to soar; I mean, there was no comparison - unless of course the guy was a millionaire. I sauntered up and said, in my best trembling squeaky voice, “Are you _____?” She was.
We sat down and ordered our food, trying to make a good impression. I put a lot of thought into my selection, nothing that would be smelly, nothing that would leave stains on my hands, and nothing that would leave stringy bits of food stuck between my teeth. I think I ordered soup with a straw. We talked and shared brief life stories, we gazed into each other’s eyes. I guess we must have seen no one was home we wanted to get to know because we have never spoke again. Must have been like two passing ships on a stormy sea; both of us lonely, looking for answers and not even sure of the questions. We were polite to each other, but I suspect our real-life expectations did not match up with our online fantasies. We parted in that wet parking lot, me going my way and she going hers.
I drove back to the motel room to get the rest of my stuff; I had no desire to spend the night alone in an unfamiliar town. Somehow, it felt much better to spend the night alone in familiar territory. As I left the room, I took one look in the mirror. I wondered where that obnoxious but clever kid had gone. I looked closely and thought I could see a sparkle in my left eye, but the old guy in me just reached out, turned off the light, and went out into the parking lot and slid behind the wheel of a dirty green Datsun. As the engine klubbered away, I eased out into the road and pointed the car towards home. I passed the old man walking down the sidewalk, his hand clasping a well-worn coat. The coat belonged to the woman he was with, and as we passed, our eyes met - and I realized he was a millionaire.
The return trip was uneventful. I got home early enough to go online and see who was on; by this time. I had started to meet a few people and, even thought they were miles away, there is a comfort to having friends to chat with. A few of my friends were on, and we joked and kidded and (with cyber palms) slapped each other on the back and gave each other comfort.
Interlude Lori
Usually when I tell my wife Lori that I love her , she asks "why " I mutter something like , because you' re cute , or because you are adorable , because of the way you smile ...something I say , just to buy me time , time while I truly try to answer this question because I understand that Lori is sometimes genuinely puzzled about my love for her ..
And the truth for me is cannot fully explain it ...its like explaining gravity. I know it exists I can experience the effects of Gravity and my love for Lori , but I cannot fully explain it ...on the surface it seems easy ..you drop an orange and it falls to the ground ...simple ...yet consider that everything we know is formed by atoms ...what holds the Oranges Atoms together to form the Orange , but lets the Orange drop to the Ground...what holds two people together in love ?
Lori is not my first wife , she is my third , but she is my last wife of that I am quite certain. What attracted us is complicated ...two lonely people reaching out to each other , discovery , need , ? Its uncertain , what is certain is that across a great expanse we found each other , courted , fell in love , married and have spent the last 13 years on a roller coaster .
Its certain that our love is not the young love of the High School sweethearts , its not the exploration of love of the twenty somethings ...Both Lori and I without saying it realize that in time , one of us will stand supported by family and friends as the other is buried and put to rest. One of us will carefully pack away clothes that will no longer be used or worn , a shirt that visited the OK Corral ( our local restaurant ) , a blouse bought in Portland Oregon, Sweat pants worn to bed hundreds of times , One of us will gaze at Loris carefully and lovingly prepared photo albums and scrapbooks ...pausing as the tears swell and the mouth trembles ...remembering a distant Anniversary trip to San Francisco , or a Sunset on the Oregon coast with dear friends..One of us will suddenly and acutely be aware of stored treasures , and the comon place items that touched the living now useless.
We know that day will come , and I suspect that each of us wishes , prays that it is not us left behind ...The promise of Heaven seems such a better trade , than the loneliness and sadness of life with out our helpmate and soul mate ...
It is unbearable for me to imagine life with out my dear Lori , and I suspect she holds the same feelings close to her heart ...
what is Love ...why do I love her , why does she love me ...we may never know ...but we know we love ...and to help us on when the end comes ...we know we are loved , by one who's love endures forever ...
And the truth for me is cannot fully explain it ...its like explaining gravity. I know it exists I can experience the effects of Gravity and my love for Lori , but I cannot fully explain it ...on the surface it seems easy ..you drop an orange and it falls to the ground ...simple ...yet consider that everything we know is formed by atoms ...what holds the Oranges Atoms together to form the Orange , but lets the Orange drop to the Ground...what holds two people together in love ?
Lori is not my first wife , she is my third , but she is my last wife of that I am quite certain. What attracted us is complicated ...two lonely people reaching out to each other , discovery , need , ? Its uncertain , what is certain is that across a great expanse we found each other , courted , fell in love , married and have spent the last 13 years on a roller coaster .
Its certain that our love is not the young love of the High School sweethearts , its not the exploration of love of the twenty somethings ...Both Lori and I without saying it realize that in time , one of us will stand supported by family and friends as the other is buried and put to rest. One of us will carefully pack away clothes that will no longer be used or worn , a shirt that visited the OK Corral ( our local restaurant ) , a blouse bought in Portland Oregon, Sweat pants worn to bed hundreds of times , One of us will gaze at Loris carefully and lovingly prepared photo albums and scrapbooks ...pausing as the tears swell and the mouth trembles ...remembering a distant Anniversary trip to San Francisco , or a Sunset on the Oregon coast with dear friends..One of us will suddenly and acutely be aware of stored treasures , and the comon place items that touched the living now useless.
We know that day will come , and I suspect that each of us wishes , prays that it is not us left behind ...The promise of Heaven seems such a better trade , than the loneliness and sadness of life with out our helpmate and soul mate ...
It is unbearable for me to imagine life with out my dear Lori , and I suspect she holds the same feelings close to her heart ...
what is Love ...why do I love her , why does she love me ...we may never know ...but we know we love ...and to help us on when the end comes ...we know we are loved , by one who's love endures forever ...
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Meeting a Stranger
People who have never been online see any online activity as a perversion at worse, and a silliness at best – while meeting a woman in the appropriate manner (In Sisters this involved getting drunk and having her drive you home while you pretended to be simply tired from being such an extraordinary worker) is viewed as appropriate civil behavior, the idea that you might actually meet someone you have never even seen was considered flat-out foolishness. It kinda bothered me that my “friends” were more concerned about this part of the meeting than even venturing a, “You’re a damn fool for trying to drive that piece of crap over the mountain.” I suspect if I were driving that piece of crap to the local saloon, they might have mentioned that to me. They were triaging the whole thing and, as friends, I suspect they had my best interest at heart. And as friends, I could count on them to tell everyone in the town what a fool I was.
I was not going to be dissuaded, so I loaded up the Datsun and headed out .It was my plan to check into a motel and freshen up before I met this woman who would suddenly fall for me like a ripe coconut. Although a few more erotic fantasies slipped passed my moral sensors, I sincerely had no plan to use this room for anything but a staging place. Dinner was to be at 8 and, in an effort to be punctual, I arrived at the Motel at 4pm. The drive was more or less uneventful; only twice did I see fear on the faces of the drivers of oncoming cars as I slid and careened my way over the mountain pass. (I think that God shows God’s mercy by shutting off the lights early in winter, so we don’t have to see the contorted faces of those people who think they are about to die as a dirty green Datsun does a 360 directly in front of them.)
While some may think that arriving 4 hours early may be a bit eccentric, for me it’s normal. I hate to be late; I will leave early from places so that I won’t be late for the next engagement. Someone told me this was anal behavior, which was a nice way of telling me I was being a butthead, I suspect, for forcing them out of bed two hours early just in case.
But that’s another story.…
So, with four hours to go I did the responsible thing: I panicked !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I mean, I suddenly thought, “Hey, my friends might be right! This person might be a homicidal maniac! She could be an IRS agent - or she might even be a HE!!!!” Believe there is nothing on cable TV that can prepare you for a moment like this. Nothing – zilch! I thought I would use up some time taking a shower, but the water ran cold after fifteen minutes - I was on a budget you realize. So I shaved, and shaved and shaved. I prepared as well as I could, and still had about 3½ hours left. I pulled out a book to read; it was about some true life horrific murder and it helped put my mind at ease. I watched the digital clock click away. Fifteen minutes later, I had still 3 hours and fifteen minutes left to go. Another responsible reaction: I shaved again and checked my deodorant (you can never be too careful about deodorant these days, especially if you’re going to meet a homicidal murderer who can smell fear a hundred yards away). Then I cleaned my fingernails, thinking that if I did turn up dead that maybe that would help some fledgling forensic assistant to better find out the identity of the mysterious woman. I checked my pants and my shirt, I adjusted my belt, and thought about shaving again and I debated on when to put on my cologne: too soon and it would have no affect, too late and it might be overpowering. These are important decisions and, if nothing else, good reasons to be four hours early. Decisions should not be made in haste; I suspect that decisions also should not be made while in a strange motel room lying in your underwear while reading a book on a homicidal manic, while waiting to visit a stranger. By the way, I was lying in my underwear so as not to wrinkle my pants. If I would have sincerely thought I was going to get “lucky,” I would have laid nude so as not to wrinkle my underwear. Talk about anal.
Well I could keep you on the edge of suspense and prolong this part; the thought of millions of readers caught up in the whirlwind of suspense, waiting to see if I get lucky at Denny’s almost makes me cry. It’s great to be an American!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Soon the hours had drizzled into minutes (in Oregon, we use rain metaphors a lot), and it was time to go.
And time for my next panic attack: I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE DENNY’S WAS!
I had totally forgotten to locate it. Now I knew that, after arriving four hours early, I might possibly end up being late. A scenario flashed in front of my anal-retentive retinas: The woman who would soon bear my children was going to walk into Denny’s and meet another man - taller, with more hair, and younger. I would be left eating alone in a booth, trying to decide on a nature burger or a Swiss cheese sandwich. Life, at times, is simply not fair. As luck would have it, as I was in a mild spot of despair, I passed right by the Denny’s - and with a squeal of bald tires and a rather large horn blowing in my ear, I dove into the Denny’s lot. It was 7:45 I was almost LATE!
I was not going to be dissuaded, so I loaded up the Datsun and headed out .It was my plan to check into a motel and freshen up before I met this woman who would suddenly fall for me like a ripe coconut. Although a few more erotic fantasies slipped passed my moral sensors, I sincerely had no plan to use this room for anything but a staging place. Dinner was to be at 8 and, in an effort to be punctual, I arrived at the Motel at 4pm. The drive was more or less uneventful; only twice did I see fear on the faces of the drivers of oncoming cars as I slid and careened my way over the mountain pass. (I think that God shows God’s mercy by shutting off the lights early in winter, so we don’t have to see the contorted faces of those people who think they are about to die as a dirty green Datsun does a 360 directly in front of them.)
While some may think that arriving 4 hours early may be a bit eccentric, for me it’s normal. I hate to be late; I will leave early from places so that I won’t be late for the next engagement. Someone told me this was anal behavior, which was a nice way of telling me I was being a butthead, I suspect, for forcing them out of bed two hours early just in case.
But that’s another story.…
So, with four hours to go I did the responsible thing: I panicked !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I mean, I suddenly thought, “Hey, my friends might be right! This person might be a homicidal maniac! She could be an IRS agent - or she might even be a HE!!!!” Believe there is nothing on cable TV that can prepare you for a moment like this. Nothing – zilch! I thought I would use up some time taking a shower, but the water ran cold after fifteen minutes - I was on a budget you realize. So I shaved, and shaved and shaved. I prepared as well as I could, and still had about 3½ hours left. I pulled out a book to read; it was about some true life horrific murder and it helped put my mind at ease. I watched the digital clock click away. Fifteen minutes later, I had still 3 hours and fifteen minutes left to go. Another responsible reaction: I shaved again and checked my deodorant (you can never be too careful about deodorant these days, especially if you’re going to meet a homicidal murderer who can smell fear a hundred yards away). Then I cleaned my fingernails, thinking that if I did turn up dead that maybe that would help some fledgling forensic assistant to better find out the identity of the mysterious woman. I checked my pants and my shirt, I adjusted my belt, and thought about shaving again and I debated on when to put on my cologne: too soon and it would have no affect, too late and it might be overpowering. These are important decisions and, if nothing else, good reasons to be four hours early. Decisions should not be made in haste; I suspect that decisions also should not be made while in a strange motel room lying in your underwear while reading a book on a homicidal manic, while waiting to visit a stranger. By the way, I was lying in my underwear so as not to wrinkle my pants. If I would have sincerely thought I was going to get “lucky,” I would have laid nude so as not to wrinkle my underwear. Talk about anal.
Well I could keep you on the edge of suspense and prolong this part; the thought of millions of readers caught up in the whirlwind of suspense, waiting to see if I get lucky at Denny’s almost makes me cry. It’s great to be an American!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Soon the hours had drizzled into minutes (in Oregon, we use rain metaphors a lot), and it was time to go.
And time for my next panic attack: I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE DENNY’S WAS!
I had totally forgotten to locate it. Now I knew that, after arriving four hours early, I might possibly end up being late. A scenario flashed in front of my anal-retentive retinas: The woman who would soon bear my children was going to walk into Denny’s and meet another man - taller, with more hair, and younger. I would be left eating alone in a booth, trying to decide on a nature burger or a Swiss cheese sandwich. Life, at times, is simply not fair. As luck would have it, as I was in a mild spot of despair, I passed right by the Denny’s - and with a squeal of bald tires and a rather large horn blowing in my ear, I dove into the Denny’s lot. It was 7:45 I was almost LATE!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Dating AOL style
Jesus said that the Greatest Commandment was, “To Love God with all your heart and soul and mind, and the second is like the first, love your neighbor as yourself.” I really believe that Jesus told us this not because it would first please God, but rather because if followed, it would give all of us much happiness.
Just to make sure we understood this message, we have that great definition of love by Paul. I’m sure that if you closely look at those whose lives are lonely, who have no friends, you will see that this message has not reached them. I am not talking mumbo jumbo here, I’m talking good, practical sense. Let’s consider two passages here; the first is 1st Corinthians Chapter 13:
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not believe in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes always preserveres.
WOW, WOW, AND DOUBLE WOW! There it is, all the Masters and Johnston, Dr. Ruth and Playboy advisor all rolled up into one easily-understood passage. Really, it should go on the back of the wedding license and on the Trojan box (remember: men and women of the married variety). I can practically guarantee you romantic happiness if you and your spouse follow this advice - and why stop there? This is simply great advice for a lifetime of great friendships and success, and it costs you nothing that you shouldn’t already have to give.
But I am being premature here. I have several months to go before I can really get into that conversation.
I was very surprised when I got my first IM (instant message); it was from some woman (I hope), whose name is forever lost. I remember she was from California and recently divorced; she had two children who occupied a lot of her time, and her only social outlet was talking to people on AOL. I’m not sure what attracted her to me; perhaps it was my typing (who knows), but she IM’s me and asked me if I was single. On my profile I left the “single/married” line out because I wasn’t sure. I mean, it was pretty clear that I would not reconcile - or more accurately that Karen would not reconcile - so while technically I was married, in the libido department I was definitely single; and the only single women in town ( both of them ) were still busy.
This nameless woman and I chatted for some while, and she aided me in my understanding of how to use AOL. We got to be reasonable friends and, as luck would have it, she was going to be visiting a girlfriend within a few hundred miles of where I lived. Plans were made to meet each other at an exotic restaurant (Denny’s). After we made arrangements to meet, I did a great version of a short and chunky high five and thought to myself, “I’m going to survive this!” Little did I know of the trickery of the Smiling Mortician. First of all, it was winter - and that meant several hours of driving in a less-than-reliable car under what could best be called “miserable conditions.” The lonesome town I lived in is lonesome for good reason: it’s tucked neatly into an area where the Army should conduct its cold weather maneuvers. Calling the car I had borrowed, “less than reliable” is like calling Jimmy Hoffa “definitely on the never gonna come back list.” Not to be deterred, I gathered up my warmest clothes, a flashlight, a blanket, some soup (forgot the can opener), and told a few friends of my plans in case I would never return. I did consider calling up a creditor - they always seem to know how to find me.
My friends reacted predictably; “You’re WHAT?!?!?!?!?!??!” seemed to be a consensual reaction. There is a gap between the reality of people who do not use the chat rooms and those that do.
People who have never been online see any online activity as a perversion at worse, and a silliness at best – while meeting a woman in the appropriate manner (In Sisters this involved getting drunk and having her drive you home while you pretended to be simply tired from being such an extraordinary worker) is viewed as appropriate civil behavior, the idea that you might actually meet someone you have never even seen was considered flat-out foolishness. It kinda bothered me that my “friends” were more concerned about this part of the meeting than even venturing a, “You’re a damn fool for trying to drive that piece of crap over the mountain.” I suspect if I were driving that piece of crap to the local saloon, they might have mentioned that to me. They were triaging the whole thing and, as friends, I suspect they had my best interest at heart. And as friends, I could count on them to tell everyone in the town what a fool I was.
Just to make sure we understood this message, we have that great definition of love by Paul. I’m sure that if you closely look at those whose lives are lonely, who have no friends, you will see that this message has not reached them. I am not talking mumbo jumbo here, I’m talking good, practical sense. Let’s consider two passages here; the first is 1st Corinthians Chapter 13:
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not believe in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes always preserveres.
WOW, WOW, AND DOUBLE WOW! There it is, all the Masters and Johnston, Dr. Ruth and Playboy advisor all rolled up into one easily-understood passage. Really, it should go on the back of the wedding license and on the Trojan box (remember: men and women of the married variety). I can practically guarantee you romantic happiness if you and your spouse follow this advice - and why stop there? This is simply great advice for a lifetime of great friendships and success, and it costs you nothing that you shouldn’t already have to give.
But I am being premature here. I have several months to go before I can really get into that conversation.
I was very surprised when I got my first IM (instant message); it was from some woman (I hope), whose name is forever lost. I remember she was from California and recently divorced; she had two children who occupied a lot of her time, and her only social outlet was talking to people on AOL. I’m not sure what attracted her to me; perhaps it was my typing (who knows), but she IM’s me and asked me if I was single. On my profile I left the “single/married” line out because I wasn’t sure. I mean, it was pretty clear that I would not reconcile - or more accurately that Karen would not reconcile - so while technically I was married, in the libido department I was definitely single; and the only single women in town ( both of them ) were still busy.
This nameless woman and I chatted for some while, and she aided me in my understanding of how to use AOL. We got to be reasonable friends and, as luck would have it, she was going to be visiting a girlfriend within a few hundred miles of where I lived. Plans were made to meet each other at an exotic restaurant (Denny’s). After we made arrangements to meet, I did a great version of a short and chunky high five and thought to myself, “I’m going to survive this!” Little did I know of the trickery of the Smiling Mortician. First of all, it was winter - and that meant several hours of driving in a less-than-reliable car under what could best be called “miserable conditions.” The lonesome town I lived in is lonesome for good reason: it’s tucked neatly into an area where the Army should conduct its cold weather maneuvers. Calling the car I had borrowed, “less than reliable” is like calling Jimmy Hoffa “definitely on the never gonna come back list.” Not to be deterred, I gathered up my warmest clothes, a flashlight, a blanket, some soup (forgot the can opener), and told a few friends of my plans in case I would never return. I did consider calling up a creditor - they always seem to know how to find me.
My friends reacted predictably; “You’re WHAT?!?!?!?!?!??!” seemed to be a consensual reaction. There is a gap between the reality of people who do not use the chat rooms and those that do.
People who have never been online see any online activity as a perversion at worse, and a silliness at best – while meeting a woman in the appropriate manner (In Sisters this involved getting drunk and having her drive you home while you pretended to be simply tired from being such an extraordinary worker) is viewed as appropriate civil behavior, the idea that you might actually meet someone you have never even seen was considered flat-out foolishness. It kinda bothered me that my “friends” were more concerned about this part of the meeting than even venturing a, “You’re a damn fool for trying to drive that piece of crap over the mountain.” I suspect if I were driving that piece of crap to the local saloon, they might have mentioned that to me. They were triaging the whole thing and, as friends, I suspect they had my best interest at heart. And as friends, I could count on them to tell everyone in the town what a fool I was.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
AOL and the first time
THE FIRST TIME
One thing can be said about the *first time* online: it’s not quite as terrifying as a first date, but it’s certainly filled with anxiety.
The first anxiety of course is: is this going to work? I mean, am I really going to be able to have a meaningful discussion with someone all the way across the country in Bangor, Maine? Well after two years, the verdict is in yes its possible to have an intelligent conversation with someone all the way across the country, although I have yet to have an intelligent conversation with any one in Bangor, Maine. I think people who have grown up with computers take them for granted; what a miracle of thought, invention, and ingenuity! (That’s just the packaging….) I remember the first handheld calculator I ever saw; it belong to one of the (successful) agents in the life insurance company I worked for. It was black and very expensive - it came with its own security guard; the agent had mortgaged his house for it, and I think had sold his son in bondage. No big loss; I remembered the son from an office picnic (he was the one with potato salad stuck to his cheek). Little did we realize that calculator was the beachhead of a major technological invasion destined to dent our pocket books, release us from our working bondage (it’s past 2 a.m. here as I write) and give us consumers a new enemy to deal with: the manual writer.
So, there I sat in my darkened cavern of a living space, hearing for the first time the sound of a modem being put through its paces.
Finally, alone in my little cave, I finally have my modem working and have gone through the paperwork necessary to begin AOL. I watch as the screen on the computer changes and whirs and makes lots of interesting noises, and suddenly I am at the AOL welcome screen, and a voice booms out, “You have mail!” This voice, which would soon become my best friend, really startled me. My first thought was “Wow! this works fast! I’m already getting attention.” It was, however, a welcome letter from Steve Case - the owner of the company and soon-to-be new yacht owner all because of me - or so it would appear.
In the early days of AOL, there was a cost attached to AOL - and the cost did add up. If you ever noticed people in the early 1990’s walking along the roads collecting bottles, there was a good chance they were AOL members trying to collect enough money to keep them online. As I understand it, AOL would actually, in some cases, provide you with your very own cart. I still remember what a great deal I got with my first AOL signup: I got 10 free hours. That is a lot like getting a “Free Fishing Trip to Alaska” - free after plane fare, licenses and lodging, but you can fish free.
I have to stop for a minute and do a little information sharing. AOL allows its members the opportunity to create what are called “screen names”. These are most often an extension of the member’s personality, and can range from the basic “Tom Smith” to clever, well-thought-out names like “Mr. Stud”. Hopefully, later I will talk more about the psychology of screen names (a relatively new discipline in the psychology field), but let’s just say here a good screen name can make or break you.
The problem is, unless you get some advance knowledge about this, you often are forced into coming up with a really stupid name right off the bat. AOL has anticipated this and provides members (members are what AOL calls those people who become addicted to the service) five more screen names. Its a fact that very few members end up using their original name; after they get online they can see what the really clever members are doing and adjust their name accordingly. In my case I went from the banal name of Musiken to resevoirtip in only thirty minutes , ( thinking fast is not always a good case for thinking right). Fortunately, AOL allows its members to delete a screen name - and I suspect it was God’s plan for me to choose reseviortip so that name could no longer be used by any other person. Out of all this was created my new screen name which would last me for the next six months. Scott4hugs was born that first night. Why Scott and why Hugs will forever be a mystery to me; my name is Ken, and I am perhaps the least tactile person in existence; but there it was, my first real screen name and the will to use it.
AOL is HUGE - you can practically find anything you want in the whole world in the area of information: from complicated instructions for building sled dog warming huts, to government documents, and the latest news and weather. I am equally sure there are at least three people using these functions - the rest of us were in the chat rooms.
Chat rooms are electronic rooms where people gather to insult and proposition each other; they can also be used for uplifting conversation and creating friendships, and I suspect there at least three people doing just that also.
I believe at the heart of the success of companies like AOL is the inescapable fact that there is A LOT of lonely people out there. (There being the real world) I know this to be true because I was one of them, and the fervent hope of all these people is to find someone to talk to and encourage them and make them feel wanted.
SO to that end the options are incredible. There are rooms for people to talk about just about any subject you care to think about, from sewing circles to pagan tea houses, from leather interests to Gun and Bun Chats (usually not together). For a new person being online, it’s simply overwhelming. It can also be hard on your ego. I remember feeling very rejected because the “onlinehost” would not talk to me. And in fact it took me several days to find these other rooms. I kept going into what’s called People Connection and ended up in the Lobby. I did not realize this was the door to other rooms; instead I stayed in the Lobby and was battered with rejection as hundreds of other people came into the room and left. In my mind, most likely because they thought I was a wuss. It wasn’t until several nights later I actually figured out how the whole thing worked, and found myself in a room called “Water Sports.”(It was not about surfing, and I felt compelled to leave after getting an education I didn’t suspect I ever needed to know about in the first place.
At last I found a home; the room was called “Thirtysomething,” and it was filled with bright intelligent conversation, with all kinds of people that were of course under thirty and incredibly successful. The first thing I noted was that, based on the profiles of these members, if they were a man they were over six feet tall and very Aryan and very successful (there was once three brain surgeons in the room at the same time), and, if a woman, very successful and blonde and former cheerleaders.
About profiles. Remember that I said a good screen name could make or break you? Well, the same can be said of an onscreen profile. This is a place where you can tell vital information about yourself, (we will look at a few from time to time) in such a manner as to get the attention of the six foot blonde brain surgeon, or the 5’ 8” blonde vogue cover girl.
Frankly, it’s in reading the profiles of members that you begin to see the difference between the sexes, and in the subtlety of the members: men tend to be very direct, kinda like, “I WANT YOU NOW, WOMAN!” whereas the women tend to be more poetic and romantic. Anyway, here are a few screen names culled from the member directory of AOL; what some of these names lose in creativity they gain in just plain silliness or worse.
-
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, here I am looking at this screen whirring by and trying to make sense of all the conversation going on. I tell you, it’s not easy. I am a poor typist; I have to look at my fingers when I type, so when I type I cannot read what is being “said” in the chat room. It gets a little complicated at times, but the very first thing you realize is that it’s complicated for everyone. I plowed right in and said hello. Now, at first this seemed to have very little impact. I began to notice that those who were saying the most outrageous things were the ones getting all the attention. So I started to be outrageous and I fibbed a little. At this point I’m so lonely that if getting someone to like me means taking a few years off my life (and a few pounds), I can be what someone wants me to be - or so I think. It strikes me that if all these lonely people just used life’s little instruction book they wouldn’t be quite so lonely. By that I mean the Bible. STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I promise you I’m not going over the top here; I’m not going to get “ewwey-ewwey” on you. I just think that people could do a whole lot better in the relationship department if they studied their Bibles! (Why do you think they have them in motels?) Let’s face it: as the Stage Manager said in Our Town, people are meant to go through life two by two - and believe it or not the best sex manual I have run across is the Bible. A few disclaimers here: it’s not illustrated, it’s not specific, and it will require your first sexual experience to be with your wife or husband, And for very good reason, But that’s a very small price to pay for a lifetime of happiness. However, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. Before marriage, you have to meet the person of your dreams - and there is no better way to meet people and have them notice you than to live by spiritual principals.
One thing can be said about the *first time* online: it’s not quite as terrifying as a first date, but it’s certainly filled with anxiety.
The first anxiety of course is: is this going to work? I mean, am I really going to be able to have a meaningful discussion with someone all the way across the country in Bangor, Maine? Well after two years, the verdict is in yes its possible to have an intelligent conversation with someone all the way across the country, although I have yet to have an intelligent conversation with any one in Bangor, Maine. I think people who have grown up with computers take them for granted; what a miracle of thought, invention, and ingenuity! (That’s just the packaging….) I remember the first handheld calculator I ever saw; it belong to one of the (successful) agents in the life insurance company I worked for. It was black and very expensive - it came with its own security guard; the agent had mortgaged his house for it, and I think had sold his son in bondage. No big loss; I remembered the son from an office picnic (he was the one with potato salad stuck to his cheek). Little did we realize that calculator was the beachhead of a major technological invasion destined to dent our pocket books, release us from our working bondage (it’s past 2 a.m. here as I write) and give us consumers a new enemy to deal with: the manual writer.
So, there I sat in my darkened cavern of a living space, hearing for the first time the sound of a modem being put through its paces.
Finally, alone in my little cave, I finally have my modem working and have gone through the paperwork necessary to begin AOL. I watch as the screen on the computer changes and whirs and makes lots of interesting noises, and suddenly I am at the AOL welcome screen, and a voice booms out, “You have mail!” This voice, which would soon become my best friend, really startled me. My first thought was “Wow! this works fast! I’m already getting attention.” It was, however, a welcome letter from Steve Case - the owner of the company and soon-to-be new yacht owner all because of me - or so it would appear.
In the early days of AOL, there was a cost attached to AOL - and the cost did add up. If you ever noticed people in the early 1990’s walking along the roads collecting bottles, there was a good chance they were AOL members trying to collect enough money to keep them online. As I understand it, AOL would actually, in some cases, provide you with your very own cart. I still remember what a great deal I got with my first AOL signup: I got 10 free hours. That is a lot like getting a “Free Fishing Trip to Alaska” - free after plane fare, licenses and lodging, but you can fish free.
I have to stop for a minute and do a little information sharing. AOL allows its members the opportunity to create what are called “screen names”. These are most often an extension of the member’s personality, and can range from the basic “Tom Smith” to clever, well-thought-out names like “Mr. Stud”. Hopefully, later I will talk more about the psychology of screen names (a relatively new discipline in the psychology field), but let’s just say here a good screen name can make or break you.
The problem is, unless you get some advance knowledge about this, you often are forced into coming up with a really stupid name right off the bat. AOL has anticipated this and provides members (members are what AOL calls those people who become addicted to the service) five more screen names. Its a fact that very few members end up using their original name; after they get online they can see what the really clever members are doing and adjust their name accordingly. In my case I went from the banal name of Musiken to resevoirtip in only thirty minutes , ( thinking fast is not always a good case for thinking right). Fortunately, AOL allows its members to delete a screen name - and I suspect it was God’s plan for me to choose reseviortip so that name could no longer be used by any other person. Out of all this was created my new screen name which would last me for the next six months. Scott4hugs was born that first night. Why Scott and why Hugs will forever be a mystery to me; my name is Ken, and I am perhaps the least tactile person in existence; but there it was, my first real screen name and the will to use it.
AOL is HUGE - you can practically find anything you want in the whole world in the area of information: from complicated instructions for building sled dog warming huts, to government documents, and the latest news and weather. I am equally sure there are at least three people using these functions - the rest of us were in the chat rooms.
Chat rooms are electronic rooms where people gather to insult and proposition each other; they can also be used for uplifting conversation and creating friendships, and I suspect there at least three people doing just that also.
I believe at the heart of the success of companies like AOL is the inescapable fact that there is A LOT of lonely people out there. (There being the real world) I know this to be true because I was one of them, and the fervent hope of all these people is to find someone to talk to and encourage them and make them feel wanted.
SO to that end the options are incredible. There are rooms for people to talk about just about any subject you care to think about, from sewing circles to pagan tea houses, from leather interests to Gun and Bun Chats (usually not together). For a new person being online, it’s simply overwhelming. It can also be hard on your ego. I remember feeling very rejected because the “onlinehost” would not talk to me. And in fact it took me several days to find these other rooms. I kept going into what’s called People Connection and ended up in the Lobby. I did not realize this was the door to other rooms; instead I stayed in the Lobby and was battered with rejection as hundreds of other people came into the room and left. In my mind, most likely because they thought I was a wuss. It wasn’t until several nights later I actually figured out how the whole thing worked, and found myself in a room called “Water Sports.”(It was not about surfing, and I felt compelled to leave after getting an education I didn’t suspect I ever needed to know about in the first place.
At last I found a home; the room was called “Thirtysomething,” and it was filled with bright intelligent conversation, with all kinds of people that were of course under thirty and incredibly successful. The first thing I noted was that, based on the profiles of these members, if they were a man they were over six feet tall and very Aryan and very successful (there was once three brain surgeons in the room at the same time), and, if a woman, very successful and blonde and former cheerleaders.
About profiles. Remember that I said a good screen name could make or break you? Well, the same can be said of an onscreen profile. This is a place where you can tell vital information about yourself, (we will look at a few from time to time) in such a manner as to get the attention of the six foot blonde brain surgeon, or the 5’ 8” blonde vogue cover girl.
Frankly, it’s in reading the profiles of members that you begin to see the difference between the sexes, and in the subtlety of the members: men tend to be very direct, kinda like, “I WANT YOU NOW, WOMAN!” whereas the women tend to be more poetic and romantic. Anyway, here are a few screen names culled from the member directory of AOL; what some of these names lose in creativity they gain in just plain silliness or worse.
-
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, here I am looking at this screen whirring by and trying to make sense of all the conversation going on. I tell you, it’s not easy. I am a poor typist; I have to look at my fingers when I type, so when I type I cannot read what is being “said” in the chat room. It gets a little complicated at times, but the very first thing you realize is that it’s complicated for everyone. I plowed right in and said hello. Now, at first this seemed to have very little impact. I began to notice that those who were saying the most outrageous things were the ones getting all the attention. So I started to be outrageous and I fibbed a little. At this point I’m so lonely that if getting someone to like me means taking a few years off my life (and a few pounds), I can be what someone wants me to be - or so I think. It strikes me that if all these lonely people just used life’s little instruction book they wouldn’t be quite so lonely. By that I mean the Bible. STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I promise you I’m not going over the top here; I’m not going to get “ewwey-ewwey” on you. I just think that people could do a whole lot better in the relationship department if they studied their Bibles! (Why do you think they have them in motels?) Let’s face it: as the Stage Manager said in Our Town, people are meant to go through life two by two - and believe it or not the best sex manual I have run across is the Bible. A few disclaimers here: it’s not illustrated, it’s not specific, and it will require your first sexual experience to be with your wife or husband, And for very good reason, But that’s a very small price to pay for a lifetime of happiness. However, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. Before marriage, you have to meet the person of your dreams - and there is no better way to meet people and have them notice you than to live by spiritual principals.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Interlude 2
Yesterday , Lori and I met at a local mall after I got out of my photo shoot. She had wanted to see a movie on her own we planned meet after the movie and have diner together. I located her car in the movie parking lot and found out that I had about 50 minutes before her movie let out.
Almost an hour , and I had left my Camera and Laptop at home ...luckily I had this book I had been reading and decided to actually spend longer than the usual five minutes I can usually focus on a book and sit down and read ..it was warm outside but a nice breeze and a passing shower had cooled things off very nicely.
I found a bench with a view of the Theater so we could spot each other and started reading the book. The mall was busy , it was a Thursday evening but it felt like a Weekend ...Couples strolling together , young people cruisng, small groups of teens attracting each other like atoms and lint .
The movie was slated to get out about 8:15 and it was now about 7:30 ...after really diving into the print I took time to check the clock and it was 7:35 ...this was not going to be easy .
The book was called " Blue like Jazz " by a Portland Artist named Donald Miller , I was enjoying it on several levels , his approach to spirituality , and the fact he lived in my former hometown of Portland Oregon, much of what he was saying was resonating with me , He was talking about the overwhelming oresence of God in all we do , and while he was doing that he was talking of places that I was very familiar with.
ON one of my it must be time but really only five minutes have elasped breaks I looked up and noticed the sky was building up quite nicely for a beautiful sunset. As a Photographer I have become an " expert" on looking for the signs of a wonderful sunset and here I was a Photographer without a camera watching one unfold..and this looked like it could be good. So I reasonably decided best to keep myhead down and not torment me with the view of a sunset I could not take a photo of.
As I was reading I noticed the color of the Paper in the book was changing and so was the reflection on the pavement , I couldn't bear it any longer and I looked up. There are sunsets and there are SUNSETS ..this was a SUNSET. It streatched out all across the sky the Providence 14 Theater right in the middle of its expanse ..The theater colors actually complimented the Sunset. This beauty was comprised of several differfent cloud types , our weather in Nashville is sometimes quite complicate as the warm air from the Gulf of mexico and the cold air from Canda often perform this meteroligical tango in the sky. There were clouds that looked like angel hair long whisps of vapor reaching out to the moon , and rolling clouds full of motion and fury , and great mushrooms of clouds building on top of each other , and all these clouds where collered in soft pinks and corals ...against a pale blue sky.
As I watched I realized I seemed to be the only one watching ..the couples, shoppers , movie goers , the atoms and the Lint , the cruisers and the wannabes ..were so involved in the daily act of living they were indifferent to the wonder above their heads .
It struck me that there fully visible to all was the majesty of an Everlasting God , all they had to do was look up...SO many people who what an experience with God a tangible relationship with an Invisible creator God and here , God was waving a banner that stretched across the heavens saying " HERE I AM " . and they wouldn't look up.
The Poet Walt Whitman in his epic work Leaves of Grass ..wrote that GOD leaves letters for us on the ground for us to pick up and read and then leave for others ...and here was this HUGE banner painted across the horizon for all to see , but few were seeing it ...And yet it was there for all to see ...God is with us , we may not always notice Him nor admire His Handiwork ...but I don't think he is going to take these Sunsets away...Sunsets like His love will Endure forever ...I Love the way He paints ...
As the Colors fade away and gave way to night I felt blessed , and was comforted to be so aware of HIS presence It was Providence I thought ..then I grinned as I realized the " Caption " under this Sunset had been written on the building Lori was in PROVIDENCE 14 ... and I thought hmmmm 14 that's my Birthday October 14 ..Just for fun I counted the letters in Providence 10. 10 /14
I Just had to whisper and prayer and thank God for His presence and present .
Almost an hour , and I had left my Camera and Laptop at home ...luckily I had this book I had been reading and decided to actually spend longer than the usual five minutes I can usually focus on a book and sit down and read ..it was warm outside but a nice breeze and a passing shower had cooled things off very nicely.
I found a bench with a view of the Theater so we could spot each other and started reading the book. The mall was busy , it was a Thursday evening but it felt like a Weekend ...Couples strolling together , young people cruisng, small groups of teens attracting each other like atoms and lint .
The movie was slated to get out about 8:15 and it was now about 7:30 ...after really diving into the print I took time to check the clock and it was 7:35 ...this was not going to be easy .
The book was called " Blue like Jazz " by a Portland Artist named Donald Miller , I was enjoying it on several levels , his approach to spirituality , and the fact he lived in my former hometown of Portland Oregon, much of what he was saying was resonating with me , He was talking about the overwhelming oresence of God in all we do , and while he was doing that he was talking of places that I was very familiar with.
ON one of my it must be time but really only five minutes have elasped breaks I looked up and noticed the sky was building up quite nicely for a beautiful sunset. As a Photographer I have become an " expert" on looking for the signs of a wonderful sunset and here I was a Photographer without a camera watching one unfold..and this looked like it could be good. So I reasonably decided best to keep myhead down and not torment me with the view of a sunset I could not take a photo of.
As I was reading I noticed the color of the Paper in the book was changing and so was the reflection on the pavement , I couldn't bear it any longer and I looked up. There are sunsets and there are SUNSETS ..this was a SUNSET. It streatched out all across the sky the Providence 14 Theater right in the middle of its expanse ..The theater colors actually complimented the Sunset. This beauty was comprised of several differfent cloud types , our weather in Nashville is sometimes quite complicate as the warm air from the Gulf of mexico and the cold air from Canda often perform this meteroligical tango in the sky. There were clouds that looked like angel hair long whisps of vapor reaching out to the moon , and rolling clouds full of motion and fury , and great mushrooms of clouds building on top of each other , and all these clouds where collered in soft pinks and corals ...against a pale blue sky.
As I watched I realized I seemed to be the only one watching ..the couples, shoppers , movie goers , the atoms and the Lint , the cruisers and the wannabes ..were so involved in the daily act of living they were indifferent to the wonder above their heads .
It struck me that there fully visible to all was the majesty of an Everlasting God , all they had to do was look up...SO many people who what an experience with God a tangible relationship with an Invisible creator God and here , God was waving a banner that stretched across the heavens saying " HERE I AM " . and they wouldn't look up.
The Poet Walt Whitman in his epic work Leaves of Grass ..wrote that GOD leaves letters for us on the ground for us to pick up and read and then leave for others ...and here was this HUGE banner painted across the horizon for all to see , but few were seeing it ...And yet it was there for all to see ...God is with us , we may not always notice Him nor admire His Handiwork ...but I don't think he is going to take these Sunsets away...Sunsets like His love will Endure forever ...I Love the way He paints ...
As the Colors fade away and gave way to night I felt blessed , and was comforted to be so aware of HIS presence It was Providence I thought ..then I grinned as I realized the " Caption " under this Sunset had been written on the building Lori was in PROVIDENCE 14 ... and I thought hmmmm 14 that's my Birthday October 14 ..Just for fun I counted the letters in Providence 10. 10 /14
I Just had to whisper and prayer and thank God for His presence and present .
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