One of my favorite lines from Dashiell Hammett comes from his novel The Thin Man, later made into a movie starring my favorite native Pittsburghers, William Powell: the wife, Nora Charles (later portrayed by Myrna Loy), says to her husband, "I love you, Nicky, because you smell nice and know such fascinating people." Although I've been complimented several times about how nice I smell, today's blog is more about the interesting people I know.
When I married into my wife's family, I inherited six nephews and nieces, as well as the parents to go along with them. My wife's sister, Grace, is the first very interesting person I'd like to celebrate today; her viewpoint is always refreshing, her insights continuously thought-provoking, and her cooking sublime. Today's posting finds its roots in her contemplation on the perverted nature of the modern American church; perverted not meaning "lurid" or "debased", but rather the classical definition of "twisted".
What started out as a genuine outpouring of love from God has been twisted at the very base into something almost unrecognizable. The career pulpiteer preaches "It was for freedom that Christ set us free, but within a strict set of laws and rules." The love that a congregation has for its own members eclipses the outreach that it has to the community; as soon as a member leaves a congregation, the circle closes its wound and shuns the new non-believer. The flock is weak from being fed pablum, mediocrity is rewarded, and the Kingdom of God is only for those who hold on until the bitter end. Anyone who has talent is milked dry of their enthusiasm by being overworked in the house, and God Himself help the person with a slightly different viewpoint than that of the particular house where the congregant is planted.
It's not really the fault of Americans; the system became flawed back in the days when clergy and laity needed to be clergy and laity. The clergy shared the good news with the laity because the laity weren't educated enough to read the words on a page. As has happened today, knowledge and power went hand in hand; those that have the knowledge obtain the power. And instead of doling out the knowledge freely, the clergy retained their power, even when it was obvious they shouldn't have it. The Church made itself an enemy of science starting even before the whole Galileo Galilei debacle, and therefore is directly responsible for atheism. The Church alienates the exceptional people who might be a threat to their personal corporate religious empire, if not consciously (through pressure and the like), then by celebrating the mediocre and the unexceptional.
Speaking of mediocre and unexceptional, did you realize that the most pervasive prejudice in the atheist world is the rampant stupidity of Christians? The most cynical view Christians as superstitious sheep, following a religion that worships a zombie, without a thought for themselves or others, considering science as something to be mistrusted. Apply the epithet of stupidity to any other people group - heck, apply ANY epithet to ANY other people group - and watch the hurt feelings pile up. And yet, as Christians, we feel the necessity to accept this abuse as a pious exercise in "turning the other cheek" or being blessed when people speak ill of you "on [His] account, for my sake."
The worst part about this is that the abuse isn't just heaped on by the world; it's heaped on by the very clergy that Christians go to for help. The very people that are called to cover and equip the people of God abuse, misuse, ignore, and mishandle the gifts and people that God gives them! Unbelievable! No wonder many people leave the churches where they are called to minister; there is no place given for them, just a bunch of rules. Because, God knows, it's easier to tell a bunch of people what to do or not to do in a given situation than it is to - Heaven forfend - BUILD ACTUAL RELATIONSHIPS WITH THEM. Like the Great Commission calls us to do. There's enough material in THAT for another angry blog; however, let the following story speak to the situation at hand and be enough. Many and many a year ago, I saw an amateur production of Godspell, the classic 1970 musical adaptation of the gospel of Matthew. At the beginning, Jesus interacts with each of the twelve disciples in a personal manner: bumping knuckles with Luke, hugging John, secret-handshaking with Thomas, and so on. Just before the crucifixion sequence, Jesus interacted with each of the twelve disciples in the same manner, albeit a bit more solemnly: John's hug was more tearful on both parts, for example. I'd like to think that anyone who claims to be a personal Savior would be able to be personal with me; why is it that His Shepherds are too busy to build that kind of relationship with the sheep?
Hebrews 13:17 is used a lot to browbeat the laity into submission: OBEY YOUR LEADERS AND SUBMIT TO THEIR AUTHORITY. The latter half of this verse is nicely glossed over: they have to give an account of your souls. I wonder, when the great Judgment is passed, whether or not the sheep will be judged more harshly according to how they submitted to leaders, or whether the leaders will be judged more harshly on how they used the sheep that were under their aegis. Leaders also nicely forget a few verses earlier, where the sheep are called to consider the outcome of their leaders' way of life. If there's no fruit, why should I follow?
Sorry about the angry timbre of this post; the next one will be about roller skating. Honest.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
24th Confession
Recently, one commented to me that atheism is a religion as much as not smoking is a habit. I consider that an interesting proposition: after all, is a habit defined only by the observance? Or can the thousands of recovering smokers consider their "not smoking" to be a habit that they are creating day by day? Or perhaps a habit is more accurately called a force of personal choice, made unconscious by repetition, to one's benefit or detriment.
Either way, the main focus of the argument was that atheism is not a religion. While I respect that point of view, I feel that I must disagree. The hallmarks of any religion are a set of rules, behaviors, rewards, and incentives based around a particular belief; most of the time, these include a creation myth, an explanation of world events, a view on the afterlife, and ethical standpoints. The rest of the trappings - the sacred texts, the relics, the vestments and music and so on - are peculiar to whichever sect you might study, and of little major relevance other than to enforce a sense of commonality and unity across a local establishment.
So, then, is atheism a religion? The main "rule" seems to be that there is no Deity, save perhaps the human mind. Logic, science, and humans seem to be the holy trinity, with the Big Bang Theory servicing as a creation myth. I use the term "myth" not as a slight against my atheist friends, but rather to serve as a reminder that any story told from that far back without some kind of physical proof must remain a story. I can no more explain the Christian creation story than they can explain how a precisely ordered everything came from a large explosive nothing. But it's these traditional stories that are accepted as history that shape and mold the entire worldview of both Christians, atheists, Muslims, Wiccans, and the like.
Thus, this chaotic creation story underpins some of the basic tenants of a world without a God: nothing is ever planned, everything is random, circumstances are accidents, and man has no intrinsic value except from being the last step (so far) in a great chain of evolutionary steps. After one dies, there is nothing but release and decay, so one ought to eat, drink, and be merry with the time that one has. There are no rewards save the earthly pleasures one has, there are no great "Reasons" or anything other than natural knowledge, and life is nothing more than a complex biological function.
There are prophets of atheism: Nietzsche, Darwin, Hawkings, Fry. There are zealots who will argue the non-existence of God for hours on end. Even the agnostics who have stopped searching are a subset of atheists; otherwise, it'd be an important enough decision that they'd come down on one side of the post or the other. There is a degree of faith involved in atheism, one to which I can only dream of aspiring: that nothing matters in the long run.
I wish I had enough time and wherewithal to refute each of these points. I'm tired, though; I can't really bring myself to argue with it anymore right now. Eventually, perhaps, but not today.
Either way, the main focus of the argument was that atheism is not a religion. While I respect that point of view, I feel that I must disagree. The hallmarks of any religion are a set of rules, behaviors, rewards, and incentives based around a particular belief; most of the time, these include a creation myth, an explanation of world events, a view on the afterlife, and ethical standpoints. The rest of the trappings - the sacred texts, the relics, the vestments and music and so on - are peculiar to whichever sect you might study, and of little major relevance other than to enforce a sense of commonality and unity across a local establishment.
So, then, is atheism a religion? The main "rule" seems to be that there is no Deity, save perhaps the human mind. Logic, science, and humans seem to be the holy trinity, with the Big Bang Theory servicing as a creation myth. I use the term "myth" not as a slight against my atheist friends, but rather to serve as a reminder that any story told from that far back without some kind of physical proof must remain a story. I can no more explain the Christian creation story than they can explain how a precisely ordered everything came from a large explosive nothing. But it's these traditional stories that are accepted as history that shape and mold the entire worldview of both Christians, atheists, Muslims, Wiccans, and the like.
Thus, this chaotic creation story underpins some of the basic tenants of a world without a God: nothing is ever planned, everything is random, circumstances are accidents, and man has no intrinsic value except from being the last step (so far) in a great chain of evolutionary steps. After one dies, there is nothing but release and decay, so one ought to eat, drink, and be merry with the time that one has. There are no rewards save the earthly pleasures one has, there are no great "Reasons" or anything other than natural knowledge, and life is nothing more than a complex biological function.
There are prophets of atheism: Nietzsche, Darwin, Hawkings, Fry. There are zealots who will argue the non-existence of God for hours on end. Even the agnostics who have stopped searching are a subset of atheists; otherwise, it'd be an important enough decision that they'd come down on one side of the post or the other. There is a degree of faith involved in atheism, one to which I can only dream of aspiring: that nothing matters in the long run.
I wish I had enough time and wherewithal to refute each of these points. I'm tired, though; I can't really bring myself to argue with it anymore right now. Eventually, perhaps, but not today.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
23rd Confession
There is nothing worse than incompetent leadership. Leaders are the people who are supposed to nurture talent, encourage risk taking, and eventually release into something greater. Whether that "greater" is retirement or a loftier position, leadership is not supposed to be threatened by upward mobility; rather, it is supposed to groom it and, in essence, put itself out of a job.
There aren't many fond memories I take with me from my time in prison....Did I say prison? I meant working at CallTech (later TelePerformance). The hours kept switching, the breakroom TV was always on TNT, and I'm fairly certain I developed digestive issues while there. The best parts of the job were the people; specifically, my old supervisor Shane. Shane did more than manage a dude who had lost five jobs within the span of four years. He modelled what a good supervisor was with impeccable behavior and panache beyond description. When he reviewed an employee, he looked for anything good to bolster their self-confidence, while gently encouraging development in the areas that were lacking. When he recognized someone with leadership potential, he made for darn sure that they were on his team. When he saw that someone had superior abilities, he tried to move them up as best he could. He is, still to this date, the one man I would gladly work for any day.
TelePerformance also taught me that different management styles are ok, but incompetent management always shows through. It taught me that yes, it is who you know that matters, as well as how to cultivate contacts to aid and abet in what you need done. I recall several times that I needed to do something for a customer, but "the rules" said I couldn't. At the time, I had another good supervisor, Travis, who said, "If you can do it, get it done." He encouraged risk-taking and problem-solving, no matter how far outside "the rules" I had to stray. In addition, he encouraged team-building and information sharing, which enabled me to make contacts in a whole lot of places where I'd not have otherwise gone. Of course, it also meant a whole lot of work, but I suppose that I'd rather be working too hard than not enough.
I've also been in situations where leadership has been less than supportive of either myself or my efforts. I've been in places where leadership has felt threatened by my abilities. I recall one place where I was relegated to grunt work, although holding the position and title of management. I was then expected to do my job, my boss's job, and my people's jobs. All at the same time. With excellence. And pride.
That lasted about a month.
In summary, I suppose I only respect leaders as far as they take the time to become interested in me. As they grow to know me and my strengths/weaknesses/limitations, etc., they earn more of my respect and trust. the less they know me? The less time I have for them, the less I care about their opinions, and the less likely I'm going to actively attempt to enable them to succeed.
There aren't many fond memories I take with me from my time in prison....Did I say prison? I meant working at CallTech (later TelePerformance). The hours kept switching, the breakroom TV was always on TNT, and I'm fairly certain I developed digestive issues while there. The best parts of the job were the people; specifically, my old supervisor Shane. Shane did more than manage a dude who had lost five jobs within the span of four years. He modelled what a good supervisor was with impeccable behavior and panache beyond description. When he reviewed an employee, he looked for anything good to bolster their self-confidence, while gently encouraging development in the areas that were lacking. When he recognized someone with leadership potential, he made for darn sure that they were on his team. When he saw that someone had superior abilities, he tried to move them up as best he could. He is, still to this date, the one man I would gladly work for any day.
TelePerformance also taught me that different management styles are ok, but incompetent management always shows through. It taught me that yes, it is who you know that matters, as well as how to cultivate contacts to aid and abet in what you need done. I recall several times that I needed to do something for a customer, but "the rules" said I couldn't. At the time, I had another good supervisor, Travis, who said, "If you can do it, get it done." He encouraged risk-taking and problem-solving, no matter how far outside "the rules" I had to stray. In addition, he encouraged team-building and information sharing, which enabled me to make contacts in a whole lot of places where I'd not have otherwise gone. Of course, it also meant a whole lot of work, but I suppose that I'd rather be working too hard than not enough.
I've also been in situations where leadership has been less than supportive of either myself or my efforts. I've been in places where leadership has felt threatened by my abilities. I recall one place where I was relegated to grunt work, although holding the position and title of management. I was then expected to do my job, my boss's job, and my people's jobs. All at the same time. With excellence. And pride.
That lasted about a month.
In summary, I suppose I only respect leaders as far as they take the time to become interested in me. As they grow to know me and my strengths/weaknesses/limitations, etc., they earn more of my respect and trust. the less they know me? The less time I have for them, the less I care about their opinions, and the less likely I'm going to actively attempt to enable them to succeed.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
22nd Confession
I'm really ashamed at the quality of my last blog. Maybe next time, I'll do better.
So I got rid of some boxes tonight, blessing another couple people and cleaning out my garage. My garage is what I pictured my attic would look like, with my garage and pantry added into it. It's cold, there is stuff everywhere, and it smells faintly of motor oil. I can count on two hands the number of bladed implements in there that I have never used. There are various and sundry pots and potsherds lying about, and the excess food is sprawled about on the ground.
And yet, there is some curious measure of pride that I have in this place. There's the ability to prune a tree, when I get up the energy to do it. I have a seeder to fix my nasty lawn, when we get rid of the dog. I can sharpen a blade, change oil, cut a piece of timber, drill holes in wood and metal...
So much potential. So little practical application. And on my worst days, it feels like it's a reflection of me.
So I got rid of some boxes tonight, blessing another couple people and cleaning out my garage. My garage is what I pictured my attic would look like, with my garage and pantry added into it. It's cold, there is stuff everywhere, and it smells faintly of motor oil. I can count on two hands the number of bladed implements in there that I have never used. There are various and sundry pots and potsherds lying about, and the excess food is sprawled about on the ground.
And yet, there is some curious measure of pride that I have in this place. There's the ability to prune a tree, when I get up the energy to do it. I have a seeder to fix my nasty lawn, when we get rid of the dog. I can sharpen a blade, change oil, cut a piece of timber, drill holes in wood and metal...
So much potential. So little practical application. And on my worst days, it feels like it's a reflection of me.
21st Confession
I'm going to take the plunge and write about God. I realize that, like all subjects of this scope and magnitude, a simple little blog is not going to do justice to Him or anything like that. I know that having a rational debate about metaphysics is almost on par with herding kittens and draining seas with teacups; therefore, instead of bringing the old arguments to the table, let's take a look at some of the common "proofs" that God cannot exist, and then see if we can move into the realms of how God does.
First things first, though not necessarily in that order. Let's define "God" as a term - that way, we can start tearing apart His existence. God is, in simplest terms, an omniscient, omnipresent entity whose major characteristic is love and whose motivations are purely life and goodness. We could go into the theological benchmarks of "God is a Spirit" and "God is restrained by his character," but instead of all that (it's a simple blog, people, and my degree isn't in theology), let's just picture Him as non-Lovecraftian otherness, too alien to be comprehended, but a very pro-life force.
So this definition automatically leads into the ages old question, "If God is so powerful and limitless, can He make a rock too heavy for Him to lift?" Simple logic mandates that if the answer is either yes or no, He is not omnipotent; therefore, since omnipotence is therefore a contradiction, it cannot exist. As omnipotence cannot exist, God cannot exist.
But let's look at the question a little more deeply: the heart of the question lies in the definition of omnipotence. If we merely restrain the question of omnipotence to the ability to "do" only two tasks, we subtract from the definition itself. Instead, I look at it as a valid paradox that a truly omnipotent being would have no trouble fulfilling. After all, what is omnipotence but unlimited ability? And why limit the ability by staying within the bounds of the comprehensible and rational? This tidily sums up the issue of the creation of evil, as well: a wholly "good" God can create "evil" through the same way that He can paradoxically create something that should not exist and yet does.
The nature of evil ties into the paradox suggested by Epicurus. This noted Greek logician supposed the following: "Either God wants to abolish evil, and cannot; or he can, but does not want to. If he wants to, but cannot, he is impotent. If he can, but does not want to, he is wicked. If God can abolish evil, and God really wants to do it, why is there evil in the world?" (Source) I see this often, especially in people who have been hurt by a death of a good person or a child. Heck, I see it in myself almost daily: how could a good God allow my child to have died? I believe in a God who named Himself "The Lord Who Heals," I can quote Scriptural proofs of healing with the best of them, but where was He when my daughter was born? Where was He when my daughter died? What kind of "good" is it when so much personal pain exists in my life? The history of humanity throws up this question many times: 9-11, the Holocaust, any number of deaths that happen to "good" young people who are taken before their time.
It's not my place to salve over these personal tragedies. I cannot say that God is fair. But this much I do know: He darn well better exist, if only to set things right like He promises.
On to proofs of existence: they've all been done before. The causality of creation, the extreme improbability of EVERYTHING happening "just so" only on this planet, man's ability to only explain and create things up to a point... All of these have been used in the past to prove supernatural, and by people smarter than I. I might explore some of them later, but before I do, I feel I need to tag this blog with a disclaimer.
I believe in science. I am a rational person. I cannot discount or disprove anything that has been factually laid out in front of me. However, science is not, and cannot be, the ultimate authority on anything, just because it is always changing. Man couldn't fly until about a century ago, and before that, science believed that Listerine cured gonorrhea. Science, by nature, must continuously evolve and measure that which was immeasurable until technology caught up with it. But how much can science measure now? How accurately? How much detail slips through their fingers, despite their protestations to the contrary? And how much more is there to measure that hasn't even been conceived by the minds of scientists?
First things first, though not necessarily in that order. Let's define "God" as a term - that way, we can start tearing apart His existence. God is, in simplest terms, an omniscient, omnipresent entity whose major characteristic is love and whose motivations are purely life and goodness. We could go into the theological benchmarks of "God is a Spirit" and "God is restrained by his character," but instead of all that (it's a simple blog, people, and my degree isn't in theology), let's just picture Him as non-Lovecraftian otherness, too alien to be comprehended, but a very pro-life force.
So this definition automatically leads into the ages old question, "If God is so powerful and limitless, can He make a rock too heavy for Him to lift?" Simple logic mandates that if the answer is either yes or no, He is not omnipotent; therefore, since omnipotence is therefore a contradiction, it cannot exist. As omnipotence cannot exist, God cannot exist.
But let's look at the question a little more deeply: the heart of the question lies in the definition of omnipotence. If we merely restrain the question of omnipotence to the ability to "do" only two tasks, we subtract from the definition itself. Instead, I look at it as a valid paradox that a truly omnipotent being would have no trouble fulfilling. After all, what is omnipotence but unlimited ability? And why limit the ability by staying within the bounds of the comprehensible and rational? This tidily sums up the issue of the creation of evil, as well: a wholly "good" God can create "evil" through the same way that He can paradoxically create something that should not exist and yet does.
The nature of evil ties into the paradox suggested by Epicurus. This noted Greek logician supposed the following: "Either God wants to abolish evil, and cannot; or he can, but does not want to. If he wants to, but cannot, he is impotent. If he can, but does not want to, he is wicked. If God can abolish evil, and God really wants to do it, why is there evil in the world?" (Source) I see this often, especially in people who have been hurt by a death of a good person or a child. Heck, I see it in myself almost daily: how could a good God allow my child to have died? I believe in a God who named Himself "The Lord Who Heals," I can quote Scriptural proofs of healing with the best of them, but where was He when my daughter was born? Where was He when my daughter died? What kind of "good" is it when so much personal pain exists in my life? The history of humanity throws up this question many times: 9-11, the Holocaust, any number of deaths that happen to "good" young people who are taken before their time.
It's not my place to salve over these personal tragedies. I cannot say that God is fair. But this much I do know: He darn well better exist, if only to set things right like He promises.
On to proofs of existence: they've all been done before. The causality of creation, the extreme improbability of EVERYTHING happening "just so" only on this planet, man's ability to only explain and create things up to a point... All of these have been used in the past to prove supernatural, and by people smarter than I. I might explore some of them later, but before I do, I feel I need to tag this blog with a disclaimer.
I believe in science. I am a rational person. I cannot discount or disprove anything that has been factually laid out in front of me. However, science is not, and cannot be, the ultimate authority on anything, just because it is always changing. Man couldn't fly until about a century ago, and before that, science believed that Listerine cured gonorrhea. Science, by nature, must continuously evolve and measure that which was immeasurable until technology caught up with it. But how much can science measure now? How accurately? How much detail slips through their fingers, despite their protestations to the contrary? And how much more is there to measure that hasn't even been conceived by the minds of scientists?
Monday, October 4, 2010
20th Confession
Hello again, and welcome back to Confessions! Joy has threatened to buy me Dove for Men if I didn't get off Facebook and blog like I promised her I'd do. And you know how ... Wait. That's not much of a threat at all....
Our special of the house tonight is a meditation on yards; yards and lawns and the modern American value placed on a "beautiful" lawn are some of the most incomprehensible things in modern life today. While I certainly enjoy a good patch of grass for lying upon, I really don't understand why Joy won't let me pave the thing and let us be done with it.
Lawns, according to legend and Wikipedia, are an import from the Middle Ages' aristocracies. They'd take a section of grassland, have their peasant charges go out and cut down the over-tall sections with scythes and such, and then go out and enjoy. Eventually, with the invention of the power mower, the lawn became something semi-enjoyable, with the invention of the lawn party and the whiskey and soda. Finally, the lawn became such a barometer of gentility and social status, it became fashionable in America.
Personally, I hate it.
Don't get me wrong: I love a good meadow. I don't mind the yardwork of raking and mulching and mowing and pruning and clipping and suchlike. What I hate is the emphasis placed on the aesthetics of cow food.
Today, I mowed for the last time in the season. I usually enjoy the last mow of a season, as it means no more wandering around pushing the mower. I also usually hate the last mow of a season, as it means the next thing I do is shovel the snow. I don't mind the mower maintenance bits: running the gas out, draining the oil, scrubbing the rust spots off.
What I do mind, though, is the ChemLawn dude, coming up to my door and offering a free lawn analysis, with option to buy their services. Analyze my yard? Dude, I know it's a mess! Between the bare patches, the dandelions, the odd clumps, and the irregular texture of the ground, I'm ashamed to show it off! AND THAT'S THE FRONT YARD! The back yard, comparatively, makes the front yard look as professionally manicured as Gleneagles Golf Course (site of the 1921 Ryder's Cup).
And why am I ashamed? Because of a cultural bias that has pervaded the "American Dream". The home should have a plush, green lawn, free from weeds and other growth, that treads like carpet and smells faintly of apple pie. Mine is infested with several types of foreign flora, dog mines (anyone want to buy an older neurotic dog, cheap?), trenches, ditches, dead branches, low-lying places that are monuments to former garden plots and raspberry bushes, and a swimming pool.
Word to the wise: if you're considering buying a swimming pool, don't. Just don't. We thought that ours would provide a fun, cooling respite to hot summer days, and perhaps a cozy romantic rendezvous point for moonlit nights.
The water temperature never raised above 40 degrees. Ever. Not exactly the cooling that one is looking for on a hot summer's day, nor the shivers one wants to experience during a moonlit rendezvous.
Next year, I hope to do better. I hope to be rid of the dog (possibly by casting her in a local production of "Old Yeller," real bullets only please), thereby possibly eliminating some of the trenches and dog mines. I hope to chip and shred the dead branches, and erect a shed in the back corner. It'll be slightly sunk into the ground, making it bigger on the inside than presumed on the outside. It'll be blue, and in the shape of a Police Box, and I shall call it my TARDIS. I'll borrow a tiller, and dig up plots for my wife to plant tomatoes and zucchini and pumpkins and gourds and peppers and berries and sunflowers. I'll reseed and fertilizer the lawn, especially the parts where the dog has ruined it.
But that's only if Joy doesn't let me pave the thing before winter.
Our special of the house tonight is a meditation on yards; yards and lawns and the modern American value placed on a "beautiful" lawn are some of the most incomprehensible things in modern life today. While I certainly enjoy a good patch of grass for lying upon, I really don't understand why Joy won't let me pave the thing and let us be done with it.
Lawns, according to legend and Wikipedia, are an import from the Middle Ages' aristocracies. They'd take a section of grassland, have their peasant charges go out and cut down the over-tall sections with scythes and such, and then go out and enjoy. Eventually, with the invention of the power mower, the lawn became something semi-enjoyable, with the invention of the lawn party and the whiskey and soda. Finally, the lawn became such a barometer of gentility and social status, it became fashionable in America.
Personally, I hate it.
Don't get me wrong: I love a good meadow. I don't mind the yardwork of raking and mulching and mowing and pruning and clipping and suchlike. What I hate is the emphasis placed on the aesthetics of cow food.
Today, I mowed for the last time in the season. I usually enjoy the last mow of a season, as it means no more wandering around pushing the mower. I also usually hate the last mow of a season, as it means the next thing I do is shovel the snow. I don't mind the mower maintenance bits: running the gas out, draining the oil, scrubbing the rust spots off.
What I do mind, though, is the ChemLawn dude, coming up to my door and offering a free lawn analysis, with option to buy their services. Analyze my yard? Dude, I know it's a mess! Between the bare patches, the dandelions, the odd clumps, and the irregular texture of the ground, I'm ashamed to show it off! AND THAT'S THE FRONT YARD! The back yard, comparatively, makes the front yard look as professionally manicured as Gleneagles Golf Course (site of the 1921 Ryder's Cup).
And why am I ashamed? Because of a cultural bias that has pervaded the "American Dream". The home should have a plush, green lawn, free from weeds and other growth, that treads like carpet and smells faintly of apple pie. Mine is infested with several types of foreign flora, dog mines (anyone want to buy an older neurotic dog, cheap?), trenches, ditches, dead branches, low-lying places that are monuments to former garden plots and raspberry bushes, and a swimming pool.
Word to the wise: if you're considering buying a swimming pool, don't. Just don't. We thought that ours would provide a fun, cooling respite to hot summer days, and perhaps a cozy romantic rendezvous point for moonlit nights.
The water temperature never raised above 40 degrees. Ever. Not exactly the cooling that one is looking for on a hot summer's day, nor the shivers one wants to experience during a moonlit rendezvous.
Next year, I hope to do better. I hope to be rid of the dog (possibly by casting her in a local production of "Old Yeller," real bullets only please), thereby possibly eliminating some of the trenches and dog mines. I hope to chip and shred the dead branches, and erect a shed in the back corner. It'll be slightly sunk into the ground, making it bigger on the inside than presumed on the outside. It'll be blue, and in the shape of a Police Box, and I shall call it my TARDIS. I'll borrow a tiller, and dig up plots for my wife to plant tomatoes and zucchini and pumpkins and gourds and peppers and berries and sunflowers. I'll reseed and fertilizer the lawn, especially the parts where the dog has ruined it.
But that's only if Joy doesn't let me pave the thing before winter.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Nineteenth Confession
If you're in the market to support a really good cause for no money? This is one I highly recommend. Pepsi is giving away grants to refresh communities, and this center is a great place to get them to give money. It is run by a friend who genuinely cares for the kids who come in. It's also mentioned in a news article here; the reporter, when leaving, told my friend that they "wished they'd had a place like this, growing up." Voting goes through the end of the month; to vote, you have to register an e-mail address.
Normally, I don't advertise. I don't do testimonials, and I don't believe anything I hear on any ad. However, I'm asking that whoever reads this post would take the time to vote for the center.
Thanks!
Normally, I don't advertise. I don't do testimonials, and I don't believe anything I hear on any ad. However, I'm asking that whoever reads this post would take the time to vote for the center.
Thanks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)