When I was 14 I got into a slight intellectual disagreement with the priest at our church. My mother might disagree with that linguistic assessment, having, back then called it sassing (Im fairly sure I was grounded for it). But I was asking why werent girls allowed to be Alter Boys (it was the early 80s in a small Pennsylvania town). Which, to me, was an easier ask then why arent girls allowed to be priests or, further, why arent priests allowed to marry and was Mary really a virgin because that just seems cray cray. But the priest answered, Just because which, as you can imagine to a precocious (code for possibly arrogant) kid was the nail ... and from then on, I was done with church and religion. Just because Im sure was his way of trying to introduce faith to me. More likely, he was just lazy and/or busy and had no interest in arguing with a pre-teen feminist who found every excuse in the book to get out of CCD. So from that day on, I spent Sundays walking my dog in the local cemetary, which was the nearest to a woods walk I could find within a few miles of my house. Id put Mozart or Beethhoven in my ears (early Sony Walkman) and wander for hours and get lost in the music. I dont mind going to Christmas Mass with my Mom or Church with my Dad as I love the songs and the whole tradition, but Easter was always this weeklong obligation of kneeling and standing kneeling and standing. I kind of liked Holy Thursday because I liked the pageantry of the feet washing and the last supper. Good Friday just took too damned long, those stations of the cross never ended, and kissing a piece of wood at the alter was, well, a bit creepy and I was always worried how Id look to Scott Braun, who was the alter boy and my teenage crush with his perfectly feathered blonde bangs. And Easter Mass had no good songs. And let me tell you, Catholics are not the best choir singers. Had I been born in a church with a serious praise choir, all Hallelluiahs and hand wagging, things might have turned out differently. And besides, I love turkey. And I didnt love ham. And I had an allergy to chocolate. So the whole Easter thing wasnt really my favorite holiday. Ill take Halloween over Easter any day of the week. But this morning I chose to sleep in late (the first time Ive been able to do this in about a month). Last night, I made my mothers coffee cake to have this morning as Im giving up wheat when I finish this book Im reading about it and so Im allowing myself to indulge until that happens. I came downstairs with Flo, made breakfast and tea, got the Sunday NY Times and sat outside in this glorious sun drenched morning on my back deck and took my time with the paper. I wrote for a bit in my notebook. I listened to Mahler. I meditated. And I wrote a list of things for which Im grateful. Which is unlike me. A lot of this is unlike me. I didnt expect to be here - and by here I mean all of it: alone, Nashville, in this house, with this dog and so much more than just those few things. Theres a bumblebee buzzing around me and all I hear of is that the bees are dying off. But heres one, fat and active. Theres a scent of the residue of the fire I lit last night in my firepit, reminding me of the campfires my Dad made at their house they sold this year in their downsizing. Theres traces of all the things and people I left behind and let go of to get here. And I have made no plans today so that I could let it unfold before me at its own pace. I think Ill take Flo to the park then come home and do some writing and some fiddle practicing. Thats all I know. Resurrection. Awakening from the dead. Coffee cake and Blind Lemon Jefferson on the stereo and a feeling of serene gratefulness for just being able to be here and be steady.
Posted on: Sun, 20 Apr 2014 17:43:40 +0000
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