EIGHT AND A HALF MINUTES

i’ve been perusing through this month’s Discover mag.   i like it.   It asks a lot of good questions and does an amply job of supplying lay-answers.   There’s some good stuff in there about giving hallucinogens for various psych disorders; OCD being one.   i haven’t read the whole thing in depth.

 

i also read this little blurb about this galaxy that was formed 700 million years after the BigBang whose light is just now reaching us.   Does any one else have a problem with this?

 

i asked a scientist/astonomer friend a short while ago about this apparent paradox of how the hell we got 13 billion light years away from an object before its light arrived.   His answer sort of made sense; he tried to tell me that time and distance are proportionally related.   The velocity at which the universe is expanding is something of an exponential constant where as the speed of light is fixed.

 

i’m not sure i get it.   i think he was trying to tell me that since the universe was formed, time and distance have been… stretching.  Evidently, mathematics proves this out somehow.   i guess my question now is whether or not there are two separate time lines operating at the same time.   i’m having difficulty getting beyond the ticking clock in the other room.   i wonder if the light that left the sun 8 and half minutes ago that’s now helping me see my bowl of grapes can light me up a clue.   Eight and half minutes; and if i were to be riding that particular sunbeam i wouldn’t have aged a second?   Somebody help me out please.

 

Pets

i have a friend and fellow blogger, Jeff, who likes to write poetry.   i thought i’d give it a try:

We have a new pet

a little yard mouse

Our relationship strainded when he entered the house

He likes where its warm, so i named him “happy”

His behavior got crappy

Woke my wife from a nappy

i set up a trappy

We now call him “snappy”

STOP THE INSANITY; I WANT TO GET OFF

 A friend of mine at work has brought to my attention that i haven’t written a post in a while (as if i hadn’t noticed).   Being the sarcastic bastard that i am, i think i misread his deep seeded yearning for a peek into my brain.   Or maybe he was just curious.   Regardless, i made him feel bad for stating the obvious.   i’ll try not to do that again.   It’s extremely un-Christlike.

So i started thinking about just how quick i am to be defensive.   i never realized what a chip on the shoulder it is to come back at people verbally.   It’s the kind of abuse that wicked smaht people get away with every day.   They get a kick out of proving the superiority of their intellect through caustic wit and dripping hyperbole.   And what’s the point really?   That everybody within earshot is impressed by a word pary?  

i rather think it’s smug self-satisfaction that inpires the rapier minded to unleash forked tongue on the unsuspecting.   It really doesn’t matter if anyone hears it at all.   The joy comes from simply hearing oneself speak.   It’s an extra added bonus that someone has been belittled.   An easy ego boost at the expense of a friend - maybe.

i should really quit.

i am sorry for that, and for being away from the blog for so long.   Life has been crazy.   Everyone’s healthy over here at Outnumbered central.   For that i’m thankful.   In fact, it’s a bit Maslow-vian that i’ve been able to be so busy with extra stuff.   Most of it’s been rather fun.   Some of it’s just been long work days due to manpower shortages at the P.O.   At any rate, my only regret is that i haven’t had much time or energy to write.

Now that i’m writing, i have an additional regret.   My lovely wife is in the other room…and i’m in here - typing.   Do most of us blog at the expense of our families?   Gosh i hope not.   That would make this a whole lot like…masturbation.  

Please forgive the crudeness.   i don’t mean to offend anyone.   Sometimes the proper word conveys the proper meaning.   Know what i mean?    Context is key, after all.

We had a good small group meeting tonight.   The “Lousy T-shirt” book is quite thought provoking and conversational.   i especially like the this week’s topic about Sabbath.   No, not Black Sabbath - rest Sabbath.   i think that’s another post for another day.

i’m going to go rest with my wife.

peace

FLEUR DE LIS

i have to confess i didn’t know much about the words or the symbol before doing a little research.   i found out it literally means “lilly (flower)”.   And all this time i thought it was a banana.

My earliest exposure to the ‘fleur de lis’ was at the Higgin’s Armory.   It seemed to pepper every coat of arms in the joint like there was some big secret the ancient warriors had between themselves.   Evidently there was a common theme about the thing suggesting royalty, nobility and even Christian, Trinitarian symbolism.   i still thought it looked like a banana.   Having an affinity for bananas myself it made alot of sense:  bananas must have been really hard to come by like fresh fruit in December around here.   i think all these important noble types probably got a taste of banana once or twice and spent their lives paying homage.

Imagine living in a different time and place where the best things in life were terribly hard or nearly impossible to come by.   i think i’d have become a crusader or a pike wielding footsoldier or something if you denied me bananas after giving me a taste.   It could be that the whole of the dark and middle ages was a huge revolt over fruit!   Not to mention the nutritional physiology of being deprived a balanced diet; these people were all going mental from malnutrition to boot!    Think for a moment of all those poor saps who got drawn and quartered chiefly because of haywire blood sugar levels.   It ain’t right i tell ya’.

i also find it quite convenient that the banana is one of the ’sharper’ fruits.   It kind of looks dangerous.   (For a moment let’s forget that it’s representative of other shapes and focus on the jingoistic applications)   What a perfect warlike food.   It feels like a dagger in your hands.   Who doesn’t reach for a banana when feigning the theatrical stab.   And at least 50% of the time, a banana in the hand produces an obligatory ”Psycho” shower scene overhand thrust with sound effect…..”EEEE, EEEE, EEEE, EEEE”.               Can you hear it?

i don’t begrudge the traditionalist who needs to cling to this “flower” thing.   Flowers are nice.   They smell good.   Without flowers there wouldn’t be fruit.   The flower is an integral part of creation’s balance.   But let’s not continue to drag it through the hell of history’s hegemony.   The banana is versitile and imposing.   It’s tailor made to spearhead the charge for humanity’s violent past.    It’s regal and revolting; noble and nasty; fruity and fearsome.   i think that little kid frozen in awe of the medieval machine was on to something - born of pure ignorance.

POPCORN BEFORE BED

i had a really strange dream last night.   My buddy Billy is in a wheelchair.   He’s a super huge guy (not the Bill at FC).   A number of years ago he blew out his quadraceps tendon.   While recovering, he blew out the other one.    While in the hospital recovering from that one, he got some necrotizing bacterial infection that basically ate away the connective tissue in his abdomen.   Now his belly is gigantic and he can barely stand or walk.   His biggest issue is that he eats too much.   But that’s not what the dream was about.

There were these…aliens.   i’m not sure exactly what they were; an invading army of some kind.   They wanted to kill Billy.    It wasn’t all violent like the movie “Kill Bill”, it was more like a condemnation and pending death sentence.   Evidently it was all predicated on the fact that the town in which Billy lives named all its street after notorious, criminal elements throughout history, and one particular street bore his name.   i don’t remember if it was actually named after him, or if it was just a coincidence of having a common name.   They were going to administer some alien justice just the same.

He thought he would be spared if he could get the name of the street changed.   The problem with that was the only person living on the street was this woman who lived in the basement of a big barn - with a hay bale staircase (not a particularly stable one either - excuse the pun).   So naturally since Billy can’t get down the stairs he sends me.

Come to find out this woman also has the authority to change the name of her street.   i guess it was some sort of semi-private drive or something.   i negotiated the poorly constructed hay bale stairs and i remember thinking that the person who built them was a bit of a dolt.   The technique made absolutely no sense whatsoever (oops. my dream, my staircase - crap!).   It was really quite dangerous.   i think i swore a few times on the way down (dream license, ya know?). 

i can’t recall what this woman looked like.   i was expecting her to be someone i know, or at least an amalgamated construct of identifiable traits to represent some deep seeded, Freudian desire; no such luck with that one.   The truth is she had so many cats and rabbits running and lounging around the joint that i never really got a good look at her face.    i pet a few of them, they were nice.   For some reason i had brought Billy’s extremely fat cat with me which ended up staying there in the hope that it would assimilate better eating habits by being away from Billy for a while.    This is a funny part of the dream because Billy doesn’t have a fat cat.

Anyway, she agrees to change the name of the street if Billy will come down and ask her himself.   My response to that is still a bit vague, and next i find myself - as if by magic - outside the barn again (for which i’m thankful i didn’t have to climb the treacherous hay bales).   Billy’s there.  The woman’s there.   The cat’s there.   The aliens are there.   The alarm goes off.

i’ve got to call Billy today.

TABOO

There’s something i don’t talk about too much.   It’s my job.

i work at the Post Office.

Yes, i’m a mailman.    Oops, i’m sorry - Letter Carrier.

We actually carry a lot more than just letters.   These days there isn’t much revenue in letters.    Big boxes are where the big bucks are at.   But i digress.  

i used to think that anyone could be a mailman.   That was before i witnessed the steady parade of wannabes go through the revolving door.   i was fond of joking that a well trained monkey could do this job, but i was wrong (i may have been right, but that doesn’t say much for the folks that couldn’t hack it).   i’d venture to say that 1 in 10 stick it out and find the P.O. a palatable place to make a living.    i can’t believe i’m actually still there after 13 years.  

The reason i don’t talk much about my job is because it’s just that - a job.   It pays the bills (sort of).   It represents for me a constant reminder of the bad choices i’ve made.   For many people it’s a dream job, for too many it’s the final resting place of broken dreams.   Nobody in their youthful vigor ever really woke up one day and said, “I want to be a mailman”.   i only know one guy at the P.O. who from childhood wanted to be a mailman.   Ironically, he’s the one with a degree from Harvard.

Somewhere along the way, in the course of a mailman’s life, there was a beat down.   

It could have been one event.   More likely, a series of steady, corrosive, confidence eroding losses made the mailman what he is today.   For too many it was war.   For a few it was a collection of ignorant, half-hearted attempts at success.   Some are broken, embarassed entreprenuers.   All of them together are the largest club of under-achievers ever assembled.  

What’s additionally sad is the lingering, longterm effects of keeping this group together for so long.   They somehow innevitably morph into a half-a-million strong poster child for arrested development.   There aren’t too many adults in the fold.

But they are men and women; fathers and mothers; husbands and wives; and to my knowledge no more prone to the same brokenness experienced outside the Postal fences.  

They get sick…and die.  

They divorce, attend graduations, marry and remarry, go to church, drink too much, get high, get angry.  

They really aren’t that different from everybody else in the end.  

i guess i’m rather…ordinary.

Why does that hurt so much?

STRANGE PHENOMENA

Ever since returning from Disney something rather strange has been happening: 

 Even with my eyes open, i have but to imagine the places i visited and i get these vivid halucinatory visions!

i can see and smell so clearly!    It’s as if a part of my brain has awakened and is trying to play a sick trick on me.   i can even see these visions in color - something that typically eludes me.  i’m not quite sure what it means or what this strange development might be telling me, but i’m concerned that it might just be that i don’t take enough vacations.

i don’t know anyone who’d say they take too many, save for a few zealous, masochistist, workaholics; or maybe the guilty, insipid rich.   It could be that there’s something unique about the Disney experience.  i know that in advance of the trip i set my mind to view it as a pilgrimage. The seriousness of such a journey has the potential to predispose oneself to powerful experiences and memories.  Maybe i ate a bad donut at the D squared in Logan!  i really can’t say for sure why what i’m experiencing is happening, or if it’s indeed remarkable.

Does everybody go through this?  Is this really how life is supposed to be indellibly imprinting on my mind? If it is, i’ve been cheated until late.  i’d hate to think that i’ve actually been asleep all these years.  It isn’t a stretch really, when i consider much of my life.  So much of it’s been so… uninspired.

So i could be this modern day Rip Van Winkle; snoozing away with my eyes open for 42 years (or at least since puberty).  The best part of all this is that i still get to enjoy the old blessings upon waking up.  My family isn’t dead.  i don’t have amnesia (though with some things a bit of memory loss would be convenient).

i’d have rather woken up with my old body - not THE old body that i’ve grown to tolerate. i could use a bit more hormone production.

(Strike that….. that’s too often been more trouble than it’s worth.  i’ll consider depleted testosterone levels a new blessing.)

So here i am, going about my daily routines just like i did before vacation.   But there’s this part of my brain that has this whole world stored in it.   i know that’s not unusual.   It’s called memory.   Yet now my memories - even the ones before Disney - are….different, vivid, defined.   i’m hoping for more than a psychotic yet pleasant distraction from this new world inside my head.   My  prayer is that God is waking me to the possibilities.

Not just any possibilities; a great man once said that man is content to wallow in the dust and eat mud-pies because he doesn’t understand the offer of a holiday as sea.   Though i’ve been a Christian for 15 years or so, i feel like only now am i just beginning to stir from my self-centered slumber.   Not that i didn’t experience spurts of energy toward godly application in the past, but in retrospect it all seemed so self-indulgent.   Now at 42 i’m seeing how difficult it is for a person who’s comfortable and stable to put their life’s collection of stuff on the line for Christ.   Maybe that’s why God - in his twisted, humorous way - has seen fit to keep personal accomplishment from me.   No one knows my ego like He does.

Perhaps you could pray for me……right now.   i’ll wait.

Thanks.   i need so much more than i can supply.   There’s no way to sustain what’s effervescing inside me with the innate drive i possess.   Blow me away, Lord.   Please.

HOMOSEXUALITY IS A BIRTH DEFECT

i’m not a doctor.   And i don’t play one on T.V.

But i do like T.V.   In fact, i like it especially when it reflects the culture and not so much when it drives it.   i’ve always been a fan of “Law and Order”.   i talked to a former detective who once told me that the real life machinery represented in the program was fair and accurate.   Granted, the characters and writers are professional entertainers so as i watch i have to remember that it isn’t real life.   What impresses me most is the way in which current events are represented.   Almost every show deals with a rendering of a real life case file or an imaginative scenario that might occur in the criminal justice system.

At the very least, the show’s content inspires some thought in the viewer.

Last night i watched an intriguing episode because it coincidentally dealt with a subject i’ve been wrestling with in the draft hopper; the biology of homosexuality.   Since nobody really knows for certain whether there’s a ‘gay gene’ i’m not going to try to convince anybody that there is or isn’t.   But the question is relevant in a functional and ministerial way.

i personally have gone through a gammut of emotions and positions on homosexual issues.    Being a Christian i wrestle with issues by trying to see them through the lens of God’s eyes.  Ultimately it doesn’t matter a hill of beans what i think about homosexuality, or anything else for that matter.   Feelings are only relevant to the feeler.   They don’t change facts or conditions or - most importantly - what God thinks about a matter.  

 God may have designed that fallen man be afflicted (in part) by a genetic predisposition to homosexual orientation.   After all, biology suggests quite strongly that there are genetic proclivities toward substance abuse.   One could argue that there’s a perversion of what God intended; that we should use and enjoy alcohol and drugs in ways that aren’t destructive or disruptive.   Why should it be any different with sexuality?   That would certainly open up the possibilities well beyond orientation to encompass all kinds of pecadillos.   Whatever lies deep within the heart of each person may be a desire born at conception - or even further back.   i’m wondering what that would suggest to the current conversation and discourse on, well…….everything.

Law and Order dealt with a story line that a gay person thought it neccessary to “off” the Dr. on the verge of identifying a genetic marker for homosexuality in utero because of the potential ensuing genocide.   i found that premise viable and believable - and frightening. 

For those of us familiar with the arguments concerning the nature of sexual orientation, the notion that someone is ‘born gay’ has been a bulwark for those who say no one “chooses to be gay”.   For ever that’s been wishful thinking.   But for everyone who’s won or diffused a discussion this way, i must caution you to be careful what you wish for.   It could be that you’ve forgotten that the world in which we live has allowed each person to define ‘quality of life’ any way they choose.   A culture that condones and often encourages terminating a pregnancy because of something as arbitrary as ’being wanted’ has little to offer for protection to a classification of people who by definition don’t reproduce.

It isn’t a stretch to then view homosexuallity as a genetic defect much like cystic fibrosis or tay sacs.  As heinous as it sounds, both diseases could easily be eradicated by prohibiting the gene carriers from reproducing, or worse; destroying the fetal carriers.   The reality is that most children are born of heterosexual unions (simple biology).   Say what you want about folks who would abort a baby with a gay gene, but who’s going to stop them?   It’s a brave new world out there and the human is king.  

In China they abort babies not because of sexual orientation, but because of gender!   Little girls are being terminated  by the hundreds of thousands!   Of course, there they just wait for a governmental edict to change the culture and insist that the country needs more females, and then the boys will get it.   It’s all an unseemly mess.

“We wouldn’t do that here”, you say?   “We already do”, is my point.    That wasn’t the point on Law and Order, but i think they might have ended up there in the sequel to that episode if they’d let it play out.   Something to consider for sure.   All in all it was a deft presentation of the issue and its many characters and points of view - even the Christian one i’m pleased to say.  

Every once in a while a really responsible piece of t.v. comes down the pipe; thought provoking, poingant, and relevant.   i’m glad i had the urge to veg instead of write that night.   i’m not sure whether i’m hoping that there is or isn’t a gay gene.   i do think we should be prepared for the possibility.   i believe that preparation involves being more intentional to recognize the instrinsic value of a life’s beginning.   Perhaps from there we can progress towards less self-indulgent lives.

SURVIVED THE PILGRIMAGE

For those of you who take the religious connotation of “Pilgrimage” to heart, i apologize for what is about to ensue.

Disney was GREAT!!!!!!

i survived the plane.

i survived Rockin’ Roller Coaster (very first thing we did)

i survived The Tower of Terror

i survived being assualted by THRONGS of people.

i survived aching feet, arthiritic knees, stiff hip, sunburned nose, muscle fatigue, record Florida heat, and a 45 minute line at Wal*Mart.

i survived Expedition Everest.

i survived Thunder, Splash, and Space Mountains.

i survived wiping my rear-end with 80 grit sandpaper (what’s up with that, oh huge corporation with oodles of dollars to spend on the best of everything!!!!!?)

i survived whiny children.

i survived being the designated family pack mule.

…..and i loved every minute of it. 

Thank You God.

i’d like to share a little story about our trip that probably set the tone for my ‘carefree’ approach to conquering all those demons above:

Our flight down to FL was my first since coming back from our honeymoon in 1992.  Have i mentioned that i hate to fly?  So, the plane takes off without much fanfare or difficulty and procedes rather smoothly down the east coast.  Once we got above the clouds it was a gorgeous morning - very bright.  The kids were having a ball on their first plane ride ever!   #4 had a little issue trying to get her ears to pop, but for the most part it was exhillerating.

i don’t know, maybe somewhere over VA i’m looking out the window over the laps of #4 and #3 and i see this plane coming STRAIGHT AT US!!!  Same altitude and everything!  It blows through our wake and i’m starting to FREAK!!  i call a stewardess (add an -es to that word and it’s the longest lefthand word on the keyboard, BTW) over with my best index finger curl and look of angry dread i can muster given that my instinct is telling me to run up and down the aisles screaming like a girl!!   i whisper to her rather sternly, “Umm, i just saw a plane come really close to us, can you ask someone who’d know if we just had a near-miss…please?”

“Are you a pilot, sir?”

(i should have said ‘yes’ or something official sounding) “No.”

“Sir, how close do you think it came?”

“Oh, about 1000 feet.”

“Sometimes they look alot closer than they actually are, sir.”

“Umm, i think the pilot waved to me.”

“I’ll go check.”

10 minutes later……..

“Sir, (exuberrantly) guess how close that plane really was!”

“Ah, (back peddling a bit) 2000 feet maybe?”

“Exactly 1000 feet!   Definitely legal distance!”

Forget the fact that i felt like slapping her for her dismissive tone.  She probably would have told me ‘1000 feet’ no matter how close we came.  If the windows opened i might have been able to score some Grey Poupon!   Besides, who gives a rats rectum what the ‘legal’ distance is?   i don’t care what the prosecutorial limits of flight proximity are, i simply don’t want any planes near mine while careening through the air at 500 mph!!!!!   Is that too much to ask!?!  

i survived.

and i have a story to tell.

what fun.

GONE FOR JUST A WEEK…HOPEFULLY

In about 36 hours we’re off to Disney. 

i’ve honestly been dreading the whole thing.   Not that i have any real substantive problem with Disney or the whole theme park genre.   i suppose i diverge a bit with Disney on certain cultural, philosophical, and moral issues but, it’s certainly hard to argue with their success.

The biggest problem i’ve been having is the money.   i’m uncomfortable spending what this entire trip is going to cost not because of the cost, but because it seems to be a poor priority.   This of course spoken like a father and not as a child yearning to partake in this pilgrimage.   None of my four girls have even been on a plane or been to a theme park of relative magnitude much less had 5K slip through their fingers.   i am none the less concerned like i am when i see huge, extravegant churches that boast spires and mamoth pipe organs and frescos worth more than my house.

i hate to fly. 

i just don’t like the way it feels.   i’ve never been a roller-coaster guy either.   The last time i remember enjoying the dizzyness and adrenaline rush was rolling down the hill at my house as a very young child.   Maybe that damaged me.   It could be that just the wrong number of rolls or combination of flops and food turned my inner ear to cement.   i can’t say.   i will be flying and riding though at each childs behest.

It’s probably a good thing that i have all girls.   There’s something about a boy watching his dad wretch or become a whimpering sissy to beg off a few rides that might be considered child abuse.   It’s a side of me i’ve been able to hide from my wife thus far.   She really can’t stand whiney boys.   Thank God she’s not a Six Flags nut.  

So, when i get back i may have some interesting tale or two to share, or i may get back to the 26 blogs sitting in my draft folder in various states of undone.

Peace to you all.   Pray you won’t be reading about us in the paper or seeing us someday in “Seconds from Disaster” on Discovery.

garret