The entire house will be finished soon, and when it is complete, it will look as if we would need a soundtrack to set the tone for each of our steps as we walk through and look at the alluring array of cozy Christmas decorations.
You know, it is said that half of the fun of these comfy cottage caparisons is found in the actual act of decorating, but I say "BAH!" to such a notion. I would hate to think that once I'm finished, it's half over! There has to be more. In fact, there is more and I am forced to go through it with you...
Concerning decorations...
As we enjoy the season, it is an integral part of one or more of our evenings to drive around admiring the houses donned in their holiday apparel while thinking on days we've forgotten until that very moment. Days when snow was not a question; when aromas were never void of apples, cinnamon and spices; when Granny was alive and laughing in that chair by the record player; when batteries were included but power switches were not; when a bag of switches was the ultimate deterrent. We smile to ourselves and continue the trek to find bigger houses with more lights and larger nativity scenes.
Every community seems to also have within driving distance a house which begins the festivities months in advance stringing thousands of lights whose combined energy will exact double that of their house payment. We drop a dollar or two into a homemade box nailed near the entrance or exit and step into another world. A world where Santa really does exist; where he's never bothered with health conscious gratuities but is lavished by longing little ones with cookies cooked with cautious care in order to more fully thank him for the wonder he brings; where candy canes are currency; where elves are the majority and adults are the lurking Jabberwockies seeking only to remove our place on the precious "nice list." These are the only places which contain a feeling for which children long almost as much as that blessed dawn.
These are just the outside decorations! We've hardly come inside which is where we must go for the true sentiment. I'm talking about the pieces which are bigger than any yard could contain for neither Macy's nor Bloomingdale's could even price these objects and heirlooms.
There's always that one piece which conjures more reminiscence than a library of photo albums. For me it is/was a small, half-of-an-egg shaped, musical, ice-skating scene. It was barely the size of two or three of my father's palms wide, candy cane red on the bottom, and flattened on top by a mirror underneath which was a set of rotating magnets. These magnets were attached to a type of mechanism which, when wound, would guide a most in love Mr. and Mrs. Claus across the "ice" while spinning the two lovebirds to music and rendering an Olympic skating performance worthy of Greece itself all within the confines of the Harris living room.
Just the thought of this takes me back to days when the journey from the majestic hills of east Tennessee was as anxious and amazing as the final peregrination to Heaven itself; when the load of bright, colorful, gifts all loaded in clothes baskets slept tightly in the back of a maroon Nissan mini-van bound for paradise; when only Mom knew what was in these presents and Dad, like other dads, would simply say "You're welcome! Merry Christmas!" when thanked by their recipients because he had no idea what they had opened, but he was more than thankful for that blessing of blessings who barely slept so that the gifts would all be wrapped; when the pile of surprises beneath Memaw's tree seemed to spill onto the floor and consume an entire room; when the greatest honor which one could receive was the moniker of "Santa" which meant you would be the one passing out all of the gifts; when any given member of the family could find a small, soft, lovingly wrapped bag of the finest, white, calf-length tube socks money could buy; when the kids would have to be told to open them anyway, though they already knew what the wrapping contained, because no one would want to make sweet Edith King feel bad; when the tree on Taggart avenue was the organic version of Babel reaching high into Heaven itself entertaining deity.
Laughter, love, longing, family, faith, fudge, beauty, babies, hope, Heaven, cold days, icy nights, wood stoves in Memaw and Granddad's living room, people sleeping in every room of every house, holiness, Jesus, Mary, mangers, music, pies, packages, and pizza potatoes.
No. I have yet to enjoy a time of decoration so much that I would attribute half of their enjoyment to simply pulling them out of the basement corner and placing them on hearths, mantles, pianos, coffee tables, counters, dining tables, bathrooms, rain drains and yards. As fun as that is, I must give all but one tenth to the days when we were gods, kings, jesters, servants and beggars all in the same day.
And, in the midst of complaints and weariness over broken ornaments, molded boxes, needle-covered floors, crowded stores, annoying remakes of Christmas songs by punk kids with electronic explosions in the place of the traditional wood-block sounds in the "...pop, pop, pop..." line of "Let it Snow," please remember that someone did it all for you so that deep in the exiles of the hallways of our hearts we could exhume these warm feelings and memories once a year of days when Harrises, Jenkinses, Maxies, Cherrys, Brookses, Mustains, Maultsbys, and Kings were still found physically present around our holiday tables, and we, too, must continue these traditions for the generations ahead so that all who come behind us find us faithful in our decorations.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
A Typical Morning
The sun rose quite slowly (more than what seems to be normal) over these Alabama fields this morning. It seemed as if we were going to have to live another wet day in the south, but as the clock did what it does best, we found a wonderful, mid-fall day with plenty of that deceptive sunshine which only looks like it gives warmth on days like these.
I think I've discovered that just-above-freezing temperatures can seem as slightly more chilling than if it were 32 on the nose. I guess that's because we are fooled by the "above-freezing" status and wear a bit less out. (Anything below 50 degrees does seem to fortify the flavor(s) of our coffee though,doesn't it?) I speak as if an Alabamian would ever even need to compare parka prices. A cold front comes through dropping the typical fall temperature of 60-65 degress down to 40 degrees and they're letting schools out early and salting sidewalks!
I really do believe this to be the reason the people down here are not necessarily as educated as students in the north. It has nothing to do with the quality of educators (over half of the professors in my department at the University were trained in Indiana!) or the capability of southern children to learn. The poor kids simply aren't in class as often! I've seen class dismissals here more than I ever thought possible!
Too, you can make more money off of the stock prices in bread and milk than Martha Stewart ever dreamed just by watching the good ol' Weather Channel! If a storm's a-brewin', the lines are long! And, why in the world we choose bread and milk to be our staples of survival may forever escape me. Other than as ingredients, we rarely combine the two in any meal purposefully! They are quite possibly the two most perishable products at any given grocery store! I guess that will have to be another post.
I hope this finds you all at least having days which, at worst, need not to be recalled.
I think I've discovered that just-above-freezing temperatures can seem as slightly more chilling than if it were 32 on the nose. I guess that's because we are fooled by the "above-freezing" status and wear a bit less out. (Anything below 50 degrees does seem to fortify the flavor(s) of our coffee though,doesn't it?) I speak as if an Alabamian would ever even need to compare parka prices. A cold front comes through dropping the typical fall temperature of 60-65 degress down to 40 degrees and they're letting schools out early and salting sidewalks!
I really do believe this to be the reason the people down here are not necessarily as educated as students in the north. It has nothing to do with the quality of educators (over half of the professors in my department at the University were trained in Indiana!) or the capability of southern children to learn. The poor kids simply aren't in class as often! I've seen class dismissals here more than I ever thought possible!
Too, you can make more money off of the stock prices in bread and milk than Martha Stewart ever dreamed just by watching the good ol' Weather Channel! If a storm's a-brewin', the lines are long! And, why in the world we choose bread and milk to be our staples of survival may forever escape me. Other than as ingredients, we rarely combine the two in any meal purposefully! They are quite possibly the two most perishable products at any given grocery store! I guess that will have to be another post.
I hope this finds you all at least having days which, at worst, need not to be recalled.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
I'm Sorry, Penn
Some people just get mad everytime they hear an atheist voice his/her opinion. A Christian will read it, say something about what the world is coming to, and then move on angrily digging deeper into his/her hole which shelters from reality. It's sad.
Christians, look at what we've done:
"So, I'm saying, 'This I believe: I believe there is no God.'
"Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven."
The preceding is a quote from Penn Jillette (the Penn of Penn and Teller). Apparently he has become disenfranchised with the materialistic, leprechaun-like, future-weaving view Christians now have of God. If I were God (a subjunctive which I know will never change), I would be quite angry at this farcical idea, and I'm sure He is.
Multi-million dollar buildings, preachers making $100k+/yr., arena-sized "sanctuaries." It really seems like we, as American Christians, have really looked at God as this love-all, bless-all softy. "I've done this, but God will bless me," or "I know this is wrong, but God can't reject his own." I promise this - He won't reject His own (for actions do determine that category), nor does he hand out millions of dollars. In fact, the only time Christ ever performed a money miracle was to prove to a preacher that he, in fact, should pay taxes!
More of Mr. Jillette...
"Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around."
Perhaps we should hire atheists to be the full-time preachers instead of the crap we get now. I heard an entire lesson, one of those goofy holiday ones, on all the things the minister was thankful for in his life. It was like a thirty minute greeting card without anything funny at the end! There's more in the above paragraph than in the majority of the sermons I have heard in life! I mean, I'm the first one to be quite thankful for grace, but what if we didn't have it? What if we began to live as if our every action was the deciding factor - heaven or hell? That sounds a little extreme, doesn't it? I don't think so. I think grace was/is there for people who think like that. It is a miserable crutch.
"Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, 'I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith.' That's just a long-winded religious way to say, 'shut up,' or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, 'How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do.' So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something."
If you haven't heard the sermon you needed to hear by now, then I don't have much faith in your ability to continue with this blog.
It's so true! We are so enamored with this romantic idea of "in the world - not of it" that we have put off the odor that we are no longer in touch with reality! I know some of you probably wear that trophy like a Star of David (or a scarlet "A"), but you need to know that that is quite scary. If you can't prove your "street-cred'" to the average unbelievers, then you may as well not say anything to them at all. The faith-blanket was never meant to cover laziness.
It's a good thing to be open-minded! Learning is your friend. If the world was so horrible, then why did he spend 5.9 days on it and .1 on man?!
"Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future."
And again - we have proven ourselves to have missed it again! Our incessant exodus from each other IS NOT APPEALING! I think some of us really believe that every unpleasant situation in which we are found is the direct result of our divine drill sergeant's regimen of examination. I have to give some of the blame to the preachers again. Firstly, it goes to us for our sloth-ridden practices which give God all the sowing and reaping tasks while expecting Him to generously deliver the harvested stock in which we may decandently drown in surplus. But, the preachers have forgotten the reality of hell! They don't preach, write, or even speak on it anymore. You can even go to the "Christian" section in a bookstore and find ridiculous titles like Your Best Life Now by the motivational speaker in disguise, Joel Osteen. It's all about making audiences feel like this hamster wheel really does move forward even if everything looks the same no matter how long you stay on it. If we don't hear about hell, then we're not so worried about going there. And, if we're not worried about it, then we are incapable of giving a rip about whether or not someone else goes. So what do we do? We attempt to cover it all up and accept everything as being the result of a test God is sending instead of an attack by the landlord of hell - SATAN. Why? Because this way we don't have to be bothered with the extra burden of maintaining healthy relationships.
Mr. Jillette, while I do not agree with you, I am quite sorry that you have had to endure such Christians. I promise that these people aren't the example of Christianity because they have not read. They have simply accepted what was given to them, and their attention spans couldn't even hang out long enough to get all of that.
(For Penn Jillette's entire article please click here.)
Christians, look at what we've done:
"So, I'm saying, 'This I believe: I believe there is no God.'
"Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven."
The preceding is a quote from Penn Jillette (the Penn of Penn and Teller). Apparently he has become disenfranchised with the materialistic, leprechaun-like, future-weaving view Christians now have of God. If I were God (a subjunctive which I know will never change), I would be quite angry at this farcical idea, and I'm sure He is.
Multi-million dollar buildings, preachers making $100k+/yr., arena-sized "sanctuaries." It really seems like we, as American Christians, have really looked at God as this love-all, bless-all softy. "I've done this, but God will bless me," or "I know this is wrong, but God can't reject his own." I promise this - He won't reject His own (for actions do determine that category), nor does he hand out millions of dollars. In fact, the only time Christ ever performed a money miracle was to prove to a preacher that he, in fact, should pay taxes!
More of Mr. Jillette...
"Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around."
Perhaps we should hire atheists to be the full-time preachers instead of the crap we get now. I heard an entire lesson, one of those goofy holiday ones, on all the things the minister was thankful for in his life. It was like a thirty minute greeting card without anything funny at the end! There's more in the above paragraph than in the majority of the sermons I have heard in life! I mean, I'm the first one to be quite thankful for grace, but what if we didn't have it? What if we began to live as if our every action was the deciding factor - heaven or hell? That sounds a little extreme, doesn't it? I don't think so. I think grace was/is there for people who think like that. It is a miserable crutch.
"Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, 'I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith.' That's just a long-winded religious way to say, 'shut up,' or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, 'How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do.' So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something."
If you haven't heard the sermon you needed to hear by now, then I don't have much faith in your ability to continue with this blog.
It's so true! We are so enamored with this romantic idea of "in the world - not of it" that we have put off the odor that we are no longer in touch with reality! I know some of you probably wear that trophy like a Star of David (or a scarlet "A"), but you need to know that that is quite scary. If you can't prove your "street-cred'" to the average unbelievers, then you may as well not say anything to them at all. The faith-blanket was never meant to cover laziness.
It's a good thing to be open-minded! Learning is your friend. If the world was so horrible, then why did he spend 5.9 days on it and .1 on man?!
"Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future."
And again - we have proven ourselves to have missed it again! Our incessant exodus from each other IS NOT APPEALING! I think some of us really believe that every unpleasant situation in which we are found is the direct result of our divine drill sergeant's regimen of examination. I have to give some of the blame to the preachers again. Firstly, it goes to us for our sloth-ridden practices which give God all the sowing and reaping tasks while expecting Him to generously deliver the harvested stock in which we may decandently drown in surplus. But, the preachers have forgotten the reality of hell! They don't preach, write, or even speak on it anymore. You can even go to the "Christian" section in a bookstore and find ridiculous titles like Your Best Life Now by the motivational speaker in disguise, Joel Osteen. It's all about making audiences feel like this hamster wheel really does move forward even if everything looks the same no matter how long you stay on it. If we don't hear about hell, then we're not so worried about going there. And, if we're not worried about it, then we are incapable of giving a rip about whether or not someone else goes. So what do we do? We attempt to cover it all up and accept everything as being the result of a test God is sending instead of an attack by the landlord of hell - SATAN. Why? Because this way we don't have to be bothered with the extra burden of maintaining healthy relationships.
Mr. Jillette, while I do not agree with you, I am quite sorry that you have had to endure such Christians. I promise that these people aren't the example of Christianity because they have not read. They have simply accepted what was given to them, and their attention spans couldn't even hang out long enough to get all of that.
(For Penn Jillette's entire article please click here.)
Friday, November 18, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Real Evolution
Life really can change.
CORRECTION:
Life really can change things.
Yes, there is a difference. In the first it seems like things just evolve and we have to keep up and adapt. That all sounds well and good until you look at history. You see, when I study U.S. history, I can read of towns that still exist and rivers which still flow. When I look at the Elizabethan age, I can close the book and go to England. When I read of Rome being burned by the Indo-European Barbarians, I may still go to Rome and do as they do. I can still visit Alexander's great library dedicated to his mother in that beautiful Egyptian city of Alexandria, and sail north to visit that masterful city his father built, Macedonia.
The above series could continue as long as the knowledge, and each thing proves further that this world isn't changing (Geological specialists in plate tectonics may differ in terms of locomotion, but I am not addressing that specifically). We still revolve, evolve and devolve!
It is a much better statement to say that life can change things. It has an effect on those in it who depend on it, live by it and at times are betrayed by it.
Like this...
I can recall hating salsa. It didn't look, smell, or especially taste good. I was much younger and my tastes were far below what they are today. One day, I just decided that I was going to like salsa. All the adults enjoyed it and seemed to like it as much as the cheese dip (though I still must point out is the only one of the two which actually costs at Mexican establishments). The first bite was, of course, the hardest. I couldn't have winced more had I attempted to bob for a cactus in boiling water, but I simply had to stay the course and show the world that I liked salsa.
Now, it took a few more "heart-warming" experiences like the above, but now I love salsa; it's the chips which do me in. The point is: life changes things.
Humor also has undergone somewhat of an evolution in my lifespan as well...
I remember as a young boy in east Tennessee listening to my parents joke with family and friends. Everyone would laugh, but I had no idea why. I had heard every part of what was being called the joke, but none of it was funny. Now, I can watch children my age interact and I don't think they have a clue about what they're saying. They seem to just laugh like it was some sort of gag-reflex to spilling food on themselves.
Life changes things...
I would never own a dog - her name is Heidi.
I would never own a cat - her name is Alley.
I would never be married - her name is Karen.
I would always drive American - 2 Hondas.
I would always drive a truck - 2 Hondas.
I hated school - currently in my 20th year.
I wouldn't settle down - 11 acres.
I wanted to play footaball - don't really like sports.
Hated English - looking for a Ph.D. in Linguistics.
Bon Jovi - Mozart
Metallica - Nickel Creek
The list could go on forever I'm sure.
I even have a few ponderings about this when it comes to the Bible writers and characters; especially in my attitude towards it all. I guess this is enough for now though. That will have to be in part two.
CORRECTION:
Life really can change things.
Yes, there is a difference. In the first it seems like things just evolve and we have to keep up and adapt. That all sounds well and good until you look at history. You see, when I study U.S. history, I can read of towns that still exist and rivers which still flow. When I look at the Elizabethan age, I can close the book and go to England. When I read of Rome being burned by the Indo-European Barbarians, I may still go to Rome and do as they do. I can still visit Alexander's great library dedicated to his mother in that beautiful Egyptian city of Alexandria, and sail north to visit that masterful city his father built, Macedonia.
The above series could continue as long as the knowledge, and each thing proves further that this world isn't changing (Geological specialists in plate tectonics may differ in terms of locomotion, but I am not addressing that specifically). We still revolve, evolve and devolve!
It is a much better statement to say that life can change things. It has an effect on those in it who depend on it, live by it and at times are betrayed by it.
Like this...
I can recall hating salsa. It didn't look, smell, or especially taste good. I was much younger and my tastes were far below what they are today. One day, I just decided that I was going to like salsa. All the adults enjoyed it and seemed to like it as much as the cheese dip (though I still must point out is the only one of the two which actually costs at Mexican establishments). The first bite was, of course, the hardest. I couldn't have winced more had I attempted to bob for a cactus in boiling water, but I simply had to stay the course and show the world that I liked salsa.
Now, it took a few more "heart-warming" experiences like the above, but now I love salsa; it's the chips which do me in. The point is: life changes things.
Humor also has undergone somewhat of an evolution in my lifespan as well...
I remember as a young boy in east Tennessee listening to my parents joke with family and friends. Everyone would laugh, but I had no idea why. I had heard every part of what was being called the joke, but none of it was funny. Now, I can watch children my age interact and I don't think they have a clue about what they're saying. They seem to just laugh like it was some sort of gag-reflex to spilling food on themselves.
Life changes things...
I would never own a dog - her name is Heidi.
I would never own a cat - her name is Alley.
I would never be married - her name is Karen.
I would always drive American - 2 Hondas.
I would always drive a truck - 2 Hondas.
I hated school - currently in my 20th year.
I wouldn't settle down - 11 acres.
I wanted to play footaball - don't really like sports.
Hated English - looking for a Ph.D. in Linguistics.
Bon Jovi - Mozart
Metallica - Nickel Creek
The list could go on forever I'm sure.
I even have a few ponderings about this when it comes to the Bible writers and characters; especially in my attitude towards it all. I guess this is enough for now though. That will have to be in part two.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Country Ham
What about country ham?! I don't have it often because I'm still enjoying being alive, but today I had a hot piece of that unclean beast. On mornings when I can, I carry Karen to work and she gets me the discounted hospital cafeteria breakfast which 8 times out of 6 is better than the Cheerios I typically eat. I know that hospital food sounds tantalizing in the most disgusting way, but it really is quite delicious.
If you haven't yet had the pleasure of a good slab of ultra-salty pork then you should be ashamed of yourself. Go on and have a slice - life has been waiting on you! However, I must warn you: there are consequences to consuming a week's worth of sodium for two people in one helping. Aside from the surpassing of a southern rite of passage and the completion of hillbilly initiation, you will suffer a physical drought which will leave you craving moisture in the most desperate way. My lips have dried up, my mouth is a desert and my skin even seems to have gone the route of an old piece of jerky which has fallen through the cracks of a dorm-room couch. And my eyes - oh how my eyes are longing for Ben Stein to grace them with his hydrating products!
I truly believe that the blind man healed by Jesus' spit and some mud was not blind at all! He had simply eaten a slice of country ham that morning for breakfast! The miracle lie not in the healing, but in the fact that a little moist earth did the job on the first application instead of the 7th.
Now, I'm no fool. I realize that half of the readers of this blog have by now burned a trail to the nearest Cracker Barrel to satifsy their salivating palate. So that leaves me with the task of convincing the 50% of those who began this script and are determined to finish the course.
One last astonishing statistic for you (this is the heavy artillery which will render you helpless against your base desire for that "full" feeling): only 3 out 6 people die fat and early after having eaten this at 3 or more of their 7 breakfasts in a week's time consistently! The odds of staying married are worse than that and Americans are entering that institution as if you got free gas and some kind of tax break for it! I knew I would get you with that one!
Savor the sow!
If you haven't yet had the pleasure of a good slab of ultra-salty pork then you should be ashamed of yourself. Go on and have a slice - life has been waiting on you! However, I must warn you: there are consequences to consuming a week's worth of sodium for two people in one helping. Aside from the surpassing of a southern rite of passage and the completion of hillbilly initiation, you will suffer a physical drought which will leave you craving moisture in the most desperate way. My lips have dried up, my mouth is a desert and my skin even seems to have gone the route of an old piece of jerky which has fallen through the cracks of a dorm-room couch. And my eyes - oh how my eyes are longing for Ben Stein to grace them with his hydrating products!
I truly believe that the blind man healed by Jesus' spit and some mud was not blind at all! He had simply eaten a slice of country ham that morning for breakfast! The miracle lie not in the healing, but in the fact that a little moist earth did the job on the first application instead of the 7th.
Now, I'm no fool. I realize that half of the readers of this blog have by now burned a trail to the nearest Cracker Barrel to satifsy their salivating palate. So that leaves me with the task of convincing the 50% of those who began this script and are determined to finish the course.
One last astonishing statistic for you (this is the heavy artillery which will render you helpless against your base desire for that "full" feeling): only 3 out 6 people die fat and early after having eaten this at 3 or more of their 7 breakfasts in a week's time consistently! The odds of staying married are worse than that and Americans are entering that institution as if you got free gas and some kind of tax break for it! I knew I would get you with that one!
Savor the sow!
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