"Cozy, Kitschy, Kitchen"?

When Georgianne wrote about me at the Huffington Post, she mentioned that we talked in my "cozy, kitschy, kitchen". I had not thought of my kitchen as kitschy before. Dated maybe, but not kitschy. I looked around the kitchen. Could it be the decoys on top of the pie safe? The dated wallpaper?

 

Could it be the objects in and on top of my corner cabinet? All right, the teacup/pot combination, which my daughter gave me is kitschy. There's a wine glass, also from my daughter, just barely visible in the left bottom of the picture, which you can't really see, but one might say that it's kitschy.

 

But I think I have found the major kitsch in my cosy kitchen. The Tabasco placemats! - the result of one of Grandpère's rare ventures into house decorating. My daughter-in-law has placemats like those in the picture, and GP insisted that he had to have those very same placemats. He wants them out on the table whether we are dining or not. That's the very table where Georgianne and I talked. I suppose the placemats jumped out at her. Kitsch all right.

 

"Watch Us Go!

We went to breakfast at a restaurant where the 'seniors' special' was two eggs, bacon, hash browns & toast for $1.99.

'Sounds good,' my wife said. 'But I don't want the eggs.'

'Then, I'll have to charge you two dollars & forty-nine cents because you're ordering a la carte,' the waitress warned her.

'You mean I'd have to pay for not taking the eggs?' my wife asked incredulously.

'YES!!' stated the waitress.

'I'll take the special then.' my wife said.

'How do you want your eggs?' the waitress asked.

'Raw and in the shell,' my wife replied.

She took the two eggs home.

DON'T MESS WITH SENIORS!!!

WE'VE been around the block more than once!

That's right! Thanks to Ann.

A Homeless God?

From Under The Overpasses:

Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Matthew 8:20 & Luke 9:58

Under There's job is to serve the homeless. He does not give a location, because he writes about real homeless people, and he wishes to preserve their anonymity. I check in at his blog from time to time, because I admire his work and his deeply respectful manner toward his clients and his gentle and compassionate words when he speaks of them. He cannot look away from the homeless as I am often tempted to do. He's there with them every single work day.

Under There goes on to say:

As a Christian, all of my God-talk is meaningless until I do business with the raw realities of what it means to be incarnated into a world that is full of bewildering obstacles to beauty, truth and goodness. I have a good friend who constantly reminds me that Jesus was not crucified between two candles on a beautifully adorned altar. The grammar of my faith is also incomplete if I ignore the fact that the life that led to the cross was not lived in the pristine jewel tones of stained glass, but the muted earth tones of those who are ground under the wheels of oppressive domination. Historically, there is a very long parade of Christian voices that speak of Jesus of Nazareth as God. I have no idea of just how that is possible, but I do know that if I take that confession of faith seriously, then it means I am about to drag the term God through the mud, and maybe over a dumpster or two.
....

Jesus was rejected, hungry, harassed by the authorities, transiently moved from town to town, called a drunk, glutton, and an associate of prostitutes and sinners. He was both deemed to be mentally ill and derided as being somehow under the influence of the devil. To say that somehow God is intertwined with the real flesh and blood conditions experienced by Jesus of Nazareth, is to break the sacred glass around the term God and allow Jesus to sully it ten times more than I am about to here. To speak of Jesus as God is to speak of a homeless God whose only registration in the system was an arrest and an execution warrant by the State.
....

Until we can come to terms with what is means to proclaim tangible good news to the people who live here, literally in the shadow of some of the most luxurious properties and respectable churches, all of our pieties are simply gilded abstractions divorced from the concrete realities that every atheist has an honest right to rage about.

I urge you to read his entire post and look at his pictures, although I have lifted a goodly portion of his words to post here.

In his comments, I said this:

Grandmère Mimi said...

"Lord, when did we see you?" Today, Jesus is under the overpasses in close proximity to the grand homes and churches.

Sometimes, I think we should sell the churches, give the money to the poor and have church in our homes, or better yet, under the overpasses.

Sometimes, I think we are playing at having church, in our fine clothes, with silk vestments, and gold and silver vessels. I've been here before with you, UT. I have no answers, but keep showing us the humble icons. If we look away, we look away from the face of Christ.

As I said, I have no answers, only questions, but I experience a dissonance between what I see in the churches and what UT talks of in his posts on the people under the overpass. I love my church. I fell in love with the liturgy of the Episcopal Church at my first visit. My church community is vital to my spiritual life. I know that churches reach out to the homeless in many different ways and that some actually have church where the homeless live. I wonder if that should be the norm, rather than the occasional activity.

"...Think About It"

Obama/Biden vs McCain/Palin, what if things were switched around?

Would the country's collective point of view be different? Ponder the following:

What if the Obamas had paraded five children across the stage...including an unwed, pregnant teenage daughter?

What if John McCain was a former president of the Harvard Law Review?

What if Barack Obama finished fifth from the bottom of his graduating class?

What if McCain had only married once, and Obama was a divorcee?

What if Obama was the candidate who left his first wife after a severe disfiguring car accident?

What if Obama had met his second 2nd wife in a bar and had a long affair while he was still married?

What if Michelle Obama was the wife who not only became addicted to pain killers but also acquired them illegally through her charitable organization?

What if Cindy McCain graduated from Harvard?

What if Obama had been a member of the Keating Five?
(The Keating Five were five United States Senators accused of corruption in 1989, igniting a major political scandal as part of the larger Savings and Loan crisis of the late 1980s and early 1990s.)

What if McCain was a charismatic, eloquent speaker?

What if Obama was the one who had military experience that included discipline problems and a record of crashing seven planes?

What if Obama was the one who was known to display publicly, on many occasions, a serious anger management problem?

What if Michelle Obama's family had made their money from beer distribution?

What if the Obamas had adopted a white child?

You could easily add to this list. If these questions reflected reality, do you really believe the election numbers would be as close as they are?

This is what racism does. It covers up, rationalizes and minimizes positive qualities in one candidate and emphasizes negative qualities in another when there is a color difference.

From Doug, with minor editing.

Field Report From Mary Clara

"St. James of Jerusalem" - Tobias Haller

From Mary Clara:

Now, are you ready for a blogger field report? The following is a first-person account of another instance of actual contact between participants in the blogosphere.

I saw on his blog, “In a Godward Direction,” that Br. Tobias Haller was coming to Maryland this weekend to preach and to dedicate his wonderful icon of St. James of Jerusalem at the church in Parkton, so I thought I would attend as a representative of the blog congregation. Parkton is only a little over half an hour north of my home in Baltimore, in gorgeous rolling hills near the Pennsylvania border, and it turned out to be a sublime autumn day, perfect for the festive event. Tobias preached both services, and after the later service, over coffee and cake, he talked informally with parishioners about the purpose of icons and the process of ‘writing’ the icon. I of course introduced myself and took a number of photographs. I am sending some to Tobias, but I thought I would send a couple to you which (if you like) you could post. This would give me the chance to remark on how splendid the icon is ‘in person’, and also how fine a preacher Tobias is. From his blog we know he is erudite, wise, articulate, and wonderfully grounded in his theology, but hearing him preach in person one experiences how grounded he is in actual life. I would add that both in his blog postings and in his preaching he is always so much to the point.

When Rev. Orens first came to St. James over a year ago, it developed that no one was sure which St. James the church was named for. After considerable research, it was found to be St. James of Jerusalem. Commissioning the icon then became part of a process of self-discovery for the parish. As you can imagine, Tobias’s sermon on this feast day of the saint very much brought to life the role and significance of James the brother of Jesus. It was a joy and a privilege to be present.

It turned out also that Elizabeth Orens and I had been at Union Seminary within a year of each other, back in the 1960s. To my great pleasure, I was invited along for lunch and luxurious conversation at a nearby country inn with Elizabeth, her husband John (a professor of history at George Mason University), Tobias and his delightful partner James.

Of course, I'm jealous that I wasn't there, but I pretend that I'm happy for Mary Clara. Our pet name for Mary Clara is Sister Mary Clara, because if ever there was a name that sounded like a nun's name, it is Mary Clara, especially a nun's name from back in the ancient days when I was a convent school girl. Our Sister Mary Clara (who is not a nun) had her picture taken with Bishop Gene Robinson when he was in England, and she cut herself out of the picture before she permitted it to be published on the internet. This time she has graciously permitted me to include her in the picture with Tobias and the icon. This is a scoop, folks, a first - Sister Mary Clara's picture on a blog! And she's beautiful. Why was she so shy about having her picture "out there"?

A Wild Ride!

Since Georgianne Nienaber's article on me appeared in The Huffington Post, I've had one wild ride. Elizabeth started the whole affair, when she sent me over to Jon's blog to view the Zydeco for Obama video titled "Oui, on peut!". I immediately stole it from Jon, giving him credit, of course, and posted it here. The video caught Georgianne's eye, and she emailed me, and the ride began. I've had more visits yesterday and today than I've ever had in the history of this blog

Thanks to all my blog friends and those whom I don't even know who have linked to the article. Thanks to all my friends and to all the first-time visitors who have come, those who have left a comment and those who have not. I've received a few emails in response to the piece which were quite moving, and which I answered quickly. The response here at the blog and in the emails make me believe that what I do here may make some small difference.

My usual practice is to answer each comment, because I think that if someone takes the time to comment, I should respond. In this instance, I have not always been able to do that because of the overwhelming response, but I assure you that I do read each comment.

Usually, I try to answer emails in a reasonable period of time, but due to increased numbers, I have fallen behind in that, too. If my response takes a while or if your email falls through the cracks and does not get an answer, I apologize in advance. If it's something important that I need to know, please try again.

Thank you all for the kind words. I am moved beyond what I can express by the response to the article. Thanks to Georgianne who writes so well and who captured my personality after such a short time together. I feel as though I've made a new friend.

New Orleans TP - Obama For President!

The New Orleans Times-Picayune endorses Barack Obama for president.

Over the past century, there have been moments when the world held its breath and looked to America for the next move: Our rescue of a broken Europe after World War II; the Cuban missile crisis; the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

We are again at a critical juncture in history. Global markets are imploding. People's life savings are dwindling. Energy needs and climate change call the very foundations of modern society into question. Rogue nations and terrorist organizations have heightened the danger of nuclear proliferation. These problems transcend national boundaries.

Here in the New Orleans area, a cataclysmic man-made flood turned our world upside down and revealed a profound national neglect of our infrastructure. Our vulnerability and the government's unpreparedness were emblematic of other disasters waiting to happen elsewhere in this country.

America is poised on the cusp of new leadership, and once again the world, transfixed, is watching. Who is equal to these challenges? Who will lead the nation that leads the free world?

Our choice: Barack Obama.

YES!!!!

UPDATE: I should have included this quote from the editorial also:

He knows cities -- historic cities, gritty cities. He came by his knowledge pounding the streets of Chicago's South Side as an organizer, grappling with the needs of poor people. For our own great and complex city, we could use a national leader who appreciates that we are more than a sentimental memory of a college romp on Bourbon Street; that we are a culturally rich American treasure, filled with resilient citizens and worth protecting from the encroaching forces of nature.

Not For Me - For Obama And For Louisiana

Yesterday morning, Georgianne Nienaber, who writes at Huffington Post, interviewed me for the post titled "Gumbo Granny Blogs From The Bayou For Obama Louisiana", which is now online at their website. Georgianne loves Louisiana and is presently based in Morgan City, which is not far from Thibodaux, as she researches and writes about Louisiana.

I link to her post not to blow my own horn, (truly, I'm somewhat embarrassed to do it) but for the sake of helping Obama's candidacy and with the hope that, when he is elected, he will realize the importance of Louisiana to the rest of the country and pay attention.

Georgianne and I hit it off right away. How can I not love someone who loves Louisiana? I was a little concerned about the interview, because, once I get to talking, I don't self-censor well, as some of you well know. But the interview went well, and I like very much what she wrote. It's a bit too flattering, but I believe that anyone who knows me will recognize the person Georgianne writes about. And that's the highest praise for writing, isn't it? She got it right, and she wrote it well.

Harry - A Tale Of A Good Dog

For several days, I've been sitting on this bittersweet tale of a good dog, written by Sheila Stroup in the Times-Picayune, because it makes me sad. Sheila writes beautifully about her menagerie, which has even included donkeys:

I worry about my little dog Harry. He is slowing down.

His muzzle is completely gray now, and he no longer comes running when I call him.

He is getting deaf. The one good thing about it is he isn't as terrified of thunder as he used to be. Sometimes, he'll sleep right through a storm instead of leaning his head against me and shaking while I pet him and say softly, "It's OK. It's OK."

Harry took up residence at Sheila's house when he followed her home one day, as she was walking her other dogs. Sometimes that's reason enough to accept a new member into the family. When one says in doggie talk, "Your house is my house," what can you do?

Later, when he needed an X-ray, we found out Harry was full of buckshot.

"No wonder he's afraid of loud noises," I said.

He'll be 14 in a few months, and I hope by now he has forgotten the first year of his life, when he was chased with brooms and shot at, unwanted and alone.

He has been a good dog. He has never bitten anyone, and the only thing he ever chewed up was my book of synonyms -- but only the words that start with w, x, y and z, and who really needs them?

Roger's (aka Lapinbizarre) rescue dog Becky was found to be full of buckshot, too. My Diana was rescued with an arrow in her leg. The cruelty of certain members of the human race toward God's other creatures amazes me still. I sent this story to Roger some days ago, but I haven't had the heart to post it until today.

I'm thankful that Harry, Becky, and Diana were rescued and welcomed into loving homes. Harry and Diana have had good, long lives with their humans. Becky, unfortunately, was diagnosed with lung cancer, but, as Roger says, she will spend what time she has left in a loving and caring home.

At least, thunder doesn't scare Harry so any longer.

Fran, The Minister

One of Fran's ministries in her parish is to prepare the arrangements for funerals. We have talked about this beautiful ministry, and I have expressed my admiration that she serves her spiritual community in this manner. Fran told me that she loves doing this work. She's written a must-read post about one of the funerals. I won't write more about her story, except to say that you won't regret it, if you take the time to read it.