A New (and Improved?) Provincetown

Finally got around to sorting out some photos I took on vacation. Same old vacation, same old beach, but a brand new PTown.

As my handful of readers know, Leon and I vacation in Provincetown, MA every year, usually in September when the crowds have thinned out and the sun is warm and the skies are blue. This year found a much cooler climate, some cloudy days, a little rain and unusually windy. The beauty of the Province lands is timeless. But the town itself is another story.

New Provincetown as I now call it is close to 99% refurbished. In addition to new infrastructure, like water and sewer pipes which they were working on in the spring and which one doesn't see, there is new pavement on Commercial Street and brick paved sidewalks that  are relatively even with smooth transitions onto the street at each crosswalk. Now one does not have to be so aware of one's step but only of the cars especially the quiet ones that run on electric motors and the bicyclists who go faster than the cars.

The New Provincetown has been getting more and more expensive every year, slowly but surely pricing out even the middle classes. The gap is widening.

I don't know how much money the gays from Boston and New York and wherever make but five nights in PTown - 5 nights being the minimum for many guest houses - can run a small fortune.  If there was a railroad in PTown, Leon and I would be on the other side.

We stay at the campground in PTown - a facility that offers electricity, water, location and not much else. No sewer hookups, no pool, no WiFi, no free showers, no soap, no paper towels. But they have location - and at what we consider an outrageous price for a campground - $59 per night - they are well below what the hotels and guest houses are getting. We eat in most meals and pack our own lunches for the beach.

Our big treat at the cafe cost us $14 for a chai, a coffee, a peanut butter whoopi pie and two lemon cookies. We also had a gelato once and kahlua and white russian ice cream once.

The old Provincetown oozed quaintness with hodge-podge paved streets and uneven sidewalks and required extra vigilance while walking through town. 

There are new colors and new businesses replacing the older ones whose owners retired or died or left for warmer climates.

 

A lot of the old shops - the few that are left - are tired looking. And the newer shops, all selling overpriced goods, fill any empty spaces each season.

The Lobster Pot is an old fixture in PTown. Many people return year after year to eat there because they have made it a tradition. Too bad because I think it is a very expensive tradition. But Leon and I cannot afford, or should I say choose not to spend our meager vacation funds on eating there. We go to one of the restaurants that offer $15 early bird specials - Fanizzi's or Waterford among a few others.

Two moderately priced restaurants are gone - Tip for Tops'n and Michael Shays. 

The old stand-by Tip for Tops'n where you could get Portuguese kale soup and broiled cod and other Portuguese style food and decent seafood for a very reasonable price and a standard breakfast of a few bucks has been replaced by a new restaurant that we did NOT even go into, where the a la carte entrees run from $23 to $30 or more and the prices on the wine list are out of sight.

During the past 10 years or so many buildings have been resided, repainted, rebuilt, refurbished, remodeled removed or resized. Most now have brand new clapboards or cedar shingles, nice but a very different ambiance to the town. It is all very tidy and crisp.

Even the old Raunch has a new look and a new name.

Flowers are always nice.

Even the old meat rack has become gentrified.

Styles change every year, not always for the better.

The eye candy varies in sweetness and the rest of the scenery is always nice too.

Over at the campground is where we call home.

There are a lot of gay/lesbian clientele there and some love to decorate.

The  National Seashore has a new pavilion too. All those fines collected by the National Park Service rangers by ambushing nude sunbathers over at Herring Cove and Boys Beach added up. Fancy digs.

The natural beauty of the Province Lands doesn't change.

Till next summer....

A Tribute to the Sisters of Mercy

These are the values I was taught in Catholic school. There are some vociferous Catholics, some who are politicians, some who are bishops, who were apparently absent during all of these lessons.

 LINK to a Video about the Sisters of Mercy.

Pope Francis Interview - First Impressions

9/27/2013 NOTE: There was an omission/mistranslation in Francis' comments about women see NCR -What the Pope really said.

I've read the Pope Francis interview in America magazine. I cannot offer a scholarly or intellectual commentary on Francis' take on the Catholic Church in 2013, but I will say, "Wow!"

Francis is not Benedict, and while he gives Benedict some credit for stepping aside, he also is quite critical of the direction and emphasis the Church has demonstrated under John Paul 2 and Benedict 16. Francis is a teacher and a priest of the type I admired and remember while I grew up and throughout my education in Catholic institutions from grade school through graduate school.

Francis is reminding us, first of all of the gospel of unconditional love, of inclusiveness, of embracing all people regardless of whether or not their hands are washed, of works of mercy, of service to the poor, and, at the risk of reading into it too much, of the primacy of conscience.

Francis speaks highly of the mystics, especially fellow Jesuits, for whom he seems to have special affection. In my limited understanding, the mystics were contemplatives and teachers who had a reverence for the mysteries of the universe and of life and interpreted these mysteries in light of the Judeo-Christian scriptures. Their emphasis on mystery resulted in their profound humility and an openness to what is called the Holy Spirit.

Francis, in praising the mystics, seems closer to espousing a "creation-centered spirituality" than he is to any moralistic theology. What a refreshing change. Dare I say prophetic?

Use your own vocabulary here, all major religious groups and philosophies and even atheists, have a vocabulary to describe the experience of transcending the quotidian. In other words, or to over simplify, the mystics took the stance that we ultimately have no real power; that authoritarian control is not real control, that the creative mystery is beyond our control; that we are, in fact, a part of that mystery, that we stand in awe before that mystery. This is my reading of the Francis interview.

Francis talks about discernment and making mistakes, and being a sinner, and learning and evolving. These are dynamic concepts, processes, not the principles of JP2 and B16 which by comparison were static and set-in-stone and black/white.

Francis embraces history and this place and time in history; and that our world is constantly changing and the Church must listen and as a result, change too.

He is saying, finally, that there are present realities, real people, real lives, real suffering, here today that the Church cannot ignore. He mentions gays, divorced and remarried Catholics, women using contraception or who have had an abortion - to say that they each have, live, a unique set of circumstances, unique lives and journeys, and that those lives and journeys deserve our respect. That God can be found in each and every person. What a concept. Haven't we heard this somewhere before?

What I consider one of Francis' most profound statements is this: (Emphasis mine)

"We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow. I say this also thinking about the preaching and content of our preaching. A beautiful homily, a genuine sermon must begin with the first proclamation, with the proclamation of salvation. There is nothing more solid, deep and sure than this proclamation. Then you have to do catechesis. Then you can draw even a moral consequence. But the proclamation of the saving love of God comes before moral and religious imperatives. Today sometimes it seems that the opposite order is prevailing. The homily is the touchstone to measure the pastor’s proximity and ability to meet his people, because those who preach must recognize the heart of their community and must be able to see where the desire for God is lively and ardent. The message of the Gospel, therefore, is not to be reduced to some aspects that, although relevant, on their own do not show the heart of the message of Jesus Christ.” 

Francis, as well as saying that pastors should be among and in touch with their flock, seems to be wrist-slapping here and I'm sure some will see it as a slap in the face. The many cardinals and bishops and priests who have towed the line under John Paul and Benedict, especially those who were elevated to cardinal or bishop by them have just had the rug pulled out from under them.

And that is what worries me the most. There are very powerful conservative Fascist forces within the Church, Opus Dei and Legionnaires of Christ among them, that I would bet are planning a strategy at this moment to derail Francis. Assassination in this climate is, deplorably, an all too real possibility.

I can see the seeds of a novel, which I would write if I had the talent and the background knowledge:

Two factions of the Catholic church, those loyal to the sitting Pope Francis and those loyal to the Pope Emeritus, Benedict vie for power. Benedict's supporters maintain that he is the true pope and that Francis was elected fraudulently. Benedict loyalists have unlimited money and influence and wage a very effective campaign to oust Francis. Benedict is very ill and is merely a puppet of the heretic church that wants to complete the overthrow of Vatican II reforms and make the church into a purist, politically powerful organization. The church of the people, led by Francis does not have money or power. They are no match for the heretics. World events play into the story to make it relevant to the rest of the world and people around the globe have an interest in the outcome....

I hope my novel never becomes reality. I wish Francis good health and safety and a long and effective time in office. Francis eschews optimism while favoring hope. While I am not quite optimistic, I do hope.

I was not impressed with his discourse on the role of women in the Church - his language seemed much too paternalistic and sexist - he still seems to have a we/them vocabulary, "we" meaning we male clerics and "them" meaning those (macho) nuns and perhaps some lay women as well. I thought his comments were rather condescending, especially the reference to female machismo "because a woman has a different make-up than a man" which subtly implies an inferior status.

NOTE: There was an omission/mistranslation in Francis' comments about women see NCR -What the Pope really said.

I am impressed that he spoke about the things he enjoys - listening to music and reading and watching movies and that he appreciates great art - and that he is quite adept at discussing the arts. This part of the interview was refreshing.

As an aside, Cardinal Dolan on NBC's Today show this morning was laughable. Talk about a politician. Talk about someone who hasn't the integrity to think for himself but checks to see which way the wind is blowing before opining. His boisterous and overplayed cheerfulness is so phony and so obviously practiced. It is a shield he's constructed to protect him and to deflect any attempt to discern what he is really thinking, or if he thinks at all.

Interjecting Some Frivolity In The Blogosphere

While I was on vacation I continued to peruse the blogs and there is always so much negative depressing, anti-gay, hateful news going around.

So I want to give you all a little escape from reality.

While I was going through my vacation pics and preparing some comments on the New Provincetown, MA, I happened to search for this movie - one of Leon's and my favorite escapist movies - on Netflix (to no avail) -  because our copy is on video tape and the VCR no longer works.

But someone put it on YouTube and I'm posting the link HERE. I imagine that it will not be there after the copyright owners find it on YouTube. This is the full hour and a half movie, unfortunately it is not in HD.

OK, folks, you're either going to love it or hate it.  It is so bad, it's good. It is so straight, it's gay. It is campy and funny and full of great lines, visual humor and eye candy (Jonathon Schaech). It's the Australian blockbuster (?) Welcome to Woop Woop by the same people who brought you Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

It's about an all but abandoned uranium mining town in the Outback that is inhabited by a group of residents that refused to leave when the mine was shut down. They avoid interbreeding by going out to find a mate and bring the person back to Woop Woop as a virtual prisoner. The town is ruled by Big Daddy and there are some interesting, to say the least, characters among the populace.

They are all stuck in time and have only two Hollywood movies that they watch: South Pacific and The Sound of Music. The movie is basically about Jonathon Schaech's character trying to escape the town and the wrath of Big Daddy.

If you decide to watch this movie - be sure to catch the clip after the ending credits. Enjoy!

My Niece Andrea Sings and Plays Guitar

Define Me

Thanks to Bilgrimage for this:



I thought that the visual of labels all over their bodies was very disturbing, moving, powerful.

Should Have Bought a Lottery TIcket

Yesterday was, like last night's dinner (See Dinner's Ready) simple and picture perfect.

Not only was I not bothered by those all too common aches and pains, but the weather was perfect. After our morning hike, Dottie and I went to pick blueberries at a beautiful blueberry farm in Goshen in Litchfield County - a picturesque corner of Connecticut.

On the way to Dottie's house I got within three inches of getting rear-ended by a truck. Talk about luck. I was stopped for traffic and this truck driver either wasn't paying attention or didn't realize traffic had stopped. I heard BRAKES screeching and heard a loud CRASH and saw break smoke behind me. The truck had stopped three inches from my rear bumper but the guy in back of him wasn't so lucky. He rear-ended the truck in what had to be a nasty crash.

Later I went over to the local office of Environmental Protection/Forestry Department to get my Charter Oak Pass - a FREE lifetime pass for Seniors for all our State Parks. I am determined to make my age work for me as the guy in the mirror will never be twenty-three again.

Anyhow, yesterday was a gem. I should have bought a lottery ticket, but no sense in that I guess.

There is an interesting old farm water tower on the property of the Environmental Office. The sky was quite spectacular too.

We are looking forward to spending some time at a new gay campground in New Hampshire soon. And then our yearly camping trip to Provincetown - my most favorite place ever - not so much the town as the natural beauty of the place - the ocean and beaches and trails and dunes - and the idyllic, but not quite bucolic, lifestyle of as little clothing as possible, barefooted in the sand and the warmth of the sun on the old bones.

Heaven. Who needs a lottery ticket?

Off the Grid Again - Vermont - Rock River - Ledges

I've been spending time at our camper in a spot in Vermont where I've been off the grid and where I'd have to travel thirty minutes to find free wifi.

I don't own a smart phone with a hot spot or whatever, so haven't been able to access the internet very often. So I haven't been keeping up with you bloggers out there.

I've gone five days at a time without checking email - can you imagine! And to tell you the truth, its been nice. And I haven't always had my camera handy, so don't have many pics to post today.

Have been hiking and swimming au naturel with the dog as one can do in Vermont, but not in stodgy Connecticut, and working on my book: "Did You Ever See A Horse Go By - A Coming Out Memoir" which is in it's final edit. So, it's been good and summer is flying by.

Where I really want to be is in Provincetown, at the campground there, but that is way too expensive for a prolonged stay. We will be going later in the summer for  week or two.

Gotta go.....

The Garden

The Garden

Rock River

Rock River Before the Crowd Got There

Lake Harriman - The Ledges

A Wedding

Leon and I attended our first same-sex wedding since the recent Supreme Court decision. We have known Joyce and Robin for 25 years; actually I met Robin before she met Joyce and before I met Leon, so we go back a ways. They decided to get married as soon as it became recognized by the Federal Government and asked Leon and I to stand up for them. We were honored to do so.

Twenty-five years ago we could not have imagined that there would be such an event to celebrate. All the gay and lesbian "we's" were happy to have found one another and that was that.

Today, two of our closest friends celebrated their lifelong commitment to one another in a civil ceremony which gave legal recognition to that commitment and their love.

What made it even more amazing were the number of people attending the wedding and celebrating with them - about 60 to 70 - most of whom were heterosexual - and who took the ceremony and the celebration as perfectly matter of fact and without reservation. The younger folks in the crowd were most enlightened in their ability to see same-sex marriage as, they would say, "a no-brainer" and anyone who would object as being totally on the wrong side of history.

What a wonderful, inspiring, joyful day! I wish Robin and Joyce all the happiness life can give and many more years together.

Beau dressed up for the wedding too

I Made the Sign and Leon Decked out his LeBaron for the Occasion

Robin's Brother Escorting the Brides

Robin and Joyce

The vows were very simple, "I, (Joyce/Robin) take you (Robin/Joyce) to be my lifelong spouse. I will support, honor and cherish you through all the circumstances we may face, and I will never stop celebrating our love."

 The ceremony concluded with an Apache Wedding Blessing:

Now you will feel no rain,

For each of you will be shelter for the other

Now you will feel no cold,

For each of you will be warmth for the other

Now there is no loneliness

Now you are two persons,

But there is only one life before you

May your days together be good and long upon the earth

Joyce With A Baseball Cap Bridal Veil

Leon with the Veil

Joyce's Niece Elizabeth, Leon, Joyce, Robin, Robin's Mom, Me

Congratulations, Joyce and Robin

There was lots of good food.

Cutting the Cakes

"Wouldn't It Be Nice"

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older

Then we wouldn't have to wait so long

And wouldn't it be nice to live together

In the kind of world where we belong

You know its gonna make it that much better

When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up

In the morning when the day is new

And after having spent the day together

Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we've been spending

I wish that every kiss was neverending

Wouldn't it be nice

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true

Baby then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do

We could be married

And then we'd be happy

Wouldn't it be nice

You know it seems the more we talk about it

It only makes it worse to live without it

But lets talk about it

Wouldn't it be nice

Good night my baby

Sleep tight my baby

Gay Pride Month - We Are Not There Yet - A Link To Back2Stonewall

The SCOTUS decisions on Prop 8 and DOMA are historic, but they steps toward a goal that has not yet been reached. I have used the term bittersweet - and for some, those in marriage equality states, the recent ruling may be sweet; but for those in states without marriage equality the rulings have to leave a bitter taste and a realization that they/we have more work to do, hard work to do and more time to wait for results. For us, this is still not quite a "United" States.

Also, in light of the other Supreme Court decision this week that limits/restricts the historic Voting Rights Act, be aware of the possibility that in some unforeseen, unexpected way, expanded civil rights for LGBT's can be restricted by some future court ruling.

 Here is an article from Back2Stonewall

Gay Pride Month "Out of the Closets - Voices of Gay Liberation" a review of sorts: Part 2

As we await the Supreme Court decisions on Prop 8 and DOMA we should be aware of how far we've come and that the struggle is not over.

Lest we forget:

From Out of the Closets, "My Soul Vanished From Sight: A California Saga of Gay Liberation" by Konstantin Berlandt
The bars are havens for that until-that-day crowd... 
Limits: No dancing except in the back, no dancing close, no kissing. The bar is owned by a gay commune who work together to keep it open. Jim, one of the owners pulls Neil and me apart, "If you want to do that, go home and do it." Your kiss is obscene! 
... 
Outside on the street the men from the bar separate, no touching, thaey walk off  passing as straight men. The bedroom is a closet, the bar is a closet, the closet is a jail cell. You're let out if you can go straight, act straight, and don't get caught.


From Out of the Closets, "The Closet Syndrome" by Stuart Byron
From the beginning of the gay liberation movement, the Stonewall riots of June 1969, the Times and other elements of the mass media have misunderstood just how traumatic and new and courageous is "coming out." It is famous that the riots were covered in the Times on inside pages while at the same time - the very same time - front page attention was being given to some trees chopped down by vigilantes in a homosexual cruising area in Queens. In the perspective of events, of course, the paper was dead wrong: the Queens trees represent a minor incident in gay history; the Stonewall began a movement and an era.

Gay Pride Month - Before Stonewall - A Song by Ten Percent Review

Happy Gay Pride Month!

Here is a very moving song by Ten Percent Review/Tom Wilson Weinberg*
with some of my own photos of Gay Pride and Rainbow flags. Remembering those who came before us and our own part in the struggle for equal rights.

 

 

*Just a note about Ten Percent Review: I bought their tape at a Gay Pride event back in the 1980's and I purchased the digital album recently. Their songs are fun, irreverent, political, and just plain gay.

I like their take on the Supreme Court and the Supremes: "Ain't no court supreme enough to keep me from my dreams". 

And my favorite is the Wedding Song, "We had no wedding, no ceremony, no matrimony, we're just we"; which for many of us rings true - at least until recently in some states, and hopefully in all the US soon.

Gay Pride Month "Out of the Closets - Voices of Gay Liberation" a review of sorts

In celebration of Gay Pride, and to provide a bit of perspective on our collective gay history, I have decided to post a few quotes from a book I am reading called Out of the Closets, Voices of Gay Liberation copyright 1972 by Karla Jay and Allen Young, Editors. Published by Douglas Book Corporation. (Available on Amazon)

The book gives a historical perspective of the LGBT civil rights movement and is a series of snapshots written by a variety of authors each with a different viewpoint on the thought and struggle as it was in the late 1960's and early 70's.

I picked up the book last summer at the Provincetown United Methodist Church Thrift Shop - a great place to find some interesting books.

I am fascinated by Gay history and the Gay Lib era: such documentaries as Before Stonewall (unfortunately not currently available on Netflix) and books like Out of the Closets, provide important lessons that we should ensure get passed to future generations along with more recent and historical landmark changes and current progress being brought about by the marriage equality movement.

We have definitely come a long way since 1972. But there is, I think, something essential and valuable about Gay Liberation that has been lost or forgotten.  I have said this before in other essays and still believe in its validity: In some ways, the Gay Liberation movement was a radical experiment that was aborted by the AIDS Crisis.

The experiment was, I think, headed in a very different direction from the current path of marriage equality. Perhaps we would have eventually ended up exactly where we are now without the powerful influence of HIV/AIDS intervening - a twist in gay history that outed many individuals against their will and which brought homosexuality into the news and into the consciousness of the larger society.

HIV/AIDS ignited a new activism that had its roots in Gay Liberation - and in the earlier Civil Rights movement in which many gay and lesbian persons were involved and for which they felt a great affinity.

Historical events (philosophically we can debate whether they were random or inevitable events),  certainly have  conspired to bring us where we are today. In spite of the mainstreaming of the LGBT community - and I'm not convinced we have been entirely mainstreamed or that mainstreaming is what we would all prefer or want - we still experience the ignorance, hate and prejudice of those who do not understand us, who will not hear us, and who believe in their own moral superiority. We are in many ways still facing the same issues as the writers in Out of the Closets.

Marriage equality on a national level will certainly improve the legal status of our relationships but will not necessarily make us equal in the eyes of everyone on the planet. Look at the riots in France, the lawmakers in Uganda, the executions in Muslim nations, and at the discrimination by religious believers in the US - whether its brutal gay bashings and murder in Greenwich Village or the Catholic Church firing employees who marry a same gender partner or a bakery owner who refuses to sell a wedding cake to a same-gender couple. Our lived experience is discounted, ignored, devalued and ridiculed on a daily basis.

So here is  a bit of gay historical perspective: (I am quoting the following passages without permission of the authors under the "Fair Use" provision of copyright law)

From Out of the Closets: here's what Martha Shelly said in the chapter Gay is Good (originally published in Rat February 24,1970; copyright 1970 by Rat):

Understand this - that the worst part of being a homosexual is having to keep it a secret. Not the occasional murders by police or teenage queer-beaters, not the loss of jobs or the expulsion from schools or dishonorable discharges - but the daily knowledge that what you are is so awful that it cannot be revealed. The violence against us is sporadic. Most of us are not affectd. But the internal violence of being made to carry - or choosing to carry - the load of your straight society's unconscious guilt - this is what tears us apart, what makes us want to stand up in the offices, in the factories and schools, and shout out our true identities.

We were rebels from our earliest days - somewhere, maybe just about the time we started to go to school, we rejected straight society - unconsciously...The homosexuals who hide, who play it straight, or pretend that the issue of homosexuality is unimportant, are only hiding the truth from themselves. They are trying to become a part of a society that they rejected instinctively when they were five years old, to pretend it is the result of heredity, or a bad mother, or anything but a gut reaction of nausea against the roles forced on us.

From Out of the Closets: here's what Charles P. Thorp has to say in a chapter called I.D., Leadership and Violence from a keynote speech for the National Students' Liberation front Conference, San Francisco, August 21, 1970:

We have come to see that it is the fairies, faggots queens, etc. that were, through their blatentness (sic), the first to challenge the system.  In essence they were saying they had a right to be Super-Gay because Blatent (sic) is Beautiful We also know that it will not be until what straights call "blatent (sic) behavior is accepted with respect that we are in any sense, any of us, free. For it is Blatent (sic) Faggotry that they really hate. We are all blatent (sic), unless we're ashamed of being Gay and this is why we are all hated.

We may be liberated, we may be out and proud, we may be mainstreamed and married, but we mustn't let our guard down. We mustn't be complacent. Don't mistake lip service and legal protections for acceptance (not to say that acceptance is our goal) or tolerance for understanding, or acceptance for love, because the truth is that straight folk, even the most liberal and progressive, don't really "get it", don't really get us.

Happily, many youngsters are finding the courage at a young age to come out and to shout out their true identities; unfortunately many others who live under still oppressive cultural and religious beliefs see suicide as their only option. This is unacceptable and those institutions and individuals who persist in demonizing LGBT individuals and our sexuality must be held accountable for taking innocent lives.

- Reluctant Rebel, but rebel nonetheless.

Just A Link

A Link to an article in Salon by Mary Elizabeth Williams on the latest US Catholic bishops campaign against marriage equality.

What I've Been Doing This Week

Replaced a number of cracked slate slabs in the patio which necessitated re-configuring the whole thing. Of course all the slate is salvaged and none are exactly the same size or shape.  And, as much as I don't like jigsaw puzzles, it's kept me away from the the internet some.  The weather has been spectacular and I feel much better psychologically and physically.  I'm also down 20 pounds since Thanksgiving.

Shop Closed Indefinitely

In case you didn't get the gist of the last rambling post, I'm closing up shop here for a while - while I get some R&R&R&R (Rest, Relaxation, Re-Creation, Recuperation and any other R that might do me some good - not counting on any Remuneration at all, but who knows?)

Stream of UnConsciousness - Nothing Sacred - Kill the Buddha - Till Next Time

Poem by College Buddy Dennis Ryan 1968 
As He Went Off To The Peace Corps

A Banner I Made for Dignity - Use a Gay Interpretation of Eph 3:16
"May He Give  You The Power 
Through His Spirit 
For Your Hidden Self To Grow Strong"

I remember the lessons about Holy Communion that I was taught when I was a kid in Catholic grade school. 

The priest was the only one who could touch the Sacred Host because his thumb and index finger had been consecrated (made sacred). To drive home this lesson we were told of a missionary priest whose thumbs and forefingers had been cut off by heathens who were determined to keep him from saying Mass.  He got a special dispensation. 

(what a wonderful "Catholic" word - dispensation - better than "permission" because it implies being able to do something that might otherwise carry the consequences of sin and get away with it without having to go to purgatory or even hell; wouldn't it have been wonderful to get a dispensation to masturbate when we were teenagers? But I digress.) 

The missionary was allowed to have his middle and ring fingers "consecrated" so that he could continue to say Mass and touch the Eucharist.

But of course, I was puzzled because the communion wafer was placed on my tongue, which had not, to the best of my knowledge, ever been consecrated. 

I remember one time when the priest dropped a consecrated Eucharistic wafer on the floor while giving out communion. He stopped what he was doing and covered the host - or the spot where the host fell - with a white linen cloth until the service was over.  He then he returned with an altar boy holding holy water and a prayerbook.  The priest recited several Latin prayers from the book and sprinkled the area with Holy Water - water that had been blessed and made sacred also.  I imagined that this ritual somehow neutralized the spot that the host had touched or neutralized the clumsiness of the priest or made apologies to the Body of Christ that had hit the floor.  

It was kind of cool being in the Catholic Church back then - we were surrounded by things that were holy, blessed, consecrated and sacred. 

Not many years later, communicants were allowed to receive Holy Communion in their own hands, pick it up with their own fingers and place it in their own mouths - hands and fingers mind you, that had not been "consecrated". 

Was this the beginning of the unraveling of the illusion of the Sacred?  Some conservative Catholics might think so and with dismay and consternation.

Personally I think it is most important to hold nothing sacred - to finally hold nothing sacred - in order to perhaps truly experience the sacred.

Not to be rid of the golden calf, the hallowed ground, the flag, the tombs, the scriptures, the relics, the places of worship - but to cease holding such symbols sacred will perhaps free us to experience the sacred.  Because these things are meant to merely point to the sacred, not be held sacred in and of themselves.

I couldn't explain what I mean by that, so I am not even going to try.  Except that I don't think things and symbols and places are sacred - only that if we look more closely we may discover what those things are really pointing to - what it is that we should be in awe of and what is truly greater than.

I am reminded of the admonition to "Kill the Buddha" if you meet him on the road.  Not exactly in the same vein of thought, but somehow similar.  The saying is to remind us that there are impostors in every age.  Perhaps those objects and symbols which we hold sacred are impostors as well.  

*   *   *   *   *

A Zen koan asks "Does a dog have a Buddha nature?" 
I look at my Labrador Retriever. 
"Mu". 
I laugh out loud uncontrollably! 

*   *   *   *   *

In his book, If You Meet the Budha on the Road, Kill Him © by psychotherapist and author Sheldon Kopp (1929 – 1999), he lists a number of "truths" - his "Eschatological Laundry List" to which I have made some annotations:

1. This is it!
At least for a while - I need a break

2. There are no hidden meanings.
And we are quite foolish to keep looking

3. You can’t get there from here, and besides there’s no place else to go.
Assuming there is actually a "here" and a "there" - that's why there's no where else to go

4. We are all already dying, and we will be dead for a long time.
Some of us are already dead, but don't know it yet. Amen

5. Nothing lasts.
Just look at mom's special tea cup that you've treasured since forever - a hundred shards on the kitchen floor

6. There is no way of getting all you want.
Yet others keep taking what little you might have in order to prove this wrong

7. You can’t have anything unless you let go of it.
Yeah, like letting the butterfly go . . . I never did get that

8. You only get to keep what you give away.
That has to involve some serious sleight of hand

9. There is no particular reason why you lost out on some things.
Except you were in the wrong place at the right time, or your parents were poor or you were the ugliest kid in school - but those aren't reasons, just excuses

10. The world is not necessarily just. Being good often does not pay off and there is no compensation for misfortune. 
Oh, so that's why I don't have a pension

11. You have a responsibility to do your best nonetheless. 
I try

12. It is a random universe to which we bring meaning. 
"Spinning wheel got to go round"

13. You don’t really control anything. 
But are they controlling you?

14. You can’t make anyone love you. 
So why would you even try?

15. No one is any stronger or any weaker than anyone else. 
But there are plenty of people who would have you believe differently

16. Everyone is, in his own way, vulnerable.
But some can afford better armor

17. There are no great men.
Well, maybe a few, and some great women too

18. If you have a hero, look again: you have diminished yourself in some way.
I never did go in for those Marvel Comics
 
19. Everyone lies, cheats, pretends (yes, you too, and most certainly I myself).
Well that about covers it

20. All evil is potential vitality in need of transformation.
I think I need to find some pot in order to contemplate this one

21. All of you is worth something, if you will only own it.
If I could afford it, I might own it - for what it's worth

22. Progress is an illusion.
Especially in light of global warming

23. Evil can be displaced but never eradicated, as all solutions breed new problems.
And our illustrious US Congress is such a shining example of this

24. Yet it is necessary to keep on struggling toward solution.
Barring a filibuster

25. Childhood is a nightmare.
I remember the day I got kidnapped and taken to the optometrist to get my first pair of glasses - wearing glasses back then was like wearing a sign that said kick me and laugh

26. But it is so very hard to be an on-your-own-take-care-of-yourself-cause-there-is-no-one-else-to-do-it-for-you grown-up.
Grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, vacuuming, mopping, walking the dog - a woman's work is NEVER done

27. Each of us is ultimately alone.
I am reminded as he snores through the night while I lie awake

28. The most important things, each man must do for himself.
Shit, shower and shave

29. Love is not enough, but it sure helps.
Ditto for sex

30. We have only ourselves, and one another. That may not be much, but that’s all there is.

"Cause you got me, and baby I got you"

31. How strange, that so often, it all seems worth it. 
Remember last Thursday?

32. We must live within the ambiguity of partial freedom, partial power, and partial knowledge. 
That's very intellectual - but I really don't know what you mean by partial freedom and partial power - but I think I understand part of what you're saying

33. All important decisions must be made on the basis of insufficient data.
Back to the illustrious US Congress - talk about insufficient data but no lack of opinion

34. Yet we are responsible for everything we do.
Tell THAT to the US Congress

35. No excuses will be accepted.
You've GOT to be kidding

36. You can run, but you can’t hide.
They ran for Congress and I'll bet there are a good number of them hiding in the bathroom when it's time to explain in front of reporters

37. It is most important to run out of scapegoats.
But, don't worry, there will always be "the gays"

38. We must learn the power of living with our helplessness.
Now that's encouraging and intriguing - just what kind of power are we talking about?
 
39. The only victory lies in surrender to oneself.
I give up

40. All of the significant battles are waged within the self.
Those white blood cells are fighting mad

41. You are free to do whatever you like. You need only face the consequences.
Oops

42. What do you know…for sure…anyway?
I've already told you: grandma said "you don't know nothing yet"

43. Learn to forgive yourself, again and again and again and again…
I'm sorry, no problem, I'm sorry, that's OK, I'm sorry, enough already

So, you see, even Sheldon Kopp's Laundry List isn't sacred.  Back to
1. This is it! 
At least for a while - I need a break. 

Honestly, I think the blogosphere is making me terribly depressed.  It is like an addiction to some nasty downers that never let up - on the one hand, I feel that I must be responsibly informed, yet, on the other,  I do not feel empowered by the knowledge I acquire about our society, our government, our churches.  

The more I read, the more powerless and hopeless I sometimes feel, despite the occasional good news.  And it is time-consuming as well.  The blogosphere sucks up a good part of my day - not so much writing but mostly reading, watching video clips on timely topics, and going from this to that.

Remember, there was a time before internet, a time when things seemed to be in better, or at least a more comfortable, perspective.  A time of innocence...

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was 

A time of innocence, A time of confidences 

Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph 

Preserve your memories; They're all that's left you

I Hate Hip-Hop and Rap - But Even I Can Be A Little Open-minded

Annette Funicello

Growing up in the 50's and 60's with the Mickey Mouse Club and Disney, I was never a great fan of Annette.  I thought she was too popular, too stuck up, a snob and a tease.

The fact that Annette was Italian-American made her more familiar to me - perhaps because I grew up with a slew of female cousins and Annette could have been one of them - and made her more of an icon, a caricature of Italian-American adolescence.

I couldn't articulate it then, but I think Annette represented the entire heterosexual world of teens and preteens - a world I could not relate to in the least - but a world that I envied at some level - not because I wanted to be like them (the straight kids), but because their budding sexuality was being celebrated in movies and music everywhere you looked.  Their "normality" was held up as an ideal, as proof of their inherent potential to fulfill their parents' and society's dreams and visions.

Watching movies and TV, I remained an outsider, looking in at the "normal" world, a world where the likes of Annette made boys weak in the knees and caused them to act like idiots.  That was disturbing.

Annette was sexy in a modest way but wore her virginity belt with a security lock that could stave off even the sexiest and most persistent boys on the beach.  I was not attracted to Annette, but I was attracted to some of the boys she put off.

To be fair, I must admit that over the years I have come to admire and respect the woman that Annette Funicello became.  She was a decent and courageous woman.  I don't know what she thought of the LGBT community and perhaps I don't care.  I do know that in more recent interviews, since she came out with her MS, she has demonstrated that courage and dignity and poise that I admire in strong women - in men as well, but in women especially.

I think Annette should be made an honorary Diva, if she is not one already.  Good-bye Annette and thank you.

From My File Cabinet - 9 - "Some Letters to TS"

"LIFE SHOULD BE SO SIMPLE"

To T.S.

10 April 1972

            Anyhow, you still planning to quit and go back to Ohio?  I guess it’s the spring migration.  Like the swallows (or whatever they are) that return to Capistrano, it’s in our blood to return to the place of our birth.  Being away, we are restless.

           

            It’s as though we once left something behind.  It’s there, somewhere on a summer afternoon, or perhaps an evening with the sun’s warmth still in our bones.  Not being sure of exactly what it is, we return to search for it . . . until, year after year, it gets farther away, until we’re not really sure there’s anything there or we forget why we came.

            Right now, I think it’s on the sand, among the reeds, like a footprint never to be found after so many years . . .

*   *   *  *   *

To T.S.

March 1973

            Just heard on the radio that the swallows once again returned to Capistrano, as always on the Feast of Saint Joseph, 19 March . . . happened to mention it to a few people – they were unimpressed.  As for me, I think it’s beautiful.  I can’t describe the feeling it gives me to know those swallows return faithfully, while people stand and watch in amazement and delight.

            The sap is running – slowly but steadily filling coffee cans on the sugar maple in the back yard.  Hope to make a cup or so of syrup.  The nights haven’t been very cold but the days have been extremely warm, between 60 and 70.  Yesterday we started a bit of a cold spell.  Perhaps it will be good for sugaring . . .

            The tomato seedlings are sitting in the sunny bedroom window photosynthesizing along with the sweet basil . . . toward a delicious tomato sauce, I’m sure.  The garden awaits the turning and the manure to ready it for tomatoes and squash, peppers and beans, lettuce and chard, parsley, basil and beets, perhaps some eggplant and pumpkin and cucumbers . . . I guess I’ll have to widen the plot by two or three feet and plant the pumpkins in a patch off to the side . . . almost half the backyard would go to garden if I had the time . . . so many good things to plant and nurse and to watch grow and blossom and bear fruit.

            Which reminds me: it’ll soon be time to go off to the green fields and meadows for frest tender dandelions . . . great in salad, better cooked like spinach with oil and garlic (just a little) or with butter; best cooked with white kidney beans and ham hocks and a bit of red pepper, just for taste.  It takes a lot of dandelions for a big pot of greens.

            I’ve made friends with the little brown and white dog next door . . . she’s so timid, but was brave enough to suffer a few pats on the head . . . has since been eager to hear a few words from me on my way to work and again in the evening on my return.  We’re now separated by a greater distance as her master has moved her quarters a few yards: with the fence and her chains she’ll have to forego the occasional pat on the head and settle for a friendly whistle and a few kind words.  Her barking and wagging tail make me smile . . .

            Life should be so simple.  That’s about all the complexity I care to deal with at the moment: swallows and maple syrup, gardens and dogs.  Yet I’m inclined to give some thought to how the cigarette I’m about to light is going to damage my lungs; to how the paper bags from the grocery shopping add to pollution; to how legal abortion affects the psych and sensitivity of our society; to how many people are telling you to write your congressmen about everything; to how everyone talks and no one is worth listening to; to how it is that I’ve gotten to be twenty-five.

            I’ve been meaning to write for several weeks.  Since the sun warmed my face one afternoon and the smell and feeling of spring was in the air: all my senses brought me to another spring, another time.  Fleeting memories like a word on the tip of your tongue.  Memories of having friends near.  Memories of sunshine and warmth, of soft, wet earth beneath your feet, a light and happy step . . . Yet somehow it’s not important.  For today the swallows returned to Capistrano.  Today the brown and white dog next door barked and wagged her tail at my coming.  Today I wrote a letter.

*   *   *  *   *

To T.S.

16 March 1977

            Rummaging through desk drawers, attempting to clear the cobwebs in my head.  found a few letters that you wrote me . . . long, long, ago.   I thank you.

            I sit here alone, watching my supply of cigarettes go up in smoke, smoking the butts from the ashtray in anticipation of a nicotine fit at some later hour.  It has been a rough winter: not so much the weather outside, but the constant storms within.  A feeling that the picnic has been ruined.  Like a child who has not yet learned to be patient with the ways of nature.  And now the fog has set in . . . so thick I cannot see where I am going . . .

            Going . . . not sure I really want to go anywhere.  Take your coat off, sit down, stay awhile.  Like being in gear with one foot on the brakes and the other on the accelerator, getting nowhere, exhausted.

            Thoughts spilling out of my brain like the saliva dribbling from the mouth of the village idiot as he sits mumbling to himself.  What to say next – no matter, no one is listening.  

            Wondering what has happened to my memories: hoping they are safe and well and happy.

            Hoping this message doesn’t arrive at your door like an unwelcome visitor.  We cry only when we know there is hope . . . the sun will shine again.   Thanks.