People in small towns use their local newspaper like a really big newsletter. Letters to the Editor primarily consist of "Thank you for your support of the high school fundraiser last Friday night...Thank you to all the community participants in the local golf tournament... Someone left a dog tied to my car the other day...How can we help the local school board? etc, etc, etc" We don't have earth shattering issues around here to deal with so the paper becomes the town bulletin board. I've always thought it was a little, well, small town, but today I became one of those submitting something to the editorial page. My piece was short and to the point. It'll run this Wednesday or next Wednesday - they didn't really know. I dropped it off about an hour after the incident that precipitated it.....
I was running a bit late this morning because I couldn't find my keys. I found another set and got in the car to leave. As I drove down the street I noticed a big dog limping along and I was curious what his story might be. As I was contemplating his situation I inadvertently became the catalyst for disaster in another animal's life. The little black cat ran out into the street and before I knew it he was under my tires. In a mere second I watched his death throes in my rear view mirror. I went back to do what I could, which was nothing other than calling animal control and gently pulling him to the side of the street. He didn't have a collar so I don't know where he came from. I felt perfectly terrible. The last, and first, animal I ever ran over was a misguided raccoon on Schuster Parkway in Tacoma about 11PM one night on my way home from Seattle University. What a dreadful thing it is to run over an animal.
Not really knowing what to do next I thought about the editorial page. I whipped out a short letter describing what happened and offered my apology to the unknown cat owner. I don't know if the person will see it, but I hope they do. It's sad enough to lose a pet, but not knowing what happened is even worse.
Today I was grateful to live in a small enough place that has a public forum big enough to voice my feeble apology.
Welcome to my blog "Cooking with Fruit" that began in 2009. It has nothing to do with actual cooking, but everything to do with creating, sustaining, and blessing lives: The ones we have, the ones that are gone, and the ones we continue to create.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Segregation Unit
I'm not sure why she came to mind this evening while I was preparing dinner. But, every once in awhile she pops into my awareness and I spend a few moments with our experience.
It was a snowy night in 2001 in Gig Harbor at the women's state prison. One of the women I visited on a regular basis was suddenly in the segregation unit. Making my visit to her was the first time I'd ever been in the solitary unit building. It actually sat parallel to the Chapel, but at first glance the two worlds couldn't have been more different. I signed in and waited for an officer to take me to wherever I would meet with her. He showed up and took me into a very small booth and closed the door behind me. Next, she came into the booth in full shackles on the opposite side with the glass between us. There were very small holes along the bottom of the glass for us to talk through. As she entered the booth she put her cuffed hands back through a small opening in the door as it was closed. With the door locked, the officer on the other side unlocked her cuffs and then she sat down.
She told me about the fight that landed her in segregation, who did what, how she didn't do anything, how long she might be in there, how hard it was to lose all of her privileges, and she was so close to getting out. She needed help getting in touch with a Pastor in Marysville. She gave me his name and number and I told her I'd try to reach him on her behalf.
We weren't allowed very much time and as it was getting shorter I asked what she wanted to hear from the Bible. She gave me a text and I read it to her through the glass. For prayer I placed my right hand on the glass and she her left. I prayed for her strength, safety, and sanity. The officer opened the door behind me and escorted me out. I signed out of the building and stepped out into beautiful, huge, delicate snowflakes drifting down.
I just happened to turn to my right and saw her framed in a small window. She was still sitting on her side of the booth. They hadn't yet come to take her back to her tiny, solitary cell. Her hands were still free. Looking so afraid, so alone, so forlorn, and so small she waved good-bye. I raised my right hand and made the sign of the cross through the snow to her. She bowed her head.
Through the big flakes I walked back to the Chapel for the remainder of that night's chaplain work. On the way back I realized there really was no difference between the Chapel and the segregation unit. God's grace can permeate any wall, any handcuff, any glass, any building, and any heart.
It was a snowy night in 2001 in Gig Harbor at the women's state prison. One of the women I visited on a regular basis was suddenly in the segregation unit. Making my visit to her was the first time I'd ever been in the solitary unit building. It actually sat parallel to the Chapel, but at first glance the two worlds couldn't have been more different. I signed in and waited for an officer to take me to wherever I would meet with her. He showed up and took me into a very small booth and closed the door behind me. Next, she came into the booth in full shackles on the opposite side with the glass between us. There were very small holes along the bottom of the glass for us to talk through. As she entered the booth she put her cuffed hands back through a small opening in the door as it was closed. With the door locked, the officer on the other side unlocked her cuffs and then she sat down.
She told me about the fight that landed her in segregation, who did what, how she didn't do anything, how long she might be in there, how hard it was to lose all of her privileges, and she was so close to getting out. She needed help getting in touch with a Pastor in Marysville. She gave me his name and number and I told her I'd try to reach him on her behalf.
We weren't allowed very much time and as it was getting shorter I asked what she wanted to hear from the Bible. She gave me a text and I read it to her through the glass. For prayer I placed my right hand on the glass and she her left. I prayed for her strength, safety, and sanity. The officer opened the door behind me and escorted me out. I signed out of the building and stepped out into beautiful, huge, delicate snowflakes drifting down.
I just happened to turn to my right and saw her framed in a small window. She was still sitting on her side of the booth. They hadn't yet come to take her back to her tiny, solitary cell. Her hands were still free. Looking so afraid, so alone, so forlorn, and so small she waved good-bye. I raised my right hand and made the sign of the cross through the snow to her. She bowed her head.
Through the big flakes I walked back to the Chapel for the remainder of that night's chaplain work. On the way back I realized there really was no difference between the Chapel and the segregation unit. God's grace can permeate any wall, any handcuff, any glass, any building, and any heart.
I Want It - You have It - I'm Taking It
Twice a day I prepare two bowls of food for our dogs. Tahoe is a 9 month old Black Lab who's close to 60 pounds. Shasta is a 9 year old Australian Shepherd/Blue Heeler who seems to be shrinking to about 50 pounds. Since Tahoe moved in over Easter weekend (not really recommended for the Pastor's house - won't ever do that again) the two of them have come to terms, made peace, and generally get along. Shasta is comfortable roaming all over the house, but Tahoe can't get it together to descend the basement stairs. Thus, she hides out in the basement and he lives on the main floor. Ah, we are now a family with a dog on every floor.
Meal time, though, is in the kitchen and they each have their own kind of food. Shasta has the senior type that limits her protein, calories, etc., to keep her fit and healthy. Tahoe has the carb loaded puppy food to make sure he gets to 100 pounds. Once I put the bowls on the floor (or out on the patio when the weather is good) basic rules of behavior take over.
I think we're all familiar with these rules. The first one is "I want what you have" and the next one is "I'm taking what you have." It goes like this: Tahoe starts eating and Shasta just stands there staring at her oh so boring and familiar food. Tahoe takes a break and walks away. Shasta wanders over in a very casual manner (so we don't notice) and starts chomping away. When Tahoe comes back he sees his place is taken so he goes to her bowl to finish her food. When it's all said and done he hasn't gotten the nutrients he needs and she's gotten all the ones she doesn't need. I do my best to referee this event, but often other things have my attention.
They say dogs share a high percentage of our DNA and based on their eating practices I tend to agree. Seeking what others have and making plans to secure it is an exercise humans engage in on a very regular basis. The seeking and securing can be as inconsequential as buying the same hose attachment my neighbor uses on her flowers. But, seeking and securing can also result in irreversible consequences brought about by our endless appetites for power and control. Consequences that we set in motion by our own appetites, desires for more, and lack of respect for others ripple across our human landscape in visible, but more often invisible, waves.
Twice a day it's clear to me what my dogs are up to with their food bowls. I wish I could say the same about myself and everyone else in the world. I want it - you have it - I'm taking it. God help us.
Meal time, though, is in the kitchen and they each have their own kind of food. Shasta has the senior type that limits her protein, calories, etc., to keep her fit and healthy. Tahoe has the carb loaded puppy food to make sure he gets to 100 pounds. Once I put the bowls on the floor (or out on the patio when the weather is good) basic rules of behavior take over.
I think we're all familiar with these rules. The first one is "I want what you have" and the next one is "I'm taking what you have." It goes like this: Tahoe starts eating and Shasta just stands there staring at her oh so boring and familiar food. Tahoe takes a break and walks away. Shasta wanders over in a very casual manner (so we don't notice) and starts chomping away. When Tahoe comes back he sees his place is taken so he goes to her bowl to finish her food. When it's all said and done he hasn't gotten the nutrients he needs and she's gotten all the ones she doesn't need. I do my best to referee this event, but often other things have my attention.
They say dogs share a high percentage of our DNA and based on their eating practices I tend to agree. Seeking what others have and making plans to secure it is an exercise humans engage in on a very regular basis. The seeking and securing can be as inconsequential as buying the same hose attachment my neighbor uses on her flowers. But, seeking and securing can also result in irreversible consequences brought about by our endless appetites for power and control. Consequences that we set in motion by our own appetites, desires for more, and lack of respect for others ripple across our human landscape in visible, but more often invisible, waves.
Twice a day it's clear to me what my dogs are up to with their food bowls. I wish I could say the same about myself and everyone else in the world. I want it - you have it - I'm taking it. God help us.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Small Town - Big Stuff
Yesterday I drove past a car parked in town that I hope, I really hope, isn't my car of the future. Every seat was covered with towels to protect or hide whatever was beneath. I notice how older people cover chair and couch arms to protect the upholstery and I just hope I never have the urge to do that.
Yesterday a very nice electrician spent half the day replacing about 23 outlets in our 50 year old house. After he left we plugged in the vacuum to clean up the mess and found that 8 outlets in the family room didn't work. I called the company at 9:30 PM and the owner actually answered. This morning the electrician called at 8AM (it's Saturday) and he was here at 11:00 to fix all of it. He also checked the electrical box, tightened a few things and called it good. There was no charge for today's visit.
Last night we had dinner at a good Mexican restaurant whose owners are originally from Tacoma. The food was excellent and except for the fact that we can't get a glass of wine or a beer in this town, it was all quite good. The place was packed and all the little families looked quite happy.
This morning the president of the Mormon church announced the building of five new temples across the globe. They make these announcements every six months at their general conference meetings in Salt Lake. I've been home today with a sore throat and cold, but the following words pulled me right off the couch, "Five new temples will be started. One of the two to be built in the U.S. will be in Brigham City, Utah." The benefit to our economy will be huge and the faithful of the LDS church are beyond thrilled (based on online comments to the local papers). It'll be their 14th temple in Utah and the 3rd one in the northern part of the state. They didn't say where it will be built in town. The impact of this will effect us on many different levels. My guess is that no one outside of Utah has even heard about this. But, for those of who live here the implications of this one event in the life of this town and the lives of the different Christian congregations will soon begin to unfold. Huge. Challenging. Extraordinary.
So, all in all life in our little town this weekend has included a good meal, a good electrician, and an announcement from the dominant religion/culture that will reshape our external world in very big ways. Very big ways.
Yesterday a very nice electrician spent half the day replacing about 23 outlets in our 50 year old house. After he left we plugged in the vacuum to clean up the mess and found that 8 outlets in the family room didn't work. I called the company at 9:30 PM and the owner actually answered. This morning the electrician called at 8AM (it's Saturday) and he was here at 11:00 to fix all of it. He also checked the electrical box, tightened a few things and called it good. There was no charge for today's visit.
Last night we had dinner at a good Mexican restaurant whose owners are originally from Tacoma. The food was excellent and except for the fact that we can't get a glass of wine or a beer in this town, it was all quite good. The place was packed and all the little families looked quite happy.
This morning the president of the Mormon church announced the building of five new temples across the globe. They make these announcements every six months at their general conference meetings in Salt Lake. I've been home today with a sore throat and cold, but the following words pulled me right off the couch, "Five new temples will be started. One of the two to be built in the U.S. will be in Brigham City, Utah." The benefit to our economy will be huge and the faithful of the LDS church are beyond thrilled (based on online comments to the local papers). It'll be their 14th temple in Utah and the 3rd one in the northern part of the state. They didn't say where it will be built in town. The impact of this will effect us on many different levels. My guess is that no one outside of Utah has even heard about this. But, for those of who live here the implications of this one event in the life of this town and the lives of the different Christian congregations will soon begin to unfold. Huge. Challenging. Extraordinary.
So, all in all life in our little town this weekend has included a good meal, a good electrician, and an announcement from the dominant religion/culture that will reshape our external world in very big ways. Very big ways.
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