Greetings all. Elizabeth here. I’m Jane’s daughter. I just spoke to Mom a few minutes ago and she wanted me to let everyone know that she has safely evacuated herself and the camp to Meridan, Mississippi. She spent the night in a church with many other evacuees. She’s hoping she’ll spend tonight in a trailer with some of the other folks from the PDA camp. She’s very tired, and a tad cranky – but now that she has finally reached safe ground – she’s headed to church. Not to the showers to wash off the 2 days worth of sweat and grime she accumulated during the evacuation. And not to a quiet corner to catch up on much needed sleep. She’s headed to church to thank God for a safe place to ride out the “mother of all storms”. However, she does plan to sit in the back so that no one can smell her.
While she’s living through the chaos of what could turn out to be the next Hurricane Katrina, she wanted me to share with you all some of her experiences during the evacuation. I know she will expound in more detail when she’s rested and has some time to stop and think about it all. So here is Mom’s experience so far, in various short thoughts and observations:
She began the evacuation in the most surreal circumstances. As she and the other PDA staff were packing up the camp and loading whatever they could on to trucks and trailers, they had to periodically stop to get out of the way of the Project Homecoming staff that were unloading trucks and trailers and filling the PDA facility with party favors for a celebration of all the work done over the last three years to rebuild homes in the area after the last hurricane. So while Mom is moving boxes of food out – they are bringing party favors in. While tools are going out – helium balloons are coming in. Out for Gustav. In for Katrina.
Her first stop along the way was to help her friend Jan pack up and join the gang on their way to Mississippi. Jan handles all the logistics for the PDA camps. She lost all of her belongings in Katrina so everything she owns fits in her Honda Accord. And she packed everything. Not just necessities. Everything she owned. She couldn’t bear to lose anything again.
From there, two convoys carrying people, food, tools, and RVs headed to Meridian, Missippi. Three hours north of New Orleans, close to the Alabama border. The trip was slow, as you can imagine. Cars were bumper to bumper. Everyone going the same speed. No one changing lanes. All Mom had to eat yesterday was a jar of peanut butter she threw in the car with her. Whenever she got hungry, she stuck her finger in and scooped out a mouthful. She’s surprised how little food she actually needs to get through the day.
When they reached the church in Meridian, she was told that the only people allowed back once the storm passes will be those that are certified as first responders. Odds are pretty good that the PDA staff will be quickly certified so they can get back and assess the damage. She didn’t give me an estimate of how many people were at the church where she spent the night, but she did say there were a lot of families with children. And therefore a lot of noise. It made it difficult to sleep, which I think is why she’s feeling cranky, but she knows that by the end of the week she will be good friends with all these people and their children.
That’s all the news I have for now. Hopefully, the next posting will be an update from Mom herself – in her own words – once she’s back in New Orleans. If not, I’m sure she’ll continue to give updates through me, so keep checking back periodically.
About Me
- Jane
- I'm pretty much a typist for the Holy Spirit. I try to put those things into words in a blog called Jane's Journey. I have another blog for recipes called My Life in Food. Also Really Cool Stuff features Labyrinths and other things like how to fry an egg on the sidewalk.(first step: don't do it on the sidewalk, use a skillet) Come along with me as I careen through life.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
latest news from Jane
I got a visit from Wilf, the logistics manager who came to pick up the second truck and take it to headquarters. He wants me to pack up. He'll be back to strap down the new shower trailer and get the other truck. When he comes I'll follow him in my own car to Orange Grove. This is where the staff will gather and possibly go north to the Trinity Presbyterian Church in Meridian, Mississippi. This is our pre-determinted evacuation site. There is a plan for us and all we have to do is follow the plan.
For now I need to pack up the office files and anything electronic, including the car chargers for them all. I'll put the frozen stuff in a cooler if we have room. We'll turn off the electricity when we leave.
I found my self at the grocery store getting peanut butter and bread. But the big decision was what flavor of ice cream is best for a hurricane evacuation? Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, of course.
So, I gotta go. As I was packing up my trailer I was making decisions on what to pack based on the idea that I may never again see the things I leave behind. Sounds like a good reason to buy new clothes. But you can bet I'm taking my Guatemala pictures and book.
I will have my PDA phone with me and keep it charged. the number is 601-447-5045Someday I will write more about this exercise. Later.
For now I need to pack up the office files and anything electronic, including the car chargers for them all. I'll put the frozen stuff in a cooler if we have room. We'll turn off the electricity when we leave.
I found my self at the grocery store getting peanut butter and bread. But the big decision was what flavor of ice cream is best for a hurricane evacuation? Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, of course.
So, I gotta go. As I was packing up my trailer I was making decisions on what to pack based on the idea that I may never again see the things I leave behind. Sounds like a good reason to buy new clothes. But you can bet I'm taking my Guatemala pictures and book.
I will have my PDA phone with me and keep it charged. the number is 601-447-5045Someday I will write more about this exercise. Later.
Special Hurricane Edition
OK, so it's not Wednesday but interesting things are starting to happen so I thought I would update on my activities. Gustave is headed our way. A very UNwelcomed guest. We don't need another hurricane just yet. The NOLA newspaper this morning had a list of all the levees that are still under construction.
Almost the minute I posted my blog entry yesterday I got a good look at the weather channel and then another. Then the local TV, then CNN. Then Weather Underground on the internet. They all show a computer model looking like Katrina's twin headed straight for us. And tomorrow is August 29--the third anniversary of Katrina.
I got an email on my blackberry from our new volunteer village coordinator, in essence, my boss. The word here is to stock up on all the gasoline I can get my hands on and pack my bag then sit back and stay calm. Leslie, whom I haven't met yet, has experience with Red Cross and I think is very practical to warn us that this may be a long adventure. Storms come then die out, then regroup and come back. We saw Fay do this for about three weeks. We could spend two or three months going through this before we could relax completely.
However, the boss did tell me to get out the Evacuation Kit and check it. I had never been given permission to as much as touch it before. I'm sure they didn't want people taking things out of it and not replacing it, leaving a half-assed Evac kit. I think the one in the Pearlington camp may even have been sealed. Every camp has one but, to my knowledge, this was the first time we'd been instructed to look inside it. At any rate, I've always been curious about what was in it and excited to be given permission to look inside. I just knew it would be packed with food. No dice. It contained hand sanitizer, a fire extinguisher, rope and tarp, paper plates and a first aid kit--stuff like that.
I went and gassed up the car and truck. Our shed already had about 10 five gallon cans of gasoline. So, I'm pretty much prepared. So I sit and wait.
Our camp here is less of a worry to the PDA staff. We are inside a brick building. A couple of the other camps are, too. But the Pearlington camp is the one everyone at PDA is worried about. That camp is totally tents. Only the office and kitchen is in any kind of building, small plywood ones. You have a hard time tieing down trashcans in that camp. There's no place to put anything to get it out of the wind.
The main thing--the crucial difference is that right now, none of the PDA camps has volunteers. So all we are concerned with is equipment, not people.
My friends who stayed through Katrina are having a rough time. Even Dallas, a tough old bird if there ever was one, is talking about evacuating. I told her she was always welcome at our house in Texas. She's been living alone since her partner, Jayne, took a contract nursing job in New Mexico. But as we talked I realized that like most people, she couldn't leave alone. If she found a safe place she would have to take her sister and brother-in-law with her. Then the two grandkids and their mother. Then, of course, she would bring her good buddy, Joel and possibly Joe. The list of extended family grew as we talked. It reminded me of all the times I considered the "nuclear bomb" scenario. If I stockpiled food at my house I wouldn't be able to eat it without offering some to Shirley, our neighbor across the street. Very few people are islands. Most of us are part of a family-type group. If one goes, they all go.
Enough philosophy. My plans for today are to gas up the only two empty gas cans. Then I'm going to do the regular stuff I would be doing any normal day. In the meantime, I wait.
Additional news as it develops.
Almost the minute I posted my blog entry yesterday I got a good look at the weather channel and then another. Then the local TV, then CNN. Then Weather Underground on the internet. They all show a computer model looking like Katrina's twin headed straight for us. And tomorrow is August 29--the third anniversary of Katrina.
I got an email on my blackberry from our new volunteer village coordinator, in essence, my boss. The word here is to stock up on all the gasoline I can get my hands on and pack my bag then sit back and stay calm. Leslie, whom I haven't met yet, has experience with Red Cross and I think is very practical to warn us that this may be a long adventure. Storms come then die out, then regroup and come back. We saw Fay do this for about three weeks. We could spend two or three months going through this before we could relax completely.
However, the boss did tell me to get out the Evacuation Kit and check it. I had never been given permission to as much as touch it before. I'm sure they didn't want people taking things out of it and not replacing it, leaving a half-assed Evac kit. I think the one in the Pearlington camp may even have been sealed. Every camp has one but, to my knowledge, this was the first time we'd been instructed to look inside it. At any rate, I've always been curious about what was in it and excited to be given permission to look inside. I just knew it would be packed with food. No dice. It contained hand sanitizer, a fire extinguisher, rope and tarp, paper plates and a first aid kit--stuff like that.
I went and gassed up the car and truck. Our shed already had about 10 five gallon cans of gasoline. So, I'm pretty much prepared. So I sit and wait.
Our camp here is less of a worry to the PDA staff. We are inside a brick building. A couple of the other camps are, too. But the Pearlington camp is the one everyone at PDA is worried about. That camp is totally tents. Only the office and kitchen is in any kind of building, small plywood ones. You have a hard time tieing down trashcans in that camp. There's no place to put anything to get it out of the wind.
The main thing--the crucial difference is that right now, none of the PDA camps has volunteers. So all we are concerned with is equipment, not people.
My friends who stayed through Katrina are having a rough time. Even Dallas, a tough old bird if there ever was one, is talking about evacuating. I told her she was always welcome at our house in Texas. She's been living alone since her partner, Jayne, took a contract nursing job in New Mexico. But as we talked I realized that like most people, she couldn't leave alone. If she found a safe place she would have to take her sister and brother-in-law with her. Then the two grandkids and their mother. Then, of course, she would bring her good buddy, Joel and possibly Joe. The list of extended family grew as we talked. It reminded me of all the times I considered the "nuclear bomb" scenario. If I stockpiled food at my house I wouldn't be able to eat it without offering some to Shirley, our neighbor across the street. Very few people are islands. Most of us are part of a family-type group. If one goes, they all go.
Enough philosophy. My plans for today are to gas up the only two empty gas cans. Then I'm going to do the regular stuff I would be doing any normal day. In the meantime, I wait.
Additional news as it develops.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Life in the Slow Lane
I’ve definitely slowed down. I don’t even walk fast these days. The camp is totally empty and it’s just me and the TV. But this means I haven’t been distracted and I’ve worked a lot on my book. I think I’m just about finished. Have I said that before? Right now I’m just waiting for Kaylin Bailey to finish her edits and it’s off for the final proofing and then to the typesetter. I know the day after I send it off I will come up with the perfect paragraph.
Right now things at camp are fairly quiet but it won't stay that way long. We're expecting 18 volunteers the week of September 21 but the week following brings between 80-90 volunteers every week after that. That’s a lot of milk and eggs.
We had some rain here from Hurricane Fay but not nearly as much as other places nor as much as the constant updates from the weather service that’s plugged into my blackberry warned me about constantly.
In the meantime, I guard the camp. It’s starting to look a lot safer to me. For starters, I got a good look at the map and it’s not really that close to the dreaded ninth ward. There’s even an “innercoastal waterway” between us on the map. I took a walk through the neighborhood just now and it’s a nice middle class neighborhood that’s mostly come back. I guess on my three-block walk I only saw two FEMA trailers and maybe four or five houses that looked unoccupied. Every other house on my walk was tidy and the grass was freshly mowed. Some houses had flowerbeds and a few looked like they had taken the opportunity to upgrade what they had before in terms of new stucco on the outside. Only one house looked untouched in the last three years. The weeds have sprouted trees in their midst. But there were other houses that I could tell were unoccupied. The dangling electrical wires gave them away if nothing else did. But these houses had yards that were freshly mown. I’m not sure who was mowing them and why the other house hadn’t been mowed.
At the end of my walk I ran across two groups of people canvassing the neighborhood with political pamphlets for a congressional election. I stopped one of the guys and bluntly asked what they call this neighborhood. He said two blocks over is “Sherwood Forest.” Maybe that makes me Maid Marian.
I’ve started working on a second blog. The camp has one of its own. I’ll be posting to this one here but also updating the blog for the camp. Today you will want to see both of them. All the pictures are on that blog. As the volunteer “season” gets underway in a few weeks the camp blog will probably just be camp news with mostly pictures of volunteer teams--and possibly boring to you. But for now my biggest news is to show you where I’m living and give you a taste of what my life is like. So check this blog:
http://olivetreevillage.blogspot.com
I tried some more movies but for some reason this time I couldn’t get them to load into the blog.
Right now things at camp are fairly quiet but it won't stay that way long. We're expecting 18 volunteers the week of September 21 but the week following brings between 80-90 volunteers every week after that. That’s a lot of milk and eggs.
We had some rain here from Hurricane Fay but not nearly as much as other places nor as much as the constant updates from the weather service that’s plugged into my blackberry warned me about constantly.
In the meantime, I guard the camp. It’s starting to look a lot safer to me. For starters, I got a good look at the map and it’s not really that close to the dreaded ninth ward. There’s even an “innercoastal waterway” between us on the map. I took a walk through the neighborhood just now and it’s a nice middle class neighborhood that’s mostly come back. I guess on my three-block walk I only saw two FEMA trailers and maybe four or five houses that looked unoccupied. Every other house on my walk was tidy and the grass was freshly mowed. Some houses had flowerbeds and a few looked like they had taken the opportunity to upgrade what they had before in terms of new stucco on the outside. Only one house looked untouched in the last three years. The weeds have sprouted trees in their midst. But there were other houses that I could tell were unoccupied. The dangling electrical wires gave them away if nothing else did. But these houses had yards that were freshly mown. I’m not sure who was mowing them and why the other house hadn’t been mowed.
At the end of my walk I ran across two groups of people canvassing the neighborhood with political pamphlets for a congressional election. I stopped one of the guys and bluntly asked what they call this neighborhood. He said two blocks over is “Sherwood Forest.” Maybe that makes me Maid Marian.
I’ve started working on a second blog. The camp has one of its own. I’ll be posting to this one here but also updating the blog for the camp. Today you will want to see both of them. All the pictures are on that blog. As the volunteer “season” gets underway in a few weeks the camp blog will probably just be camp news with mostly pictures of volunteer teams--and possibly boring to you. But for now my biggest news is to show you where I’m living and give you a taste of what my life is like. So check this blog:
http://olivetreevillage.blogspot.com
I tried some more movies but for some reason this time I couldn’t get them to load into the blog.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Changing Lanes
After last week's post I got a call to pack up and come on down to New Orleans to go back on PDA staff. The "season" hasn't really started yet but they are between camp managers at this camp and since it's pretty close to the Ninth Ward they want somebody on the premises. So here I am.
It looks like instead of going back to Pearlington I'll do my time here in the newest camp, the Hilton of PDA camps. I can't help but feel like I've had a promotion. I hesitate to list all it's amenities for fear of losing my reputation as a sturdy chick who can rough it with the best of them. My trailer here isn't much better than the last one except this one has a working toilet. It doesn't have TV. But the flat screen HDTV in the lounge makes up for that. Opps, pretend I didn't say that.
The name of the camp is Olive Tree. Most of the camps have cute names like Good Earth but everyone ends up calling them by the name of the city--like the Pearlington camp or the Houma camp. We're housed in what used to be a Presbyterian church that had dissolved years ago and was being used as a Day Care or school of some sort. But after the storm the school didn't reopen and the church donated the building to the Presbytery for PDA's use. This means that we have a real live, fairly modern brick building. Instead of tents and pods and propane heaters that crap out at 2am or 20 degrees, our camp has set up sleeping accomodations in the previous Sunday School classrooms. This means, yes... central air and heat.
We have a brand new kitchen and a commercial dishwasher. I spent most of my day today unpacking boxes of dishes like a new bride after the honeymoon. Near as I can tell we'll have over a hundred each of plates, bowls and silverware. I'm supposed to hear back from the dishwasher rep tomorrow because this dishwasher takes three different kinds of chemicals to do the dishes at the speed of lightning.
We'll have 20 volunteers the middle of September, then increase to 80 the next week. So I expect the pace to pick up and stay moving. Many on the PDA staff think our camp could end up the most popular when the word gets out. If we reach our our capacity of 90 I'll be moving at breakneck speed every day.
Slow now; fast later. I'm trying to take it slow now, anyway. I learned a great lesson in slowing down just before I left for New Orleans.
I guess I'm probably not the only person to ever get a speeding ticket on the way home from taking Defensive Driving to wipe a speeding ticket off her record. I'm sure this happens to other people all the time. I was patting myself on the back over being so smart to get this class out of the way before I left for New Orleans. When the cop stopped me I prayed my guts out and dropped all sorts of hints about what a great humanitarian I was to be in a hurry to pack for my volunteer work for Katrina rebuilding but the guy wouldn't bite. He gave me the ticket and I did what I always do, I thanked him. Where is the logic in that?
But it did prompt me to an earnest conversation with God. "WHY does this stuff keep happening to me?" was my plaintive (and very loud) cry.
Word came back to me in a very loving voice, "Because I want you to slow down."
It was one of those "DUH" moments when I realize something that had never occurred to me before. All I have to do to stop getting speeding tickets is to not speed.
So, I drove very slowly to New Orleans. I stayed in the right lane. I watched the speedometer constantly. I kept track of the speed limit signs. I had the demeanor of a guilty dog who had just tracked mud into the house. I was a very good girl. I am living very slowly nowadays, yes, siree.
We'll see how long this lasts.
It looks like instead of going back to Pearlington I'll do my time here in the newest camp, the Hilton of PDA camps. I can't help but feel like I've had a promotion. I hesitate to list all it's amenities for fear of losing my reputation as a sturdy chick who can rough it with the best of them. My trailer here isn't much better than the last one except this one has a working toilet. It doesn't have TV. But the flat screen HDTV in the lounge makes up for that. Opps, pretend I didn't say that.
The name of the camp is Olive Tree. Most of the camps have cute names like Good Earth but everyone ends up calling them by the name of the city--like the Pearlington camp or the Houma camp. We're housed in what used to be a Presbyterian church that had dissolved years ago and was being used as a Day Care or school of some sort. But after the storm the school didn't reopen and the church donated the building to the Presbytery for PDA's use. This means that we have a real live, fairly modern brick building. Instead of tents and pods and propane heaters that crap out at 2am or 20 degrees, our camp has set up sleeping accomodations in the previous Sunday School classrooms. This means, yes... central air and heat.
We have a brand new kitchen and a commercial dishwasher. I spent most of my day today unpacking boxes of dishes like a new bride after the honeymoon. Near as I can tell we'll have over a hundred each of plates, bowls and silverware. I'm supposed to hear back from the dishwasher rep tomorrow because this dishwasher takes three different kinds of chemicals to do the dishes at the speed of lightning.
We'll have 20 volunteers the middle of September, then increase to 80 the next week. So I expect the pace to pick up and stay moving. Many on the PDA staff think our camp could end up the most popular when the word gets out. If we reach our our capacity of 90 I'll be moving at breakneck speed every day.
Slow now; fast later. I'm trying to take it slow now, anyway. I learned a great lesson in slowing down just before I left for New Orleans.
I guess I'm probably not the only person to ever get a speeding ticket on the way home from taking Defensive Driving to wipe a speeding ticket off her record. I'm sure this happens to other people all the time. I was patting myself on the back over being so smart to get this class out of the way before I left for New Orleans. When the cop stopped me I prayed my guts out and dropped all sorts of hints about what a great humanitarian I was to be in a hurry to pack for my volunteer work for Katrina rebuilding but the guy wouldn't bite. He gave me the ticket and I did what I always do, I thanked him. Where is the logic in that?
But it did prompt me to an earnest conversation with God. "WHY does this stuff keep happening to me?" was my plaintive (and very loud) cry.
Word came back to me in a very loving voice, "Because I want you to slow down."
It was one of those "DUH" moments when I realize something that had never occurred to me before. All I have to do to stop getting speeding tickets is to not speed.
So, I drove very slowly to New Orleans. I stayed in the right lane. I watched the speedometer constantly. I kept track of the speed limit signs. I had the demeanor of a guilty dog who had just tracked mud into the house. I was a very good girl. I am living very slowly nowadays, yes, siree.
We'll see how long this lasts.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Russians Are Coming!
I woke up Friday morning to hear the television tell me Russia had invaded Georgia. I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet and my world was about to come to an end. “Oh my God,” I thought, “I’ve got to call Uncle Sonny in Macon and see if he’s OK. We’ll have to invite them to come stay with us. I hope we have room. He’ll want to bring all his kids and grandkids. God, I hope they don’t bring any pets with them. We have enough problems with three dogs. Wait a minute! We’ll need to go help him instead. I’ve got to go pack the car. Where are the guns? We’ve hidden a couple at our house. I’ve got to find them and then find the bullets for them. I think the guns are in the back of the closet but I can’t remember where we put the bullets.”
“Now why on earth do they want to invade Georgia? Georgia never did anything to anybody. Poor Georgia gets it all the time. Remember that scene where they burned down Atlanta in Gone With the Wind?”
“ There’s no telling when they’ll be here in Texas. It’s only a matter of time before they finish destroying Georgia and move on to Alabama and Mississippi. Then it will be Louisiana and then Texas will be next. They’re coming straight for us. I’ll need to call all my friends at the PDA camp in Mississippi. Chances are the Russians can’t do too much damage to a hurricane recovery camp but I know they have a whole freezer stocked with ice cream. We can kiss that goodbye.
I knew this would happen when we elected a president from Texas. We’re living on borrowed time. We need to cash in all our retirement money and hide it under the mattress. But if the Russians take over will dollars still be any good? Maybe I should convert everything to gold. I wonder where I can buy gold bars? Where did I put my jewelry?”
“We should probably stockpile water and toilet paper, too. You never know with these things. Maybe if I had my TV tuned to a rerun of Dr Zhivago it might help when they break down the door. Where are all the old video tapes?”
“It’s a good thing I live out here in the boondocks. Maybe they won’t be so interested in raping and pillaging out here in the woods.” I looked back at the TV to see Russian tanks driving through dense brush. “Oh, no, they are in the woods, too!” I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to run over my dogs. Poor old Friday. He’s toast. He has a hard enough time getting out of the way of cars when we go on our walks. He’ll be no match for a tank.
“Food! I’ve got to stockpile food!” My heart was racing by this time as I grabbed my car keys to get to the store for the last remaining box of chocolate cake mix. “No, wait, Peaches!! They’ll mow down all the peach trees with their tanks. While I’m at the store getting cake mix, water and toilet paper I’ll need to buy every last peach they have in the store. Maybe I should even get a couple of Mrs. Smith’s peach pies while I’m there. Once they start driving their tanks down the road in front of our house I won’t have time to bake a pie from scratch. The frozen ones will come in handy then. I wonder if I should get a couple of cobblers while I’m at it?”
Then the TV updated the video they were showing. The announcer said, “The Russian army has invaded the former Soviet Union state of Georgia.”
Oh.
Never mind.
It was a good thing I caught the mistake before I left for the store. I still had my pajamas on.
“Now why on earth do they want to invade Georgia? Georgia never did anything to anybody. Poor Georgia gets it all the time. Remember that scene where they burned down Atlanta in Gone With the Wind?”
“ There’s no telling when they’ll be here in Texas. It’s only a matter of time before they finish destroying Georgia and move on to Alabama and Mississippi. Then it will be Louisiana and then Texas will be next. They’re coming straight for us. I’ll need to call all my friends at the PDA camp in Mississippi. Chances are the Russians can’t do too much damage to a hurricane recovery camp but I know they have a whole freezer stocked with ice cream. We can kiss that goodbye.
I knew this would happen when we elected a president from Texas. We’re living on borrowed time. We need to cash in all our retirement money and hide it under the mattress. But if the Russians take over will dollars still be any good? Maybe I should convert everything to gold. I wonder where I can buy gold bars? Where did I put my jewelry?”
“We should probably stockpile water and toilet paper, too. You never know with these things. Maybe if I had my TV tuned to a rerun of Dr Zhivago it might help when they break down the door. Where are all the old video tapes?”
“It’s a good thing I live out here in the boondocks. Maybe they won’t be so interested in raping and pillaging out here in the woods.” I looked back at the TV to see Russian tanks driving through dense brush. “Oh, no, they are in the woods, too!” I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to run over my dogs. Poor old Friday. He’s toast. He has a hard enough time getting out of the way of cars when we go on our walks. He’ll be no match for a tank.
“Food! I’ve got to stockpile food!” My heart was racing by this time as I grabbed my car keys to get to the store for the last remaining box of chocolate cake mix. “No, wait, Peaches!! They’ll mow down all the peach trees with their tanks. While I’m at the store getting cake mix, water and toilet paper I’ll need to buy every last peach they have in the store. Maybe I should even get a couple of Mrs. Smith’s peach pies while I’m there. Once they start driving their tanks down the road in front of our house I won’t have time to bake a pie from scratch. The frozen ones will come in handy then. I wonder if I should get a couple of cobblers while I’m at it?”
Then the TV updated the video they were showing. The announcer said, “The Russian army has invaded the former Soviet Union state of Georgia.”
Oh.
Never mind.
It was a good thing I caught the mistake before I left for the store. I still had my pajamas on.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
The Nancys
Not much going on here in paradise. We had a few clouds today but nothing more. But it’s been so hot for so long that just clouds were an occasion to celebrate. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the final re-writing and editing of my book and not much thinking what to say for my usual Wednesday offering. Well, actually, I couldn’t get to work on the book until I cleared off my desk. So I spent the first part of the day sifting through the stack of papers until sifting wasn’t working fast enough and I went to the “box it up and deal with it later” tactic. This technique is scary when I employ it because I always run the risk that I won’t go back and actually look inside the box ever again.
Here’s a thought I’ve had bumping around inside my brain for a while. I’m afraid you’re only getting a half-baked idea. I didn’t have enough time to fully bake it once I got all my papers boxed up.
For years there were a couple of ladies who ran a restaurant and bakery in downtown Winnsboro. They were both named Barbara. Since they were so active in the community while working side by side at the bakery, they became interchangeable in everyone’s mind and they were referred to as simply, “The Barbaras.”
I have more than one friend named Nancy. But none are as special as two. And even though they have never met each other, nor do they really have anything in common, I am inclined sometimes to think of them as “the Nancys.” I gain something spiritual from each of them almost every time I talk to either of them.
Here’s the funny thing: not only do they not really have anything in common except for my friendship, they are about as different from each other as night and day. One is a progressive, open-minded free spirit who is always looking for new ideas and new ways to worship God. She’s my resource for all things new and has brought many new ideas to me like “post-modern” and “emergent.”
The other Nancy is a conservative Jew who keeps a kosher kitchen. She does not mix meat and dairy to the extent that she won’t order a cheese enchilada unless they promise to not put chili on it. Not only is she bonded to one of the oldest religions on earth; she is intent on keeping it unchanged. Tradition runs in her veins.
Nancy1 explores Native American spiritual practices and stories and never met a new religion she wasn’t interested in or, at least, interested in knowing more about. Nancy2 sent me a video a few weeks ago of her daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. I had to miss it because I was in Mississippi. In the video the Rabbi speaks of Moses and Aaron in such a familiar way that it’s almost like he’s talking about a couple of dear uncles.
Nancy1 is quiet and shy to the point of hiding sometimes. She is more comfortable in the background. Nancy2 is outgoing and assertive. She teaches a class at the community college and relishes the spotlight.
While I worship God in the same sanctuary every Sunday with Nancy1, Nancy2 has hosted me at more than one Shabbat meal at her house and we enjoy sharing the same God on those evenings. It’s a very spiritual experience.
I love them both equally and dearly. How can this be? Doesn’t one have to be wrong and one right?
I still remember with great embarrassment the day a group of our friends that included two Presbyterians, a Lutheran and an Episcopalian sat around lunch trying to figure out how or even if Nancy2 would get into the heaven we Christians anticipated. And the horrible thing about it was that we actually did this right in front of her. In our attempt to reconcile our Christianity to our friend’s different religion, we ended up sounding like we were back in Junior High School.
But Nancy2 just sat there totally unflustered. She couldn’t have cared less what we thought. She had enough confidence in her beliefs that whatever we believed had no effect on her life. It was a non-issue to her. My beliefs didn’t apply to her life any more than I would hesitate to eat pork.
That’s the funny thing about beliefs. They are beliefs, not facts. None of us know whether we have the right answer.
That’s why it’s called Faith. We just really don’t know, do we?
I could spend more time thinking this through but I’ve run into life’s busyness and have to close. Maybe someday I can ponder this idea more. I’ll make a note and put it in the box.
I wish it would rain.
Here’s a thought I’ve had bumping around inside my brain for a while. I’m afraid you’re only getting a half-baked idea. I didn’t have enough time to fully bake it once I got all my papers boxed up.
For years there were a couple of ladies who ran a restaurant and bakery in downtown Winnsboro. They were both named Barbara. Since they were so active in the community while working side by side at the bakery, they became interchangeable in everyone’s mind and they were referred to as simply, “The Barbaras.”
I have more than one friend named Nancy. But none are as special as two. And even though they have never met each other, nor do they really have anything in common, I am inclined sometimes to think of them as “the Nancys.” I gain something spiritual from each of them almost every time I talk to either of them.
Here’s the funny thing: not only do they not really have anything in common except for my friendship, they are about as different from each other as night and day. One is a progressive, open-minded free spirit who is always looking for new ideas and new ways to worship God. She’s my resource for all things new and has brought many new ideas to me like “post-modern” and “emergent.”
The other Nancy is a conservative Jew who keeps a kosher kitchen. She does not mix meat and dairy to the extent that she won’t order a cheese enchilada unless they promise to not put chili on it. Not only is she bonded to one of the oldest religions on earth; she is intent on keeping it unchanged. Tradition runs in her veins.
Nancy1 explores Native American spiritual practices and stories and never met a new religion she wasn’t interested in or, at least, interested in knowing more about. Nancy2 sent me a video a few weeks ago of her daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. I had to miss it because I was in Mississippi. In the video the Rabbi speaks of Moses and Aaron in such a familiar way that it’s almost like he’s talking about a couple of dear uncles.
Nancy1 is quiet and shy to the point of hiding sometimes. She is more comfortable in the background. Nancy2 is outgoing and assertive. She teaches a class at the community college and relishes the spotlight.
While I worship God in the same sanctuary every Sunday with Nancy1, Nancy2 has hosted me at more than one Shabbat meal at her house and we enjoy sharing the same God on those evenings. It’s a very spiritual experience.
I love them both equally and dearly. How can this be? Doesn’t one have to be wrong and one right?
I still remember with great embarrassment the day a group of our friends that included two Presbyterians, a Lutheran and an Episcopalian sat around lunch trying to figure out how or even if Nancy2 would get into the heaven we Christians anticipated. And the horrible thing about it was that we actually did this right in front of her. In our attempt to reconcile our Christianity to our friend’s different religion, we ended up sounding like we were back in Junior High School.
But Nancy2 just sat there totally unflustered. She couldn’t have cared less what we thought. She had enough confidence in her beliefs that whatever we believed had no effect on her life. It was a non-issue to her. My beliefs didn’t apply to her life any more than I would hesitate to eat pork.
That’s the funny thing about beliefs. They are beliefs, not facts. None of us know whether we have the right answer.
That’s why it’s called Faith. We just really don’t know, do we?
I could spend more time thinking this through but I’ve run into life’s busyness and have to close. Maybe someday I can ponder this idea more. I’ll make a note and put it in the box.
I wish it would rain.
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