Popes, Bishops and Social Media

Pope Francis

Like almost everybody else in the country, I was thrilled  with  Pope Francis' visit.  My friend, Nancy, who is ill, said she'd love to have had the pope visit her (and kiss her on the head) but she would have had a better chance if she was a baby.  She's right.  Pope Francis kissed a lot of babies.  And, due to social media, we saw it all, up close and personal.

Bishop Ken Carter

We United Methodists don't have a pope.  We have a number of bishops.  They are our spiritual leaders in the United Methodist Church.  The bishop for Florida is Ken Carter.

When I was active and working as a consultant for many years, sometimes for church agencies, I made a point of knowing the bishop and the bishop knowing me.   Now, in retirement, I don't really have a personal relationship with Bishop Carter. Although he did speak at my church early on and I had the pleasure of meeting him.

Ken Carter said about this photo on his
Facebook page:
"Some people met the pope this week.
I met Rob Lowe (here with his son) at
the Duke-Georgia Tech game."

But what I do have is Facebook.  Bishop Carter is on Facebook.  Only it's not the bishop, it's Ken Carter, the man.  So, through Facebook, I know as much or more about Ken Carter as I have any other bishops.

He comes across as warm, caring, funny, smart and humble.  Also tall.  Also busy.  I know what he's doing and where he is (all over the world) most days.  Ken Carter's Facebook page makes me happy to be a United Methodist.

He also (like me) has a blog so I can read in depth about what he thinks and feels.

I don't know if he kisses a lot of babies but I do know he preaches good news to the poor and proclaims freedom for captives.  This morning he posted on Facebook his concern for Georgia death row inmate Kelly Grissendaner.

And I know, through Facebook, that the bishop and Rob Lowe are both Dukies.


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I Love Ferris Wheels

Orlando Eye

When Dave and I had our first date (which lasted for three days) we met in Chicago.  Among other fun things we went to the Navy Pier, had dinner and rode the great 150 feet high Ferris wheel.  It never stops so you have to jump on fast.  The views of Chicago are, of course, over the top.

Yesterday we drove to International Drive in Orlando.  It's loaded with hotels, restaurants, over the top shopping and other diversions.

Me getting into our own
private air conditioned car.

One of the newest diversions is a Ferris Wheel called the Orlando Eye, named after the London Eye (which we've seen but not ridden.)
 At 400 feet high, it's the mac daddy of Ferris wheels.  The enclosed, air conditioned cars hold 15 people.  We rode in the middle of the day so we had our own personal car all to ourselves.

You might think that I'm now spoiled for our ride on our neighborhood Ferris Wheel at the annual Saint Mary Magdalene Community Fair coming up in a couple of weeks.  It's an altogether different experience with its open rocking cars and screaming teenagers.

I'll like it too.

Chicago's Navy Pier

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Grandma

We grandmas have an image to maintain.  That's why I had a little trepidation when Dave and I went to our little jewel of an indie theater, the Enzian, on Sunday to see Lily Tomlin in her new film, "Grandma."

Lily plays a 76 year old grandma.  In real life she and I are the same age. 76. She plays a poet.  I am a poet.  Her character and I had about the same amount of financial success with our poetry at about the same time in our lives.

Lily's "Grandma" is a lesbian, Elle, who's life partner died after a 38 year relationship.   I was in a 44 year relationship when my first husband died so I can relate there as well.

But that's about it as far as comparisons go.

Lily Tomlin and Sam Elliott

 Elle's relationship with her much younger new girlfriend explodes on the same day her granddaughter, Sage, arrives to tell her she's pregnant and needs an abortion - that day.

I, of course, have never been in that particular situation - but I've had some dozy days when life was exploding all around me.

 I loved this film.  It was entertaining and real throughout.  And it was short.  Elle is funny and cantankerous and foul mouthed and rude.  She's broke and relatively friendless - due, obviously, to some bad decision making - and her mouth!

Marsha Gay Harden, scary mom,
scary daughter.

"Grandma" is a road picture and a buddy picture.  My favorite scene was when she found her former husband, Sam Elliott, to hit him up for some cash.  I read several reviews that said their encounter should earn both of them Academy Award nominations.  I agree.

Marsha Gay Harden is so good in her roll as Elle's daughter and the Sage's mother.  Both of them are afraid of her.  Elle tells Sage, "I've been afraid of her since she was five."

Lily's counterculture ways are neither condemned or condoned.  In the end, the film is all about love.


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Me and the O.T.

In our church we're being encouraged to read the Bible.  What a concept!  I just started taking an 8 week class.  Naturally, we're starting with Genesis.

Here's the thing....I've read the Bible many times.  I've gone through various stages with the Old Testament.  Yes, I had the poster saying "Eve Was Framed."  Yes, I know that all sorts of terrible things over the centuries, slavery, racism, abuse of women and children, to name a few, have been done in the name of the Old Testament.

And, yes, I know that taking it all literally, especially the time line,  is silly.

So what's the point?  I think the creation story happens almost every day, all around us.  God says "you can have a wonderful life, here it is, just don't (fill in the blank.)  But we continue to mess it up.  Why do we do that?  I don't know.  But it all dates back to Adam and Eve.

I love the concept of order coming from chaos.  This happens over and over in the Old Testament.  It's the story of God's chosen people.  It helps me understand where my Jewish friends are coming from.  But it's not only their history, it's mine.

Several years ago I loved reading author and philosopher (but not necessarily religious) AJ Jacobs' book "My Year of Living Biblically."  It was hysterical.  His point was, it can't be done.

Here's what's important to me in every Old Testament story:  What is it saying about the nature of God?  What is it saying about the nature of us human beings? It says plenty.

(But for me, the full nature of God isn't even close to being fully revealed until Jesus comes on the scene in the New Testament.) 

Dave is also reading the Old Testament.  He says for the first time.  It's an eye opener.  Our friend Art, who is somewhat of a Bible scholar, was over on Thursday.  When Dave told him he was reading Genesis, Art said "Well,  good luck with that. "

Yesterday Dave told me he was perplexed while reading in Genesis about women getting together with supernatural beings.  I said, "Well, good luck with that."


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Quilting

Quilting has made a comeback.  Women - and men - are going "old school."  My friend, Gil, has just finished a quilt.  Apparently his first.  He shared the process recently on Facebook.

Gil's Quilt

I grew up with quilts and quilting.  My brother Paul and I spent our summers with our aunt and grandmother on a farm in southern Indiana.  Our grandma, the mother of 13, always had a quilt going.  All of our relatives, no matter how simply they lived, had quilts galore.  They were made from scraps of favorite clothing.  Seed bags came in colorful, printed cotton bags.  When they were emptied, dresses were made and when they were outgrown, the cloth was used for quilts.  

All of the quilts from my childhood were hand quilted on huge frames.  During the 30s and 40s there were quilting clubs where women came together to quilt and visit.  Many times, this was the only social time these women had.  

A few decades ago I read a wonderful book about quilters who solved murders.  When I just went to Amazon to find the title, I found that there are hundreds of books about quilters who solve murders. 

Pencil drawing of machine

Pencil drawing of designs

My dad was an artist.  Looking back I know he was gifted.  Not as a dad, certainly, but as an artist.  He wasn't a bad person, he was just overwhelmed by the life he was forced to live.  When he had the time, he did portraits in oils, wood carvings and explored other mediums.  When he was older, long before quilting machines were invented, he decided to make one himself.  

He strung up pulleys in his basement and reworked an old industrial sewing machine.  Before long he had folks from all over sending him quilt tops to be finished with his lavish designs.  Here are the penciled drawings he sent me, decades ago, to show how it worked.  

I won't be doing any quilting but I'm glad this art form is popular again.  P.S.  I love the quilt on my bed.

My bed

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The Funeral

On Wednesday I attended, along with many other folks, the funeral of my brother Paul.  I've been to many funerals.  The very best ones have lots of tears and lots of laughs.  This one was way up there.  The essence of  Paul was conveyed.

Paul and me in January

Paul was blessed with a legendary, edgy sense of humor.   Several folks shared their own personal testimonies about being on the receiving end of this humor.  The minister shared several examples, intertwined with tales of Paul's unfailing love.  Here's an example:

Paul had a good friend who died a while back.  In the last months Paul was with him often as his friends' health was fading.  As they sat watching football they sometimes held hands.  Both wives thought it was sweet.

The man's wife was suffering mightily, watching her husband slowly disappear.  But Paul dealt with her differently.  No handholding.  First off, her name is Charmin.  But Paul called her Cottenelle (the slightly less expensive toilet tissue.)  He teased her constantly.

Later on when Paul was fading she gave him a pan of brownies that were slightly overcooked.  He took one of the brownies - nailed it to the garage - and asked his wife, Sandy, to take a picture of him (pretending to) shoot it with his gun.  He then sent the photo to Cottenelle - I mean Charmin - and told her it was the only way he could break open the brownie.

We miss you Paul.


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Love and Loss and Traveling Backwards

My brother died three days ago.  Seems longer because so much has happened.  Mostly I've had to put up with family and friends being extraordinarily loving and kind and even hugging me.

Paul and Cess, late 1940s

His wife and daughter are the ones truly suffering so I understand where my friends are coming from because I just want to get these two women in a big old group hug and take the pain away.  But I cannot.  And you cannot either.

It's normal to travel backwards when we loose someone.   And that's what I've been doing with my brother.  Because that's what we had together, our childhood.

We lived with our dad on the corner of Bloyd and Jefferson in Indianapolis.  We had an older sister but I don't remember her being there much.  She was mostly shipped out to other relatives.  There were very few houses on Bloyd but Jefferson Avenue,  just over the railroad tracks,  one block long, was filled with small, and, unlike ours, mostly well kept houses.

And that's where we spent most of our time.   Although the term had not yet been invented, we were "street kids."  Jefferson Street kids.  We knew almost every family on the street.  The Hortons had a house full of kids and the best back yard ever.  Mr. Horton worked for the power company and somehow had telephone poles and ropes all up and down their deep back yard.  The first "ropes course."  And they were the first on the block to have a television set.  Paul and I would arrive at their house at 4:00 P.M. and watch the test pattern until a program came on.  It's the first place I ever saw Milton Berle.

Paul and Cess, two weeks ago.

Next to the Hortons lived a man named Mr. Dillinger.  He was what we would now call a recluse.  One day the police and someone from the hospital came for him.  It was much later when we learn Mr. Dillinger was the half brother of the infamous John Dillinger.

On down the block was my friend Ruthie Curry, and further, on the other side of the street, my friend Charlotte.  Also on the other side was a rooming house.  A little boy lived there who was funny and sweet but very strange.  I think he might have been what we would call today, transgendered.  But that identification had not be invented in the 40s.

I left home when I was barely 17.  At that age I was thinking only of saving myself.  I left Paul behind.  A few years later I moved from Indianapolis to Florida.  Paul bloomed where he was planted.

Paul and I lived very different lives.   But we both overcame our childhood to become whole, healthy humans beings.  I truly don't know many people who are as loved as my brother, Paul.  I don't know how that would have turned out without having each other as little kids and without loving neighbors.  I don't remember our friends or their parents ever questioning why we were on the street so often.  But I remember them being good to us.  I suspect that some of these parents realized we needed a warm place to sit and watch the test pattern.


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Minnesota State Fair Food Takes It Up a Notch

Snicker Bar Salad

The Minnesota State Fair - one of the best in the country - is taking place right now. The food that has always been over the top has gone up scale. It used to be that if we thought of our favorite fast food and then boiled it in lard, we had great fair food.

This year the fair has gone gourmet.  Not only that, we're supposed to choose wine pairings.

Deep Fried Ribs

New at the fair is Grandma Deb's Snicker Bar Salad.

And let's deep fry those ribs.

Do you love Funnel Cake?  How about Maple Bacon Funnel Cake?

Twinkies with Caviar

Or how about Spam Burgers in 5 Flavors finished off by Sara's Tipsy Pies or Deep Fried Twinkies with Caviar - or both?

OK, I'm totally confused about the wine pairings.  Aren't we always supposed to choose wine sweeter than the food?  I don't think it's possible.

Sara's Tipsy Pies

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