Babette's Feast

Babette's Feast, 1984 film

This past Sunday I had the privilege of leading the discussion in Forum.  I chose "Babette's Feast" the story and 1984 Academy Award winning foreign film as the centerpiece for our discussion.

While it's not overtly religious, this story is dripping with meaning.  Pope Francis loves it because of its profound depiction of grace and mercy.

Modern day "Babette's Feast"

In the film, set in the 1800s, Babette, who had once been a great chef in France but is now a long time servant in a small Danish village, discovers she's won the French lottery.  Before leaving the village she prepares a feast for these people for whom she's already served for many years.  They don't deserve it or even want it but she prepares it anyway.

And what a feast it is.  For several decades, around the world, serious foodies have tried to duplicate Babette's Feast.  Do you think you could prepare a meal, an experience, that would significantly change a person's life?  Has this ever happened to you?

In the end, Babette is unable to leave the village because she has spent her entire fortune on the feast. What's up with that?  More food for thought.


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Gwendy's Button Box

As you know, this is my "Summer of Stephen King."  Earlier this week I read this slim, thought provoking novella written by King and Richard Chizmar.  I, frankly, didn't know what to make of it.

At first I thought it was a young reader's book - but it's not.  I was a bit confused but intrigued all the way through and was anxious to get to the end to see what the big secret was.  So I got to the end and - nothing!

It starts with, Gwendy, an unhappy, chubby twelve year old girl running up a long set of steep steps (called the Suicide Steps) in Castle Rock - a familiar Stephen King setting.  

I was reminded of the steep stone steps in Stillwater, Minnesota that Dave and I conquered a few times.  The view from the top was worth it.  

Gwendy meets a man in a black hat who gives her a magic box with buttons on the top for her to push at her own discretion.  Some are to be used for good - some not.  Gwendy is careful with the box throughout the story.  She rarely uses even the buttons that bring her good things.  Only once or twice does she use the buttons to bring destruction to others.  (The second time it was necessary to save her life.)

At the end of the story Gwendy is a college graduate headed for a wonderful life.  The man in the black hat returns to retrieve the box and she gives it to him.  It's secret is never explained!

WHAT?

So I've been forced to do the work myself.  First, I'm glad the protagonist is a young woman because I think the box is a symbol of empowerment.  We all have more power than we think - but many of us either misuse it or deny it.  How much power do we have to save ourselves or the world - or destroy ourselves and a bit of the world as well?

Where does this power come from?  How much of our life choices are our own doing or intervention from an unseen force?

I think, overall, Gwendy made good choices with the button box.  I hope, in the time I have left on this earth, I can continue, first, acknowledge that I still have power - and to push (mostly) the right buttons.


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A Secret Life

Don't tell anybody but we've been watching Dexter on Netflix.  Dexter has a secret life.  He's a really nice guy but also a serial killer.  But the good kind who only kills really bad people.  Dexter is always under stress because he has to keep his secret life a secret.

I had a close friend who led a secret life.  Jean and I were roommates in a little apartment in downtown Indianapolis before I met my husband.  We also worked together.  She was attractive, smart and a very good person.  We remained friends for several decades.

Jean wore lovely clothes, make up and shoes.  She had an occasional glass of wine, something I did not do at the time.  We both saved our money but still had fun on the weekends playing sports in our shorts, t-shirts and white Keds - and flirting with young men.

Except every other weekend Jean went "home" to see her parents and siblings.  They lived in Southern Indiana and belonged to a strict religious group.  Some folks called it a cult.  The rules of living were severe, especially for women.  There were no movies, television, books or magazines.

On those "home" visits Jean wore no makeup or jewelry or pants/shorts.  She wore a long dark dress.  The only bridge in her appearance from one home to the other was her hair.  It was never to be cut.  She wore it wound up in a knot on top of her head.

In this particular form of Christianity women were to live and serve under the leadership of men.  Period.

Again, Jean lived like a normal young women in Indianapolis.  She had a few long term romantic relationships with regular, nice guys but never married.  After I left Indianapolis she worked for an international company and traveled to Japan often.  When I saw her in the early 1980s she looked great.

But then her father died and her mother needed assistance.  Jean quit her job and moved back home  to care for her mother until she passed away.  When I saw her in the 1990s in Florida everything had changed.  I was startled by her appearance.  She looked like an old lady.  She was depressed.   After all those years she had re-embraced the religion of her family.

 Jean told me that when her mother was very ill she'd made a deal with God that if he spared her mother for a while she would return to the fold.  So the price for having her mother around for a few extra years was was losing her freedom.  She was being monitored (my word) by her brother.

In 2005 I saw Jean for the last time.  While I was visiting Indianapolis I rented a car and drove to the small town where Jean was living alone in her mother's house.  I spent the night and when we went to bed I was bored out of my mind because there was nothing to read and nothing to watch.

The worst part of the visit was that it was clearly evident to me that Jean had dementia .

Is this what God wants for us?  Is this the abundant life?


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Spiritual But Not Churchy

As you probably know, church attendance has been dropping over the decades.  For whatever reasons, going to church is not a big deal for many folks.  This morning in Forum a woman who is a hospital chaplain and attends Forum led us in a discussion on the subject "Spirituality and Religion."  Lots of stats and ideas on how to reach people who don't feel comfortable in church.

It reminded me of something my husband, Ken, did decades ago - long before social media.  He was an urban minister type whose heart was always with people on the fringe.  For a long time, while he was the lead pastor at a big old downtown church, he led a service very early on Sunday mornings at a drive-in theater.  This was in addition to his usual full load of services at the church.

Many years ago drive-in worship services were popular in many cities.  But this was after that phase had pasted.  When he started this service there was just a handful of people in individual cars but when he gave it up there was a community.

Ken stood in front of the screen and talked to people who had absolutely no intention of stepping inside a church.  And he never tried to make them feel guilty about that.  They drove up in bathrobes and muscle shirts.  Some people obviously had been up all night.  Four prostitutes in a big old Buick were regulars.

There was coffee at the concession stand but, in the beginning, most people did not want to socialize.  Sometimes there were free Crispy Cremes.  That got more out of their cars (many times padding over in their bare feet.) Ken always felt that his number one job was to show these people that he loved them.  Just like they were.

It finally came to a stop when the drive-in was sold to a developer.


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From Pampering to Necessary Care

For most of my life I had neither the time nor the money for things like manicures or massages.  And, frankly, I thought they were kinda frivolous.  I could take care of myself!

Now I'm grateful for all the help I can get.

As we get old it's not so much the big stuff that steals our independence, it's the basic stuff that we need to keep up with.  What we used to call pampering becomes necessary.  And, unfortunately, much of it is not covered by insurance.

A year or so ago I had several sessions of acupuncture - the ancient art of sticking people with long needles.  It helped me deal with my Meniere's disease.

Dave and I regularly get pedicures together.  He used to go kicking and screaming but now he realizes how important it is for us oldies to keep our feet in tip top shape.  Pedicures, especially for older men,  are necessary.  I remember reading an article years ago about a doctor who made it his mission to care for the feet of homeless people.  He set up shop in public library restrooms where these people hung out.  If they wanted, he examined their feet and clipped their nails.  Most of us, if we live long enough, will come to the time when we can no longer clip our own nails.  It's humbling.

This leads me to my encounter on Thursday with Linda, my massage therapist.  The goal of therapeutic massage is to achieve structural changes.  I don't see Linda often but when I need her she's there. She has all kinds of credentials but what she has isn't as important to me as what she is.  Linda is a healer.

I had been having some serious back pain for a while.  Nothing I did would make it go away.  I'm not a fan of pain killers but  even resorted to Advil a few nights.  Finally, I spent an hour on Linda's massage table.  Was it pleasant?  Let's just remember there is a fine line between pleasure and pain.  As soon as I lay down Linda said, "Your back is twisted."  As she worked I was about to say "Uncle" a few times but we go through it.  I trust Linda. Thursday night I didn't sleep well.  Not only my back, but everything hurt a little.

But on Friday all of the pain was gone.


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New Information VS Old Patterns

I'm still reading my book about very old people, "Happiness Is a Choice You Make."  Despite it's simple title, it's a complex book.

The other day I read something that I'd never thought about but it made perfect sense.

Neuroscientists often distinguish between information processing and pattern recognition.  These take place in different parts of the brain......Processing information requires a lot of brain energy; recognizing patterns requires relatively little.  

As we get older processing information becomes difficult.  Scientists and Creatives tend to do their best work in this area at an early age, say up to mid 40s.  Our brains just don't have the firepower for it as we get old.

That explains a lot!

But, thank goodness, we are able to rely more on experience and recognizing patterns.  For instance, an older doctor might be better at making a difficult diagnosis because he or she has seen the same set of symptoms over the years.  Apparently, unlike processing new information, recognizing old patterns doesn't decline as we age.

What does this have to do with me?

It helps me understand why I don't want to learn things like one more computer program (but I still do.)  It helps me understand why I don't want to try a new restaurant across town when I'm familiar with so many close by - and I know what I like at these various close by restaurants.

Our past experiences equip us to weather new storms.  As John Leland says:  If you lived through the Great Depression, you weren't so shocked when Lehman Brothers melted down. 


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