Awayness

Had a couple day trips the last couple days. Yesterday we went down to the beach at Galveston, then drove down the island, and booked a bit of a zig-zag pattern to Brazos State Park (we were going to go to the observatory, but apparently they sell out pretty quick). Today we had a brief trip to Austin to meet up with a friend. But what I found myself reflecting on was the space in which I found myself these last few days. Yes, it's hot and it's annoying, but at the same time we get to drive on well-marked and well-taken-care-of roads. The driving's pretty easy, and quite frankly it has to be if you want to travel across the vast expanse of the country-turned-state in a reasonable amount of time. A few years ago we drove from Houston all the way to Carlsbad. Now, you might think, wait a minute, that's only one state over. But it's also about a thousand miles each way. Driving down Galveston Island was also quite relaxing. It was one of those getting-away things. Basically you have a flat, straight stretch of road, with water (and beach houses) on one side, and nothing on the other. I don't know about you, but that's pretty peaceful to me.

I need this break. I'm not sure why, but I remember last month just wanting to get out of the part of Minnesota that I was familiar with (basically Twin Cities south to Owatonna, and I-35 east to US 52). Northfield, especially. But usually with breaks I treat them as battery-rechargers, equally ready to return to from whence I came. This time, though, I don't really have any interest in going back to Northfield (or Minnesota, even). I'm not sure why. I don't think it has anything to do with the place itself, but more with the fact that I've gotten away. And right now I'm happy being (and staying) away. I have several friends that have called or contacted me in some way that I need to get back to. And I will at some point (I promise guys!). But not now. Later.

I'm sure I will go to sleep tonight with visions of driving (or riding) on the road. I've been doing a lot of that this month.

I ate at McDonald's this evening

Like, actually ordered food there. If you know me well, this is a headline. I'm not a fast-food guy. Definitely not a McDonald's guy. Stopped going there on a quasi-regular basis about ten years ago. Managed to be almost completely abstinent for the last six years (the two times that I can think of having gone there I only ordered something to drink). Would have continued this streak if the rest stop didn't have a Dairy Queen as my only other viable option. So I was stuck.

I ordered the Angus Beef 1/3-pounder. I'd heard a little about it beforehand, and it seemed to be a step up from straight up junk fast-food, so I decided to give it a try. It was on par with a burger I had yesterday at Cedar Point (which is an awesome amusement park by the way). I still haven't had any McDonald's fries, though. I just don't think I could handle those things.

So yeah, Cedar Point was great, Cleveland was great, now off for a good night's sleep before turning around and flying to Houston tomorrow morning. Yeah!

Because I haven't written a real sermon in a while

This morning I went to St. James Cathedral in downtown Chicago. Even had the pleasure of driving down and back, too. It was an oddly interesting experience being in an Episcopal church again. Back in April, when I came down for Easter weekend, I took some time to reflect (this was probably on Good Friday when kneeling was a requirement for much of my time at church) about my journey over the last five years, and how I essentially broke apart from the denomination in which I grew up. I mean, in Northfield, when I do make it to church, I usually go to St. John's (ELCA), and occasionally to Emmaus (Baptist).

That was not the case this time. Right now I feel at home where I am, so my reflections were more based on coming back to a space that gave me memories from childhood, while being detached from any sense of longing. Throughout the service, I started thinking about my own framework, specifically centered at the relationship God and I have shared, and branching outward to friends, literature, and communities. Instead of constraining myself to labels (either denominational or religious), I declare myself as myself and let other people apply their own labels if it makes them feel better. I don't consider myself a Christian, and I don't consider myself a non-Christian. But if I explained everything I believe in a quick summary to someone, I might fall into a category. Who knows?

Joy Rogers, this morning's presiding priest, is the Cathedral's Dean there. She used to be a clergy member at the church I grew up, so that's my connection to her. Our Gospel this morning came from a part of John where Jesus talks about how he is the living bread, and this was consequently the main topic of her sermon.  One cool anecdote from her St. Luke's days had someone from the altar guild midway through the service on an emergency run to the church kitchen to thaw out some more communion bread in the microwave (as there were more people than bread available). Another event (maybe the same one? I zoned out a bit in the middle) had her serving the bread at communion, and after giving the blessing of the bread to one little child, he replied "It's still warm!"

Ah, memories. But I'm in a place where I don't need to long for them. Being out in the world in the last year has allowed me to start making my own judgments on things and feeling comfortable doing so. A big issue in my religious odyssey that I haven't talked about much was how much I got jerked around by people of multiple beliefs/opinions. After taking time to read and explore, I feel solid in my own interpretation of things, and I have more comfort with it based on how much information I have.

I leave for Ohio tomorrow, return on Wednesday, and take off for Houston on Thursday. Pray for rain. [tongueincheekface]

Untitle

 Tonight I kinda feel like writing, reflecting, pondering. I drove to Chicago today to visit the folks for a little bit, plus hang out with my longtime best friend for a few days as well. As tradition demands, my mom commandeers the computer during the prime evening hours (I didn't bring mine down, so that's one fewer than I would like), so I had to fend for myself this evening. Bored, I retreated to what was once briefly my room (we moved to our current residence the summer after my junior year in college) and flipped the pages through one of my sketchbooks. I apparently liked to draw maps a lot as a kid, something I continued through high school, college, and even contributed a little bit tonight. But some of the other things that were in there, mementi from the NBA Nintendo game I once played, and repeated attempts at casting for a fictitious movie based on a long short story I wrote as a kid. This was a project I started around when I was 10, finished at age 15, clearly my biggest continual literary project to date. In the story my best buds and I made up a secret boys club who liked to play basketball against the same rival over and over again; the parallel story focused on a community of cats, based on those that I knew growing up, that met up with us at the end. The movie adds the intrigue of my character being crazy, thinking that these cats I knew were anthropomorphic, and were consequently haunting me, thus needing to visit a psychiatrist who would tell me that it was all in my head. But it was not the flush of memories of my entire childhood and collegehood that hit me this time; no, that took place last summer. Rather, it was the two or three updates (I've lost count) of this movie casting of some of my favorite peops at the time: one of them clearly had to have taken place in the last year before I went to college, as everyone cast was either from the remnants of my St. Luke's brotherhood in high school or North Shore; another of the updates was drawn up sometime in late 2007, comprised primarily of my college friends from my junior year, as well as a few others from Chicago that I'd successfully managed to keep in touch with (yay!). What's amazing to me is looking at the names I've written down over the years, and understanding how much these people meant the world to me (and still do). At the same time, I am saddened to realize that creating yet another update (ca. 2009) would make me realize how much the whole scope of who I talk to on a regular basis has changed. I still highly value several of those that I have written in as pretend actors to my pretend movie, or whose last names I write for street names the rare time I sit down and make up a new city map. But I look at my most recent update from late 2007, which was not even two years ago, and see how much things have changed for all of us. It's weird. Funny thing is, I've gotten much better at keeping in touch as I've gotten older and more adult, but at the same time, that's about as best as we can do. Truth is, we're all too [doggone] busy with life to do too much more than that, and all I can ask is, how did it get to be this way? And, while I'm at it, why? When did it become a rule that life had to stop being fun? Why are we so concerned about money and keeping ourselves in the game that we stop making time for each other like we used to?

I should probably stop there. Don't need to vent any more. After all, yesterday, I returned to Northfield from the Great North with one of my good friends, and tomorrow I'm going to hang out with a friend I've known since first grade. And the day after that. And for a few days next week. I just wish I could have the privilege of doing that with a heck of a lot more people on a regular basis, and not just on a semi-regular basis.