A Stranger Every Sunday

Monday, Monday

2012-01-30T22:36:00.001-05:00

Long day, but a good one. Got up early for a meeting with a group of public health folks (very nice people), stayed at work late in order to walk over to World Cafe Live to meet husband and son for a Bill Frisell show.

A great show.

I was worried about taking a photo while the musicians were playing, because I thought the flash might go off, so I took a photo after they left the stage. Oh well.

Now that's a nice Monday evening.

Celebrity school photos

2012-01-29T22:13:00.001-05:00

Some of these are just heartbreaking. All are fascinating (well, some of these celebrities I have never even heard of, but I've heard of most of them).

There's a "look" to school photos that is very distinctive, and very odd.

Dessert time?

2012-01-27T20:58:00.000-05:00

I have not made a dessert of any kind in about a year or so.

I might have to make this, though.

I mean, if you're going to make a dessert, why not go all out?

There are those on the other side of the fence

2012-01-26T20:34:00.001-05:00

Mass in a private home
December 20, 2007

Note - I am really, really going to catch up on these accounts of visiting a different church every Sunday in 2007-2008, the posting of which was the original reason for starting a blog! I'm hoping to be caught up to the current month (ie, posting April 2008 stories in April 2012) and then finish this project. If anyone wants to read them in order, just click on the Visiting Churches label at the bottom of each post and scroll to the beginning.
_____

Tonight I am going to attend Mass in a private home. I didn't even realize Catholics could do that!

We walk into the house, a modest ranch style home, and are greeted warmly. I am at once aware that this is simultaneously both the most Christmassy and the most Catholic home I’ve ever seen. There are lights and decorations on every wall and every surface. There is a Christmas tree in every room, except the bathroom, which features a Christmas shower curtain, Christmas throw rug, Santa Claus toilet seat cover, other Christmas decorations, and a huge picture of St. Therese, the Little Flower, holding a bouquet of roses and a crucifix.

A small table has been set up in the living room, next to the Christmas tree, for the altar. It is covered with a white cloth, and holds a book, candles, a cross, and some of the implements for the Eucharist. Pictures of saints seem to be on the walls of every room, and every room also has at least one crucifix. There is a holy water holder on the wall near the front door.

The tree topper on the main Christmas tree, in the living room, is a little lit-up Virgin Mary, which is something I have never seen before. She is cute – this is one of the few pudgy Virgins I have seen, although the plumpness may be partially a result of the fact that her skirts have to be really wide to encompass both the light bulb inside and the tip of the tree.

Chairs have been set up in rows in two adjoining rooms, the kitchen and a den that is a couple of steps down from the living room. There are about thirty people here for Mass, so it is fairly crowded. There is a nice mix of ages, and the young son of the host and hostess is serving as an altar boy.

The priest enters the living room, wearing an elaborate maroon and gold patterned robe over some other garments, one of them being a sheer skirt with embroidery around the bottom, on top of another robe or skirt. The napkin covering the gold cup on the altar matches the priest’s robe. Very color coordinated!

We begin with prayers and hymns. The priest tells us the names of three or four people for whom this Mass is being said. One of them is Marie Therese, who I later learn is the daughter of the couple in whose home we are meeting, and he says that today is her birthday. So it's a kind of birthday mass, but the birthday girl is not present.

The priest is a tall young Irish man, with a lovely accent, and this is like some kind of movie set from the Bing Crosby era – the home filled with happy Catholic Christians, the Irish priest. He begins by talking about the passage in James that urges Christians to be patient in awaiting the Lord’s coming, and notes that the problem with many Christians today is that they are too patient – in fact, they would just as soon the Lord did not return, because they are having a fine time without Him.

He mentions that tradition tells us that Mary was praying for the coming of the Messiah when Gabriel appeared to her with the message that she would become the mother of the Lord. Then he says an interesting bit about how the innkeeper who refused to let Mary into his inn was (unknowingly) also refusing to let Jesus in. In the same way, anyone who rejects Mary rejects her Son. When Joseph was tempted to divorce Mary, he was (unknowingly) thinking of divorcing Jesus, in her womb.

Then he launches into a passionate defense of Catholicism, noting among other things that the only way to be saved is through the mass, and that no one can be saved apart from the Church. He seems to me to be preaching to the choir here – these must be some pretty hard-core Catholics, if they are willing to spend a hour or so attending a house Mass. I don’t think anyone here besides me is likely to dispute a word he says.

The priest tells us that we must believe in all seven sacraments, and urges us to be sure to make good confessions. He denounces abortion and birth control. He tells us that we must accept every teaching of the Church. He is quite concerned about the sad state of “those on the other side of the fence,” by which he means either non-Catholics, or lapsed Catholics, or perhaps both.

“Some on the other side of the fence think you can confess your sins directly to Jesus, without going to a priest,” he snorts. “Just trying telling that one to Jesus! Jesus, who breathed the Holy Spirit on Peter, and said, “Whatever sins you loose are loosed, etc.”

Everyone who is able kneels for the Eucharist. The priest dispenses the wafers by placing them on people’s tongues. (This is a crowd that is not partial to the reforms of Vatican II.) I am the only one who does not receive. I accidentally make a mistake about this, though. When the priest comes over to where I am kneeling, I hold up my hand like a stop sign. The priest looks disgusted. (I learn later that the correct form for people who are not receiving the host is to cross your arms over your chest.) Only the priest drinks the wine; this is one of those masses where it is not offered to the congregants.

After the service people are invited to come into the kitchen for food. There is a buffet set up with meatball sandwiches, salad, chips, and lots of really great desserts. The priest changes into his street clothes (normal clothing except for the clerical collar), and everyone visits. I talk to our hostess’ mother, and learn that she has six children. One is a nun and one a priest. The hostess's sister is also a nun.

It turns out that the daughter who is a nun is the one having a birthday today. Today is her eighteenth birthday, and she is not at home because she joined a Carmelite order in New York on her seventeenth birthday. Her family has not seen her or talked to her during the last year, and they will not be able to call her and wish her a happy birthday on the phone.

To say that Carmelites are strict is to put the matter lightly. Marie Therese has joined an enclosed order, which means that it is possible - probably, actually - that she will never leave the monastery for the rest of her life. Imagine agreeing to live in one building for the rest of your life at the age of 17!

Marie Therese has had no contact with the outside world for the past year, and I don't know when she will next have a visit or phone call. The idea is that the first year is a chance to acculturate oneself to the enclosed, isolated life of a contemplative nun, and get a good idea of what it is like before you take final vows. It's a hard life of little sleep, physical privations, and lots of prayer and religious rites. An enclosed nun does not leave at any time except for an extreme emergency, such as hospitalization. They have few visitors, or none - and even when they do have visitors, it is often under some kind of strict separation, such as being in different rooms, and seeing the visitors only through a screen, for a short time.

Frankly, I can totally understand a devout teen-age girl raised in an extremely Catholic house feeling an attraction to this heroic life of self-denial and submersion in the religious environment. I can understand that a year (or even a few months) of this kind of thing would cause lasting changes in one's personality and in one's ability to return to the outside world.

The hard thing for me to understand is saying good-by to your 17-year-old daughter, knowing that you will never see her or speak to her again for any length of time for the rest of your life.

There are those on the other side of the fence indeed.

Silence

2012-01-25T23:05:00.002-05:00

There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the ﬂoor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house—
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.

Billy Collins

Today was pretty awesome!

2012-01-24T21:30:00.002-05:00

The title of this post is somewhat misleading. What I first thought of titling it is:
Ouch

The discomfort is coming not so much from the injured toe. It's the funny shoe that hurts, because it makes me walk in a weird way. My muscles are cramping from walking crooked.

Sigh. It's a monster shoe. Or a Munster shoe.

On the other hand, I noticed today for the first time that there is a small art gallery inside the lobby of a building I have passed almost every weekday for eight years. Never even saw it before!

Perhaps the giant black shoe got my attention.

1975

2012-01-23T21:26:00.001-05:00

Scanning old photos tonight. Here's one of my faves, taken in early 1975.

Sunday, Sunday

2012-01-22T21:23:00.000-05:00

Successfully left the house today - drove to Philadelphia, as a matter of fact, and saw the musical Memphis at the Academy of Music. We loved it.

Have you seen the blog Hyperbole and a Half? Written and illustrated by the extremely talented and funny Allie Brosh.

A good place to become acquainted with her style is her post on pain charts.

Another great one is The God of Cake.

And her thoughts about her dog.

But there is plenty of other good stuff to look at.

I'm a little worried, though, since her last post was in October of 2011, and it's about severe depression. I hope she is okay. And I know her fans hope so, too. There are more than 4,000 comments on that post alone.

Aji limo rojo

2012-01-21T18:52:00.000-05:00

Finally - snow. The first snow we have seen since that surprise storm last October.

Especially nice for me, since I have been snugly settled at home since last Monday, waiting for my toe to heal. I plan to step out the door tomorrow. But for now nothing is cozier than sitting at home in pajamas and robe, gazing out the window at the pretty little snowfall.

And how wonderful that I have not one, but two jobs that can be done at home. My full-time job allows us to work from home whenever necessary, and my part-time job is teaching an online class. So I actually stayed home this week and got lots of work done!

The first snow calls for comfort food, and for us that is mac and cheese. I made a big batch tonight, and I made it very hot and peppery. I added jalapeno peppers, chili pepper in adobo sauce, habanero cheese, and one dried aji limo rojo (a Peruvian pepper), crumbled up and added to the onions and mushrooms.

MMMM. I welcome winter.

Calculate your risk

2012-01-20T20:50:00.000-05:00

If you are female, you can calculate your risk of breast cancer here.

Mine is extremely low. I hope this thing is right.

In other health-related news, I have now spent five days indoors, wearing a fuzzy blue slipper on one foot and a sock and orthopedic shoe on the other. I am so ready to go somewhere - anywhere! Big plans for an excursion on the weekend.

Don't always carpe diem

2012-01-19T21:13:00.000-05:00

Some good and interesting thoughts on seizing -- and not seizing -- the day.

Did the hail destroy your crop?

2012-01-18T21:35:00.000-05:00

Looking through old postcards again.

The cards are pretty, and the messages on the back are puzzling.

Pa I will send you a birthday card. Did the hail destroy your crop How is every body Silvia

Now, obviously this is a card that was never mailed. I have lots of these, and I don't know the story behind them. Why did Silvia write a card she never mailed? Why was she sending a postcard to let her father know that she planned to send a card?

The note about hail, though, is a good reminder of how precarious life can be when the heavens can ruin months of work at any moment. Farming is hard today, but it was harder only a few short decades ago.

Speaking of sudden downpours, Neil received a phone call tonight telling him that his temp job has ended. Just like that - don't come in tomorrow. It's only a temp job, but still . . . oh well. It's not actual hail.

Piperoids

2012-01-17T18:23:00.001-05:00

Working from home today and tomorrow (see post below concerning ridiculous and horrible foot injury). So I had time to stage a photo of the Piperoids my sister-in-law gave everyone for Christmas. She always comes up with some interesting gifts!

Be afraid!

Turning down the thermostat

2012-01-16T15:13:00.001-05:00

It all started around 1:00 am on Saturday, when I woke up and realized that the bedroom was nice and toasty.

Oh no, I thought. This is not right. This is a waste of money, since all three of us are snugly wrapped up in our down comforters. I should go downstairs and set the thermostat lower.

I've done this hundreds of times. I'm Miss Frugal with the thermostat. I'm the Wee Hours Heat Regulator.

Also, since I've lived in this house for many years, I have no need to turn on lights. I can find my way around in the dark. Easy peasy.

Until the moment I tripped on the stairs, and felt some kind of weird searing pain in my left foot, and stumbled the rest of the way downstairs, in a bit of a shock.

How bad could it be? I thought, slightly stunned by the pain. I didn't even fall down, just stumbled a little. I set the thermostat lower and limped back upstairs. I'll just go back to sleep and this will be fine in the morning.

Thirty seconds pass.

There's no chance I'm going to fall asleep with my foot in this kind of agony. Better take some aspirin.

Because we are not sensible people, there are no bottles of aspirin in the bathroom on the same floor as the bedroom. The aspirin bottle is in the kitchen. So, back downstairs. This time I turn on the lights.

What the - ???

There is a tidy trail of blood up and down the carpet on the stairs, leading over to the thermostat in the living room and back again. Almost like a diagram - Dotted Line Indicates Path Taken by Idiot.

I examine my left foot, and see that blood is seeping out all along the edges of the toenail of my big toe. I surmise that I have torn the nail loose from the nailbed. This is creepy.

Well, I'll just take the aspirin, rinse the toe well, and put on a band-aid. Blot up all the blood spots on the carpet, and get back to sleep.

Done and done. Back to bed.

Good god almighty! I can't bear the weight of even a sheet on my foot, let alone a comforter.

All right. Don't panic. I'll sleep outside the covers.

This is when I suddenly realize that the room is now freezing cold. Wonderfully, frugally cold.

Aaargh. Back downstairs to turn up the thermostat.

Epilogue

Went to the doctor this afternoon. My toe is broken. There was infection under the nail, and the nail was removed. I am in for a couple weeks of daily soakings and dressings and other lovely procedures. On the plus side, I may have saved ten cents on the heating bill.

Glitz on a budget

2012-01-15T12:53:00.001-05:00

People who live near Atlantic City realize that you can often get free or nearly free rooms in AC, especially during the cold winter months. The casinos just want to get people in the doors, because they obviously have a much better chance of enticing people to spend money gambling if they can get them there in the first place.

So it's a pretty cheap getaway if you use the offers.

We used one Friday night. We had dinner at home and then drove to AC and checked into the Taj Mahal. The Trump Taj Mahal. I am so not a fan of The Donald, but I didn't feel that I was particularly subsidizing his business by taking advantage of this offer.

I hoped for an oceanview room, but we had a view of the sound, with the golden Borgata shimmering in the distance.

And closer to us, a nice view of the wavy reflections in the windows of the Taj Tower.

AC is all about glitz and shimmer and size and gold. It is amusing for a few hours. At the Taj, even the house phones are gold.

And the bathrooms in the hotel rooms are enormous, particularly the shower stalls, which could easily hold 5-6 people.

And there are always lots and lots of mirrors.

The other thing that distinguishes casinos from other places is that indoor smoking is allowed; sometimes it even seems to be encouraged. This seems a bit shocking to Americans who have become accustomed to the nearly universal ban on indoor smoking everywhere else. At the casinos, they apparently expect people to smoke even in bathroom stalls.

On Saturday morning we had breakfast at a restaurant in the casino, Plate. I had the asparagus and crab omelette. It was not good. I think it was a microwaved premade omelette. The crab was undetectable. Even worse, the coffee was tasteless. Bummer.

On the other hand, breakfast was free, due to the special deals. But bad or mediocre food, even free, is not such a great bargain.

The only food we needed to purchase was decent coffee at a coffeeshop. We had brought along yogurt, Clif bars, and bananas for Saturday's lunch.

The pool was pretty nice, and not crowded.

The murals in the pool room were funny. I wonder what Indians would think of them.

The other thing we did during this little getaway was watch the movie Melancholia. We began watching it on Friday night, and finished it in two sessions on Saturday, before and after the swim. This is an odd way to watch a movie - more like the way you read a book, over a period of days or weeks. It gave us the opportunity to discuss it between viewings. An interesting movie - part of the premise is that seriously depressed people act well during emergencies, because they already expect everything to go wrong. So they don't get even more depressed -- unlike optimistic people, who are gobsmacked by catastrophes. (The catastrophe in this movie is the end of the world.)

A good combination for a quick getaway - a pool in the middle of winter, a movie with enough mystery in it to make you think a little, a touch of goofy glitz, a short drive, and not much money spent. If only breakfast had been tasty!

The Mighty Boosh

2012-01-14T17:15:00.000-05:00

If you have Netflix, check out The Mighty Boosh.

You won't be sorry.

Well, you will be perhaps a tad disappointed if you have an entirely different sense of humor than I have, but I don't see that you could be actually sorry. Irked, perhaps.

They have their own website, and there seem to be lots of spin-offs I have not seen yet. Something to look for.

Longing for a bite of the Big Apple

2012-01-13T17:07:00.002-05:00

Has it really been more than a year since I've been to New York City?

Must make plans . . . .

So the whole work thing isn't working out.

2012-01-12T15:01:00.000-05:00

I wonder how many people in this country are saying the same thing.

The non-job application.

If you visit the site linked above, take some time to notice her terrific artwork. She has a series on greyhounds for sale. We owned a wonderful, beautiful greyhound for about eleven years (she lived to the ripe old age of 14) who was a rescue from a racetrack. So, you know, I just had to buy a print.

Those were the days, my friend

2012-01-11T22:32:00.003-05:00

My kids in the mid-eighties. One of my favorite photos.

The Painted Chair

2012-01-10T21:19:00.000-05:00

When the season changes

(that first snow, that first really hot day),

my earlier selves come crowding back, jostling for attention.

Again I walk on bright leaves, savoring the air's tiniest chill,

my twelve-year-old body springy and yearning,

envisioning some cloudy fabulous event still to come.

I wasn't sure what it would look like, but it was something so good

that when it arrived I would be stunned with my good fortune,

able at first to think only, "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

And for some moments I feel that again, the feeling shadowed this time

by the knowledge that the immensely good fortune never came,

and never would, unless - could it be? - this is it. Oh.

Or, I wake up in a room not mine,

and I know my own room again, by its absence.

Not just the smell and look of it, but also the feeling

you get from knowing that walls and furniture are located here

rather than there.

And suddenly I know my self

in my accustomed room,

and the difference between it and my self

in this room.

For a moment I know the house I lived in as a child, and the bed I slept in -

they are back again, brighter and more solid than they were then,

and more lovely - the lilac leaves through the window,

the painted chair,

the door through which I will walk.

Photo by Horia Varlan

Slime Dunk

2012-01-09T22:39:00.002-05:00

These are the things of great import that I think about.

People in my office bring in food - lots of food - to share with others. Usually it's very good and very tempting.

Today was an exception. Someone seemed to have found a big bag of old candy, perhaps left over from last Halloween, and he or she decided to leave it in the kitchen area for all to sample. Rock hard old pieces of candy. There was laughter and speculation about just how old this candy was.

I took something, just because I had never seen this type of candy before, and it exemplifies that urge that children have to eat candy that looks disgusting. They all think this is hilarious.

And you know what? In spite of the fact that we all made fun of the bad candy, by the end of the day most of it was gone, exemplifying another fact of human nature - we all love free food.

Good morning starshine; the earth says hello

2012-01-08T21:30:00.000-05:00

Said goodbye to grandson this morning, and then off to Philadelphia to see Hair, the musical.

I did not see it during its original run - I was in high school, and not the type of kid who ran off to the big city to see live musicals. I saw the movie, I think, but have no memory of it. So all I remembered was the memorable songs.

I did not remember that is is essentially a tragedy, ending in the death of young man in Vietnam.

And then everyone gets up on stage and sings "Let the Sun Shine," and is happy again.

It was more than a little disconcerting, overall. Here are some of the stage lights (we were up in the nosebleed section, where we had a great view of the lighting system).

Here is the cast on stage at the end, with audience members joining them for the final song.

We intended to drive home right after the show, but it turned out that our car was blocked in by lots of other cars in the lot we had chosen, so we decided to walk down Broad Street, since we had to wait anyway.

Then we walked by Perch Pub, which I remembered as a great place to eat, and we decided to check it out.

I had a Belgian beer, Delirium Nocturnum.

Neil had the Mantua Martini.

Turns out it actually does seem to be the best damn martini ever. He ordered another. I tasted. We now love Right Gin. It also turns out we can't buy it, although it can be ordered for an exorbitant price via the Internet. Hmmmm. We may need to visit Perch Pub again.

We also tried an order of chickpea fries, which are a bargain at $4.00.

Chickpea fries are much yummier than potato fries.

We will be at the Academy of Music again, two weeks from now (we have a season subscription). I think we also now have, informally, a subscription to a season of martinis and chickpea fries at Perch Pub. All - the music, the drink, the food - highly recommended for anyone lucky enough to live in this area.

Houseguest

2012-01-07T20:50:00.001-05:00

Lucky me - grandson visiting overnight!

My daughter is at a company holiday bash (they have it in January rather than December), and I believe I will enjoy her evening out even more than she does!

Positively 30th Street

2012-01-06T22:22:00.000-05:00

A really nice warm winter day, and I spent all of it indoors. Ah well.

In the morning, on my way from the 30th Street train station, I noticed that the Cira Center was wearing cloud camouflage.

When I returned at the end of the day, the skies were clear and dark.

And along the way, I noticed that someone at the Drexel school of computer engineering is a big Bob Dylan fan.

And that's what I remember from today.

Crack Skull Bob

2012-01-05T18:29:00.000-05:00

Recommended blog.

I don't always like it, but it's always interesting.

A smile of Brussels sprouts

2012-01-04T23:13:00.002-05:00

OJO and OKO

2012-01-03T22:04:00.000-05:00

I learned this today:

EYE is a palindrome in English, Spanish (OJO), and Polish (OKO).

Even better is the fact that the word for eye looks like two big eyes separated by a nose in Spanish and Polish.

Apricity

2012-01-02T17:26:00.003-05:00

n. the warmth of the sun in winter

“A strange and lovely word.” — Ammon Shea, Reading the OED, 2009

Welcome, 2012

2012-01-01T20:05:00.000-05:00

Might as well welcome the new year - it's here to stay no matter how we feel about it.

But I feel pretty good about it.

The nice thing about a blog is that I can easily look back to see what I was thinking this time last year.

I actually made resolutions on January 1, 2011 - four of them. And I didn't keep any of them, but I made varying degrees of progress, so that's not bad. In fact, I'm going to make the same four this year, and perhaps I'll completely succeed with one or more.

One resolution was to post every day on this blog. I was successful until the day in May that Google had some sort of crisis or breakdown or whatever. After that was resolved I kept posting daily until our vacation in New Hampshire, when I was unable to post for a day or two. And then at some point later in the year the resolution just fell apart, and I went days without posting.

Overall I judge the success of that particular resolution as pretty darn good. 279 posts in one year comes out to 76% - a solid C grade. I'll try to do better in 2012; not just to keep the resolution but because I found regular posting to be a good personal discipline.

Speaking of resolutions, I like Gretchen Rubin's six questions for making a good resolution. (Looking at question number 3, I'm a "yes resolver.")

We had a quiet New Year's eve - as usual, I was sound asleep before midnight. For an account of a truly splendid celebration, you can't do better than Nina's night in Spain.

Holiday mashed bob

2011-12-27T17:26:00.000-05:00

It's been a busy week. Much driving, much food, much visiting, late nights. Drove the last guest to the train station this afternoon, and have been enjoying a quiet, rainy, delightfully dull day at home since then.

Backtrack to last week. Three busy days in the office. On Thursday I attended a funeral, which was sad and heartwarming and funny and moving. That evening my sister-in-law arrived from Missouri.

On Friday, shopped for a few last gifts, plus an inflatable bed for the next set of guests, arriving Saturday. Went to a matinee - the new Sherlock Holmes movie. I enjoyed it immensely, which is probably partly because it is good and partly because I rarely see movies in the theater.

Saturday, Christmas eve. Drove to Atlantic City to pick up son and his lovely Bulgarian girlfriend from the airport - they were back from a week in Cocoa Beach. I made tofu baked with barbecue sauce for dinner, and Rosa was energetic enough and inspired enough to create a traditional Bulgarian Christmas Eve dish for us all - it's called bob, which means beans. Mashed bob!

The liquid part, poured over the top, is made of simmered olive oil and paprika.

The real taste sensation, though, is the ground garlic and walnuts, which is mixed on your plate with the bob. A little scoop of bob, a little scoop of ground garlic and walnuts -- it's very good! Rosa said it is eaten only on Christmas Eve - Bulgarians have a whole different set of traditional dishes for Christmas day.

And then we stayed up till 1:00 a.m. playing Settlers of Catan.

Christmas day. We all woke up early and piled into the cars and headed toward Millersville, to see daughter, daughter's partner, and the grandkids.

Brunch, presents, games, more food, etc. Back into the cars and home again. Quesadillas for dinner.

Monday - we all decided to go to the movies again! This time it was a 3D movie, Hugo. Fabulous. I love, love, loved it.

Tuesday everyone relaxed at home, which in some ways was one of the best parts of the holiday.

Wednesday son and girlfriend drove back to Ithaca, sister-in-law flew back to Missouri, and I sat around and read.

And later that night:

Birthday cake! I made it to 60 - I'm officially old.

I must say, it's not too bad. As they say, much better than the alternative.

Thank you for your kindness.

2011-12-17T15:25:00.001-05:00

Arose early this morning to take C & R, arrived the night before from Ithaca, NY, to the Atlantic City airport. They will be spending a week at Cocoa Beach, which sounds delightful at this time of year (actually, a week at the beach sounds pretty good at any time of year).

Since I was so close to the ocean, I didn't want to miss the chance to see an ocean sunrise. So after dropping them off I drove the extra few miles to AC, and hit the boardwalk.

There were very few people up and about at that hour. The Steel Pier sits deserted, waiting for next summer.

As do the benches.

Sandy paths to the beach beckon.

When the sun does appear, you might think that you are standing at the edge of the world, alone with nature.

Unless you turn around, and take a picture of the other side of the boardwalk.

What a contrast!

I walk inside the casinos to warm up, and because I love to look at the machines and the glitz.

And I found the most amazing slot machine!

I kind of wish I had played the Van Gogh, but I had already put my money into the Three Stooges machine, where I had (amazingly) won $119 - and if I win I stop playing. (It's the only way to keep the money.)

The outer wall of Resorts Casino features handprints of celebrities from 20-30 years ago.

I had breakfast at Johnny Rockets, where the jukebox in the booth tempts diners with many great songs.

One of the songs the little jukebox offers is (of course) Under the Boardwalk, by the Drifters, ranked #487 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

Which makes me wonder, when I'm back outside, what is under the boardwalk?

Yuck - perhaps some sections look better.

Better to look up than down, and admire the sun now fully illuminating this chilly day. Thank you for your kindness, Brother Sun.

Obama and Palin in Riverdale

2011-12-15T23:03:00.000-05:00

Omigosh this week is going by quickly. It's as though time has suddenly speeded up.

Monday evening I had dinner with friends Jay and Janet, as I do every few months. Both were colleagues at Lippincott. We went to Tria, where the food is good and the ambiance is very dark - we couldn't see the menu without help from a flashlight or a smartphone light.

I had the butternut squash appetizer and a tuna sandwich.

On the walk back to the train station, I enjoyed noticing the narrow Philadelphia alleys decorated for the holidays. Some are so narrow that they are suitable only for pedestrians or carts. The night was balmy (for December), and people were visiting on their back steps, or walking dogs in the alleys (although you can't see any people in this photo).

Some of the sidewalk vents have been outfitted with pipes so that the steam rises above the heads of pedestrians. It lends a spooky atmosphere to the sidewalk outside Finn McCool's.

I had about a half hour at Market East before the train, so I admired the stuff for sale at Claire's. For example, all the tiaras a girl could want.

And extravagantly lush peace sign earrings.

Tim picked me up at the train station, and we went to the local comic store to look for a Christmas present. I had never yet been in this store, and it was very cool.

They have superhero banks.

And Captain Kirk.

And it looks as though Archie is still a cheerful high school student in 2011!

Ready for the weekend

2011-12-09T22:09:00.001-05:00

First of three holiday parties at work today. It was fun, and a nice break.

Here's one section of the dessert tables. One small section.

Yes, I ate too much and later slept briefly but hard on the train ride home. But I also got a lot of work done, which feels great.

The tree is up at 30th Street Station.

And there is a wonderful full moon tonight.

Good night.

Sleeping hard

2011-12-09T05:01:00.001-05:00

I do not experience insomnia very often, but I'm certainly up early this morning, and it's too late to go back to bed.

This is what insomnia looks like to me:

Soft-boiled eggs, with a generous dollop of butter. Usually a little softer than the ones pictured above, which I ate about fifteen minutes ago. (You can see a bit of the chipped Sheinhardt Wig Company logo on the coffee mug I bought at the NBC store in New York City.)

When I wake up at night and can't get back to sleep, I usually boil a couple of eggs. Because I can't do this in a hotel room, insomnia in hotels is tough.

Not sure why I couldn't sleep. One reason might be that I am thinking about a couple students who are failing the Basic English class I'm teaching, and feeling sorry for them, and angry about the grade schools and high schools they attended. For what are no doubt complex reasons, these people came through the system with extremely low skills and extremely unrealistic hopes. I can't fix this, but wish I could. I also wish that so many people were not convinced that a college degree is the magic key to a wonderful life.

Ah well. I'm not awake because I'm excited about the holiday party at work today - one of three work parties we have this time every year. A free lunch is nice, sure - but not nice enough to wake me up.

Whatever the reason I am awake now, I predict that I will be sleepy on the train ride back to Willow Grove this evening. This happens even on days when I've slept well the night before (meaning most days).

But it's an odd kind of sleep, sleeping on the train. Lots of people do it, on both the morning and evening commute. Many of them look as though they are thinking about a tough problem while they sleep, heads slightly bent, lips tightly pursed, frowning. I think this might be because they (we) are in an odd sleep state, part of our consciousness keeping track of the train's progress while another part is dreaming.

And boy, do I dream on the train. I have brief, vivid dreams, which I seem to slip into almost immediately, and which vanish just as quickly when the train gets to my station. It's very unlike the normal nightly ritual of drifting off to unconsciousness, which is so easy and pleasant that I truly look forward to it every night. In fact, I often try to be aware of when the shift from waking state to sleep state arrives - it is so nice, a little delightful aaahhh moment, a gift at the end of each day.

Sleeping on the train is nothing like that, perhaps because a person sitting on a train cannot relax his or her body as thoroughly as in bed. Sleeping on the train is hard sleep; it feels like a task. The dreams often seem like puzzles I need to solve, strange pointless puzzles. It is not refreshing.

So I'll probably be doing that this evening between five and six - sleeping hard, my mind creating weird scenarios that keep it poised in a strange place where I am aware of the station stops and the time but also in some other virtual reality.

At least I know that I will be thoroughly fortified for the work, what with the eggs this morning and the party food in the afternoon.

You know you love it

2011-12-07T21:44:00.001-05:00

Busy day, good day. Things are heating up with the online class - final portfolios are due at the end of this week, and students are in panic mode. Since this is an online class, some students thought they could pretty much drop out for several weeks, and then turn everything in at the end. It doesn't work that way, but I do feel their pain. I am looking forward to teaching this class again for Winter quarter, because I have learned so much, and I know that I can do a better job next time. (Another reason I'm very sympathetic with this crop of students - in many ways they had a rookie teacher, and I now see ways that I could have helped or motivated them better.)

All that is explanation for why I got up early and critiqued and graded and sent out essays for a couple of hours in the early hours of the morning, before hopping on the train into Philadelphia.

At my regular, real, full-time job this was also a very busy day. I spent a few hours at Center City Video, getting my first look at the video we have been working on for several months now. I found some things that need editing, which felt good - earning my keep.

I wanted to take some photos of the editing studios, which are filled with fascinating equipment, but every single one was being used. Across the hall from our room I could hear bits of a video that seemed to be about how to build your own violin.

I did get a shot of an office featuring lots of awards - naturally, there are awards for commercial and educational videos. It's not the Grammys or the Emmys, but it's still creative work, and this looks like the office of a creative person, no?

Since I was in the area, I walked over to the Korean cafe that I frequented often when I was an editor at Lippincott. We called it Food by the Pound, because you just picked up a plastic container and filled it with whatever looked good - everything was weighed at check-out, and everything cost the same per pound.

A group of us had a tradition of having lunch there every Thursday. It was inexpensive and editors could bring their own bag lunch if they wanted/needed to, which was great because our salaries were very modest. How many places let you sit down to eat if you don't even buy their food?

But I like their food -- I like getting a varied selection of this and that.

Before heading back to the office on the subway, I stopped by Christmas Village, the annual encampment of booths selling all kinds of interesting stuff every December. But today I didn't shop. I admired the Kraft Big Noodle Sculpture.

I took heed of the advice at the base of the sculpture.

Back to the office. Meetings and emails and phone calls and boy, I'm glad to have a job. I do love it.

Two cups

2011-12-03T21:21:00.001-05:00

You don't have to be sick to enjoy a cup of ginger tea with honey. It's the perfect drink on a slightly chilly night, like tonight.

Which reminds me, I recovered the photos from my visit to La Colombe cafe with my son and his friends.

The dinosaur meets the dragon

2011-12-01T22:37:00.001-05:00

Yesterday the sky was cloudy and portentous as I walked to the train station after work. It darkened amazingly quickly. When I stepped out onto the street on 38th Street, it was cloudy but light.

Just a few blocks later, darker. The banner in the photo below reads "The Dinosaur Meets the Dragon" - a reference to a collaboration between the Franklin Institute and Drexel University.

The golden sculpture in front of the Monell Center broods as people hurry by, on their way to catch trains, buses, trolleys, and subway cars.

By the time I arrived in Willow Grove, of course, it was quite dark. Usually Tim picks me up at the station, but last night he couldn't, so I walked home. It was a nice evening for a walk, and I especially liked the way this little paving company looked in the dark.

All that mysterious equipment, evidence of hard physical work. I'm glad we have roads and driveways, and I'm also glad that I don't have to repair them.

And those trucks!

Serious trucks for serious work. It may not be apparent from the photo, but these trucks are enormous - anyone except a giant would have to step up - way up - to get into the cabs. The grill of the truck in back is taller than I am.

This worksite is almost invisible during the day, easily overlooked - but at night, with just one light illuminating the stuff, it is somehow more noticeable, and much more scary.

Though really, it's just an ordinary walk home - takes about 40 minutes, and most of it is just plain old suburbia. The paving company makes a nice contrast.

And back to the comforts of home.

Lunch at Vietnam

2011-11-26T20:43:00.001-05:00

Not in Vietnam - at Vietnam, the restaurant.

But first, let me back up to Thanksgiving day. Wonderful time at my daughter's condo, with Neil, all three children, their significant others, and two grandkids. Also, I have a new camera. Here's a photo of my lovely granddaughter, sitting on her uncle Christopher's lap:

Don't know if it's apparent, but I think the photo quality is much better than with my old camera.

Son Chris and his lovely Bulgarian girlfriend, Rosa, came back to our house for the night. Rosa just earned her doctorate in Nutrition at Cornell University, is doing a postdoc at Cornell, and is also a certified yoga instructor. Yikes!

On Friday, we had a great time with Chris and Rosa, just hanging out, shopping at Whole Foods, and visiting. This kind of thing is the best part of holidays. Chris and Rosa then drove into Philadelphia to stay with Steve and Alison. Steve is one of Chris' oldest friends -- they have been friends since high school.

Today, I took the train into Philadelphia and met up with Chris, Rosa, Steve, and his wife Alison - whom I had never before met, but loved instantly. (If you met her, you would know why. What a charming young woman!)

We walked around Reading Terminal Market, decided that it was too crowded to eat there, and opted instead for lunch at Vietnam, in nearby Chinatown. What a fabulous, beautiful place, with wonderful, beautifully presented food! I took several great photos. After that we walked over to the La Colombe coffeeehouse in Dilworth Plaza. A great, great latte - very photogenic, and in a lovely setting - I took some very nice photos!

So it's been a great holiday - I didn't even mention that my other son, Tim, bought a game, Blokus, and we have been playing steadily for the last two days, and having lots of fun with it.

The photos from the day in Philadelphia? Oh yeah - well, I must have done something wrong with the camera. I had nothing when I got home. But it was all great, and those pics would have been very, very nice if they had been taken correctly. I'll get the hang of it pretty soon.

In the meantime, what a great holiday this has been - and it's not even over! This is only Saturday!

Never thought of making these myself

2011-11-21T22:16:00.001-05:00

My son Tim likes to make stuff - all kinds of stuff. He bakes bread, and he is also making his own amplifier for his electric guitar. He and his friend James brew beer. His newest project is cheese -- something I never even thought of making myself. Gouda, to be exact.

It looked like this at first.

After a few days of drying the brined cheese, Tim added the wax coating.

Now it just needs to age for a few months.

Homemade cheese!! What a surprising idea!

Neil found another homemade recipe that surprised me - sour cream. Who knew you could make your own sour cream, and that it would be more delicious than the kind you buy at the supermarket?

Only two ingredients - heavy cream and buttermilk. Plus time. Sometimes cooking is so easy.

West Philadelphia sights

2011-11-16T22:37:00.001-05:00

Today the weather was rainy, rainy, rainy. But yesterday - what a lovely fall day!

I walked around west Philadelphia a bit, noticing the fraternity houses and student housing.

The round tower of windows on the right is a Drexel dorm, and the building with turrets and a round sunroom houses Sabrina's Cafe.

West Philadelphia was very upscale in the 1800s, and many of the old mansions have been converted into student housing. Apparently the preferred building style for rich people back then was the castle, which makes for interesting walks today.

But there is also a good deal of painted gingerbread trim.

An old corner apothecary shop (can you see CHEMICALS and DRUGS over the door?) has become someone's apartment.

Let's take a closer look at those curtains.

Nice!

They don't compare with the foliage, though.

Perhaps one of the last really nice days for a walk this year - I'm glad I was able to get out of the office.

I really wasn't much help at milking time.

2011-11-15T21:43:00.001-05:00

But I did help somewhat with the haying. This photo was taken at Uncle Paul's farm in the fifties. His barn was a little older than Uncle Al's. But they were all good - the cows, the barns, the farm dogs (you can see one in the background above).

Crazy Love

2011-11-13T18:11:00.001-05:00

Went to the movies - the actual movies, which we go to about four times a year - and saw Crazy Love, a good enough movie with some really nice moments. The sky was pretty darn spectacular when we got out of the theater.

Crazy. I love it.

Bliss, Philadelphia

2011-11-06T16:27:00.003-05:00

Busy, busy weekend - midterm grades are due on Monday in the online class I am teaching. Plus lots of yardwork in this gorgeous fall weather. Plus all the ordinary weekend chores.

However, this was also a weekend for a treat. A couple months ago I bought one of those half-off coupons through Living Social, and we used it today for lunch at Bliss, in downtown Philly.

I had the hot and sour duck soup, which was terrific (and also the first time I've ever had duck soup). The main course was eggs Benedict with filet mignon and lobster.

And that's a ginger mint mojito on the right hand side of the plate.

I may buy more coupons. They give you not only the dollar savings, but the benefit of several weeks of looking forward to using them. (If you click on the link, you'll see the research that shows that the big benefit of vacations is in the weeks before you actually go on them. I think that may be true of things like these coupons, too - but the meal itself was great, also!)

A phone call changes everything

2011-11-03T21:41:00.001-04:00

Today was a work at home day, which is one of the fabulous perks of my job. It happened to be a lovely fall day, and on my lunch hour I worked in the yard, bagging up sticks and leaves that had fallen from the last big storm - fun work on a day like today.

I went inside. The phone rang. I could see it was from my son, Tim.

"Mom, I'm at Abington Hospital."

All mothers will recognize the sudden sick feeling in the pit of the stomach. Oh no.

"James texted me. The doctors say that his mother has hours or days left. I wanted to be here with him."

Oh. A sudden shameful sense of relief. Tim's OK.

But James' mom is not.

I don't really know James' mom well, but James and Tim have been friends since seventh grade, and I have often been grateful for their friendship. Kids need some extra sets of parents sometimes. James' parents have been that extra set for Tim for the last dozen years or so.

I knew that James' mom has been battling cancer for the last five years, and I knew that the prognosis had been poor for the last few months. Even so, this is surprising.

I am very glad that James felt that he could ask Tim to be with him at this time. I am proud of my son.

I am relieved that the bad news is not directly about me and my loved ones, and yet filled with grief for another family.

And I know that the phone call that changes everything could happen at any time. Any day.

Not today, though. Not today.

Smooth, spirited, and lively

2011-11-01T22:08:00.000-04:00

Another beautiful fall day in the neighborhood, and someone at work was doing something to fix my computer, so it seemed like a good day for a long lunchtime walk.

I had time to admire the destruction going on at Drexel University, where something is being demolished to make way for something new.

The Cira Center and 30th Street Station always look pretty darn good on a sunny day.

Philadelphia's newest park is scheduled to open soon, along one side of the station. It will be all sidewalks and planters and seating under umbrellas. Seems like a good idea.

The preposterously tough-looking stone eagles stand watch at the corners of the bridge over the Schuykill River.

And the quiet water flows under our feet.

Light off a shiny neighboring building throws wavy reflections on a skyscraper.

I reach my destination - Trader Joe's, where the bathroom is decorated with mosaic bits.

And brightened with fresh flowers!

I make sure to stop by the sample station, where a nice lady gives me a paper cup with three teensy spoonfuls of butternut squash risotto - yum. And I purchase a tasty coffee (spiced with red and green peppercorns, cloves, and cinnamon - yes, I like flavored coffees.)

On the way back, I see the students of the Culinary Arts Institute taking their noon smoke break. One seems to have a souvenir from his Halloween costume. (I'm just guessing; he might have green hair all the time. But I always notice lots more colorful hair on the students on the street right after Halloween.)

And I admire the fabric samples at Marketplace Design Center.

And back to work, where I learn that I'll be upgraded to a newer, faster computer tomorrow.

Getting out and about in the middle of the day is energizing. Down with the old, up with the new - celebrate flowers and coffee and free samples, and admire young people learning old skills and having fun with new hair colors. And so back to work, refreshed.

A good day for soup

2011-10-30T21:53:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was the bizarrely early snowstorm on the east coast.

I stayed in and made soup - asparagus zucchini.

The parsley garnish looks nice, but it was a bad idea - after one taste, I picked it all out. I know that it's hard to make green soup look good in a photo, so you'll have to take my word for it that this stuff was delicious.

Because the trees still have most of their leaves, the ice that formed on the branches was especially heavy, and lots of big branches (and sometimes entire trees) came down. We were fairly lucky - just a few big branches, and they didn't harm anything in their fall.

It was also a good weekend to scan a few old photos. Here is my son, Chris, on a more temperate fall day in southern Illinois, thirty-some years ago.

And all three kids with a pumpkin:

(Erin represented mainly by her red tights.)

Those were the days.

Embrace the waiting

2011-10-29T20:06:00.001-04:00

St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church
Collingswood, NJ
December 19, 2007

I had visited a Seventh-Day Adventist Church for the first time a couple weeks ago, and I decided to continue this habit of going to church on days other than Sunday during this Advent season. Most churches have special weekday services during the Advent and Easter seasons, so I knew it would be easy to find something special to attend.

I looked through the local paper, and saw that St. Paul’s was having evening midweek Advent services, so I decided to attend one. My earlier accounts of visiting other ELCA churches are here, here, here, and here.

The church was easy to find, even in the dark – in fact, it’s located directly across the street from the house church I had attended earlier that year, the home of the King James Only Baptists.

I park on the street and walk in. Again with the upstairs sanctuary – I have been encountering a whole rash of these, after not seeing one for years and years! I walk up a flight of stairs, find a pew, and look around. This is an older building, and I like the slightly worn but well-cared-for appearance. There are stained glass windows, but you can’t really see them at night. The sanctuary seats about 250, I think, and there are balconies on either side that might hold more people. A lovely old pipe organ is situated in the balcony behind us, and I think there might be a choir loft up there, too.

The walls are white, and a large tapestry with blue, red, and gold icon-type images hangs in front of us. In the middle of the cloth is a wooden cross, which is shaped sort of like those starburst-style kitchen clocks from the fifties. In fact, this place has a fifties vibe, in large part because the pews are upholstered in bright red leatherette, something like you might find in a retro diner. I also see a couple of large paintings that I associate with the fifties, probably because I remember them from my childhood – the famous one of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, wearing flowing robes and long hair reminiscent of a mid-twentieth century Breck shampoo ad.

This description of the sanctuary might sound critical, but I’m not feeling critical. I like this place; it’s comfortable. I especially like the fact that the back wall on which the tapestry hangs has a few cracks and imperfections. This is how a church should look, in my opinion – sincere, somewhat humble, well-loved and cared-for, and comfortably old. (I know, I know – when I visited The Church of the Holy Trinity, I was astounded by the stunning beauty of the place. But I do like the less amazing buildings, too.)

There is a piano in the front, and an American flag, but no Christian flag. (I try to notice the flags in every church I visit, whether I mention them in these accounts or not. I have surprisingly strong feelings on the flag topic – generally opposed to both in a sanctuary – but I realize that this must be a minority viewpoint, since the flags are almost ubiquitous.)

Hey, here’s something new – a bottle of Purell hand sanitizer at the end of each pew! That is different.

The pastor enters, wearing a white robe and purple stole. He is young, perhaps in his thirties. He stands in the center aisle and apologizes for the fact that the building is so chilly tonight – he had forgotten to come in earlier and turn on the heat. (Actually, I like a cool, dimly lit sanctuary for an Advent service.) He explains the events of the service tonight very thoroughly, which is helpful for me. I wonder if he explains in such detail because he recognizes that there is a visitor in the pews -- or perhaps this is his custom.

We begin with prayers and simple singing from the Service of Light. A woman from the pews walks up into the pulpit to read the New Testament verses. The pastor begins his homily by reading a quotation from Georges Khodr, an Eastern Orthodox theologian: “We find Christ hidden everywhere, in the mystery of his lowliness.”

The pastor says that he has been thinking about this sentence throughout Advent. The idea of Christ begin hidden everywhere ties in with the idea of Advent, a season in which we wait for something we already have – two of those paradoxes that are at the heart of Christianity. He says that this is a season to embrace waiting.

He speaks clearly and easily, standing in the middle of the center aisle. He seems to have a few notes with him, but generally has the appearance of someone just speaking from the heart. He emphasizes the fact that Christ is to be found in the lowly, and urges us to seek the poor and lowly if we would find Christ.

After the homily there are prayers and a little more singing. Some of the congregants shake hands with me, and the woman in the pew in front invites me to come back for the Christmas services. The pastor shakes my hand, asks my name, and asks me to sign the guest book near the entrance. I ask him about the spelling of Khodr, and tell him that I liked the homily very much.

Outside the sanctuary, I see a book and pen on a stand and sign my name under some other names. Then I walk downstairs and see the guest book. Uh oh – what the heck did I sign upstairs? Oh well. I sign the other book. Whatever I signed, I hope it wasn't too big a mistake. On the plus side, already I have a chance to be lowly and humble, about my constant mistakes while visiting churches!

As I drive home, I’m thinking, Excellent Advent service.

Christ is hidden everywhere. Embrace the waiting.

This is no fribulous gimmick.

2011-10-24T22:23:00.000-04:00

What a gorgeous weekend that was! Perfect, perfect, perfect fall weather.

Harvested the last bit of basil, and made pesto, which I then froze in little cubes to use over the next few months.

Neil and I took the train into Philadelphia to see a show, Rock of Ages, which was a huge dud. In fact, we left before intermission. I had high hopes for the show -- I thought it would be a bunch of tribute bands from the 80s -- but it was just horrible. Apparently they couldn't get permission for many of the great rock songs from that era, so they composed new stuff for the show, and it wasn't very good. The jokes were not funny, the story was boring . . . we wanted very much to like it, but eventually had to admit to ourselves that we were wasting our time. We weren't the only ones who walked out early.

However, the afternoon was not a total loss. We ate falafel at Reading Terminal Market. We stopped by a store called the Flying Monkey.

We visited Occupy Philadelphia.

I noticed a couple of new tents, one Jewish and one Quaker.

I looked up from the makeshift tents and signs to admire the skyscrapers.

And I saw a very mysterious sign, apparently written by someone who finds significance in every frame of the Wizard of Oz.

All the characters mean something, even the old apple tree? ??????

Occupy Wharton

2011-10-22T14:10:00.002-04:00

Occupy Philadelphia took a brief break from Dilworth Plaza in front of City Hall on Friday, to march down to the Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania to protest a planned speech by Eric Cantor.

Cantor was going to speak in Huntsman Hall.

The protestors were gathered in a walkway behind the building.

Many of them looked very Ivy League - I think that several were probably professors.

Penn students seemed excited and happy. I heard many saying things like, "Omigod! Take my picture! My dad will freak."

Like the Occupy Philadelphia crowd at Dilworth Plaza, this group had something of a party atmosphere. People really didn't seem angry - they seemed to be having a good time.

The Metro has reported that the Occupy Philadelphia folks are, in fact, advertising their group as a kind of fun social network. They had a "Goofy Sunday Mystery Fun Action" event, and an 80s-themed prom dance party.

As it turned out, Eric Cantor canceled his speech. But he probably received more publicity for it because of the Occupy Philadelphia action than if they had not showed up, so he may not think that this is a bad thing.

The Wharton School of Business, by the way, looks like a big brick silo with lots of windows.

Dragon butt

2011-10-19T23:04:00.003-04:00

City landscaping is fascinating but also somewhat horrifying to a cheapskate like me.

The owners of big expensive buildings want the grounds to look good, of course, and the only way to look good in every season is to pull up and throw out all the plants several times a year, and put in completely new ones.

For example, all the hundreds of bulbs and annuals that brightened the streets during the spring and summer are thrown into the back of a landscaper's truck (to be composted, I assume), and replaced with autumn plantings. These in turn will be thrown into the back of the truck in a few more months.

This seems horrendously expensive to me, but I have to say that I enjoy the results. Plus, the landscapers never come up with the same combinations twice. Last year I think this same area was all ornamental cabbages.

It still looks a little raw and new, but will be lush within a week or so.

Not related, but I also took a photo of Drexel dragon butt.

Morning light

2011-10-18T20:52:00.001-04:00

The city was beautiful in the early morning light today.

Even the parking garage looked mysterious and wonderful.

Fortune favors fools

2011-10-17T22:04:00.001-04:00

Last weekend was so cool, so clear, so crisp - wonderful autumn weather!

On Saturday we went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, to see the Rembrandt exhibit.

At the end of the exhibit you end up in a small gift shop, where the museum is selling everything Dutch, in honor of Rembrandt van Rijn.

I bought a little packet of salty Dutch licorice, and I'm sad to report that it wasn't very good. It had a weird and unpleasant aftertaste.

I stopped by one of my favorite paintings in the regular collection, John Atkinson Grimshaw's London from Wapping. Here is a very poor photo of the painting:

You can see a better version here.

In the contemporary art section, I saw a collection of old saws:

Outside the museum, we admired the sky and the weather.

And saw a group of motorcycle riders, the Latin American Cycle Club, who were out enjoying the weekend.

What a day to be outside!

Occupy Philadelphia signage, part 2

2011-10-13T21:25:00.004-04:00

I really like the photo below. Such a diverse group - someone dressed like a soldier carrying a Communist flag, American flags flying over the Wells Fargo bank across the street, an actual worker cleaning the street, and the iconic Philadelphia clothespin sculpture. (Meet me at the clothespin!)

This photo seems very American.

Occupy Philadelphia signage

2011-10-12T21:33:00.001-04:00

A miscellany.

Occupy Philadelphia

2011-10-11T22:01:00.001-04:00

I took the subway to City Hall on my lunch hour today to see what's going on with Occupy Philadelphia.

As you approach, it's a little hard to see much going on in Dilworth Plaza. You mostly see that magnificent, sprawling building - which looks to me like a big, fancy wedding cake.

But when you cross the street, there is a lot going on. There are news reporters.

Not every protester is dressed like a hippy.

Lots of signs, mostly lying on the pavement.

There are plenty of tents.

Some rather makeshift.

There are medics on hand.

It seemed a lot like the street fairs and shopping booths they have in Dilworth Plaza every so often, except a bit messier and more home-made. Everyone seemed to be having a pretty good time. There was a break dancer, in front of a wall of Jesus graffiti.

And there were activities for children (marching children).

There was a tent for nursing mothers.

And a sort of "children's alley" among the tents.

The guy in the photo below has gotten a lot of press, most of it rather unfortunate. It seems that he is a vegetarian Buddhist who has vowed to go on a 30-day hunger strike to support a variety of causes. According to local news reports, for the next 30 days he will sit in Dilworth Plaza and ingest only water and tobacco smoke.

This is a kind of hunger strike that I don't understand. It's not as though someone could do something that would make him stop, or could meet any demands. It's not as though anyone really cares, much, or even understands what his demands are. I'm pretty sure that legalization of marijuana is one of them, and I know that it's not going to happen in the next 30 days. He is against big corporations, and Big Tobacco would be one of them - so it might be a more useful protest to quit smoking.

Looking a little more closely at his sign, I think he may have decided to drink orange juice during this fast. Good idea.

The signs were interesting. I'll post a few tomorrow.

Insomnia cookies

2011-10-10T20:38:00.002-04:00

Perfect business for an area of the city where two universities are located - Drexel and U Penn.

Students and warm cookies delivered late at night - a business model you can't argue with.

Green ginger wine

2011-10-09T19:24:00.000-04:00

Great weekend - we had houseguests from Jamaica!

We've known them for about eight years, but haven't seen them in the last year or so.

They taught us how to play dominoes eight years ago, and we always have a game when we get together.

Teddy is legally blind, but he is an amazing domino player. After a couple of rounds, he seems to know exactly which dominoes everyone else is holding.

We had grilled salmon, tilapia, and chicken, as well as grilled veggies and potatoes. Enough food that we needed to use two grills. (That big gas grill in the middle is used only as a place to put dishes and grill utensils - someone gave it to us, and we've never hooked it up.)

Also, this must have been the most beautiful weekend so far this fall, as far as weather goes.

Our guests brought us a bottle of Stone's Original Green Ginger Wine. I am enjoying a chilly, sweet, gingery glass of it right now, and hoping we see our friends again soon.

Rocketdogs!

2011-10-08T13:49:00.004-04:00

New boots for fall - plaid rubber slipons, from Rocketdogs.

And only $12.00, at the discount shoe store next to the post office on 40th Street. I love that place.

Still harvesting tomatoes on the patio

2011-10-08T13:47:00.000-04:00

And very glad of it.

Not even Halloween

2011-10-08T13:46:00.000-04:00

A coworker puts this effigy of herself in her chair when she is out, and it often gives me a start.

Autumn musings

2011-10-02T19:41:00.002-04:00

Signs of autumn abound, at the store

And at home, where Tim has baked his first loaf of bread in months.

And I roasted vegetables again - it's been months since we've had them, too.

Another sign of autumn - school! I seem to have 23 students in my online class, although I can't do much with the course yet - I think it will all go live at midnight tonight, and at that time I very much plan and hope to be sound asleep. Under a down comforter!

People get ready

2011-09-29T21:38:00.001-04:00

Macedonia AME Church
Camden, New Jersey
December 16, 2007

It's raining this morning. For the first time during this Church Visiting Project, Neil has decided to come with me; he is both curious about the church and also a little worried about my safety - Camden is not a great place for an unaccompanied woman to walk around, even on Sunday morning.

We pull up in front of a squarish red brick building that seems to be sitting in the midst of an almost deserted area, but not far from downtown. It is surrounded by empty lots. A few blocks down the street you can make out the outline of an enormous pile of scrap metal, or some other sort of waste. On our way here we have passed blocks of row houses, some of which are only blackened shells - they were destroyed by fire but have not been torn down or replaced. The area does not look promising.

A large parking lot surrounded by metal fencing is next to the red brick building. I don't see a sign on the building, but there is a small street sign in front that reads "Parking reserved for pastor." I look at the building more carefully, and realize that it may have stained glass windows on the second floor, but they are covered with cloudy storm windows or plexiglass. The building may have had a steeple in the past, but at present the roof is flat - very flat. In fact, from a distance it looks as though the roof may be missing.

Frankly, this church has the most forbidding appearance of any I've seen so far. We are still not positive that it is even a church, or if it is, that it is open. Neil offers to walk inside to see if it really is a church while I wait in the car. In a minute he steps out and gives me the OK signal, so I pull the car into the parking lot.

Once inside the doors, everything is better. People smile and motion us upstairs - yet another one of these second-story sanctuaries! (This still seems like such an odd design to me.) We walk up a couple flights of carpeted stairs, and a woman with a welcoming smile offers us a Bible and hymnal, with program materials tucked inside. We find an empty pew, and I have a chance to look around.

The sanctuary probably seats 200-250 people comfortably. The walls are covered in pale wood paneling, and the front wall features organ pipes - although one pipe is missing, which gives it a sort of gap-toothed appearance. In the center of the pipes a cross featuring glowing light bulbs has been hung, and Christmas wreaths hang on either side of the pipes. The pulpit has been hung with purple Advent paraments, and a short wooden rail circles the front. There is a piano to the left, as well as a baptistery and a table holding an Advent wreath.

The sanctuary is not very full when we arrive, but people keep coming in, and by the time the service is going there are probably 65-75 in attendance. I think that Neil and I might be the only white people in church, although I'm not positive. (We discussed this later; I said that I thought there were a couple other white or Latino people, and he wasn't so sure. Do other people have trouble identifying the ethnicity of others the way I do? It's a much more fluid concept than people sometimes think.)

I see in the bulletin that this is Youth Sunday, so I expect that some of the younger members of the church will be leading prayers, taking offerings, and so on. A woman begins to play the piano. Two women in black robes walk up the middle aisle. One steps into the pulpit and says in a loud, cheerful voice, "The Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep silence."

We sing a lively version of This is the Day. Then we sing the Doxology, and do a responsive Call to Worship.

The first hymn is Silent Night! On a Sunday morning in Advent! Again! As I indicated in the post about last week's service at the Cherry Hill Seventh-Day Adventist church, I'm firmly in the camp of those who believe in saving Silent Night for the Christmas Eve service. However, I'm sure there are plenty of good reasons for wanting to sing it throughout the season.

The woman in the pulpit announces that the Praise Dance Team will perform. It turns out the team is only one girl, Angelina, wearing a long, flowy white skirt and an interesting blue sweater, with winglike lengths of material attached to the arms. She performs a very energetic and heartfelt dance to a loud, jazzy number. The Scripture reading, Mark 13:28-37, is read very well by a teen-aged boy. He has a terrific voice and good delivery. There was dance at the black church I attended on my first Sunday of this project, too.

There is more singing, more reading, the Gloria Patri, and then a Missionary Offering. Announcements include mention of the two special upcoming services - a Watch Night Service on December 31, and a Martin Luther King Day service. At some point the senior pastor enters, wearing dark robes, kneels in prayer near the pulpit, and takes his seat. That's when I realize that I've met him before, at a conference; he is also a trustee at New Brunswick Theological Seminary in New Jersey, and he was part of panel of trustees talking to us about trustee responsibilities at the conference. This is Dr. Mark Tyler! This is the first time during my year of visiting churches that I've recognized the pastor from somewhere else.

There is an altar call, and more than half the people in church walk up and kneel around the altar to pray, while the pianist plays Have Thine Own Way, Lord. The woman who has been leading most of the service prays eloquently. So many people want to come up front for the altar call, in fact, that they have to take turns.

Pastor Tyler asks visitors to stand and introduce themselves. Neil and I do so, as well as a woman who is visiting from another AME church. The woman who has been making most of the announcements tells us that this is the time to shake hands and welcome people, and that this church likes to hug visitors, if we don't mind. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, walks around greeting everyone else. I have never been hugged so much in any church, even my own! Even the children are not shy about hugging - one of my first huggers is a cute little girl who skips over to give me and Neil big hugs.

When we are all assembled in the pews again, Angelina, the praise dancer, reads an original poem on the topic of striving and succeeding with God's help. Then the Praise Dance Team (this time there are three girls) performs another number. Then comes the regular offering (we have already had the Missionary Offering), which is a little unusual. Instead of ushers walking around with baskets or plates to collect the offering, people walk up front to place their envelopes and money into plates held by volunteers (one man and two children today).

It's 12:10 by the time Dr. Tyler begins his sermon, titled "People Get Ready." The gospel lesson was the story of the wise and foolish virgins, and the point is that you need to be absolutely sure that you are ready to go to heaven.

I can't do justice to the sermon in a short summary. All I can tell you is, it was a humdinger. He made us laugh (lots), he made us cry, and he made us want to come back for more. It was the best sermon I've heard so far in my year of visiting churches, and I have heard some really good sermons. It was a long sermon, by modern standards - about thirty minutes. But it didn't seem too long. And at the end, when Dr. Tyler stepped out of the pulpit and walked down into the center aisle to deliver the conclusion, it was electrifying. The sermon was Biblical, sensible, funny, thought-provoking, and very tightly constructed.

To sum up, I really liked the sermon.

During this year of visiting churches I have been watching for any mention of the upcoming Presidential elections, and Macedonia AME is where I first hear this topic mentioned. It's an interesting reference, too, in the section of the sermon that is about not making assumptions about who is and is not going to heaven. The pastor notes that candidate Obama has admitted to experimenting with recreational drugs in his youth, and says that many people automatically assume that any black man who uses drugs is a drug dealer.

After the sermon, there are a few more announcements - the one that catches my attention is that everyone is invited back next week for a pre-service breakfast, which will be either chicken and waffles or fish and grits. Both sound wonderful to me.

Church members continue to greet us and shake our hands after the service. Neil and I chat briefly with Dr. Tyler; Neil did his field education work in New Brunswick at Reformed Theological Seminary, on whose board Dr. Tyler sits, so they have something in common.

Later I found that Dr. Tyler is now pastor of Mother Bethel AME church in Philadelphia, the oldest church owned by African Americans in the United States. Its history is well told on the church's website.

I'm not surprised to learn that he has this wonderful pastorate. The congregation is fortunate to have him.

I have called you friends

2011-09-28T21:20:00.001-04:00

Back from Baltimore. What a terrific group of people the In Trust group puts together for these workshops - this year the writers met with the mentors (experts in finance and governance) who work for In Trust, and together we brainstormed plenty of articles to fill the magazine over the next 18 months. I will be working on the topic of accreditation, which I actually find pretty darn interesting.

I left on a foggy Tuesday morning.

Penn Station in Baltimore is rather small, and somewhat dilapidated, but it has several extremely nice old features. I hope someone preserves it soon.

The workshop was on the campus of St. Mary's Seminary, but some of us stayed at the nearby Radisson, which was fine with me - I was able to try a Sleep Number bed (and ended up leaving it on the highest, firmest mattress number, which was where it was when I arrived).

I love being in a hotel. Seems incredibly luxurious - almost any hotel. Perhaps if I had ever stayed in a hotel as a child I might not think it's such a big deal, but I was actually quite old before I ever stayed in a hotel room, except for one trip with the Girl Scouts (which seemed exciting and very, very sophisticated to me at the time).

Tuesday night the group had dinner at the Dogwood Restaurant.

As we walked to the restaurant, we saw a giant flamingo on one side of the street.

Directly across, a flamingo guitar in a store window.

No idea why there was a flamingo thing going on in Baltimore.

The next day was gloriously clear.

And, thinking about the folks I've met through In Trust, I was happy to note this verse over one entrance to the seminary - John 15:15, "I have called you friends" (dixi amicos).

Choo choo

2011-09-26T22:03:00.001-04:00

I got one of the new trains on the commute home this afternoon!

There are only a few in service, and everyone likes to try them out.

They have a "new car smell," high backs that serve as headrests, and wider 2-person seats, with only a few of the 3-person benches in the middle. And small screens that show scenic Philadelphia interspersed with information about the current stop, the next stop, etc.

And they are, of course, very clean.

The whole city looked shiny and new through those big clean windows. Yay for SEPTA Regional Rail.

Tomorrow I'll be on a train again, this time to Baltimore for the annual In Trust Writers Workshop.

All this train talk reminds me that I have my own Choo Choo Charlie cap:

Love that jingle.

What do you get if . . .

2011-09-25T16:27:00.000-04:00

you combine leeks sauteed in olive oil

With sweet potatoes

tomato paste and peanut butter

cumin, turmeric, and harissa

And simmer it all in vegetable broth

And, finally, add some fresh spinach leaves?

You get a delicious thick autumn soup. The photo below may or may not look good to you, depending on your tastes, but I assure you it tasted great.

I'm a big fan of homemade soup.

More blooming umbrellas in the city

2011-09-25T16:20:00.001-04:00

The Megabus and the Bolt bus always have long lines - because they are a great deal. It is technically possible to get a ticket for only one dollar - if you sign up long enough in advance. But even if you can't get the dollar ticket, you can get a great deal on rides to New York City, Boston, Washington DC, etc.

I've taken the Bolt to NYC, and I loved it.

Blooming umbrellas

2011-09-24T15:49:00.002-04:00

Drizzly yesterday, which brought out the umbrellas on the street. This is where I get on the Lucy after work.

It wasn't raining so hard, though, that you felt sorry for the people who didn't have an umbrella (or perhaps just didn't want to bother with one).

Jesus is no superhero

2011-09-22T21:18:00.000-04:00

Cherry Hill Seventh-Day Adventist Church
Cherry Hill, NJ
December 8, 2007

Well, this feels odd – going to church on a Saturday morning. But it’s time to break up the pattern of going to a familiar type of church, and try something new for this year of visiting churches.

The Cherry Hill SDA congregation meets in a brick building with a steeple, which appears to have been built in the fifties. I walk in, and someone hands me the bulletin. An arched wooden ceiling covers the sanctuary. The windows are clear glass, with half-drawn blinds. A large screen has been pulled down from the ceiling, and occupies most of the wall behind the pulpit.

Twenty or so people are scattered among the pews, in a space that would probably seat 200. Something is already in progress when I enter – not the service, but perhaps a Bible study. A man in a suit is walking up and down the front aisle and asking questions, such as “What is humility?” and “What does it mean to be perfect?” The people in the pews offer answers (among them, the remarkably unhelpful “the state of being humble” to the first question).

The man tells us that God allows trials and suffering to make us stronger (the more frequently I hear this statement, the more I hate it – but I’m just walking in on the end of something, and I don’t have the whole picture). A woman in the front pew stands up and rings a bell ( the kind of bell you see on hotel desks in old movies, where you punch the button on top to summon a bellhop). Some people pass around red baskets for the Sabbath school offering, which I pass up. (I think I’ve wandered into the end of a Bible study rather than the beginning of a church service, but it’s still a bit unclear to me what exactly is going on here.)

The man in front leads everyone in prayer, and then nothing much happens for several minutes. People are milling around, chatting. I open the bulletin and see that Divine Worship begins at 11:10, not at 11:00 am, as advertised on their website. So that’s why I’m confused.

I overhear a man behind me earnestly discussing “2,300 fulfilled prophecies” and the end times, but I can’t hear well enough to know what his point is. (That must be some spreadsheet, keeping track of 2,300 prophecies.)

The man who led the Bible study walks over, shakes hands, and introduces himself. He says, “Let’s see, I’ve got something here for you . . . “ and walks off. I suppose he’s going to bring me a visitors’ packet, but he never returns.

I study the bulletin again. I see that the 2007 church budget was $61,596. Giving has been good this year, it says – they are currently over budget. Hmm. The pastor must be part-time or unpaid, or else I do not understand this budget figure at all.

People are filling the pews now. This is a very racially mixed church, with white, black, Asian, and Hispanic members. Although I have read that SDA churches have women leaders, throughout the rest of the service everyone who speaks publicly is white and male, which seems odd in the circumstances – the very diverse group here, and the fact that the SDA church was founded by a woman prophet. I do notice, again from the bulletin, that two of the elders are women, and that the church has head deacons and a head deaconess.

Now another man stands up to give us the Welcome and Announcements. I learn that some of the members of the congregation are participating in a special Music Day Celebration at a different SDA church, so attendance here is down. Everyone is encouraged to contribute to disaster relief.

The next item on the schedule is Elders Enter, which I think is what they term the fact that two men walk up onto the stage behind the pulpit and kneel for a while in prayer.

It is 11:25 now, and it still doesn’t really seem as though church has started. People are still arriving. I do notice that this is a very well-dressed congregation. Many of the women are dressed beautifully and vividly in what must be their “Sabbath-day best.”

Next comes a Call to Worship, so the service must really be starting now. The man who led the Call to Worship asks if there is a pianist in the building. A woman steps up to the piano to play (she’s quite good), and we stand to sing “Away in a Manger.”

I am somewhat surprised to find myself singing my first Christmas carol of the season already – I’m accustomed to singing Advent hymns during Advent, and saving the Christmas carols for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day – but difference is exactly what I’m trying to experience, so this is good.

Next comes the Children’s Offering and Story. Someone begins a rousing chorus of “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” and while we are singing all the children in the church walk up and down the aisles with baskets, collecting money. There are lots of children – perhaps thirty or so – and they are exceedingly cute. Some are so young they are just toddling, and many of the little girls are dressed up in very fancy, frilly dresses. They don’t seem to be shy, either – the kids are enjoying this part of the service.

Eventually all the kids are gathered up front, and a young woman with a surprising amount of visible cleavage delivers the children’s sermon. She holds up a bar of soap and asks the children what it is for. The correct answer is “to clean our bodies.” Then she asks them how we can clean up our insides. The answer she eventually gets them to agree to is “by confessing our sins.” After 4-5 minutes, the kids are led out of the sanctuary toward their Sabbath Day rooms (all through the service, I keep stumbling at spots where I’m used to using the word Sunday.)

Now something is projected onto the large screen – the words “Offering of Worship.” A man and woman with mikes sing, “O Lord I Bring an Offering to You,” and while they sing others walk up and down the aisles taking the offering, using golden plates. This seems odd – the third offering so far, and the service seems to have barely begun!

Next the words on the screen change to “You are invited to come forward for prayer.” A few people walk to the front, and they all hold hands and kneel as a man leads the congregation in prayer. Everyone in the pews kneels, too, and this church does not have kneelers. Nope, we’re on our knees on the carpeted (but still pretty hard) floor. These SDA folks are tough!

Now comes Special Music. A Latino man with a violin and three black women come forward. The man reads a story about Franz Gruber’s writing of the hymn Silent Night, and then the women sing while he accompanies them on the violin.

Then a Scripture reading (I Corinthians 1:27-31), and then the pastor, wearing a black tee shirt and a sports jacket, steps up to the pulpit to deliver the sermon, “A Strange Way to Save the World.”

On the screen behind him, a montage of superheroes pops up – an enormous Superman with one gigantic fist aimed straight at the congregation, Wonder Woman, and other comic book characters. It occurs to me that asking the men in the congregation to gaze at a six-foot-tall projection of Wonder Woman and other busty, scantily clad female superheroes might not be the best way to direct their Sabbath-day meditations, but perhaps this type of unspiritual thought is occurring only to me.

The pastor begins by saying that you would think that God would send a superhero to save the world rather than a defenseless baby. The screen switches to a traditional picture of a Madonna and child (traditional if you think of Mary as looking a lot like Dorothy Lamour, the actress from the old Bob Hope/Bing Crosby movies). The next screen is a nice, moody drawing of Batman brooding over Gotham City. Throughout the rest of the sermon Bible drawings are shown alternately with comic book scenes.

The pastor contrasts “gentle and humble” Jesus with the muscular superheroes, although he makes a point of stopping to emphasize that Jesus was “not a pansy.” Then he talks about the miracles Jesus did, which would seem to be rather in the superhero category. In fact, the contrast between Jesus and superheroes keeps breaking down as he continues. He notes that superheroes perform “mighty acts” – just like Jesus. He notes that superheroes punish evildoers, whereas Jesus offers forgiveness, but then backtracks a bit and notes that Jesus does speak quite a lot about punishment for evildoers.

His big point is that superheroes do not die for our sins, but I think if he thought about a little more he’d realize that many comic storylines are about superheroes who subject themselves to all kinds of torments, humiliations, and sometimes even death in order to save someone – and the ones who “die” to save someone usually come back from the dead by the end of the story or in the next installment. In short, the more he talks, the more I’m thinking that there’s an uncanny resemblance between Jesus and comic book superheroes.

Next is more special music. This time a man plays the piano and sings a song about Joseph, Mary’s husband. And then we all stand for the closing song, Silent Night. Again! Folks love that song; you have to admit that Franz Gruber hit a home run with that one.

There is a closing prayer, and the service ends at about 12:40. I stand around for a while, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do now – no coffee hour or anything like that. So I leave.

In the parking lot, I notice a very dramatic building right across the street. It’s a large white structure, with a brilliant icon painted on the front, and two golden onion-shaped bulbs atop two white pillars. The sign in front says that this is St. Michael’s Orthodox Catholic Church. Now, that looks like it might make for an interesting visit. And on the sidewalk in front of the SDA church is a couple, the man wearing a yarmulke. I imagine there is a synagogue nearby, too.

America – all this religion, all this diversity!

Epilogue

There was no way for the SDA church to contact me, since I had not filled out a visitor card or spoken to anyone, so I have no idea what their follow-up efforts might be like. Reflecting upon the service, I realize that it left me pretty cold, but I also realize that the congregation seemed to feel quite otherwise – they were lively, involved, and apparently having a great time. They prayed fervently. They seemed to be doing a fantastic job of racial integration, and there was a nice mix of ages.

The most memorable part of the experience for me was the odd tilt it gave to my weekend – going to church on Saturday morning but not on Sunday. You might not think a little thing like that would be so disorienting, but it was. I’m sure I would get used to it if I continued – but even Monday felt a little different to me. I am clearly a creature of habit, which is one reason I wanted to try this project.

The textbook has arrived.

2011-09-21T07:35:00.002-04:00

One of the textbooks, at least.

I am going to teach an online class, beginning next month.

I have never taken a class on line, and I'm a little nervous about whether or not I will be fully prepared; therefore, I'm reading and re-reading the course guide so frequently I may have it memorized by the time class begins (well, my memory isn't as great as it once was, so it might be more accurate to say that I'll be pretty darn familiar with it when the class begins).

It's the kind of class I really like - developmental English, for students who are not adequately prepared for college-level writing. But when I have taught this in the past, I could see their faces! This will be so different.

Students, whoever and wherever you are, some of you are probably a bit anxious about this class.

I hope you have no inkling of how anxious your teacher is!

Good day, sunshine

2011-09-19T21:06:00.001-04:00

A good start to the day, and a good end.

It began with a walk through the neighborhood. The sun was just touching the trees with light, and the trees are just beginning to turn color.

The school bus is running again. Have a good time at school, kids!

Back at the house again, I take one last photo of the sun up in the treetops behind the house before going in to get showered, dressed, and on my way.

Work was fine. After work, took the subway to Center City, to meet Jay and Janet at Perch Pub, where we perched above Broad Street, looking toward the Kimmel Center.

I took a picture of Jay and Janet.

And Janet took one of Jay and me. That's a nice dark ale I'm lifting in the photo below.

Jay was off to a concert at the Kimmel Center, Janet caught the bus to her house in the city, and I was back on the train to the burbs.

I'm feeling fortunate.

Mac and cheese

2011-09-18T22:56:00.003-04:00

First time I've turned on the oven in months.

Ahhhhhh.

That is all.

Seeking the light

2011-09-17T22:12:00.000-04:00

I write for a quarterly journal for boards of schools of theological education, In Trust. Working for this journal has been a great experience, because of the wonderful and interesting people I meet.

Not just other writers and editors, but people concerned with all kinds of theological education, from all sorts of perspectives, in the US and Canada. And this summer I was especially fortunate to be able to interview people involved in theological education in maximum security prisons, and even to attend a graduation ceremony inside the walls of Sing Sing prison.

My article about the topic is now available in print and online.

I'll just repeat the words of Rabbi Douglas Krantz, who said, "This is where religion and faith and hope are tested. Finding light and hope, and helping people transform themselves, is essential work for all of us, no matter our religion."

Talking to people who work in prison education, and meeting some of the prisoners, was truly humbling.

I might just mention that going through security at Sing Sing is pretty intense. It's much more extensive than airport security. Everyone had to remove their jackets, shoes, watches, and jewelry. (We were allowed to put jackets and shoes back on before going in, but had to leave watches and jewelry in lockers in the anteroom.) We went through a metal detector and were patted down. We were not allowed to carry anything into the building, not even a pencil or a piece of paper (rather a hardship for a writer and reporter). The one exception was our driver's license, which we had to carry with us at all times.

It was a new experience for me, and therefore mildly interesting, but I kept thinking about the family members of the prisoners, who have to go through this over and over and over every time they visit.

After having our hands stamped (like the stamp you get when you enter a club or a theme park - but what a theme park Sing Sing is!), we found ourselves inside a large room filled with tables and chairs. This is where prisoners meet friends and family for visits. I was struck immediately by the presence of a room within this room, filled with toys and other things for toddlers and children. Of course - prisoners have children. How bittersweet those visits must be.

Here's a quote from Rabbi Krantz that didn't make it into print (as always, much of every article is edited out): "How do you find your way in that darkness? To me this is extraordinary, and these men are worthy of great respect."

On another, but slightly related note, today I took a photo of the sunflower in our garden that overcame a grave setback. I dropped the pot while transplanting it, and the main stem was badly broken. I thought it probably would not survive the accident, but left it alone to see what would happen.

It survived, though bent, and blossomed, and found the sun.

And just like that, it was autumn

2011-09-15T21:40:00.000-04:00

The last few days were hot and muggy. This morning was a little cooler, but still muggy.

I could have walked from 30th Street Station to work, but eight blocks in the humidity was not appealing, so I hopped on the Lucy bus that circles through the University City district.

I didn't think about the weather all day. An 8:00 breakfast meeting, lots of emails back and forth, a conference call, more computer stuff - not a thought about what was going on outside.

So it was a surprise when I set foot outdoors again.

It had rained a bit, and the temperature had dropped a lot. So much, in fact, that I hopped on the Lucy again to get back to the station.

And tonight I took the warm fuzzy robe out of the closet for the first time in months. And put the down comforter on the bed.

Yay! It's really, really autumn!

Love that licorice

2011-09-14T21:42:00.000-04:00

I had reason to be on the east side of Philadelphia today, in the historic district. When I was an editor at Lippincott, I walked around this part of the city every day, and it was nice to be back.

One of the places I made sure to visit was Lore's Chocolates, a small treasure of a place.

Halloween candy is already on display.

The kitchen is in back, through the bluish doorway on the left in the picture above. I love it when the kitchen ladies come out wearing big white aprons and white caps, bearing wooden trays of freshly made candy to replenish the shelves. It makes me feel like a kid in an English children's book.

The butter cookies looked good.

I always visit the licorice table.

I bought a bag of licorice Scotties.

The rest of the day was fine, but visiting Lore's Chocolates may have been the highlight.

Weekend tasks and pleasures

2011-09-10T22:25:00.000-04:00

Got up at 6:30. Went to the gym and swam laps for an hour. Wanted to take a picture of the pool, but obviously you can't take pictures of strangers swimming - I wouldn't like it if someone were taking a photo of me. And you really can't take photos in a locker room if other people are around. That would be just creepy. So I have a photo of a deserted locker room.

Here's one of the best parts about swimming laps - it gives a person plenty of time to think. I came up with a long list of things I needed to do, or wanted to do, this weekend.

Nice hot shower and then back home for breakfast.

Coffee, toast, and a bowl of tomato slices, fresh off the patio. Then to the computer, where I emailed a resume and cover letter I had prepared yesterday. No more about that unless there is any interest, but let me just say that I'm not averse to the idea of a new job in a different city.

Then our regular Saturday routine - library, Whole Foods, Giant supermarket, Wawa for a second cup of coffee, BJ's (a big discount store) for supplies like paper towels, Produce Junction for an amazing amount of mushrooms and red peppers at a very low price. A frenzy of consumerism - and we are now stocked up for the week.

We discovered a new product - frozen Greek yogurt!

Back home to put everything away, and to have a bowl of tabouli.

Time to tackle the back yard. I filled four big bags with branches that had come down during the recent storms, and it was hot work in the humidity. Will finish up the front yard tomorrow.

Visited with the neighbors across the fence, and admired their adorable grandson. He has recently learned to walk, and you can't keep him still.

Dripping with sweat, so back inside for another shower. Made a southwestern stir-fry on rice for dinner.

Watched a very good movie after dinner - The Ranger, the Cook, and a Hole in the Sky. An indie film that all three of us enjoyed very much.

And now typing up my blog diary for the day. And thinking back to that list of things I need to do this weekend - there are still so many undone!

Hurriquake week and assumptions

2011-09-07T06:41:00.000-04:00

I was talking to colleagues at work yesterday about the hurriquake week, and we discovered that most of us had immediately assumed the craziest stuff when we felt the earth shaking.

Crazy in the sense that it was the only thing our brains could wrap themselves around in those first few seconds, because we had no earthquake experience to fall back on.

For example, one person was in a car when she felt the shaking, and assumed that she was having car trouble - really bad, peculiar car trouble.

Another was in the house, with a small child who happened to be having a mild temper tantrum at the time, rolling around on the floor and kicking the furniture. Her first thought was that her son was getting awfully strong, since his exertions seemed to be shaking the whole house.

I was at home sitting at the computer, and my initial assumption was that my son upstairs had knocked over a heavy piece of furniture. Now, he has never in his life done such a thing. However, I was at someone's house twenty years ago when her son did knock over a dresser upstairs, and it shook the house - and my mind immediately leaped to this "explanation," even though I hadn't thought about it in decades.

Colleagues who had lived in California, on the other hand, said that their first thought when things started wobbling was simply "Earthquake!"

A good illustration of how we turn to the familiar first when something wholly new occurs.

The next time I have car trouble, though, I'm probably going to think - earthquake!

Labor Day - what's on the menu?

2011-09-05T22:16:00.002-04:00

Grilled stuff - corn and chicken.

Yum.

Labor Day Eve

2011-09-04T17:34:00.000-04:00

Today is the eve of a holiday celebrating the role of labor unions. I believe that unions have had a great role (and, unfortunately, a terrible role) in our history.

But I have never been a member of a union. Increasingly, very few people are.

So I have not much to say about organized labor.

About the topic of labor in general, though, especially the labor of homemakers and housekeepers (non-union) I have some experience.

Today, I cleaned the refrigerator. Thoroughly. It's a job that people (almost always female people) do all the time, mostly unnoticed.

The need for cleaning the refrigerator was great at this time, because a glass container had exploded inside the fridge. (Note: it was not filled with hot food. I have no idea why it exploded.) A good reason to clean.

I cleaned with a vengeance. And with a steam cleaner.

The process looks like this:

That is, it looks like lots of white and steam.

And I ended up with this:

Surprisingly enjoyable, in spite of the fact that it won't last.

Then I had a cup of lemongrass and spearmint tea with honey, in a mug I bought at a drug store in San Francisco a few years ago. While in the city, I visited a friend I had not seen in more than 30 years.

All in all, very satisfying. Cleaning, relaxing, remembering.

Looking forward to the holiday tomorrow, even though I am not a member of a union.

The Black Prince

2011-09-03T22:38:00.000-04:00

It's a variety of tomato, not royalty.

And it's mostly green, not black.

Tastes great. Seems like they were a long time coming, though. We are now getting a good crop of tomatoes, but it's almost Labor Day. I think perhaps all the rain in August (the rainiest August in this area since whenever) discouraged the plants.

What if bad writing is a product of the form of writing required in college—the term paper—and not necessarily intrinsic to a student's natural writing style or thought process?

2011-09-02T20:52:00.002-04:00

Collaborative learning for the digital age, by Cathy Davidson.

Lots of interesting stuff for anyone who writes, or teaches, or blogs, or reads.

Research indicates that, at every age level, people take their writing more seriously when it will be evaluated by peers than when it is to be judged by teachers. Online blogs directed at peers exhibit fewer typographical and factual errors, less plagiarism, and generally better, more elegant and persuasive prose than classroom assignments by the same writers. Longitudinal studies of student writers conducted by Stanford University's Andrea Lunsford, a professor of English, assessed student writing at Stanford year after year. Lunsford surprised everyone with her findings that students were becoming more literate, rhetorically dexterous, and fluent—not less, as many feared. The Internet, she discovered, had allowed them to develop their writing.

Perhaps academic writing is so poor because we can't help but write poorly in that style. It would be amazing if it turns out that blogging is a better way to teach writing than the traditional academic methods.

The section on crowdsourcing grading is very interesting to me, in spite of the fact that I am skeptical - but interested.

[The world] sprang into being . . . from my cup of tea

2011-09-01T22:40:00.001-04:00

And just as the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little crumbs of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch themselves and bend, take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, permanent and recognisable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.

Swann's Way

The famous opening about the tea and the madeleine. I love it.

Street people

2011-08-31T21:36:00.000-04:00

Speaking of the long-term unemployed, the ups and downs (mostly downs) of our economy are probably not of much interest to the truly long-term unemployed, those poor souls who have been on the streets for years, usually due to mental illness and addiction. Over the years I've become accustomed to some of them - I see them every day, as they seem to keep to similar schedules. For example, this fellow pushes his dog down the sidewalk in a baby stroller along Market Street at the same time almost every evening, as I walk toward the train station. Here he is with his placard asking for money.

Then there is the 51-Year-Old Veteran who is trying to collect enough money to get to the VA hospital. It's a pretty good pitch, except that he's been accosting folks on Market Street with the exact same story for the last 8 years - the age never changes. "Excuse me, ma'am, I'm a 51-year-old veteran . . ." He never seems to remember anyone, so he has been telling the same story to the same people for years and years.

I don't have any answers. It's all sad.

"Job searching is not dissimilar to living Bill Murray's life in Groundhog Day."

2011-08-30T23:03:00.000-04:00

A collection of good (by which I mean sad and heartbreaking) responses to Derek Thompson's call for readers to respond to what it's like to be looking for work.

I have experienced this situation second-hand. Neil has been out of work for more than a year now, but he has a temp job lined up, starting next week. Tim has had inadequate part-time jobs for several years.

It's tiring. And the thing is, we are actually in a pretty good spot - the story of the guy from Louisiana at the link is really sad.

Update: here's an interesting (but also sad) site on the same topic, Down But Not Out.

Beautiful, beautiful weather

2011-08-29T21:30:00.000-04:00

The days after a big storm are usually great. Not just by comparison - this was some seriously wonderful weather. Not my favorite, which is in the sixties and slightly breezy - but really beautiful.

I walked around the city on my lunch hour, and saw Penn students still moving in. Move-in days were officially last week, but you can still see people pushing those big cardboard boxes on wheels down the sidewalk.

I took a picture of a Toynbee tile, which reminds me that crazy people are all around (and usually harmless).

I like the ephemera on the streets, and also the objects that seem much more permanent.

Nothing is more ephemeral than beautiful weather on this planet. Glad I'm not on Jupiter.

Mezzaluna

2011-08-28T18:43:00.000-04:00

Good night, Irene. The big blow did not harm us at all. We did not lose power, and our sump pumps kept pumping. Others, not too far from here, were not as lucky.

Of greater personal interest at the moment - I bought a mezzaluna at a kitchen store that is going out of business. The mezzaluna (half moon) is a blade with a handle, for chopping. Tonight I chopped up pistachios for garnishing a stir fry.

A knife works just as well, but it's fun to have a new kitchen tool.

Anothe thing I did today - read proofs of an article that will be published soon, about educational programs in maximum security prisons. I feel very honored and privileged to have been able to write the article. I cannot truly imagine surviving life in a maximum security facility. I hope very, very, very much that I never have that experience.

We spent about an hour cleaning up debris from the front yard. The back yard will have to wait till next weekend.

All in all, a good weekend.

Hurricane prelude

2011-08-27T22:34:00.000-04:00

I don't think Hurricane Irene will be too much trouble for us in the Philly suburbs - but what do I know? So far, just a lot of rain. Two sump pumps working away faithfully.

Of course, if we lose power, and the sump pumps stop pumping, that will be a problem.

A big problem.

But, till then - carry on.

Hurricane preparations

2011-08-26T22:31:00.001-04:00

Preparing for Hurricane Irene - which just means buying batteries and bringing some patio stuff inside. And we bought some bottled water. Not really a whole lot more we can do. I hope this storm has been over-hyped. It's really hard to tell - the weather people seem to get apoplectic over every storm.

Actually, we couldn't find batteries. So if we lose power tomorrow night, we will have to sit in the dark, listening to the rain.

At the Franklin Institute on Wednesday, with my granddaughter Bernadette, the exhibits may have been an omen of the storm to come:

But I'd rather remember Bern greeting the world (a version of the world generated by light on mist):

And contemplating a small slice of Philadelphia.

The human heart

2011-08-24T21:56:00.000-04:00

For some unknown reason, I have just finished an Internet break of about a week or so. I don't know why I took a break. It just happened. I haven't posted anything within the last week or so (after a run of posting almost every day this year). I have peeked at other blogs every so often, but much less frequently than usual. I haven't even been keeping up with the ongoing stream of casual news on Facebook.

I don't know why this happened. I haven't been busier than usual. It just happened. I guess I needed a break.

So, to catch up - I have been to a couple of farmers' markets, where I saw gorgeous tomatoes:

I played games with my granddaughter, Bernadette:

I visited the Franklin Institute, where I took a photo of Bern walking through the human heart. Here she is in the left ventricle:

We're all here, hearts beating. Life is good.

Tomato-centric day

2011-08-14T17:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a tomato kind of day.

As usual, I checked the tomatoes on the patio in the early morning. For some reason or other we are getting one ripe tomato every few days, although there are lots and lots of green ones. This means that about every three days or so we pick our one red tomato, slice it, and eagerly eat it. (That's our most recent red tomato, hiding behind the green ones, above.) But one tomato doesn't go very far for three people, so in spite of all those pots on the patio, we are still hungry for tomatoes.

So we go to a local farmer's market on Saturdays to stock up on tomatoes.

Yesterday we went to the farmer's market at the Glenside train station. We met a man who is kind of a hemp evangelist; he sells hemp seeds, hemp granola bars, hemp pretzels, hemp mustard, hemp tee shirts, hemp jam, hemp milk -- and even more hemp products than those. Those are just the ones I can recall now.

Salted hemp seeds are quite tasty. I ended up buying a few hemp products.

The sourdough hemp pretzels are jalapeno- and sesame-flavored. He gave me the hemp bracelet for free.

We also tried fresh gazpacho, which was so good that we bought a tub. The man who makes it told us that the tomatoes he used were so beautiful he almost hated to cut them up - in fact, he took pictures of them before he cut them up. They were that beautiful.

That's a tomato-lover after my own heart. I tore up a few basil leaves from our garden and sprinkled them over the soup, and drizzled a little olive oil on top, too.

And then in the evening we made Bloody Marys, to round out a very tomato-centric day.

Many happy returns, Edna

2011-08-12T21:47:00.000-04:00

I don't know why, but I am the owner of a small collection of old post cards from strangers. I don't remember if I inherited this little stash, or if I bought them at an antique store, or what. It's within the bounds of possibility that I bought them many, many years ago, with a vague idea that I might use them in some sort of collage or design or something.

At any rate, I came across them again recently, and was thinking about how people make fun of the birthday greetings aspect of Facebook - dozens or hundreds of posts that say nothing more than Happy Birthday!

It occurred to me that these old postcards are the equivalent from sixty or seventy years ago. They arrived a little more slowly, but obviously in many cases the sender has nothing more to say than Happy Birthday!

Of course, the colors and designs are great. And sometimes the messages are a little puzzling.

Two examples. First:

Great old design. On the reverse:

What? So many questions. Edna's best feller is Liz Tootle???? What is meant by A.M.H.? Who abbreviates Kansas as Kans? Also, did someone try to pry off the stamp and re-use it?

Second example:

Another lovely design. On the back:

Another birthday postcard for Edna; this time no one tried to scrape off the one cent stamp. The note reads:

Hello Edna we got here all right and took Jenny over to the graveyard this eve with Jakes [??] will send more cards this eve Mom

Poor Edna. Happy belated birthday to her.

Luminous Vermont

2011-08-11T21:29:00.000-04:00

A recent post at Ambiance includes this lovely text:

The most striking thing about Vermont per se is its luminous sky. It’s almost always full of dramatic, puffy white clouds, and the day seems lit not by the sun but by the silvery, icy light of these clouds, which makes the green land and blue sky look hyperreal.

it’s not the sun but
the icy-white clouds that light
luminous Vermont

Which made me think of my own recent trip to Stowe.

Reflections at Market East

2011-08-10T21:31:00.001-04:00

Septa bus and subway stations have been in the news lately, and not for good things - people have been shooting on buses and at subway stops. No one has been hurt so far, but it's scary.

On the other hand, sometimes the stations are very pretty.

Zoom zoom zoom

2011-08-09T22:37:00.000-04:00

I have been marveling at the ability I have to zoom in photos.

First, the original shot, a window table at Fork restaurant. I just took a quick photo before the group arrived for our dinner a couple weeks ago. Nothing special about the table - I'm just enjoying taking photos.

Shall we look a little closer? I am very fond of paintings that include glassware.

Isn't the glass pretty? Like a little frozen waterfall.

Hey - maybe I could read the license plate on that car if I zoomed in a little more.

Why yes, I sure can.

This is just a cheap Kodak Easyshare camera! I am astonished by its power.

The S&P downgrade is our first taste of pain.

2011-08-08T22:23:00.001-04:00

I like William Saletan. I like almost every article he ever wrote for Slate.

And I like his essay on the debt ceiling mess very much, even though his predictions are deeply uncomfortable:

Medicare will be cut deeply, no matter what Democrats say. . . .

Taxes will go up, no matter what Republicans say. . . . .

The middle, in the end, will rule.

Veggies

2011-08-07T20:12:00.000-04:00

What food looks more unappetizing than leeks in their natural state?

It doesn't help that you have throw most of the plant away.

But you can end up with the most delicious vegetable ever, after discarding most of the thing, cleaning the remainder thoroughly, browning in olive oil, simmering in white wine, and adding a little salt, pepper, and honey. Yum.

Also, tried lots of delicious tomatoes from the local farmers' market today.

Food for all palates

2011-08-06T20:30:00.000-04:00

We have a tomato thief:

A groundhog, also known as a woodchuck, also known as a land beaver (I learned that last one from Wikipedia). I captured a shot of him enjoying a yellow tomato in our back yard this morning.

He doesn't seem to be able to reach very high, though. If I stake the tomatoes well, he may not be able to get very many. And I don't see any tunnels or burrows in the lawn, so I'm hoping this doesn't turn into a big problem. I empathize with his effort to enjoy the summer's bounty. Very much like me.

Visited a Korean grocery today. Interesting to see what kinds of things are considered edible, even delicacies, in other cultures.

Silkworm pupa? Really? They have lots, so it must be popular. And probably, if I had grown up in Korea, I would enjoy them too.

We tried something new tonight: cherry soup.

Bring cherries, tart cherry juice, a little sugar, a cinnamon stick, and a little port wine to a boil. Simmer 15 minutes. Blend. Add a little cornstarch, and cool 3 hours. Serve with a few chopped cherries.

Yum. Summertime, and the eating is easy.

It's always sunny in Philadelphia

2011-08-05T22:35:00.001-04:00

Gorgeous day . . .

Looking at Center City from 38th Street.

It even looks nice in reflections.

And then it's time to walk back downstairs and get on the computer again.

Daily dose of art deco

2011-08-04T20:43:00.000-04:00

I walk through Philadelphia's 30th Street station twice daily, Monday through Friday, except for the days I work from home.

You can find better photos of the station's many architectural details and marvels on line, but these are the ones I happened to pay attention to this afternoon.

Waking with my ears ringing

2011-08-03T22:57:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wake up in the night.
I squint at the green-eyed clock
and it tells me two fourteen. Outside
rain sidles down. Why does my head
ring with shouting? Words, loud words
have been thrown tumbling like empty
boxes down the steps of my spine.

Who argues in my head at night
after I have crawled into the wet
cave of my own belly to sleep?
My cats snooze in a multicolored heap,
one snoring, one whimpering. My
love is chewing the cud of his day
grinding his teeth and mumbling.

But my brain bears the scuff marks of boots.
Somebody has been pacing there ranting --
the dogmatist I was at thirty-two?
Noisy ghosts have been making speeches.
Are these sins of omission screeching?
Unworn alternate selves in chartreuse?
Scorned opinions demanding equal air time?

I am like the beds in rooming houses
of Word War II Detroit in the housing crisis
of my childhood, slept on in turns,
one guy getting into bed from the graveyard
shift when another crawled out to shower,
my head is in continuous use, rented out
to ghosts whenever I shut off the lights.

Marge Piercy

Don't worry; I've been on antibiotics for five days

2011-08-02T20:47:00.002-04:00

The Evangelical Lutheran Church of our Savior
Haddonfield, NJ
December 2, 2007

I'm getting lazy about choosing new churches to visit - just picking one close to home is so easy. Luckily, there are so many churches around here that I could do this for months. One thing this project has convinced me of - this country may have too many churches! Or perhaps not - perhaps it's a good thing that there's a different church on almost every corner, with a slightly different outlook and flavor and perspective. But it's hard to believe that they will all survive another thirty years, when you see how many people are sitting in the pews on any random Sunday.

Oh well - I chose a nearby church today not just out of laziness, but also because today is the first day of slightly bad weather since I began this project seven months ago - that is an impressive run of good weather. And this is not really VERY bad weather - just a slight dusting of snow and a hint of iciness on the roads. Still, no sense driving a long distance today unless I really need to.

ELC of our Savior is in a quiet residential neighborhood. There may be a parking lot, but I don't see it, so I park on the street. Inside, I walk up a short flight of stairs, and someone hands me a bulletin when I reach the top of the stairs.

The sanctuary is rectangular, with a large raised altar. The interior is white (or perhaps light grey) with wood accents. There is a white and gold cross on a white background against what looks like a wooden grill covering the organ pipes, and the cross features red alpha and omega symbols. The baptistery is a large copper bowl on a marble pedestal in the center of the entrance to the altar area.

The sanctuary windows are clear glass - a nice change from stained glass. (Readers may have noticed that I'm not a fan of stained glass in general, although I've certainly been wowed by some exceptional examples during these visits.) This is the first Sunday in Advent, and there are Christmas decorations on the window sills, and an Advent wreath hanging from the ceiling - it looks difficult to light way up there, but they must have some way of doing this.

A man in a robe with a blue stole greets us, urges us to sign the guest book if we are visitors, and makes a few announcements. The church furnace needs a new hot water boiler and repairs to its fire alarm panels.

The service begins with confession and forgiveness, a hymn (or Gathering Song, as they term it in the bulletin), and then the Blessing of the Advent Wreath ("as we light this candle, kindle in us the fire of your justice and righteousness"). Yes, they have a special long-handled lighter for reaching the candles. Looks a little tricky.

I think the sanctuary would seat at least 400 people, but only about 60 are here for this 8:00 service. The number might be a little low because of the weather, and perhaps the early service is the one fewer people attend. (The church was later featured in the "Your House of Worship" section of the Philadelphia Inquirer, and they claimed to have exactly 1, 243 members, so this level of attendance really is low, compared with membership.)

The sermon, by Pastor Wayne Zschech, is twelve minutes long. And - okay, here's where I really fall down on the job. I can't remember what it was about. Something related to Advent, of course. My notes are blank, except for noting the length. I apologize, Pastor Zschech. This omission says more about my attention span than about your preaching.

So what do I notice? The hymnals have very nice colored leather bookmark strips, five per hymnal, for keeping track of all the hymns and readings. However, the part of the service that makes the biggest impression on me is when Pastor Zschech begins Communion by assuring everyone, "Don't worry; I've been on antibiotics for five days." That gets my attention, and not in a good way.

His statement is the opposite of reassuring, even though I know perfectly well that people don't get sick from communion chalices. We germaphobic Americans would know if people were getting sick from taking communion. It just isn't happening.

Nevertheless, even though I know that no evidence exists linking illness to the common communion cup, I have an irrational dislike of them. Neil's first church after seminary, Alexandria Presbyterian, had an intricate tiered wooden communion set with those little glass cups. I thought it was lovely, and was interested to notice one afternoon, while we were washing the cups in the church kitchen, this logo on the underside of the lowest tier: Sanitary Communion Company, 1922.

That date makes sense. Sanitary individual communion sets must have surged in popularity after the terrible influenza epidemic of 1918, which killed more people than World War I. The introduction of individual communion cups began in Protestant churches in the late 1890s, at the urging of health and sanitation reformers. The idea spread rapidly, overturning almost two millennia of tradition about this most central of Christian rituals. And I like it. I even like the introduction of disposable plastic cups, because I worry about improper washing of the glass cups. (Interesting side note: when they were first introduced, some church members objected to the individual cups because they look a lot like little shot glasses.)

In churches where people drink from a common chalice (actually, usually they use several common chalices, in which case the word common has undergone a bit of a modification, if you want to get technical about it; using four or five chalices does not seem to me all that different from using one hundred), the server often holds a napkin with which he or she wipes the rim after each person drinks.

I'm sure this is intended to remove saliva, lipstick, etc. - but it actually emphasizes the ick factor for me. I suspect this might be a reason so few Catholics drink from the chalice; at every Catholic service I've attended fewer than half the members take a complete communion - many skip the cup. (This is okay according to the Church, but a partial, choose-the-part-you-like communion seems more than a little odd to many other Christians.)

Also, after each service in a Catholic church the priest is required to eat all the remaining communion wafers and drink all the remaining wine; Neil mentioned once that he had assisted at a few big services, and that it sometimes seemed to him that what was left in the bottom was about 50% saliva and 50% wine, which really, really ups the ick factor.

So - not the most spiritually uplifting reflections this morning. Not the fault of the church or the pastor, but I'm not inclined to feel very guilty myself, either. It happens. I'm sorry to spend the first Sunday of Advent thinking about spit and germs, but perhaps that is because I am so very . . . . incarnational.

Nah - I'm just being human. Let's see what the second Sunday of Advent brings.