Category: matthew66

update 220213: In Autumn of 1969, my (half-)sister was not yet seven and I was not yet fourteen, and we were both fresh to Hawaii and living in temporary housing. Her father (and my nemesis) had recently been transferred to his new assignment at Pearl Harbor and the Navy had yet to find permanent billeting for his dependents. July’s moon landing was fresh in our memories, and I was the weird kid who was super excited about the Apollo program. Looking up at a clear night sky, she asked me if I would take her with me to the moon, and I assured her that if that’s what she wanted, then I would.

You probably already know most of the intervening story, but years later I began to feel the pangs of having disappointed both myself and her, which was prompted by advertisements for a quarter ounce silver coin forged in the image of Luna. In the same package as the coin, I also sent her a copy of my latest novel, and this letter:

28 July 2020

Hey Kid,

Every promise carries weight, and as the years go by,
if they are not resolved, they get heavier and heavier. 

Promises made TO children carry the most weight.  Weight of commitment, because it is as important to teach children to trust as it is to teach them to be trustworthy, to cherish and to honor as much as to be cherished and honored.

Promises made BY children carry a different kind of weight altogether.  Weight of charm and weight of sentiment.   And the very least weight of commitment.  Children are childish and they do and say childish things, so we tend to take them less seriously than other people.  Still, we do want to encourage them to live up to their commitments as best they can, and to expect the same from others.

That boy standing on the balcony by the tabasco tree in Waipahu meant every word he said when he promised his sister the moon.  I think by now we can give him a bit of a break.  He was young and naïve and optimistic.  And plenty stupid.  He’s still plenty stupid, of course, that never changes, and naïve and optimistic, but not so young.  A little more experienced perhaps, and maybe a little more cautious and circumspect.  Certainly, less hasty to lead with his heart.

Still, a promise is a promise. 
For now, Kiddo, this is the most moon I can manage. 
Sorry about the delay.  Enjoy!
And I haven’t completely given up hope on the actual moon,
but it’s not looking all that promising.

her response (210822): “Good morning, [Gene], I want to thank you very much for the book and moon coin. I have not started the book yet, but will soon. The letter and moon coin brought tears to my eyes.” For all of my contempt for her father, I am nevertheless grateful that he lived, at least long enough to sire her. It may be the only good thing he ever did. I think she’s the best, and her husband, children, and grandchildren all seem to agree with me.

10 February 2019

I’ve long coveted the assurance of religious conviction, but my skeptical nature denies me such comforts. I understand the temptations of disbelievers to be swayed by extraordinary coincidence, extreme emotional trauma, and sentiment. Often the birth of a child or a near death experience will do it.

Last Friday a colleague of mine suffered a great personal tragedy. Her granddaughter was killed in an auto accident which also took the life of the girl’s de facto stepmother and put her father and her brother into intensive care with grim prognoses. It constitutes a very tough time for said colleague, and while I know I cannot help with the most important work of hugging and crying and sitting quietly as needs be, I still want to help. Cash can paper over a lot of logistical difficulties in the middle of such stress because the crap part of life never lets up. Whether it’s rushing meals or missing work or making arrangements for relatives, cash can help smooth the way. My means are modest, but I can help a little. Mine is the easy part; I cannot even begin to imagine what a bereaved grandmother must be going through. My heart breaks hard enough at just the thought of it.

Last night (Saturday) at the Quikk Stopp by the Interstate, a regular friendly customer, a local Corrections Officer, concluded the transaction portion of his visit, and rather than bidding each other the cordial farewells we normally do, he paused and looked a little bit embarrassed.

“I don’t mean to be weird,” he said, “but the Holy Spirit told me to give you this.” He pushed a wad of bills across the counter.
I picked it up and stammered and managed to say, “Wow. Thanks, CO.”
He smiled and said, “Christ loves you,” and turned and began to walk out.
“I…” was all I could think to say as I watched him leave.

It’s not unprecedented for shop clerks to receive gratuities. It’s not common, either, certainly not the standard. Maybe around holidays sometimes, after establishing personal relationships. (And of course there’s that occasional bit of “keep the metal” from some customers.) Actual deliberate tips, though, are rare, and usually just a matter of a small bill or two, but this was a day’s wage. This was something special.

A day’s wage is pretty much what I had already resolved to kick over to Comrade First Shift but just hadn’t yet. I’m not procrastinating, I can read the schedule so I know when she’ll be back. Right now she doesn’t need me in her shit. When she returns to her lighter paycheck she’ll also find my little boost with CO’s extra helping backing me up.

What so moved CO to bestow so lavish a gift? Well, he told me already, didn‘t he? It was “the Holy Spirit.” I expect he believes it, and I think I might like to, but for about a half a century now I’ve made a pretty steady claim of atheist materialism — with a generous dollop of Rastafarian Agnostic Sybarite folded in for flavor. CO spends his time around people who are a lot worse off than me. If he wanted to help someone out, and witness the gospel at the same time, I expect he has plenty of opportunities. Of course, working for the state, he may be constrained from proselytizing his charges.

I’m an old dude who works at the Quikk Stopp by the Interstate to keep himself in groceries and electricity and other expensive indulgences. My lifestyle is not lavish, but I’m not particularly suffering. Maybe I’m his mission and he thinks I need the help. Sometimes there are holes in my clothing, and my shaves and haircuts are often haphazard and irregular (because I don‘t care), so maybe he thinks I’m hungry. I don’t complain (about that.) Was my vicarious grief in response to Comrade First’s loss apparent in my body language? Did CO already know about the tragedy and was relying on my presumed character to “do the right thing”? A calculated risk that, but not impossible.

So far I am unable to rule out subconscious reasoning, subterfuge, deceit, coincidence, or psychic manipulation. Or divine intervention. My (poor) understanding of the mathematics underpinning current physical theory opens me to many unprecedented phenomena, but because they are unprecedented, the burden of proof rests on the positive. Of course, I expect CO would remind me that history is replete with reports of miracles, so, so much for “unprecedented”, and I might point out that sometimes you’re dealt a pat hand. I do know that I was emotionally distraught. People who know me tell me I have some obvious tells, and CO has been acquainted with me for at least a couple of years. His trade (security and corrections) calls for a good ability to read people. With inmates specifically I guess he’s watching for violence, but in so doing he’s also learning the emotional language that overlaps with other venues.

I’m no Saul of Tarsus, and I have no conversion to report, but I have a better idea now of what rapture and agape mean. It was a unique emotional rush for me, that confluence of circumstances — sadness, compassion, resolve, amazement, delight. And fraternity! CO is a man whom I’ve grown to trust and respect, and he offered to enfold me in his and Christ’s love!

If I were so wired…

29 January 2019

Correspondent TK claims that “liking Mormons is a whole heckuva a lot easier than liking many a secular.”
Correspondent SA agrees, and includes Jehovah’s Witnesses as well, then suggests that “Trinitarians are the worst.”

While I don’t share SA’s experience with Trinitarians (nor therefore his assessment) I am otherwise inclined to agree with both.
If I were so wired I’d be torn between the LDS and a theology of my own devising. Among human beings generally Mormons seem to me to be among the most civil and sincere, irrespective of their peculiar ideology. Among arrogant atheists I come across as a fairly decent fellow (I hope), but I’m nowhere near as nice as most Mormons.

I’m either willing to engage proselytes when they show up, or politely brush them off, depending on my mood.

I was outside my house one afternoon in Kawaihae Village when a couple of “Elders” showed up. (“Elders” who, from the looks of them, may have been shaving for about three weeks.) I told them up front that I was an atheist materialist who had actually read the Book of Mormon, and that if they wanted to they could hang out and we could wash my car while we entertained each other. They both rolled up their sleeves and tucked their ties into their collars and we set to. It turns out we didn’t talk all that much about the New World Testament after all. I was clearly conversant and not buying any of it, and they were too smart to continue laboring fruitlessly. Instead we talked mostly about the “city” of Corvallis and Oregon State University — my own alma mater, and one of theirs as well.

It was simply a lovely time, and I was grateful for their help and they were grateful for the cold drinks and we were all grateful for the beautiful day and each other‘s company.

Our outstretched hand was slapped down on January 28th by a merciless fate. To be sure, there are those who will take the shuttle explosion as an omen to scurry back to our caves lest a vengeful nature seek us out and inflict more ill upon a presumptuous mankind. The weak of heart and the short of sight will admonish us to take our swollen, stinging hand and relish the pain as a lesson not to think so highly of ourselves that we would yearn for the universe.

They are wrong, of course, just as they have been wrong for all of history. It is not to the faint of heart that nature reveals herself. It is to the daring and the bold. Without this drive for knowledge, man is no more than a great ape.

The lesson of the catastrophe is not just that exploration is a risky business. It is part of an even greater truth: Life itself is dangerous. Those who condemn the proponents of space exploration will no doubt continue to drive automobiles, fly in airplanes, and purchase electrical appliances for their homes. There is no safe technology, there is only the acceptance of minor risks — that can prove to be killers — to be balanced against benefits to our physical, intellectual, and moral well-being.

For a moment, Challenger was our outstretched hand toward the cosmos, and then it was slapped down. But, if sometime in the future the manifests of Discovery, Columbia, or Atlantis find themselves short by about seventy kilograms of warm protein, I would be happy to oblige.

update 181115: once again correspondent TM exercises his editorial prerogative and “corrects” my work. For some reason (human error? conflation? caprice?), upon publication, the word “manifests” was replaced with “destinies” and the elegant and poetic expression “short of sight” was truncated to the blunter and cruder “short-sighted.”
Upon additional reflection, it occurs to me that The Daring and the Bold would be a great title for an anthology comic book series, except that DC beat me to it long ago with The Brave and the Bold.  Besides, Lethargy Lad already has his hands full with Daring Love and Daring Features.

Making my claim for the name.  Haven’t seen it anywhere else yet, and I’ve looked.

6 June 2006 —  Alt-Light Verse with William Norman Ewer (1924?)
How odd of God, to choose the Jews.
How odder still, that those He chose
Refuse to choose the Jew He used.

29 February 2016 — Peculiar Institutions

Disappointment: When expectation collides with reality.
Frustration: When desire collides with reality.
Marriage: When frustration colludes with disappointment.

What Management and Marriage have taught me:
If I explain what I mean, it means I think you’re stupid.
If I don’t it means I expected you to read my mind.

What Human Resources and Marriage have taught me:
No problem is so small, so trivial, and so insignificant,
that it can’t be blown completely out of proportion.

What Politics and Marriage have taught me:
Being right is the worst possible excuse.

I think I like to fight with Major Doma
because my Former Arch Nemeses won’t take my bait any more.

Ignorance and Wit — 9 October 2017
Your knowledge is revealed by your answers.
Your wisdom is revealed by your questions.
Your stupidity can be concealed by either.

18 October 2017 — Ethics are contextual and practical. 
Morality is absolute and therefore fantastic. Fantastic ideals make for worthy directions, but they are elusive destinations.

28 December 2017 — Fuck the Nazis!
They can’t have the Swastika; the Sacred Sun Sign is too cool for them.
And fuck American racists, too.
They can’t have the Confederate Cross;
The Battle Flag of Lee the Abolitionist is way too cool for them!

26 April 2018 — Donye’s Budding Bromance
is an oasis of hope for a sere and withered heart.
Amor vincit omnia?

22 May 2018 —  Theism is not indicted by the errors of theists,
it stands or falls on its own merits.
Objective morality is possible without mysticism,
just as objective Astronomy is possible without Horoscopes.

Americans are generally adept at heaping scorn on Shariah Law. We are horrified when innocent acts (like the doffing of a head scarf, or the quaffing of a cold brew) that injure or defraud none are treated as if they are affronts to a loving god. We are right to be dismayed at the prospect of twenty months in stir for the “crime” of exposing one’s head to the sky, but fail to heed Rabbi Yeshua’s admonition (Matthew 7:5) to first cast the beams from our own eyes before attending to motes in others’.

We should be offended by the harshness of Iranian Law. We should also be offended by the murder of Peter McWilliams. McWilliams died a painful and lingering death from non-Hodgkins lymphoma after he was denied access to medicinal cannabis by the occupation government. We should be offended by every otherwise peaceful productive pothead and prostitute squandering tax monies in stir.

Like the attendees to the Sermon on the Mount, we are much better at identifying the errors of others than our own.
180804

Rector Lawrence
Matthew 6:6 Ministries

14 July 2018

Kylie and Stormi Jenner are a very good example of a very bad example. Whether your intentions as a “proud” or “loving” parent are to mutilate your daughter’s ears or your son’s penis, it would be well to remember this: infants are unable to give informed consent.

To mutilate any person without his permission (or short of a medical emergency) is trespass and violence. Trespassing against another’s person or property or violating their bodily integrity is wrong. It’s wrong even if your Rabbi or the Village Elders insist that it’s righteous. And it is wrong even if all your friends tell you that “everybody do that.”

If you’re paying your own bills and making your own decisions lately and you fancy some tats or piercings or a circumcision or a clitorectomy, then have at it. It’s your cash and your body.

But leave the children alone!

If I’m going to hector strangers on the evils of child abuse, I should confess my own shame. Attend then to the sad despicable cascade of disgrace.

Shortly after the birth of our first son, Busy Body and I were moving into a house owned by her parents. Helping out with their new grand baby was their joy and I’m delighted that they had the disposable wherewithal to take part. However, discovering that young Stargazer had yet to be circumcised, Grandmama expressed her horror that her little grand darling could not be welcomed into the Kingdom of God.

Grandmama wanted to please a loving and merciful god, Busy Body wanted to please her mother, and I caved in to my wife and betrayed my son. I am comforted by the fact that I do not remember my own circumcision, and I suspect that few of us do. Our brains are not well organized yet to hold on to much. However. I do remember Stargazer’s circumcision. I remember the sterile room with the tiny form fitted tray for his little body. I remember being escorted out to the waiting area. I remember the screaming. I still remember the screaming. I’ll always remember the screaming.

Am I a hypocrite because I now exhort others not to commit the crimes that I have? No. I do not forgive myself for this, but I’ve tried to make the best of my life in spite of immutable history. If I were to remain silent I would be a hypocrite and a coward.

Please, for the love of life and liberty and decency and dignity, leave your children to their own natures and they will express it in their own time.