Bread, Wine, Salt

Perfume Joy smells like lying in the dark in my bedroom, pretending to be asleep  when my mother came in to check on me after coming home from a glamorous grown-up party, the kind I never go to,  because no one is glamorous anymore. Joy smells like the sound of her charm bracelet jingling  as she took off her fur coat,  and the rustle of garment bags as she put it away in the spare closet. Sometimes the parties were at our house.  My parents would hire a man to tend bar,  and his wife to manage the kitchen for the evening  so they could mingle.  My sister and I put on our best party dresses and carried trays of hors d'oeuvres  through the sea of people, offering up ham biscuits and shrimp puffs  and showing off our best manners.  We were never relegated to watching the party from the top of the stairs.  My mother knew there was no chance we would sleep  and she might as well get fre...

Seventh Sunday After Pentecost Year C, Proper 9 (track 2) If there is a theme that stands out in today’s readings it might be joy.  The prophet Isaiah tells the people of Jerusalem to rejoice and be glad. The Psalmist tells all the lands to be joyful in God. In the Gospel the seventy are sent out ahead of Jesus and they return with joy. The work that God has for us to do is meant to fill us with joy. If that’s not good news I don’t know what is.  What is the work? In Galatians Paul tells us to work for the good of all and to bear each other’s burdens. I could just give a nice three sentence sermon today.  Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Be joyful. Great talk. Enjoy your holiday weekend. Except there is a little bit more to say. Our readings today are also about vulnerability. The people rejoicing in Jerusalem were home from exile and everything was supposed to be great again. For the whole time they’d been in exile the prophets had been telling them it...

Everything that I've ever written that was even remotely worth reading began with words that were cut from the final project. They were beautiful words that I loved, but they had to go. They weren't necessary to the reader and they slowed everything down. But they were very necessary to me as a writer. They told me things about the story I was writing that I needed to know. Chapter Zero will be an occasional series of first things I've written. If they ever grow into bigger things, these first things will almost certainly pass away. In the meantime, I welcome comments, questions, suggestions and harsh criticism.  Eirikr and I have a once in a lifetime love. Once in several lifetimes, actually. I have loved him in seven lifetimes that I remember and I have lost him in six. Now his sits before me, thinking his name is Jason and that he is a student in my Introduction to Ancient History class. He came by during office hours seeking feedback on his research paper. I am B...

My nephew was visiting. He's an exceptionally bright kid, probably on the spectrum, but highly verbal and outgoing. It's just that he sees everything and lacks a filter. So when we took him to visit a young friend who had build a model of the solar system, I had to warn my nephew not to point out any errors. There were bound to be errors, of course, because no matter how carefully you measure, you can't build a whole solar system out of styrofoam and fishing line. Our young friend had certainly tried his best. This was no mere coat hanger science project. It filled a large room, and in addition to the styrofoam and fishing line, there was a projector that created a horizontal screen of light that showed more stars. Maybe it was a whole galaxy, not just a solar system. There were a lot of things, whatever it was. My nephew was trying to tell me that the projection looked different from above than from below, so I lay down and looked up, and asked him to put a finger throug...

A Baker's Dozen Tips and Tricks for Substitute Teachers 1. They're probably lying to you. Not the students, the other teachers. Whatever the teacher or anyone else tells you about a group of kids will not be true when you're in the classroom because how kids behave with a sub is unrelated to how they behave with their regular teacher. It's your first day, and you have to set the expectations for your classroom. 2. Introduce yourself. Write your name on the board. 3. Act like you know what you're doing. Children, like dogs, can smell fear. 4. Be loud enough to fill the classroom without yelling. Practice this ahead of time. 5. Never yell. If you yell, they win. More importantly, if you yell, you lose. Don't lose. 6. You are not their friend. They will ask you if you are married, if you have kids, if you like dubstep, if you go to clubs, what your favorite football team is. An enterprising atheist will ask if you're religious so they can debate rel...

Is there a word for the sadness you feel when you realize you are almost at the end of a book that you love and you will never be able to read it again for the first time? I asked that on facebook, and my friends answered "No, but there should be, because that's definitely a thing and you should tell us what you just read because we want to feel it, too." Normally I am a glutton of all kinds. I eat too much. I drink too fast (water, I mean. Also beer and wine and whatnot, but I limit myself strictly on those so I don't end up doing something stupid.) I binge watch TV shows. And I swallow books whole. I read the first three Harry Potter books in a single weekend, and the rest in one or two marathon sessions each. I'm also a re-reader. Books that I raced through the first time often get a slower, reread. I dip in and out of them when I have a bit of time. I know how they end, so I'm not in any particular rush to get there and I can better enjoy the ride, w...

There is no quiet at the beach, because the ocean roars at you from across the dunes, says good morning before you can even see it. I’m not the first person out. I pass a man with a baby strapped to his chest. The baby is watching the ocean. The man walks, eyes front. I wonder if the mom is sleeping in for once, or if he’s always up early, or if the mom is actually another dad instead. Did the baby sleep well last night and wake early? Or did no one sleep well last night and this is a desperate attempt to get someone some sleep. The dogs are almost certainly not allowed on the beach, but there’s no one out to tell the owner to leave as he throws tennis balls into the ocean. The dogs race out into the surf. The bolder, stronger swimmer goes past the crashing waves, while the more timid one is tossed under wave. They race back with their prizes, tails wagging, ready to go again. There are fewer joggers than I expected, but more fishermen. Fathers and sons, brothers, men alo...