Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sermon-tossed
Last week, my wife coined a new buzz word that will likely set the clergy blogosphere ablaze. On Saturday afternoon she crafted a new word to describe my deshoveled look. "Sermon-tossed." Despite how it sounds, she was not referring to that wonderful Friday evening frustration that sets in when you feel everything you've been reading, writing, or working on is worthless and ready to be tossed. And, although it may catch fire in female clergy circles, she was not referring to the dazzling, vivacious look of their "spirit"-blown locks after the delivery of a prophetic word from the pulpit. However, she was referring to hair - my hair. Which, by saturday afternoon, has a fluffy bed-head look after hours of contemplative study and typing, during which I run my fingers through my hair and frequently scratch my scalp. The end result - "sermon-tossed" shine and body that you can't buy in a bottle. You'll only find it in carrels of thelogical libraries everywehere or in the Saturday afternoon study of a rural church pastor. Then again, there could be some real merit to an alternative definition to illustrate what should be done with certain manuscripts after a Sunday service. Sermon-tossed. I think there's a lot of promise for this one. Eat your heart out Merriam-Webster.
Friday, May 14, 2010
The cost
When I was in the 7th grade, I cheated on a quiz for the first and last time.
The test was simple enough. There was one question. We were to have memorized our social security number in order to appropriately fill in our information for the upcoming End of Course testing. One quiz, one question, and three dozen different, but correct, answers. What is your social security number?
The only problem was I had completely forgotten about this silly quiz. As class began, and Ms Shuford instructed us to pull out paper for the quiz, my heart sank. I'm a straight A student. There's no way I can afford a zero on a quiz. It was then I had the idea to write my number on my desk. It was easily justified. After all, this wasn't really a quiz. It was a silly social security number. It had nothing to do with Algebra. I wasn't really cheating. SO, I found my number in my desk and quickly transferred it in pencil onto the top of my desk.
In a matter of minutes it was over. I wrote the number on my notebook paper, Ms Shuford collected all the papers, and I had saved my perfect grade. The only problem was that I had forgotten to erase the number on my desk. When Ms Shuford made her way around again with our next assignment, she noticed a string of numbers across the top of my desk. My afternoon went downhill from there.
It wasn't long before the word had spread to the rest of the teachers on my hall and I was demoted for the week from level 7 to level 4 status on the conduct system. I was humiliated and embarrassed. The golden child had fallen from grace. And for what? My own social security number. All those years of hard work, determination, trustworthy behavior, and everything vanished in a few minutes on a Tuesday afternoon. It was the first and last time I ever cheated on a quiz.
By the semester's end, I was back in the good graces of all and the top of my class, but it wasn't the same. Everyone had moved on, but the staff and teachers never looked at me quite the same. I could tell. They knew what I was capable of. I was human.
I write all of this to pose the question "What are we willing to pay and to risk to satisfy our desire?" "Is it really worth the cost?"
Over 4 million gallons and counting are wreaking havoc on fragile ecosystems along the Gulf Coast and irreversible damage to our oceans. Our oceans are the only water source we have and our only source of life. Once they are gone and contaminated, so are we. This was a massive accident on one rig out in the Gulf of Mexico. There are over 3,500 more rigs in that Gulf alone. Heartbreaking cries of "drill baby, drill" are determined to see another entire city of rigs created off the coast of Virginia and NC. Odds are, 90% of the time, an accident like this won't ever happen. Yet, as the dolphins wash ashore, rare bird species are lost, turtles are tarred, and an entire seafood industry destroyed, surely someone is wondering if it was really worth it all.
Are a few million gallons of oil really worth the cost of life? If it were a war, the casualties would be immeasurable. A single reef supports untold billions. A brilliance that will never look quite the same. Now we know what we are capable of.
The test was simple enough. There was one question. We were to have memorized our social security number in order to appropriately fill in our information for the upcoming End of Course testing. One quiz, one question, and three dozen different, but correct, answers. What is your social security number?
The only problem was I had completely forgotten about this silly quiz. As class began, and Ms Shuford instructed us to pull out paper for the quiz, my heart sank. I'm a straight A student. There's no way I can afford a zero on a quiz. It was then I had the idea to write my number on my desk. It was easily justified. After all, this wasn't really a quiz. It was a silly social security number. It had nothing to do with Algebra. I wasn't really cheating. SO, I found my number in my desk and quickly transferred it in pencil onto the top of my desk.
In a matter of minutes it was over. I wrote the number on my notebook paper, Ms Shuford collected all the papers, and I had saved my perfect grade. The only problem was that I had forgotten to erase the number on my desk. When Ms Shuford made her way around again with our next assignment, she noticed a string of numbers across the top of my desk. My afternoon went downhill from there.
It wasn't long before the word had spread to the rest of the teachers on my hall and I was demoted for the week from level 7 to level 4 status on the conduct system. I was humiliated and embarrassed. The golden child had fallen from grace. And for what? My own social security number. All those years of hard work, determination, trustworthy behavior, and everything vanished in a few minutes on a Tuesday afternoon. It was the first and last time I ever cheated on a quiz.
By the semester's end, I was back in the good graces of all and the top of my class, but it wasn't the same. Everyone had moved on, but the staff and teachers never looked at me quite the same. I could tell. They knew what I was capable of. I was human.
I write all of this to pose the question "What are we willing to pay and to risk to satisfy our desire?" "Is it really worth the cost?"
Over 4 million gallons and counting are wreaking havoc on fragile ecosystems along the Gulf Coast and irreversible damage to our oceans. Our oceans are the only water source we have and our only source of life. Once they are gone and contaminated, so are we. This was a massive accident on one rig out in the Gulf of Mexico. There are over 3,500 more rigs in that Gulf alone. Heartbreaking cries of "drill baby, drill" are determined to see another entire city of rigs created off the coast of Virginia and NC. Odds are, 90% of the time, an accident like this won't ever happen. Yet, as the dolphins wash ashore, rare bird species are lost, turtles are tarred, and an entire seafood industry destroyed, surely someone is wondering if it was really worth it all.
Are a few million gallons of oil really worth the cost of life? If it were a war, the casualties would be immeasurable. A single reef supports untold billions. A brilliance that will never look quite the same. Now we know what we are capable of.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
No one listens?
Spring is here (You'd think it were summer based on the temps) - which means it's time to hit up some garden centers to spruce up the yard with a few flowers. My wife and I were rummaging through the garden center at Lowes over the weekend when an announcement came over the intercom. "Special assistance needed in the blind cutting area." Did they just say what I think they said? The announcement repeated "Special assistance needed in the blind cutting area." I couldn't hold it in any longer so, I began to laugh out loud. Am I the only one that finds this funny? Sometimes it seems no one else is ever really listening. I tried to explain it to Kathryn and thus passed on the giggles to her. Moments later, the announcement again rings through the store and we both start to giggle. Again, the page is repeated at least a fourth time. Well, if no one else is going to help that blind person cut something, I guess I will before somebody gets hurt. :)
Hope someone listening out there finds this as humorous as I did.
PS-(It turns out there isn't a special cutting area for blind persons. I must admit, I knew Lowes carried and sold decorative blinds, but I thought they all came in boxes in certain sizes. I never knew they did custom blinds or actually "cut" them to size. I guess you learn something new all the time.)
Hope someone listening out there finds this as humorous as I did.
PS-(It turns out there isn't a special cutting area for blind persons. I must admit, I knew Lowes carried and sold decorative blinds, but I thought they all came in boxes in certain sizes. I never knew they did custom blinds or actually "cut" them to size. I guess you learn something new all the time.)
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