Nobody 869

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Nobody # 869

Nobody Asked Me But:

As many of you know, I spent a semester at San Francisco Theological Seminary, in San Anselmo (Marin County). I was going to be a Presbyterian minister, but discovering that I was an atheist messed up my plan. Nevertheless, my time there made me the minister’s choice to preach occasionally in their absence. This happened several times in Ajo and later in Simi Valley.

A couple of weeks ago, as part of my scanning project, I found several of my sermons buried in a trunk in the garage. I thought it would be fun and interesting to post this one, from 1967, as a Nobody. I was tempted to clean up the writing a little (hopefully I have improved in the past 44 years) but I did not. This, with all its blemishes, is the way I delivered it that Sunday at the Simi Valley Presbyterian Church.

First Corinthians 13

Webster’s Dictionary defines dream as an imaginary vision, or a reality suggestive of such a vision. I had such a visionary experience a few days ago, and I would like to tell you about it.

In my dream, I was a sojourner, a traveler from afar. I came upon this land, America, and the first sight of it overwhelmed me. I saw a land of incredible beauty built out of ideal after golden ideal. The construction materials were such things as “all men are created equal” and self-determination and tolerance and democracy, spiritualism and the respect for others, brotherhood of man and “liberty and justice for all.” At the base of the structure, providing the essential support was the most beautiful ideal of all – “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

Surely I thought, surely this is paradise come to earth. Surely this is a kingdom built by God himself.

Anxiously I moved from without the kingdom to within. I must walk among the people who created such magic. I must share in the further glories of their creation.

I first found myself in a place called Detroit. Instead of magic, I found chaos. I saw people walking the streets with guns in their hands. Others were breaking windows and stealing things. I saw a young boy bleeding and dying in the streets. There was burning and destruction all around me.

I cried in anguish. What manner of man could do this? Who could be so evil as to destroy the beauty? Surely nothing could justify this attempt to tear down this civilization.

And then, I was in another place, a place called Democracy, Mississippi, and I saw these same people being denied their right to share in their government, being kept from the polling places by dogs and fire hoses and policemen’s clubs --- and I wondered.

I walked through a place called Harlem, and I saw despair. I saw homes unfit for housing, hungry children, rat-bitten babies, idle men with the vacant stares of the unwanted.

Everywhere I went, I saw these same people, this same struggle – the effort to earn a decent living in a land of plenty – to have a chance at education – to have the right to live in any neighborhood – to marry without making the front page of the news media, and, above all, in a land of equality, to be accepted as an equal.

To escape the label of second class – here is the hope and, and here is the hopelessness.

I saw these people in this land of ideals – and I wondered.

To the countryside I turned as I sought escape from the realities of the city. Certainly the dream must be intact here in the midst of the natural beauty of this great nation. And yet, here too I found despair. I found streams and rivers filthy with pollution. I found mountains of junked cars and wastelands of discarded trash.

I saw soil eroded and natural resources wasted. I saw the countryside disfigured by tree stumps and signboards and tin cans and old tires.

Back I fled to the city only to be choked by polluted air, overcome by the rush of the crowd – attacked by the criminal, propositioned by the dope-peddler and smothered by the noise, the noise – the noise.

Where were the people of the city? Surely they must be somewhere fighting these evils. But no, here is the typical man, driving to his fine home in his new car, turning on his color TV, pouring himself a drink while he complains about the possibility of higher taxes that will rob him of the chance of having some of the luxuries of life.

Can he be expected to share his money when there are so many things that he needs – the power saw and the new camper, the plush carpet and a car for the kids to drive to school? Certainly there are serious problems in the country. But, after all, he didn’t create them.

I saw all of these things, and I wondered.

I turn next to the government. The leader of this nation, I thought, he is the one to lead the fight. He is the one to cure the sickness. But I hear the leader say I have no time to cure the sickness, because I must fight a war. How can I worry about the lost in my country when I am being challenged abroad?

A young soldier questioned him. Is this a just war that I must fight? The leader answered him by saying, “I have no time for such nonsense as right and wrong. Justice and injustice are irrelevant when we are faced with the specter of communism.”

“We must be practical. We must look out for our country’s interests. We must save the people of Vietnam, even if it is against their will.”

Everywhere in the capital it was the same story. I hear talk of escalation and de-escalation, of enemy dead and enemy wounded, of the possibility, and, occasionally, even the desirability of using the ultimate weapon.

Now and then I would cry out – but what of our country, our ideals? Quickly my voice was drowned out by shouts of patriotism and God is on our side.

I wondered as I heard these things – is there no voice to speak for right? Are there no hands left to work for ideals? And suddenly, words echoed in my mind – the church, the church, the Christian Church. And I was filled with hope. I must find and work with these people who believe in the greatest of ideals – To love thy neighbor as thyself.

But I searched and searched and could not find them, I found beautiful sanctuaries and fine Sunday School rooms. I found stained glass windows and filled offering plates. I found people crowding in – except on Sundays ideal for golf, or picnics, or late sleeping. But I found no Christians.

Instead, I found people going through the motions. I found people committed to the belief that love thy neighbor is a beautiful dream but just not practical in the real world.

I found a church afraid to speak out on issues such as Vietnam because they might be controversial and make people angry or hurt their feelings. I found a church without commitment to the civil rights movement lest their members be offended and stop giving money.

I cried out in despair. Are there none among you who believe that the words of Jesus are practical? Are there none among you who believe that he who would be first, must be last?

Here and there a voice cried out. I do! Only to be drowned out by the scoffers – idealist, impractical visionary, utopian.

In my dream I was a sojourner in a strange land, I saw and heard all of those things, and I wondered. Was all the beauty and were all the ideals a facade? And then, in a surge of hope, I knew the answer. A people who can dream such beautiful dreams can make them come true – if they are willing.

I had a dream a few nights ago, and the dream turned out to be a nightmare. And I awoke ------- and it was no dream.

He, she and me 2

HE, SHE AND ME

Nobody 868

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Nobody # 868

Nobody Asked Me But:

Arnie, the Term, was careless with sperm

And in the wrong place left deposit

He made the grade

With the upstairs maid

Though they met in a downstairs closet

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

TWTWTW (As always, these verses are based on the past week’s highlights – and lowlights. The pictures are from our NOCAL trip.)

Well, yesterday’s come and yesterday’s gone

And you are still here, so am I

With banners unfurled

They can’t end the world

No matter how hard that they try

So many athletes, so little to say

Yet they are filing up space with their tweets

But to read is to know

Their brainwork is slow

And none will ever be Yeats

Some make the same claim ‘bout my rhyming game

I know that’s how sometimes it seems

But hard I try awfully

To always tread softly

When I come close to anyone’s dreams

Dominique Strauss-Kahn likes force

with his sex

Will France now give him the boot

What you must understand

‘Bout this sexual Kahn man

He’s not just a horny old coot

It’s their dirty secret that Al Queda hides

But it’s there ‘though they pray every morn

You can take ‘way my gun

Just don’t mess with my fun

We terrorists are lost without porn

Bibi said no to the 67 truce

That agreement is so very outdated

No settler goes

`Cause everyone knows

Having peace is way overrated

Israel wants peace, Israel wants peace

You don’t know how hard we are trying

But from grandma I heard

An act drowns out a word

So this SOB P.M. is lying

Ron Paul announced that he’s running,

Said his hero is still Annie Rand

Elect me, said he

I’m as selfish as she

And you can count those I’ll help on one hand

Newt loved this country with all of his heart

But he still couldn’t help being bored

So he screwed two or three

As he passionately

Made them stand-ins for the land he adored

The numbers seem quite overwhelming

Yet I don’t want to sound like a crab

To Hollywood’s elite

It seems like a treat

To get in, then get out of rehab

Israel opened fire on the protestors

I suppose they will claim it was God

It just goes to show

What we all didn’t know

Their country’s now lead by Assad

Widow Joyce Carol Oates found words in her heart

To write out her sorrow and pain

But condemn her would some

And call her a bum

Just because she has married again

A comment by Newt for the first time made sense

Which may mean he is out of the race

Said Paul Ryan’s tax plan

Is Utopian grand

And to push it would be out of place

Time out, time out, Newt changed his mind

The man under pressure did cave

He didn’t mean it

The truth now he’s seen it

And to his mouth he will not be a slave

Newt warned the Demos, they better not use

His putdown of that Ryan guy

He says if they do

He’ll stomp with his shoe

And if that doesn’t work he may cry

Most know Donnie Drysdale starred at Van Nuys

But who knows who started behind him

If you chanced a glance

‘Twas the man called Sundance

It was there on that mound you would find him

Michele Bachmann makes some Demos nervous

They see her as nothing but trouble

But sooner or later

They all overrate her

She is nothing but Palin’s stunt double

I’m through being reasonable said Senator Tom

I’m leaving the six-gang today

Coburn’s attack

Said he’ll only come back

If everything’s going his way

It’s not our fault cried the church to the world

If many of our priests are abusers

They were sexually pure

‘Twas cultural manure

That ruined them all into losers

I was reading a Dodgers box score last week

And I couldn’t believe my eyes

There was Guerrier for mirth

And what is a Hawksworth

Who in the heck are these guys

Trip Note

One evening we saw Richard North Patterson (Not James, this is the Patterson who writes his own books) one evening. He was reading and signing at my favorite bookstore, Book Passage, in Corte Madera. His new book, The Devil’s Light, is about al Queda terrorists going nuclear, and he lamented his timing in that his central character, bin Laden is newly dead.

I will finish the book, today. It is terrific.<<<

The best thing I ever ate – coffee cake category.

My wife happens to be the Queen of coffee cakes and to choose one among her many superb ones is almost a sacrilege. But my favorite and the best coffee cake I have ever eaten is her sour cream with cinnamon, and pecan crumbles on top.

(And yes, it is even better than the tiny morning buns at Huckleberry that, if sold by the pound, would probably run a hundred bucks per.)

Nobody 867

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Nobody # 867

Nobody Asked Me But:

I must warn the U.S. said the Paki PM

The situation is not very funny

Our people are mad

They think you’re real bad

But, yes, we will still take your money

We returned Thursday from our two-week trip to Reno and Northern California. Like all our trips, this one was the maker of great memories. I will share a few with you.

Where do I start? From spending a day and a half with Greg, Marie and Ben, to the never-ending thrill of seeing the Golden Gate Bridge, ever majestic, looming out of a light fog, our trip was a blast.

The best thing I ever ate – clam chowder category.

Start with a cream broth, no thickeners. Add chunks of potatoe, pieces of celery, onion and a few very small pieces of carrot. Then, as you serve it, add at least 20 steamed clams, sweet and succulent in their opened shells, for the patron, that's me, to fork out and into the broth. Incredible! The Hog Island Oyster Company gets clam chowder exactly right. I had mine at the Oxbow Market in Napa. There is also one on Fillmore Street in San Francisco. Oh, and don't forget to sip on a glass of Hess Sauvignon Blanc as you consume the delicious chowder.

Downer note – Barb and I had to eat separately because she doesn’t like cc, and they would not let her bring food from another market stall to theirs.

If not the best, close to it: Tyler Florence, one of the young stars on the Food Channel owns a kitchenware story about a block from our Mill Valley hotel (as well as several restaurants). On one of the FC shows, he said that his favorite hamburger is from a small place called Pearls just a half/block from his store. We tried it and the hamburgers are great - but the onion rings are close to the best I have ever eaten. And the free pickles available at the condiment counter were also super.

Marin County remains high on my list of places to live, but two things would make me hesitate: too many public dogs and too much emphasis on healthy food and healthy lifestyle.

More on dogs - everybody in Marin either walks a dog (most of them small) or stops to pet dogs being walked. Personally I have always believed that a dog's place is in the back yard.

Those who are not doing either of the above are riding bicycles. Don't get me wrong. I used to love riding my bike, but the next time you see me wearing Lycra will be the first.

And only in Marin – a solar powered pizza joint.

For our time in Mendocino, we returned to the Alegria Inn, a B&B, a block from town. The breakfasts were still very good and, yes, they still serve edible flowers, but our room was the main event. Both our dining alcove and the deck looked out over Mendocino Bay and the Pacific. The view was so beautiful that we ate in the room on our final day there, finishing up cheese and peas (and other things) left over from our Napa Valley picnic.

We also returned to Frankie’s for good pizza and excellent raspberry ripple ice cream, which Barb thought the best on our trip. My vote, however, went to the Three Twins in the Oxbow Market. Their chocolate was otherworldly.

As always, one of the highlights of our time in Napa Valley was our picnic at the V. Sattui winery in St Helena. We brought freshly baked Dutch Crunch bread from Buchon, great cheese, avo, tomatoes, the peas mentioned above and added the winery’s excellent chicken salad.

Also related to Buchon Bakery – the chocolate croissants were as good as remembered and that is PDG. Want to try one? There now is a Buchon in Beverly Hills.

And before I leave bakeries, Rustic Bakery in Larkspur was as always, excellent – especially the blackberry scones.

Some of our best travel experiences are surprises. We had three. The Alegria offered free tickets to tour a botanical garden in Ft. Bragg, about 10 miles north. We spent most of a morning there, and it was great. Rhododendrons, of almost every color, often mixed together were in bloom. We walked through the flowers and plants to a bluff overlooking the ocean and sat on a bench, enjoying the peace and beauty.

Last year Barb, on the recommendation of our favorite wine store gave me a bottle of Orin Swift cabernet. Last Christmas, same winery, different wine. So she wanted to see the winery. It turned out that there isn’t one, just a by appointment only room on the second floor of a St Helena building. So, not knowing what to expect, we scheduled one. It was terrific. We were the only ones there and our gracious host told us the vintner’s story as he poured our samples. It was too hot to store wine in our car, so we plan to order a few bottles as soon as our supply runs out.

Another day, another wine story: Driving through Anderson Valley, between 101 and the sea, we spotted the Navaro Winery. Having, in the past, bought bottles at the Mendocino Music festival, we stopped. The setting was beautiful, the tasting free and the hostess gracious. We bought one bottle of wine AND five of their grape juice, which Barb loved. It is bottled and corked like their wine, and I might even have an occasional glass while reading in the afternoon.

Lucky me. I found three new NOCAL seats in paradise. The first I have already mentioned - the sea-view table in our room at Alegria. The second was at a new Starbuck’s (I added five on the trip, bringing my total to 382) on the fourth floor of Macy’s West Coast Flagship store overlooking Union Square. This one was even neater than the one in Macy’s NYC. Third was my corner seat at the window counter La Coppa, a coffee house In Mill Valley, one-half block from our hotel. The window was folded back and open, the quiet town square was awakening and the morning sun was trying to slip out of the fog and climb above the treetops. Yes, it was a little chilly, but I sipped on my cappuccino, in a small cup, not a paper container, and thought to myself, who cares?

And to have Where Have All The Flowers Gone playing in the background was not too shabby either.

Add on: My wife made a late decision on her favorite food on the trip – it was the small corn cake that accompanied out final meal in Mill Valley. It was our first time at the Cantina – and isn’t that an original name for a Mexican restaurant? – but it will not be our last. It was one of the most attractive Mexican restaurants at which we have eaten and the food was excellent.

And to bring a great trip to a proper ending: having had no food except our pastry at Rustic Bakery, and not wanting the bother of going out or fixing something later, we stopped at the Coldstone in Valencia where they were having a sale on malts. Since, obviously, you save the most on the largest size, we finished our journey with mocha malts – as good as Fosselman’s (IMHO)

Thank goodness for doctors: My foot had been hurting since December – enough so I was walking with a limp. I went to Kaiser before we left on the trip. My doctor gave me his diagnosis and prescribed treatment, which I ignored. The result? Almost overnight the pain went down to zero at its best and, at its worst, maybe 3% of what it had been.

THAT WAS THE WEEK THAT WAS

We thought he wanted the Dodgers

But he was no baseball fan

He bought the stars

So he could park fan’s cars

He's Frank the flim-flam man

Alta Bates worked 65 Years

At Berkeley Med by the Bay

And in all of those years

Through joys, fears and tears

She took only one sick day

The Lakers were swept by the Mavericks

Not a single game could they win

They ran out of gas

At the end had no class

Why couldn't they go out like men

Newt said he's humbled by all of the love

From the people who want him to run

A humbled Newt

That's really a hoot

From one who humility has none