Scanning Obituaries
Who knew? I certainly didn’t, and yet I find that I’m not alone. AdventureMan does it, too, and other friends. One friend says she thinks she scans the obituaries to celebrate the fact that she is still alive. That may be it for most of us, but in addition, I find that there are people living among us with amazing histories, and we don’t even know. Sometimes when you read an obit, you can tell that the person wrote it himself or herself, and what that person considered important in his/her life. Sometimes the obituary is not very loving.
Southern newspapers, in my experience, are much richer in extraordinary detail that newspapers in bigger cities, like Seattle. In bigger cities, only the rich and famous or notorious get much space; it may be that the space is far more expensive in the bigger cities, or that families are less willing to shell out from the estate for the bigger coverage. Southerners value family, and history; it’s a part of the culture.
Yesterday, when I took the Pensacola News Journal in to AdventureMan, I had circled something in one of the obituaries, knowing that he, like me, only reads them now and then. I didn’t want him to miss this line:
(Name) was a Past Mighty Chosen One of the Zelica Daughters of Mokanna, Ladies Auxiliary to the Grotto.
Holy smokes! I thought it might be one of the Mardi Gras Krewe things, but AdventureMan googled, and discovered that is a Masonic offshoot, and their larger groups are called Cauldrons. (!)
In America of the early 1900’s, social affiliation groups were important. People belonged to religious groups like Knights of Columbus, Ladies of the Church, etc, quasi-religious groups like Masons and Shriners, and social groups like the Elks and Moose and Lions Club. Some groups still exist, and are still going strong, like Rotary Club, and special interest groups. In Pensacola, there is a Tea Party AND a Coffee Party. There is a Philipino-American Republican Club. When people gather together regularly to share something in common, they can form a group. All of these groups help people be connected in their communities and in their lives, and help people to look after one another.
I belonged to a group once that called ourselves the Aqua-Babes. To be perfectly honest, we might not be total babes, but hey – it’s our group, we can call ourselves what we want, right?
But oh, my, to be a Mighty Chosen One . . .
Abraham Buys a Cave and a Field
When I was an undergrad in college, I was majoring in political science, and there weren’t a lot of women in the field. You’d think that would be heaven for a young woman, but many of these political scientists had political aspirations, or an ax to grind, and were constantly standing up and making speeches. It was annoying; I needed some balance, so I took on another major, in English Literature, to give my academic life some balance.
It’s not like that was without its own problems; English Lit was full of these really OLD women, like in their thirties, who had come back to school to earn or finish up a degree, and they took it seriously. Aarrgh! Didn’t they know that this was university? This was supposed to be fun? Having those women in class competing for grades forced the rest of us to work harder . . . not such a bad thing.
One of the things you learn in studying Lit is that there are things that are important, or the author wouldn’t include them. As I read today’s Old Testament reading from The Lectionary, I found myself reading as literature, asking “where is the significance?” “why was this story included?” The Hittites are so very gracious to grieving Abraham; they sound like loving friends. Abraham insists on paying for the land, the cave where Sarah would be buried. Why was it so important to pay for the land? Was it so that there would be no question later as to whether the land was his?
Genesis 23:1-20
23 Sarah lived for one hundred and twenty-seven years; this was the length of Sarah’s life. 2And Sarah died at Kiriath-arba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan; and Abraham went in to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her. 3Abraham rose up from beside his dead, and said to the Hittites, 4‘I am a stranger and an alien residing among you; give me property among you for a burying-place, so that I may bury my dead out of my sight.’ 5The Hittites answered Abraham, 6‘Hear us, my lord; you are a mighty prince among us. Bury your dead in the choicest of our burial places; none of us will withhold from you any burial ground for burying your dead.’ 7Abraham rose and bowed to the Hittites, the people of the land. 8He said to them, ‘If you are willing that I should bury my dead out of my sight, hear me, and entreat for me Ephron son of Zohar,9so that he may give me the cave of Machpelah, which he owns; it is at the end of his field. For the full price let him give it to me in your presence as a possession for a burying-place.’ 10Now Ephron was sitting among the Hittites; and Ephron the Hittite answered Abraham in the hearing of the Hittites, of all who went in at the gate of his city, 11‘No, my lord, hear me; I give you the field, and I give you the cave that is in it; in the presence of my people I give it to you; bury your dead.’ 12Then Abraham bowed down before the people of the land. 13He said to Ephron in the hearing of the people of the land, ‘If you only will listen to me! I will give the price of the field; accept it from me, so that I may bury my dead there.’ 14Ephron answered Abraham, 15‘My lord, listen to me; a piece of land worth four hundred shekels of silver—what is that between you and me? Bury your dead.’ 16Abraham agreed with Ephron; and Abraham weighed out for Ephron the silver that he had named in the hearing of the Hittites, four hundred shekels of silver, according to the weights current among the merchants.
17 So the field of Ephron in Machpelah, which was to the east of Mamre, the field with the cave that was in it and all the trees that were in the field, throughout its whole area, passed 18to Abraham as a possession in the presence of the Hittites, in the presence of all who went in at the gate of his city. 19After this, Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah facing Mamre (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan. 20The field and the cave that is in it passed from the Hittites into Abraham’s possession as a burying-place.
Egyptian Synchronized Swimmers, Montreal 2009
What I totally love about this YouTube clip (Thank you, Hayfa!) is that the swimmers are so original and have a great sense of humor about what they are doing. They also manage to infuse their performance with their own culture and make it all uniquely their own.
The Problem of Saint Bridget
Today is the Feast of St. Bridget, and I found the following in our Lectionary for today. The problem for Christians is that we are to travel lightly on the earth, caring not for possessions, as Bridget did. The poem is hilarious:
ST BRIDGET OF KILDARE
ABBESS (1 FEB 523)
Bridget (Brigid, Bride, Bridey, or in Welsh, Ffraid) of Kildare was born around 450 into a Druid family, being the daughter of Dubhthach, court poet to King Loeghaire. At an early age, she decided to become a Christian, and she eventually took vows as a nun. Together with a group of other women, she established a nunnery at Kildare (meaning, Church of the Oak). She was later joined by a community of monks led by Conlaed. Kildare had formerly been a pagan shrine where a sacred fire was kept perpetually burning, and Bridget and her nuns, instead of stamping out the fire, kept it going but gave it a Christian interpretation. (This was in keeping with the general process whereby Druidism in Ireland gave way to Christianity with very little opposition, the Druids for the most part saying that their own beliefs were a partial and tentative insight into the nature of God, and that they recognized in Christianity what they had been looking for.) Bridget as an abbess participated in several Irish councils, and her influence on the policies of the Church in Ireland was considerable.
Many stories of her younger days deal with her generosity toward the needy. This aspect of her character has been the subject of a poem:
“The Giveaway” (from The Love Leters of Phyllis McGinley, New York, Viking Press, 1957)
Saint Bridget was
A problem child.
Although a lass
Demure and mild,
And one who strove
To please her dad,
Saint Bridget drove
The family mad.
For here’s the fault in Bridget lay:
She would give everything away.
To any soul
Whose luck was out
She’d give her bowl
Of stirabout;
She’d give her shawl,
Divide her purse
With one or all.
And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
She’d borrow from a relative.
Her father’s gold,
Her grandsire’s dinner,
She’d hand to cold
and hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
No matter whose;
Take from her feet
The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
Fetch forth her sister’s and her mother’s.
She could not quit.
She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
The parlor rug,
Her little
niece’s christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
And then the mattress of her aunt.
An easy touch
For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
And grew so holy
That when she died
Of years and fame,
The countryside
Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
With generous girls named Bride or Bridget.
Well, one must love her.
Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
Givingness,
There’s no denial
She must have been
A sort of trial
Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
Who had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
Saint Bridget? Or her near and dear?
It is reported of Francis of Assisi that as a young man he had a dream in which God said to him, “Francis, repair my church.” He took this to refer to a church building near Assisi which was in need of repair, and he sold a bale of silk from his father’s warehouse to obtain building materials. His father was furious. Francis had not asked for permission: he simply took it for granted that his father would wish to contribute to such a worthy cause. It is said of Bridget that as a young girl she made similar assumptions about her family.
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| St. Bridgit’s Cross, at St. Bridgit’s Church in Kildare |
There is a problem here. On the one hand, it can be argued that if our family members do not choose to make sacrifices for God we have no right to make that choice for them. Some time ago, if I remember aright, one listmember wrote in considerable bitterness about a childhood that had been blighted by the decision of the father that it would be nice if the whole family lived in Christian Poverty. (Said listmember found no spiritual blessings in the experience, and saw no sign that anyone else did, emphatically including said father.)
On the other hand, I far more frequently hear Christians argue that their sacred duty to keep everything nice for their spouses and children prevents them, not only from going as missionaries to distant shores, but also from volunteering even quite moderate amounts of their time and money for worthy causes down the block. (Not that all unattached Christians are blameless in this regard.) You will note that Saint Paul, writing to the Corinthians, told them that marriage, while instituted of God and a sign of the union between Christ and His Church, was not without its dangers to the spiritual life of the Christian. But the danger he saw had nothing to do with sex. He was concerned instead that the married are tempted to overvalue security, to feel that they cannot afford, for their families’ sakes, to take chances. And since he expected Christians to be facing persecution soon, he saw this as a matter of urgency.
So, as I said, there is a problem here. I have no final answer to give, but commend it to your consideration.
by James Kiefer
Social Network Interactions
I do go to FaceBook now and then, and I have connected with old friends, college friends, high school friends, and people from the many ‘places I remember’ in my life . . .
It’s pretty public, don’t you think? And you do one little thing, and it’s like glue, you’re stuck with that relationship. I am now careful who I ‘like’, because I seem to end up linked to them, and honestly, I try to be careful to limit my connections to people I know, or have known, people I have something in common with, like a family member, etc.
It’s like if you indicate any interest at all, you get linked. Is it just me? I don’t think of myself as isolationist, but time is precious, and I try to spend it wisely, focusing on genuine long term relationships, family relationships and people with whom I have commonalities.
I find that magazines who which I subscribe, cultural organizations, charitable organizations are all sending me surveys; they want to get to know me better. (? ? ? )
It’s too much relationship for me. I know there are people who can handle a huge number of social acquaintances . . . that’s not me. I am civil, even cordial. I don’t want to get to know organizations through surveys, nor businesses, relationships take TIME. So many of the ‘relationships’ make me feel rushed, and when I feel rushed, or pushed, my reaction tends to be to drop the relationship; it just doesn’t work for me.
I do believe we are all supposed to be connected, to be kind to one another, to care about one another. It’s asking too much of me to expect it to happen quickly. Am I the only one? Does anyone else have any problems with the instant sort of intimacy that seems to spring up so commonly on the social networks?
A and E Drugstore in Pensacola
When I got here, the only quilt shop had closed, leaving me with JoAnn Fabrics as my only alternative. I’d been here about 10 months when one of my bible-study buddies asked me if I had ever heard of A & E? Well, yes, I had heard people mentioning they were running there, but I’d never been there. My friend took me there – took me to heaven for a quilter. You would never guess this place had bolts and bolts of just-what-you-never-knew-you-needed.
I went back yesterday looking for something exotic and out of the ordinary, and I found it – of course. As I went in, I had to laugh. I had been telling my friends what I really needed was the Kuwait or Qatar souks, where shiny fabrics are everywhere, and I needed some specific shiny fabric. I grinned because I realized this is the Pensacola souk, where you can find just about anything, especially if it sparkles. This is just a small part of the selection for Mardi Gras:
If you’ve ever watched Treme’, you will understand that there were a lot of people in A and E buying sparkle – sparkly masks, sparkly fabric, sparkly everything. As I was checking out, I even saw a separate section where you could buy beads in bulk, a really good thing in a town with a lot of parades where beads are thrown to the crowd.
But it isn’t called A and E Fabrics . . . it’s called A & E Drugstore! There is a pharmacy there, and a whole lot of home health care supplies. Just all part of the serendipity and quirkiness that is Pensacola. 🙂
Open Faced Crab Sandwiches
Remember Qwon Chi Rolls? No self respecting Alaska girl would eat a roll make with “Crab with a K” which we all know is really Alaskan pollack re-textured to remotely resemble real crab. My friends, don’t eat that pretend stuff. Look for real crab. It’s out there.
When I was a little girl, my parents would go out, and sometimes they would come back, bring their friends, and my mother would make open faced crab sandwiches. To me, they are still special; I get hungry just thinking about them.
They are fun, and easy to make.
You get Crab – the real thing. I like claw meat, but any crab you prefer, as long as it is REAL crab, will do. You put crab meat in a bowl. You add just a little horseradish, just a little fresh ground pepper and a little fresh ground salt. You add some of the green from green onions, not a lot, just a little, and then you add just a little mayonnaise.
Toast English muffins, and spread crab generously on the muffins.
Top the crab with grated cheddar cheese, and broil in the oven until the cheese is melted.
Now, they are ready to eat!
I think I had better go eat dinner . . . . I’m HUNGRY!
Qatar, the Magical Kingdom
I just finished watching the 13 minute segment 60 minutes showed this last weekend on Qatar:
Oh, to be in the Souk al Wakif in January / February. My Doha buddies and I are getting together next weekend; if only we could have breakfast once again together at the Beirut. We truly enjoyed our years in Qatar.
It was fun seeing the shiny sparkly skyline, only five or six of those buildings were there when we arrived in January of 2003. When my husband used to travel to Doha in the ’80’s, it was called “sleepy little Doha” or even “Doh-ha-ha-ha” but no one is laughing at Doha any more, and sleepy little Doha has gone uptown in a big way.
The Emir used to carry a lot more weight – literally. He looks good, he looks healthier and more fit, and consequently younger, and more vital. I’m betting he has the Sheikha Moza to thank for that; don’t we all nag our husbands a little to encourage them to take care of themselves? We want them to live a long, healthy life.
Not a single mention of the Sheikha Moza in the entire segment, nor of her influence in the creation of the Qatar foundation, bringing reputable American and Canadian universities to Qatar, the creation of the Islamic Museum of Art, the face-lift to the Souk al Waqif, the creation of the symphony. Not a mention of her influence on the schools, the health system, the modern face of Qatar.
Only a passing reference to the appalling conditions under which the laborers work in Qatar, treated like animals, worked to the bone. Not a mention that many of those glorious buildings don’t meet any codes, that proper building standards have not been enforced, and that the standards for safety are noticeable in their absence. Not a mention of the malls where the laborers are not allowed on Fridays, their only day off, or the beatings they get if they wander into the Souk al Waqif. The miracle of this richest city on earth is built on the back of the Indians, Philipinos, and Nepalese who sacrifice health, family and comfort to be able to send something back in hopes that their children will be educated and live better lives.

Not a mention of the concerns among the conservatives that Qatar has modernized too fast, that traditional standards are not being respected, that English is the language spoken in all the stores, not Arabic. Not a mention that this ‘richest nation on earth’ is now also the fattest nation on earth, that the Qatari children are suffering obesity, and are greatly raised by the household help. Not a mention of the crisis of intermarriage, and the tragic health problems the children suffer from inbreeding. The 6 minute segment showed a Qatar that was all shine and glitter, and none of the dark underbelly.















