One v. The Other

The demarcation line between my life and my job is the Prairie Avenue Bookshop located on South Wabash in Chicago, IL. This bookstore is on the orange line train that runs from Midway Airport to the Loop and back. Each Monday and Thursday I pass by this store and my concrete-sequential thoughts turn either to work, on Mondays, or to home, on Thursdays; these times and this place dictate the foci of my mind. Just like the tracks which the train requires to go somewhere, my mind needs this visual reminder in order to separate one from the other.

The bookstore is rather nondescript limestone, two-story building on an otherwise forgetful city block with framed windows that, at first glance, might appear soaped over to obscure what's inside. But, what's inside does count and when one gets past the exterior one is rewarded with sights completely unexpected. Rich wood, glittering steel and aluminum, vertical spaces, and a hushed ambiance present a different package altogether. So, what's more remarkable? That the two are seemingly diametrically opposed, or that it's an apt metaphor for my person?

What you see is not
One versus the other, No.
Not ying and not yang.

http://www.pabook.com/images/exterior-small.jpg

STOP THE PRESSES

Lyle Lovett, in concert, this Sunday night, June 24, 2004, at White River State Park. Tickets are 2-for-1 with a purchase price of $36.50. If interested, please let me know ASAP. . .

Fiction and Ministry but not Fictional Ministry

I finished three short stories by Alice Munro last night that just left me wanting more. These stories are some of the best I've read from her which is a wonderful thing to say because all of her work is delicious. Her stories are characterized by a clarity of intent and crisp dialogue; I highly recommend Alice Munro to everyone. As a devoted fan of the short-story genre she is one of my favorite authors. It's interesting to note that she, along with Margaret Atwood, another favorite of mine, are two of the best modern Canadian writers. There's something familiar and yet foreign in both of their works; perhaps that's the attraction.

Not meeting with the Body for the past two weeks has been a constant source of agitation for me this week. Matt's excellent jump into the breach brought about by our disparate and common conversations regarding financial support for Bill has caused a great deal of thinking for most of us, and I, too, am still working out my particular thoughts on having a 'paid staff member'. However, it's also important to remember what, if any, commitments we've made to Bill financially and discuss the ramifications of a change in support. More on this later. Can anyone tell me where IndyChurch north and west is meeting this week?

Untimely Demise

The unfortunate news came on Monday morning; Ralph Wiley, one of my favorite columnists, had passed at the age of 52 from a heart attack. Ralph's voice was not just unique but clear and prescient. He was able to speak of things that were just on the hazy edge of everyone else's knowledge. Ralph was widely known as a sports columnist but he also had a wide body of writing outside of that genre; his book, 'Why Black People Tend to Shout', was recommended to me and has been on my list of 'must reads' for more than two years now. The strange thing, though, is this: I thought of that book at least ten times this weekend and had two attempts at purchasing it aborted. Who's prescient now? I hope not me. (The follow-up to this is last night's envisioning of the dish before I went into the Chinese restaurant and having it come to my table when I thought I had expressly ordered something different. Circumstance -- that's all it is.) If you happen to come across one of Ralph's books, please pick it up and read it. Some folk just plain do not get what he had to say but fear not. It's worth the read. Anyway, the brain now has more mortality issues to sift through. It might be time to re-read Don DeLillo's 'White Noise'. This man is prescient, no doubt.

The flower beds are changing all over again in the Second City. The Magnificent Mile now has summer annuals and seasonal evergreens (they look so small and wispy I can't imagine they'll make it through the winter); impatiens are everywhere. (God knows I've a weak spot for them.) The marble sarcophaguses are now barren: the mulch is new but the plants are gone. I wonder what happened to them?

A voice taken now
That knew what was coming next.
The future is now?

Visual Explanations

I've been thinking, again, of purchasing one of Edward Tufte's critically acclaimed books on the display of information. Just the subtitle of this one is reason alone to read it: 'Images and Quantities, Evidence and Narrative'. Here's the link. What do I hope to learn? I'm not sure but I hope it will be wonderful to discover what's inside.

No 'church' this week due to diverging schedules; however, the lectionary has gained a lot of traction since last week and hopefully debate will take shape. Orthodox or Episcopalian? (The Catholic lectionary will probably not make the final cut due to readings from the Apocrypha. Why don't we have inserts?) That should be a fine discussion.

Hamlet, revisited

The Chicago Sun-Times street vendors have taken to wearing bright orange vests that have an insert where the morning's headline is vividly displayed. I'm sure it's billboard marketing akin to folks who wear sandwich boards for restaurants: why bother reading the menu when you can see the chef's special? What I find troubling, however, is that these signs are always of the 'murder most foul' variety which, I'm sure, is meant to entice the buyer to give away his 50 cents. I'd like to see the Sun-Times pass a moratorium on this type of advertising for just one week; I might purchase a paper.

Just like the weather, church is starting to heat up. A breakthrough of heirloom quality was made this weekend and should start to make the walk a bit uncomfortable again, yet far more rewarding in the long run. For IndyChurch N&W I think summer vacation is over before it even started.

'Toddler was murdered'
Read hawker's daily shirt sign.
How could you wear that?

Summer's End

Ah, at last; summer nears. This Memorial Day weekend brought with it the usual trappings of this lovely season: long car trips; beautiful misty mornings facing due east on Long Lake; the obligatory trip past the Cherry Hut to the Market Basket; cooking outdoors; fly-fishing. Absolutely wonderful. As I was contemplating the next trip to the lake house I began to think of those who have spent more summers at the lake in their past than those to come. In fact, as elderly family members slowly pass as I write and much, much younger ones just realizing what the lake holds in store for them I enter a new chapter in my understanding of death knowing God's grace is sufficient even for me.

Ah, at last. Summer.

Please look here for a very sensitive examination of Oregon's Death with Dignity law. A multimedia feature is to be found on the lower right hand side of the page.

The summer season
Brings with it understanding
That winter follows.