Yesterday was one of those days, memorable for a lot of down-stuff. I wrote about this on what I thought was my blog, but the whole thing was lost since I wasn't writing in the correct format. Who knows where it went? Fortunately there was nothing in it that was scurrilous.
What I had to say then isn't fresh today as it's a brand-new day and I'm feeling much better, thank you very much. One thing I wrote about was this cold and rainy weather we've been experiencing in the Pacific Northwest. To be brief, it's depressing! But, as I write, sun is peeping out just a little to lift the spirits a bit. This is, of course, nothing compared with what our brothers and sisters are experiencing in the Gulf Coast with the oil spill. To see that heron dying, pictured on last night's news, was heart-breaking. And the British voice of BP's CEO doesn't help matters when he says he'd like to have his life back. What about the lives lost on the oil rig, the livelihoods of the fisher-folk, plus all the innocent birds and animals?
My MP3 player needs to be shipped back to Philips and I'll get a new one. I talked yesterday four times with their help hot line: four young (well, they sounded young) guys who were most helpful in attempting to walk me through - technical dinosaur as I am - the process whereby I can transfer music from the computer to the player. The last fellow, after putting me on hold, probably to consult his supervisor, came back on and very apologetically said that they would send me a new unit soon. In my more cynical and self-pitying moments, I'd say "It's the Ayers luck," but I demurred. This will mean re-programming the thing.
It would be nice if someone would come to my home and show me exactly how to do this. I'm poor, but I would pay to have some help in that way. I said to LaVera, after spending a total of an hour and a half on the phone with these people, that "in the old days," one could buy a radio, plug it in and play it. Philips' motto is something with "simplicity" in the title, and that's what I would wish for.
I love using that player at the gym when I work out. I got the FM radio feature to work and took it with me he other day, merrily pumping away on the cardio machine, while listening to "Merry Mount" by Howard Hansen, an obscure piece of music but helpful in doing the exercise. I find Bach or Mozart the most helpful, and have some of that available, but I couldn't put it on the player. So, I'll hope for the best when the new unit comes. And...I didn't yell or scream or lose it, either!
I was using my cellphone to make those calls, and my land line rang. It was Bishop Michael Hanley, our new bishop for the past two months here in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon. He phoned to ask me once again to supply at the remnant of St. Matthew's Parish here in town, a majority of whom, with their priest, left The Episcopal Church (TEC) for The Anglican Church of North American (ACNA) in April. I hated to say "no" a second time to Bishop Michael, since I'm committed to all the Sundays through September in two other places: my home parish, Saints Peter & Paul, and our predominately African-American parish, St. Philip the Deacon, since their Rector recently retired. After all, when I took the early retirement plan six years ago, I told our then-bishop that I wanted to be of assistance to him and to the diocese in any way I could. In the forty years I've been ordained, rarely has a bishop asked me to do anything substantial; here was the opportunity and I couldn't do it.
Today, LaVera and I attended the annual luncheon for retired clergy and spouses/partners at our Cathedral. Bishop Michael held forth for awhile and talked interestingly about his two walks along the "Camino de Santiago Compostela" in Spain. His "theme" as a new bishop is "walking": both with God and with him. So all this is apt. Michael, whom I knew in Minnesota when I served there, is a very down-to-earth man, unpretentious, genuine, and very pastoral. He's the "right person at the right time" for us. I'll save comments about his predecessor's regime for some other time; most of it is better left unsaid, though.
So, the brief conversation with the Bishop was a bright spot in an otherwise dark day yesterday. Today, as I said earlier, is so much better. Seeing some pictures that a member of the Portland Symphonic Choir sent through his own website were a hoot: the choir did a "pops" concert two weeks ago, departing from our usual "serious" stuff we sing. I wasn't very excited about this, but stayed loyal throughout and even had a little fun. I appear in one picture, with my pot gut; not a very becoming image. This was my final concert with the choir as I've decided to pare down my commitments and had put ten good years into the choir. I'll miss it: the friendships, the hard work to polish gems like the Brahms "German Requiem" and the Rachmaninov "All Night Vigil," and mostly making music with serious singers, many of whom are professional. It is a real joy. I'm staying with the Bach Cantata Choir, and probably will write some about it in a future post. I truly believe that "Those who sing, pray twice." That's attributed to St. Augustine and came via the Wesleys, someone said. I live by it, croaky as my now-baritone is.
So, temperatures in the 70s are predicted for a few days hence - I can't wait!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
And now it's spring!
Yesterday, at a family gathering for Memorial Day, one of my sons asked me when I was going to blog again. Today, I tried to write something and couldn't remember my password. So, I went through all the machinations and awaited the email the blogspot would send. It didn't come. Then, I espied my password on a sheet I keep by my laptop (in a basket filled with so many other things, it's a wonder I found it). So, having got the correct password and to this point where I'm writing, it's a go.
It has been since last September since I've written anything here. Although I'm an avid journaler, I'd forgotten to write here. Or it's laziness. Probably that. I do enjoy writing, but today I wanted to write and am glad I connected in the right manner. Actually, this is a way of procrastinating about two things that are currently on my platter.
One is that I promised an official from my seminary, from which I was graduated forty years ago about now, that I would be my class "agent." This means writing pious letters to my classmates, asking them to make a contribution to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, in New Haven, Connecticut. The trouble is, the list I have received, with names and adddresses is sadly out of date. There's even one name on it I don't recognize at all. I am assured it is as up to date as is possible. So, all I need to do is get busy and write these men (yes, back then there was only one woman in the school and she wasn't in my class). Sadly, some have died and others have been deposed (sometimes the word for this is "defrocked," a term I've never liked) from the priesthood or have renounced their ordination. One such "renouncer" was a good and close friend. I tracked down his renunciation as I was working in the diocesan archives last week and saw the notice in a church annual. Quite honestly, I don't know what to say to him. We've not been in touch for a long time; I think the last time was at our 25th anniversary in 1995 when he wrote a response to my request for letters from classmates.
I know that if I ask for money, he'll ignore it, as will most of my classmates. But I could communicate with him nevertheless. I could send the "form letter," samples of which were enclosed with the instructions that Fr. Charles Cloughen sent. He's the person in charge of alumni communications and, like me, is a retired priest, living in Maryland. I hate to let Charles down, so my guilt-level can deplete if I get to this task soon.
The other thing I'm putting off currently is programming my new MP3 player I bought a few days ago. Technology eludes me and I could make no sense out of the wordless instructions that came with the thing. I thought I could plug it into the laptop and get some music on it, but I was unsuccessful. I did get the FM radio mode to go. But simply turning the device on and off seemed to be problemmatical. Finally, I resorted to printing out very full instructions from the Philips website. Following it, I successfuly got the FM radio going with it. But it seemed to me to be more in the realm of luck than in a methodical following of the printed instructions. Now, I want to get some music onto it. According to the blurb that came with the device, I can even put videos onto it, record my voice - or other voices - and play it all back.
In all of this, I yearn for simple, non-technical instructions. I don't need a lot of "bells and whistles," either and paid about $60 for this thing. Oh, the reason I got a new one is that my old one was water-damaged when I fell into a small stream - which I called a "rivulet" - near the Inn at Spanish Head in Lincoln City at our clergy conference last month. That's a story for another time, but pertinent here is the fact that the fall ruined my old device, even though my good friend, rector and roomate, Kurt Neilson, said he was very experienced in reviving devices like cell phones that his kids inadvertently send through the washing machine. But his expertise was to no avail, so I bought a new one. For a man in his late sixties, not at all scientific or technically oriented, it's a frustration that sometimes causes me not only to utter oaths but to scream and then give up on the whole thing. A joke is these days that one in such sad circumstances should ask the nearest kindergartner for help! Well, I have one in my family: Jonah. He knows how to operate Wii (pronounced "wee") with his big brother and cousin, as they play games on it.
I'm old-fashioned, and like to write - and receive - letters. I like 33 1/3 vinyl records too. But I fancy I'm not a dinosaur, though. Lord, save me from that!
For another time or post, I'll write about our Basement Project, that we are in the midst of, even as I write this missive. So, there we are for now. May my procrastinations cease as I get on with the tasks at hand.
It has been since last September since I've written anything here. Although I'm an avid journaler, I'd forgotten to write here. Or it's laziness. Probably that. I do enjoy writing, but today I wanted to write and am glad I connected in the right manner. Actually, this is a way of procrastinating about two things that are currently on my platter.
One is that I promised an official from my seminary, from which I was graduated forty years ago about now, that I would be my class "agent." This means writing pious letters to my classmates, asking them to make a contribution to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, in New Haven, Connecticut. The trouble is, the list I have received, with names and adddresses is sadly out of date. There's even one name on it I don't recognize at all. I am assured it is as up to date as is possible. So, all I need to do is get busy and write these men (yes, back then there was only one woman in the school and she wasn't in my class). Sadly, some have died and others have been deposed (sometimes the word for this is "defrocked," a term I've never liked) from the priesthood or have renounced their ordination. One such "renouncer" was a good and close friend. I tracked down his renunciation as I was working in the diocesan archives last week and saw the notice in a church annual. Quite honestly, I don't know what to say to him. We've not been in touch for a long time; I think the last time was at our 25th anniversary in 1995 when he wrote a response to my request for letters from classmates.
I know that if I ask for money, he'll ignore it, as will most of my classmates. But I could communicate with him nevertheless. I could send the "form letter," samples of which were enclosed with the instructions that Fr. Charles Cloughen sent. He's the person in charge of alumni communications and, like me, is a retired priest, living in Maryland. I hate to let Charles down, so my guilt-level can deplete if I get to this task soon.
The other thing I'm putting off currently is programming my new MP3 player I bought a few days ago. Technology eludes me and I could make no sense out of the wordless instructions that came with the thing. I thought I could plug it into the laptop and get some music on it, but I was unsuccessful. I did get the FM radio mode to go. But simply turning the device on and off seemed to be problemmatical. Finally, I resorted to printing out very full instructions from the Philips website. Following it, I successfuly got the FM radio going with it. But it seemed to me to be more in the realm of luck than in a methodical following of the printed instructions. Now, I want to get some music onto it. According to the blurb that came with the device, I can even put videos onto it, record my voice - or other voices - and play it all back.
In all of this, I yearn for simple, non-technical instructions. I don't need a lot of "bells and whistles," either and paid about $60 for this thing. Oh, the reason I got a new one is that my old one was water-damaged when I fell into a small stream - which I called a "rivulet" - near the Inn at Spanish Head in Lincoln City at our clergy conference last month. That's a story for another time, but pertinent here is the fact that the fall ruined my old device, even though my good friend, rector and roomate, Kurt Neilson, said he was very experienced in reviving devices like cell phones that his kids inadvertently send through the washing machine. But his expertise was to no avail, so I bought a new one. For a man in his late sixties, not at all scientific or technically oriented, it's a frustration that sometimes causes me not only to utter oaths but to scream and then give up on the whole thing. A joke is these days that one in such sad circumstances should ask the nearest kindergartner for help! Well, I have one in my family: Jonah. He knows how to operate Wii (pronounced "wee") with his big brother and cousin, as they play games on it.
I'm old-fashioned, and like to write - and receive - letters. I like 33 1/3 vinyl records too. But I fancy I'm not a dinosaur, though. Lord, save me from that!
For another time or post, I'll write about our Basement Project, that we are in the midst of, even as I write this missive. So, there we are for now. May my procrastinations cease as I get on with the tasks at hand.
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