I sit here at the beginning of a blog and the end of a week. This is the grand design for my creative excursions into blogging. I spend the entire week sifting and sorting the events of my life and try to find the one or two good ideas that I can write about at the end of the week that will; one- capture people's imagination, and two- not intentionally denigrate too many of the things that they hold near and dear to their heart.
This creative process works best if I live a relatively boring life. The world reveals a few quirky little tidbits that, with a little creative license, can hold a few people's interest for 600 words or so. Too much going on and there are too many thing to write about. So one gets a meandering trail of mind farts on the way to some conclusion.
That is the problem this fine May day. I have not lived in a boring world this week. We watched as tornados grind and grind away until nothing was left. Trails of devestation so wide and complete that they can be seen from space. We have heard stories of lives spared and other lives taken; some whole, some months of pain remain for wholeness; some a hole will remain to never be filled.
Then the royal wedding. I admit the guilty pleasure of not getting to work the usual 15 minutes early but sauntering in 3 minutes late last Friday. I love the royals. All of that marrying your cousins until the family tree looks like a wreath, makes me believe that if it were not for that Divine Right of the Monarch's thing, the Sharritt's could compete in a meritocracy. Kudo's to Charles and William though, getting some mutt blood introduced into the royal line is a good thing. You can imagine the eyes getting set wider and wider apart for years to come.
Time for a moment of honesty though, how many of you when the ring kind of got stuck on her knuckle thought Cinderella. I did. And I secretly cursed my stubby knuckles. Oh to be a princess for a day. Speaking of princess for a day, I feel sorry for numerous fathers out there who will be having daughters getting married during the 100 years or so. "But daddy, Kate had trees growing in the middle of the church for her wedding." "But daddy, Kate was pulled in a royal coach back her palace." "But daddy, Kate got to leave the reception in a clown car." Yeah what was the deal with that? The clown segment of British society so big that the prince gave a shout out to them?
Finally, the week of simplicity ended with a trip to my niece's for her first communion. It was beautiful. She was lovely. I know that I can rightfully be accused of being a smartalec. This is especially true when describing solemn events, but it was moving. I think even more so because my flavor of Christianity has gotten away from the solemnity and miracle of communion. By and large, we try to fit it in on random weekends. We are told that communion week in and week out makes it too routine. Yet the Catholic church has been doing it for 2000 years and the wine becomes Christ's blood and the bread His body. Things I confess I used to believe in the mystery of, but the belief fails me now from lack of practice.
And in the middle of this busy weekend, was my nephew who had found what was important in life. It appears that over Christmas an uncle (that uncle) had showed him a fart app on the Ipad. Thankfully, the app supports the Iphone and one password later he was armed with hours of fun. For which I recognize and honor his mother's and father's wisdom, hope and faith, that this will not last forever. Over the course of several appropriate moments this weekend he let er rip. At one point for over a half hour straight. And you know something. He's right. In a crazy mixed up world of natural disaster, romance, and mystery, for a young boy and an old uncle, it is always funny.
Take care.
Roger
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