The Anglican Church in America—Not TEC

I got miffed enough at the Roman Catholic Bishop of Maine when he spent so much money to support Question 1, but this news item, which was on the morning news (see it on OCICBW), and is in the Bangor Daily News, really annoyed me. I feel as though it's a slap in the face to our wonderful Bishop Steve. The article is titled "Anglicans and Catholics Pray for Unity." Sounds good, right?  Well, the unity is not with Episcopalians but with the Anglican Church in America. The article goes on to say that there are about 300 members of the Anglican Church in America in Maine.

When I did my interim in Millinocket, I learned there was a group of about 10 people who left the Episcopal Church after +Gene was consecrated and formed a mission, but no one seemed to know whether they were still meeting.  One couple, who still did gardening at the Episcopal Church, but wouldn't come to services there, had rejoined the Roman Catholic Church.  I wonder if some of those who left to form the mission suffered from the terrible blow of the mill closing and left town for other places.  Anyway, when I went to the diocesan web site of the ACA I discovered that Millinocket isn't on the list of "find a parish."  My guess is that 300 members in Maine is an exaggeration.  In addition, I doubt the 7 pm service on a week night is a Eucharist.  I'm sure that would be going much too far for +Malone.  It may be a way that the "Anglicans" are thinking how they can grow however.  Sounds to me like two churches grasping at straws.

I know the Roman Catholic Church in Maine is loosing members and the our Episcopal church has been blessed with some new members, especially some of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters who have found a warm welcome in many of our churches.  I know that the Roman Church in Maine (and elsewhere) doesn't have enough priests.  I really wonder if just maybe +Malone is working out of Bennie's playbook: welcome in disaffected Anglicans and then make them toe the line.

A Shout Out for St Andrew's

Heidi Shott put this video on Facebook. It's all about Damariscotta and the pictures were taken during the Pumpkin Fest last Fall. Izzie didn't make it, but we might be in the last frames at the pumpkin drop. The camera angle is about where we were standing.

There are lots of good reasons to like this town, but I thought it quite wonderful when I first walked down the street, perfect strangers said hello. Toward the end a boy holds up a sign that says "St. Andrew's" (officially in Newcastle, but without the bridge connecting the two towns it would be impossible to tell where the border was.

Heart and Soul is a planning exercise involving people in the town.

House Hunting

I looked at a house yesterday. I'd like to find a place of my own by mid summer, but I'm beginning to wonder if I can afford a place in Damariscotta. Most of the houses for sale more than I can afford and most are not "in town." The house I looked at was very small and had been badly remodeled in the past. The good thing is its location. Since it's only a block from where I'm renting, it means I could continue to walk to the downtown. The stairs to the second floor, where there are two small bedrooms, are impossibly narrow. They in no way meet building code. I would guess they were originally attic stairs. The bathroom is miniscule (on the ground floor) and the living room has space for a small sofa and maybe one chair. The kitchen space is more than adequate and the bedroom space is ok. I wonder if the amount of money it would take to redo the house so I would be comfortable there would be worth it. At my age I don't really want to take on a major re-modeling project. I'm still thinking about it though, since the price was pretty good.

A Girl's Best Friend

In my year at MIT (1957-58) the coeds, as part of the spring follies, did their version of Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend, but in those long-ago days it was "slide rules are a girl's best friend."  My slide rule (given to me by my uncle) and Burrington's was all we were allowed to use in exams. (The picture is from Wikipedia) Now we use our lap tops and desk tops, which seem to have replaced the hand-held calculators that came so soon afterward.  Bob Whalley found this gem on YouTube, but here it is "the prayerbook is a girl's best friend."  I wonder how many other parodies of this song are out there.  Enjoy.

Prayers and Part III of the Isabelle and Amelia Grand Adventure

So many bloggers have asked for prayers for loved ones with Alzheimer's and I need to do the same.  I had been trying to get ahold of a dear friend both before and during my trip, via phone, Facebook and e-mail.  When she finally answered she told me she has been diagnosed with an early stage of the disease.  So Izzie and I made the trip to Dunedin to see her.  Now she's been in a wheel chair for years because of an MS-like disease, so this is a double whammy.  Connie is a dear.  When we both lived in the Bay Area we were prayer partners and most Sundays had lunch together after church and frequently saw each other during the week.  When I moved to Michigan for my first interim, she moved to Florida to be closer to her daughter who has four young boys.  Now she is planning on moving to Albuquerque to live with her son.  He has bought a house with an in-law apartment for her to live in, so that should work for the near term.

I could see some changes: repeated questions like forgetting that she had asked me to check her mail and asking me a number of times and much confusion about past events.  It was still wonderful to see her and much of our conversation was quite normal.  I had hoped to take her out for dinner, but the elevator in her condo wasn't working so she couldn't get out. Izzie and I used the stairs. We ordered pizza instead. She is so much more frail than she used to be and that is sad as well.  Please pray for Connie and her family.

We spent two nights there.  When we arrived Izzie took off after Squanto and he disappeared under the bed.   The second night we thought he was in the living room when we went to sleep, but it turned out he was under the bed we were sleeping in and in the middle of the night I heard a scratching at the door. Then there was this lovely cat face staring at me from the bedside table.  I got up quietly so as not to disturb the queen (Izzie) and let Squanto out.  I think by the time we left, they were beginning to get along.  Connie got Squanto in Berkeley and he's always been an indoor cat and NOT used to dogs (or even other cats for that matter).

After leaving Dunedin, we drove northwest across Florida, past Orlando toward I-95.  That interstate is pretty boring, although it does lead to places I've never stopped at like Cape Canaveral.  A cousin of mine used to live near there in the late 60s and 70s and his mother and father, my Uncle Don and Aunt Claire became snow birds for a while, spending the winter months close to their son and playing contract bridge.  I was living in California at the time, so unlike my younger brothers and sisters, I never visited.  Izzie and I spent the night in South Carolina and then went on to Charlottesville, Virginia.

Charlottesville is where Anne, a deacon from Maine spends November through April.  She is a hospice chaplain, a retired physician, a lover of opera ( really all kinds of music), an oboe player, and an avid golfer.  Anne is great fun to be around. After my GPS sent me off to Ruckersville, I called and got directions.  Izzie decided that Desi and Luci, two standard poodles, were just too much and decided to pee on the floor at least three times.  It could also be that she was worried I was going to leave her there.  Anne and I went to her gym for an exercise class, had a great late lunch in downtown Charlottesville and then drove out to Monticello.  We were too late to take a tour, but we explored the gallery and gift shop. Izzie stayed in the car.  I really need to get back there as well as the long list of other places I've mentioned in earlier posts.

The last day I had planned on stopping somewhere in Massachusetts, but decided to continue on.  The  weather was good and I felt fine.  It was only when I pulled in at the house and got out of the car, that I realized my legs were really weak.  I got my two walking sticks and used them until I got my balance back.  It was nearly ten pm, so I took the necessities out of the car and decided the rest could wait until the next day.  I didn't go to church Sunday because I was way too tired.  Since then we've had snow and more snow.  In fact it's still snowing.

The warm Los Angeles weather seems so far in the past, although I'm not sure I'd like to be there right now with all the driving rain.

Thus ends the tale.

St. Andrew's, Newcastle and Haitian Art

There has been a long-standing relationship between people at St. Andrew's Newcastle (Newcastle is the twin city to Damariscotta and is across the river) and Haiti. One of the ways they raise money for the schools they support is by selling Haitian art. The local NBC station interviewed some of the people involved with Haiti and aired the story last Friday. You can get a glimpse of some of the art in the interview.

As you can well imagine. People here, like they are everywhere are saddened and want to do something. We were encouraged to bring checks made out to Episcopal Relief and Development to put in the collection plate on Sunday so that it would be a community offering.

The Trip Home—Part II

I took the photo at Saguaro National Park. After we left Tucson, we headed east on I-10. I was surprised that El Paso was in the mountains. I loved the views from the road both south toward Mexico and north toward New Mexico. It was a wonderfully clear and sunny day. Izzie and I stopped for another check by the border patrol (the first was near Yuma). I guess Maine plates, a very anglo face and no trace of a foreign accent (if you don't count the fact that I sound like a Candadian) was enough. All I was asked if I was a U. S. citizen, and that's much like the old days crossing the border from either Canada or Mexico, except the check points were on the interstate. Izzie found the stops interesting and she made sweet faces at the border patrol guys.

We stopped for the night at Van Horn, Texas.  The motel staff were complaining about the cold.  When they saw I was from Maine, they assumed (correctly) that I didn't think it was too bad.  I didn't need to put on gloves (my criteria for how cold it is).  I wondered what there might be to do if you stayed in Van Horn.  Turns out trips to Carlsbad Caverns (go north back into New Mexico) and the McDonald Observatory are easy day trips.  When we left the next morning, Izzie started barking and I pulled off at the McDonald Observatory exit and let her walk a bit.  Just off the road was an old abandoned stone schoolhouse with only the walls left.  It's quite a drive to the observatory from the interstate, so I decided not to do it.  Hope I get back to that area again.  I love the guy on Star Date on PBS who tells us what to see in the night sky.

We then drove and drove to the east side of San Antonio where we spent another night.  The desk clerk asked if I was going into town that evening, but all I wanted to do was see the bed.  One of mother's cousins, Pauline, married someone from Texas and they lived in San Antonio.  They came to New Hampshire once when I must have been about 12 or 13.  I think they were selling Pauline's family home and business.  We spent one day visiting the old family homestead.  They had an apple orchard and juice and cider processing mill.  There was a stream near the house with a dam that made a great swimming hole.  Those were the days when swimming in near freezing water was a normal occurrence for me.  If the air was warm and sunny, I didn't care how cold the water was.  That evening, Pauline's husband tried to teach me how to do some western dance steps.  So memories from a place I had never seen, and again, a place to visit in the future.

The drive the next day took us through Houston, a place I had visited once for a professional meeting where I went to the one and only rodeo I've ever seen.  A roommate from college days, Lynne, I assume still lives there. She married Gordon Mutchler who taught physics at Rice and who died a few years ago.  Gordon and I were engaged to be married once, but it didn't work out.  I really think Lynne was the right choice for him.  I wish I knew how to get in touch with her, she doesn't seem to be on Facebook.

So through Houston and on to Louisiana.  I had heard of bayous, but really never had seen any.  That part of the country has water everywhere: lakes, bays, canals and bayous. Fascinating drive. Izzie and I arrived in Thibodaux and Grandmère's around supper time.  It's a lovely place where they raised their children. I was given a glass of wine, a plate of shrimp creole and rice while Izzie explored the house.  Grandmère, Izzie and I have all blogged about our visit there, so I won't repeat things.  I really enjoyed our conversations which ranged all kinds of subjects including theology and the state of the church.  I can't remember much of the first night's conversation since I was quite tired after driving a bit over 500 miles and two glasses of wine did me in. Conversation continued the next day and evening interspersed with church, lunch (yummy oyster spaghetti) in Houma, and a nap.  Grandpère is a great guy and a really good cook.  Izzie especially appreciated getting bacon fat on her kibble.

We left pretty early the next morning.  The drive took us past, but not through New Orleans.  The only time I've been there was when I was seven.  My mother, sister (nine), two brothers (one of them 6-months old and the other 18 months) and I took a train from Boston to New Orleans to board a ship for Panama. My uncle drove us to Boston.  We had a meal at the Union Oyster House and I had a fruit cocktail as a appetizer.  I thought it great that I got desert first. I also remember Grand Central Station, where we changed trains and was greatly impressed by the size.  We had gotten all kinds of immunizations in New Hampshire, except for Yellow Fever shots, so my memory of New Orleans is great huge concrete buildings near the wharfs.  In one of them we got our shots, then boarded the ship.  Poor mother suffered from motion sickness and the train ride was a nightmare for her as was the sea voyage.  In addition my youngest brother was suffering from the aftermath of the shots, probably the typhoid one. He probably also had a cold, since I remember he had a runny nose. I know those shots always made me cranky too, every time I got one. The train porter from New York took pity on her and since it was a military transport ship, other people helped out with us kids.  I don't remember much about the trip myself.  I think we spent a lot of time in the cabin.  Mother had numerous operations on her ear as a young woman, but nothing helped.  I think I need to get to New Orleans to really see the city.  Driving by on the interstate just doesn't do it for me.

I thought we might stop in the Florida Panhandle, but I ended up driving the whole way to Dunedin.  What I did accomplish that day was to go through Mississippi and Alabama.  They are the only two states (in the lower 48) I had never been in before.  Ken refused a transfer to Pascagoula, Mississippi in the early 70s, deciding to go back to work for Aerospace Corp (he spent a year or so with Litton Ship Systems in California).  I did enjoy the views of the Gulf from the road.  Again it was a sunny, but chilly day.

To be continued.

The Trip Home—Part I

My drive back from California was full of memories. The whole trip was about 4300 miles. The remembering started while I was driving east on the San Bernadino Freeway (I-10).  That was the freeway we used when I lived in Hermosa Beach in the mid to late 60s and early 70s to go to the desert for hiking, rock climbing at Joshua Tree (I hated it) and winter mountaineering (going down a snow field on my back trying to get the ice axe to dig in is also in the I hated it category).

Passing exits signs for Banning and Cherry Valley brought memories of my Aunt Gaby, my mother's sister,and her husband Uncle John who lived in Cherry Valley and Uncle Amedee, her brother, and his wife Aunt Augustine who lived in Beaumont.  We didn't see them often during my years there as our lives revolved around our children and Ken's mother in San Diego.  Our lives had a regular schedule of one weekend in San Diego, one weekend camping, hiking or sightseeing, and two weekends doing household things.

Wiki photo of white pelican

I had decided that I wanted to see the Salton Sea.  I had never gone further south inland than Indio and I was curious as to why people liked the Salton Sea so much.  There were lots of birds there, and although I wanted to stop, the areas to turn out were closed.  This was really off-season, so maybe there weren't enough people to warrant keeping them open, on the other hand it could have something to do with ecologic concerns. The sea is below sea level, quite saline and the home of white pelicans in addition to being on the Pacific Flyway for migrating birds.  Lots of environmental issues around contamination due to agricultural use and water usage.

Izzie and I spent the night in Yuma, Arizona.  I had never seen Yuma, nor driven east on I-8, so that was a new experience.  I guess we could have gone on to Tucson that day, but I didn't want to be tempted to just drive through and not see the Saguaro.  I was unaware that Yuma is such a big railroad town.  The motel we stayed in was very dog friendly, the Oak Tree Inn.  Many of the rooms are reserved for railroad people.  I've stayed at Oak Tree in Elko, Nevada and Green River, Wyoming.  Breakfast was at Penny's Diner next door.  They give you a voucher and it buys a good meal.  I sat at the counter and chatted with someone who works for the railroad.  He had just come off an overnight run and was going to sleep after his breakfast.  He asked where I was from and when I told him Maine, he said "that must be your van outside."  People seem to find it odd that it's just me and Izzie.

After breakfast we started for Tucson.  Right after Gila Bend I began to see saguaro cacti.  They are really limited in their range living only in the Sonoran desert of Arizona, Mexico (and a little of California).  To see whole hillsides of these magnificent beauties was quite spectacular. (Wiki photo)  I was warned not to let Izzie out since she could easily pick up a nasty prickly on her paw. She actually did pick up something sharp on one of our walks outside the motel.  Fortunately I caught it right away and removed it.  I never did get to the Desert Museum.  Time was running out, but I saw enough to know I'd love to go back.  I bought some cactus candy, something I hadn't had in years.  Love it.

While near Tucson, I saw a roadside sign, you know the kind that tells you who is paying for keeping the trash picked up along the roadside, that said Lazy K Bar Ranch.  In high school one of my girlfriends would go to Arizona for spring break. Her father eventually ran that particular dude ranch and they moved to Tucson I think in our junior year.  In Nashua they ran the Howard Johnson's so obviously they knew what they were about.  My friend competed in barrel riding and I think became a nurse, but I lost track of her so I have no idea where she is now, but it's odd how a little sign can trigger memories.  From Junior High on four of us would walk to and from school together.  We'd all meet at one house and go on from there.  In really bad weather someone's parent would drive us (not mine since we didn't have a car).