Day in the Life of an Idiot

For those of you who are not intimately familiar with my life so far, I was raised a secular humanist Unitarian Universalist. I add that first part, because many UUs are, in fact, Christian. We were not. I did, however, spend three years in a Catholic grade school (4th, 5th and 6th grade) and my extended family are all Roman Catholic. So, I guess I'm not a full alien to it all, but sort of like.an odd cousin out.  (Do not, however, feel the need to explain Christianity to me. For one, I am an American, I'm soaking in it, but also please keep in mind that I wrote five books that center around religion and I did my reading!)

Upon arrival at the church, both Mason and I noticed, at least, coming in that there was a "All Are Welcome" pride sticker on the door. The pastor was a young-ish woman and did not choke or blink when I was introduced as Shawn's wife. So, that was something, though I was interrogated after the service by some blue-haired ladies, but I will get to that in a moment. 

The church itself had an airy feel, in part because they did something very unique with the stained glass:



Image: Not the usual full panes of stained glass, instead art pieces hung in front of a circular bay of windows. 

Because I was not following along on all the Jesus stuff (and because I am objectively a terrible person) during the service, my mind wandered. My attention kept being drawn to the window at the far left. 




Trying NOT to see what I thought I saw:


Image: Tell me what you see, Dr. Freud.

If this were a Catholic church (which it was not, Margaret and her family are Lutherans), I would know exactly what this window was meant to symbolize: the Annunciation. There's the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove... uh, let's say "pollinating" in deference to any of you who might find ruder language to be blasphemous, the vulva-shaped womb of Mary.... and there are the those blue lilies at the bottom, clearly showing off their, er, stamen and lilies are generally a metaphorical stand in for, uh, again let's go with--Gabriel's "message" from God.

Not that the image is nearly as subtle as I'm trying to be. That central image in the red interior is taking away a lot of the metaphor for me, personally. Like, I don't know what possessed the artist to go with that, but I don't know how you see that as anything other than what it looks like to my dirty mind.  Let's just say, mushrooms are not typical images associated with Christ.

Also, because of who I am, I went up to the pastor afterwards when it was clear she had finished making her rounds with the mourners and just asked. I said, "I'm not Christian, pastor, can you explain the iconography here?" She stammered and handed me a pamphlet. The pamphlet was, much like most sex ed materials, decidedly unhelpful and instead of explaining anything I was actually looking at, it talked about "the waters of creation" and salvation in Jesus Christ, Our Lord. So, my guess is that I'm kind of right? Like, I see lilies, but I could go with water breaking from the womb the gushing waters of capital c, Creation. 

Besides my dirty obsession with this stained glass, there were a couple of other unusual parts of the service. This may be the first funeral EVER where the Revelation of John was read as one of the readings. For reasons that the pastor later explained, but which still felt like a stretch to me, we got Revelation 22:2

Which, in the King James version, reads thusly:

 In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

Which is generally strange out of context, but which refers to the "new" Jerusalem which will arise in the thousand year reign of Jesus returned, in which all the streets are orderly and golden, etc. etc. So, at least, this is during the "nice" part of the End Times, I guess. The pastor, in her sermon, explained she chose this section because it referenced a sense of everything being in its place, prepared ahead of time, which was the sort of particular, tidy mouse that Margaret was. The sermon was actually very nice in terms "getting" who Margaret was at her core and letting people acknowledge that sometimes we didn't always want all the extra fuss she made for us. But, Revelation was a new one for me, generally. I might have actually gasped when they noted what they'd be reading.

It did make me think that--not that this would ever happen--but whether or not I could get someone to read the entire Revelation of John at my funeral. I just feel like someone should be ranting about the whore of Babylon and the four horsemen in a corner, while people are trying to remember me. And, of course, I did have to wonder what Margaret would think of it. She was enough of a church-goer I'm pretty sure she'd have been scandalized to have an apocalyptic text read. 

But, you know, churches are just sort of baffling to me. For instance, I was greeted by this sign in the women's bathroom.


Image: Sign that reads: "Wash your hands and say your prayers because Jesus & Germs are everywhere."

I posted this on Facebook because I thought it was funny, but I forgot that I would probably look like a sociopath for mentioning that it was spotted at my mother-in-law's funeral. Please don't think that? I'm just looking back at this with a more distant perspective. 

But, one last Jesus thing, if I may. There was, of course, communion at this service. Normally, I just opt out completely, but Mason and I exchanged a look when the pastor invited those who did not want to partake in communion to come up to the altar for a blessing. That seemed like the polite thing to do? But, we failed it. At this church, which has a cool roundness to that that does, in fact, do a lovely job of invoking a sense of being invited to God's table, the people receiving (the I guess NOT transubstantiated since these are Lutherans) Body of Christ, of which there was a gluten free option! were supposed to kneel before the pastor (and, apparently, also God??) Had I known that was part of the ritual, I would not have opted for the blessing, because I probably should have knelt, but didn't, so then Mason didn't either... and so there we are, standing literally in front of the rest of the congregation, as we were part of the first few to go up being seated just behind the family, clearly REFUSING JESUS. 

Like, had I to do it again, I would have just stayed in my seat and encouraged Mason to do the same. 

Or just knelt. 

Not sure what possessed me not to. Probably Satan!

But, so... immediately after the service was over and we were all headed for the post-service church basement luncheon, at least one blue-haired lady accosted me and demanded to know "Who exactly" I was to Margaret. So, I got to look at her and explain, "I am Margaret daughter-in-law's wife." That seemed to be an okay answer because I was no longer pressed to EXPLAIN MYSELF, though at least one other woman came up to our table at the luncheon to ask if I'd gone to high school in Valparaiso because I looked "so familiar." I demurred and explained that I have that kind of face and, sorry, but I have only ever come to Indiana to visit Margaret.

After she left, I explained to the table (which was just my immediate family and one of Margaret's daughter's cousins,) that I was pretty sure it was the haircut. I look like every butch lesbian that anyone has ever met.

The church luncheon was actually surprisingly yummy. They had really good fried chicken as the main. The rest was kind of meh, in the way of pot luck sides, but they had excellent cheesy potatoes, too. I actually had a very good meal at the luncheon, though I managed to immediately spill some greasy chicken on my silk shirt. As my friend Walter says, "If it's good enough to eat, it's good enough to wear." 

We had been sort of dreading hanging out after the service, but it turned out to be a perfect evening for sitting outside and catching up. Shawn's step-sister's cousin (I guess that makes her Margaret's niece?) was funny and sharp and really good company (we had adopted her to sit with us at the luncheon) and it turns out the one of Shawn's step-sister's kid's wife was a DELIGHT--she works with placing refugees and reuniting families that have been separated, but is also just generally a really interesting person. So, we did the business of reconnecting with family and the living, which is, in so many ways, the purpose of these sorts of things. There was closure for us, too, since one of the things everyone did was order a Margaret Rounds memorial pizza, which is what she used to always have for us whenever we arrived in Valparaiso for a visit. 

She will be missed. 

 
Image: Dr. Evermore birds... in Madison (Me for scale. I am only 5'2" but not ant-sized as picture might have you believe.)

I must apologize for the radio silence. After we packed up Mason, we did a LOT of days of just driving. I can report for "What Are You Reading Wednesday," that I finished up the audiobook of Darcie Little Badger's A Snake Falls to Earth. I tried to start a number of other books, but bounced out of them due to narrators that drove me a little crazy for various reason, the most annoying of which was a female reader who decided for reasons known only to herself to read the one female character on the crew in a falsetto. It was oddly off-putting, so I sent that one back, unfinished. 

But, so, other than just driving and listening to audio tapes, we only made a couple of stops on the way back. The first was to see my mother-in-law, Margaret, whom I think I noted is in hospice. She apparently waited for our return and a chance to talk to Mason because we just got the news that she's taken a downturn. She's now on oxygen and morphine. You wouldn't have known it during our visit though. She rallied for us, following the conversation like a trouper, even offering candies to Mason, like she did when he was just a smol. 

I'm glad that we had no other plans that day and so we could spend as much time as we needed. Then we only made the short jump from Indiana to Madison. I really wanted to be sure to devote some time to the Deke Slayton Museum (more on that in a moment) and so didn't want to be rushing through Chicago traffic to try to get there before it closed. Because it was such a short drive, we ended up at our hotel super early and the room wasn't ready for us yet. Luckily, I am always ready with roadside attractions. 

The first place we stopped was the site where Elvis broke up a fight...


Image: a really bad silhouette of Elvis and a long description of the event of June 24, 1977.

Roadside America is one of my favorite resources because, literally, this plaque is on the corner of a car dealership. I mean, they actually keep it up and it's not as difficult to find as you might think given it's obscure history, but the gas station where this fight took place is long gone. 

From there, we drove past a gold Civil War Statue, but did not stop for a photo op because it wasn't really worth a detour. If you follow the link, you can decide for yourself. Then, we checked out the scrap metal birds (picture above) which were ABSOLUTELY worth the detour. 

By the time we were finished with all that, we were able to check into our hotel room and take a short nap. When it was time for dinner, we briefly thought we wanted Japanese fast food, but it turned out that fast food is always kind of gross no matter which country of origin. So, Mason and I headed to State Street (Shawn opted to eat some of the not-great food to save her arthritic knees.) I think it was just as well that we left Shawn at the hotel, because Mason and I ended up being storm chasers when the TORNADO SIRENS went off. Luckily, that was after we ate at a really wonderful Taiwanese place, and were headed back to the car. As the sirens were wailing and our phones were yelling at us to shelter in place, we sat in a the car parking ramp for a long time trying to judge just how green the sky was and whether or not it was smarter to go or stay. But, after the second call from Shawn, who was worried sick, of course, we decided to make a break for it. We timed it between bursts of storm, but it was pretty harrowing. There were branches down and whatnot, but other than very threatening skies we never saw (or heard) anything truly scary, but it was still freaky, you know? Not going to lie. This will be an adventure we'll talk about for awhile.

Back at the hotel, we sat in an interior hallway with a bunch of other Midwesterners. The tourists were all outside watching the storm. 

Today, we struck out for LaCrosse to visit my dad the day after his 83rd birthday. But, we got up early enough so that we could be at the Deke Slayton Bicycle and Space Museum around when it opened at 10 am. 


Deke Slayton statue (me for scale.)

I absolutely LOVED this museum. The bicycles and Deke really aren't connected in anyway that is obvious in the exhibit, but both stories are told well in their own way. There's a TON of astronaut memorabilia, specifically around Deke's story. And, if you're at all a fan of space, real life NASA stuff, and/or For All Mankind, this is an absolute must of of detour.  It's a very unassuming little museum, tucked into the top floor of a historical Masonic Hall. Likewise, Sparta is a surprisingly lovely town--given how many Trump signs we saw in the other small Wisconsin towns we tried to visit for these kinds of things. 10/10 would recommend. 

 In LaCrosse, we had a great visit with my folks and got to have the traditional poppyseed cake for my dad's birthday and a lunch out at Rudy's Drive-In. (And, yes, our food was delivered by a young women on roller skates!)

Now we are home with a pizza delivery on the way. I'm just relieved to not be in a car anymore. Though we could not have asked for better driving conditions along Scenic Highway 61.