Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Falling Palms: Autumn in Southern California

There were more people than seats in the tiny little boarding area. I was torn between sitting on the floor or walking around with my heavy carry-on bag. It would surely be more comfortable to sit, but I'd be on a plane for two hours and I thought I should keep off my butt as much as possible.

When the usual boarding rituals finally commenced, I waited anxiously to be allowed on the plane. But first the disabled could board. Then families with small children. Then special club members and people assigned to the seats with extra leg room. I wasn’t in any of these groups. Then the back five rows could board. Then the back 10, and so on.

As people shuffled forward, the gate agent got on the PA system and announced that the flight was overbooked. They needed a volunteer to be bumped to a later flight. In exchange, the volunteer would receive a voucher for a free flight in the future.

 I was so tired, all I wanted to do was get home. Traveling is such a hassle and the less time spent at the airport, the better.

The agent made another announcement: still looking for a volunteer to get bumped. Won't someone please come forward?

I couldn't believe no one wanted that free flight. I suppose everyone was just as tired as I was. On the third request for a volunteer, I heaved myself and my carry-on off the floor and made my way through the gathered passengers. I told the agent that, yes, I would volunteer to get bumped.

Cut to several months later. It occurs to me that I still have the voucher and it will expire after one year if I don't use it. I feel like I have to use it on something special -- not the places I usually fly, which would be San Diego and - well, just San Diego. Frontier's international destinations don't interest me. No other destinations excite me. I suppose I could get worked up about going to Florida to visit Disney World and the retro-futuristic Epcot Center. Key West might be fun, but everyone in the advertising is so thin and hairless, I wouldn't fit in. New Orleans is fun, although I don't have many sober memories of it. Forget New York - I'm still not over having to live there in the 80s.

I've been lucky to be able to travel through the years. I've watched a wall of fog envelope San Francisco. I've stood on a sandbar in the Gulf of Mexico with a school of little fish encircling my ankles. I've leaned over the edge of a pier, Pacific storm waves soaking my legs high above the normal waterline as dolphins and pelicans just yards away feasted on the stuff stirred up by the surf. I've been totally confused by driving on the left side while coming to a roundabout in the UK. I smelled the breath of a humpback whale off the coast of Cape Cod. Last year I went to a retreat in West Virginia - Appalachia in the autumn.

I've been around. I once even took a cruise off the coast of Nebraska - a steamboat on the Missouri River. We went from Brownville down to the nuclear power plant and turned around.

Is there any place that I would like to see but haven't? Not really. My favorite vacations are the ones where I do a lot of beach walking and sitting and relaxing. Guess I'll go to San Diego again - this will be twice in one year.

Southern California in the autumn. Doesn't conjure images of falling leaves and crisp chilly mornings. But to be fair, those big palms do fall off the trees. You could get killed if you happened to be under one as it lands. I will take my chances.  Meanwhile, the voucher was generous and I am, this time, able to upgrade to the special seating with extra leg room. Looks like I’ll be among the first to board this time.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Lure of the Cult

 Inside a chilly stone building, the assembled gather over the symbolic remains of a revered leader. Chanting punctuates the ancient rituals which draw followers from all over the city. Indoctrination ("education") for newcomers is provided.

I held off the sect's advances as long as I could. But after several years of watching from the sidelines, I've finally given in. I am now becoming officially indoctrinated, falling slow motion into a cult that has existed for hundreds of years, many of them a bit on the bloody side.
You see, I am participating in new member classes (the Catechumenate) at St. John’s Episcopal Cathedral.

It seems like I have to try as many denominations as I can. I started out Presbyterian and briefly flirted with the United Methodists. After a stormy stopover in the United Church of Christ, I discovered peace and spiritual resonance in the ancient traditions of the Episcopal Church.
Lots of my fellow members from the UCC congregation left at the same time I did, the result of serious congregational contention. Many of them moved on to become Unitarian.

But I had to be different. I went for the more dramatic tradition. I chose mystical and ritual over practical. I like the colorful robes, the gigantic organ, and the kneeling. I love having communion every Sunday. I'd probably be a great Catholic if it weren't for their absolutist exclusiveness and some theology that I just can’t swallow.
The Catechumenate is nine months long, and if I so choose, I may officially join the church around Palm Sunday. No other church that I've been involved with demands such commitment from newcomers. I like that the cathedral, and the 70 participants in my class, take this seriously.

I have many questions I hope will be answered in the coming months: Why do Episcopalians wear black so often? How do they manage to keep disease from spreading when everyone drinks from the same communion cup? Is the Anglican community really protestant, or just Catholic-light? How do they decide where to put those signs that say, “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You”?  How many Episcopalians does it take to screw in a light bulb? Ok, I already know the answer to that one, but I’m not going to say it. I need to show some respect or I may be looking for a new denomination soon.