Episcopalian Update - Or is it Episcopal?

Even after a friend clearly tells me when it is correct to say Episcopal versus Episcopalian, I still can't remember which is correct.

Why can't we be referred to as Anglican, like all the other offshoots of the Church of England around the world? To that question, actually, I do know the answer. It goes back to the American Revolution when all ties to England were severed, including ecclesiastical ones. Now, of course, the Episcopal Church of the U.S. enjoys a good relationship with the world-wide Anglican Communion.

In just a couple of weeks, I will officially be part of that communion. During the traditional Easter vigil on Saturday April 7, I will be confirmed into the membership of Saint John's Episcopal Cathedral in Denver. I will officially be Episcopalian. Or Episcopal.

In any case, I've gone faithfully to the classes since September, participated regularly in worship, made a financial pledge, and can spout off a pretty good Episcopal(ian) party line. Go ahead. Ask me anything. Except the proper usage of Episcopal versus Episcopalian. And don't ask why Episcopalians wear black so much of the time. I still don't have an answer to that one.

The biggest challenge so far has been documenting my baptism, which occurred approximately 48 years ago, in a Presbyterian church so small that no one answers the phone. Episcopalians believe that only one baptism is necessary, but you'd better be able to prove that it happened.

I've been a member of many congregations and several denominations over the years. I've been a member, lay leader, youth minister, religious educator, musician, and preacher. I won't say that I've finally found the "right" denomination. There's no such thing. But I feel at home for now, worshiping in high church style, with that combination of ancient tradition and modern theology which affirms deep spirituality along with intelligent discourse.

In other words, in the Episcopal (?) Church, you don't have to check your brain at the door in order to engage in serious spiritual practices.

So think of me on April 7 as I step into the newest chapter of my long faith journey, a fully fledged Episcopalian (I think that's it).

Reader Comments

Sometimes the most interesting part of a publication is the reader mail. As a veteran blogger, I am, myself, the grateful recipient of notes from readers. For every BillsWeek entry, there can be anywhere from one reader comment to, oh, more than one. Most come through Facebook, some from the little comment box on the blog itself, and others come in regular email. While I try to respond to each individually, the BillsWeek staff is sometimes a little overwhelmed and I don't always succeed. Plus some are anonymous so I can't respond directly. A sampling follows. In the interest of full disclosure, some of these are paraphrased, a few are combinations of multiple messages, and some I just made up. So here we go.

What advice would you give to an aspiring blogger?

The amazing thing about our internet age is that anyone can publish just any crap they want to, without regard to quality or socially redeeming value. So if you want to blog, go ahead and do it. There's nothing to stop you but shame.

Why do you always write about your stupid cats? Don't you have a life?

Well, to the later question, that's debatable. The answer to the former is that my cats are the cutest and the prettiest, and they are the pillars around which the whole world revolves. If you don't believe me, just ask one of them.

When are you going to go on another extended mystery road trip? It was especially fun to guess where you were by the clues you put on Facebook.

I very much enjoyed my 2010 summer trip through Kentucky, Illinois, and points Midwestern. I hope to do another like it, perhaps up north somewhere. Meanwhile, there are other mysteries I could write about. What will I have for dinner? What's that spot on my neck? Will Jules really marry Grayson?

I'm not so sure we need to hear about all of your deviant life-style choices.

You mean my decision to become Episcopalian? Hey, I don't write about half the deviant stuff I do.

Do you have a good recipe for meatloaf?

Yes.

Why do you always assume that all Republicans are bad people?

I try to avoid using words like "always" and "never." Not all Republicans are bad, just the vast overwhelming majority of them.

Why don't you publish new entries in BillsWeek more often?

I appreciate that you want more. Thank you for the complement. I'll try to do better.

When can we do lunch?

Call me.

I disagree with your assessment about the number of cats portrayed on TV. Please cancel my subscription immediately.

Um... BillsWeek doesn't really have subscriptions, but, uh, I’ll give your request all the consideration it deserves.

Mr. Calkins: Thank you for having your car serviced at Tynan's Nissan. Please click below to take a customer satisfaction survey.

Done.

I notice that you sometimes end sentences with a preposition. That is improper. You need to set a better example.

Language is a tool that helps us to communicate, and it is best when communication occurs in a standard form so that we can understand each other. Sometimes, however, the tyranny of the language experts who delight in correcting what everyone else says becomes oppressive and even interferes with communication. Perhaps, more succinctly, I should just say, bite me.

You often say that we are living in the future. What does that mean?

Ah, young readers, what times we live in (yes, I wrote that for the benefit of the previous commentor). Imagine a world where we carry our phones with us everywhere we go. From a 1970s perspective (the 1970s were my formative years), that's pretty futuristic. In other words, I'm old. I came of age in the last century. The year 2012 was once impossibly far away, and now, amazingly, we are here.

 So there you have it dear readers. I hope you are as stimulated by this exchange of ideas as I am. Keep those comments coming! You never know - you might see yourself in the blog someday.

TV Families Not Representative

I admit it. I watch a lot of TV. And I have to say, most of the families on the tube don't look like mine. An entire population is severely underrepresented, rendering some of the best shows difficult for me to relate to.

Unlike at my house where they pretty much rule, cats are notoriously absent from TV shows. For that matter, so are dogs. I'm not talking about those old Disney movies where the animal wins the national ribbon or dies at the end (I'm still upset about Old Yeller, 40 years later). I mean animals that are just regular members of the family, like those dogs and cats (and in a couple of cases, birds) who live with me and my friends.

According to the Humane Society of the United States, dogs live in 39 percent of all U.S. households. Cats live in 33 percent. Doesn’t that equal 72 percent? I was never good at math. But at least some number of families on TV should have at least either a dog or a cat.

Take that family on ABC's The Middle. A dog would add a lot of color to that chaotic household. Of course, the mom, played by Patricia Heaton, would be the only one who remembers to feed the dog, let him or her out, and so on.

I recently watched all five seasons of Brothers and Sisters - one extended family made up of five individual households. A number of times, I thought, “This is just like my family,” except there was not a bit of animal fur among them.

Currently on Netflix, I'm watching Kyle XY, a sci-fi drama that explores the meaning of family and belonging. It's a great show - sweet and touching as well as suspenseful, but it lacks any sort of animal presence. I often think the agonized protagonist and his angst-ridden teenaged siblings would benefit from the calming influence of a cat, but there isn't one.

I suppose cats are hard to train and, well, control on the set. Dogs are a little more trainable, and thus, visible.

The sitcom Whitney recently featured a dog adopted from a shelter. The poor fellow died in less than one episode.

One of the families on Modern Family has a cute little mutt. Gruff old grandpa/stepdad Jay, played by Ed O'Neil, takes an abandoned pooch to the shelter in one episode but can't go through with it. The dog has become a regular cast member.

There used to be more animals on TV but they were pretty unrealistic. Lassie was always getting Timmy out of some trouble or other by barking and barking until the humans finally understood. In reality, any dog that barked like that would be banished to the back yard or at least given the doggie version of Prozac.

Flipper, the dolphin, always knew everything in spite of being limited to the water. I don't know any dolphins personally, but I was always surprised that Flipper didn’t just get in the truck and drive.

At this point, I feel like I should comment on Tiger, the shaggy dog who lived with the Brady Bunch. But I really don’t have anything to say about him.

Animal companions are a little better represented in cartoons. The Simpsons have Santa's Little Helper and Snowball, a skinny dog and mangy black cat respectively. In spite of the animated nature of the show, this is the one that best represents pets as a regular, integrated presence in the family.

Ok, now that you know how much TV I watch, I'll bet you aren't surprised to learn that my own cats, Lily and Charles, usually watch with me. You’d never see it on television, but I'm often sprawled horizontally on the sofa, the two of them curled up on top of or beside me. That's what my family looks like.

What Does a Single, Gay, 50 Year Old Look Like?

So Michelle Obama has turned 48. It's kind of shocking to be older than the First Lady. I mean, Barbara Bush and Nancy Reagan with their old lady hair seemed much more advanced in years. But the current occupants of the White House are practically peers. At this rate, in the next administration, I'll be complaining that the President and First Spouse are too young to have a clue about what they're doing and that in my day ...

You get the picture.

I have to admit that this last birthday rattled me. I'm now just one year away from the half-century mark. It's not that I'm afraid of death or being unattractive. I treasure each and every gray hair. It's more that I don’t know how I should act.

What does 50 look like? The image that first comes to mind is of active grandparents. But I'm not a grandparent, nor are there prospects for becoming one.

I sort through my mind's database of images for living as a nearly 50 year old single, childless, gay person: Eccentric uncle. Spinster aunt. Confirmed bachelor. Gay divorcee. Pathetic looser. Crazy cat lady. Hmm. The closest one that fits is crazy cat lady.

It's not about how I look to others, but rather how I see myself. There's a shortage of helpful role models for people of years, in general, let alone single ones. Add gay to the mix and, well, I might as well be the only one. 

The best older role model that comes to mind is Betty White. She's beloved, respected, active, funny, and she's 90. Doesn't help me much right now.

A role model for the unmarried, in my mind, is single gal Doris Day in the 1960's movie, Pillow Talk. She's strong, beautiful, busy with her career, and has a housekeeper. Of course, in spite of fiery independence, she settles down in the end with Rock Hudson. Needless to say, she's not old in the movie, and gay didn't exist on the screen then.

It's pretty gay that I use Pillow Talk as an example. It's pretty gay that I vividly remember Rock Hudson in the bathtub scene, but I digress.

I don't sit around and pine for a husband, like Sally Rogers on the Dick Van Dyke show (another fairly gay reference and dubious single role model), but neither do I commit eternally to my singleness, forever free from the bonds of husbandly attachment. I simply want to know how I'm supposed to act now that I'm approaching the AARP demographic.

This just in. Rosie O'Donnell, I'm observing as she talks to Piers Morgan, is exactly my age. She's gay. She's engaged, but single for now. She looks fabulous. Maybe I just need to look around a little more.

Third Wheels Provide Balance

As a pretty much confirmed single individual, I've had a lot experience as the third wheel. “Third wheel” is the designation usually given to that extra person society traditionally looks down upon because she or he is not attached to another.

Well I have news for society. Recent studies indicate that unmarried people are likely to be in the majority soon.

Only 51% of U.S. adults are currently married, an all time low (I don't remember where I heard the statistic - for all you know I just made it up). This is mostly due to people waiting until later in life to tie the knot, but I'm sure divorce and economic changes play a part – to say nothing of those who live as coupled without the legal sanction.

So for now, the norm continues to be going through life in pairs. Since my friends are way beyond trying to "fix me up" just to even out the number at dinner parties, this means that when we get together, I'm the odd one.

While society prefers couples and all the symmetry they bring, I relish my role as "extra." Third wheels provide balance. We keep couples from falling over.

With this power, of course, comes responsibility. When a couple seems about to topple over as a result of conflict over a minor item, such as whether to put cilantro in the salad, I'm often looked at to settle the disagreement. It's kind of like being Vice President, casting the deciding vote in the Senate.

During more significant arguments, such as in what religion to raise the children, I'm more cautious. Tempting as it is to blurt out what I know to be the correct answer, I make it a practice to never take sides in the biggies.

If you piss off one person in the couple, you've lost both friends. And most seriously, if the couple starts to break up, be careful. Now more than ever, do not take sides. They may reconcile and when they do, the pair will remember everything you said about the one you sided against and in a united front that only a newly reconciled pair can muster, the third wheel will be spun off to search of other couples to balance.

Most Awesome Moments of 2011

There is no shortage of lists these days. I suppose it's the most efficient way of reviewing the old year as we prepare for the new. So in honor of the end of the year, here is my personal list of Awesome Moments from 2011:

• Finding out that people actually do read BillsWeek
• Going to that little local donut place (Walton's Donuts on Leetsdale) on the way to work
• Watching all five seasons of Brothers and Sisters on Netflix
• Attending new member classes at the Episcopal cathedral
• Seeing lots of friends from back east as they passed through Colorado on their summer trips
• Estudiar español y recordar algunas palabras
• Deciding that instead of going to Village Inn for a piece of pie, we'll go and buy a whole pie to take home instead
• Two, count 'em, two separate trips to San Diego
• Charles let me have a Christmas tree this year - he did break one ornament, but that's better than the whole tree, so I guess he's turning into an adult cat finally
• The discovery that visiting every Colorado state park is not going to take one year, but probably three or more
• Xanax
• Going to the Atomic Cafe for biscuits on Sunday mornings
• The Occupy Movement
• Learning how to delete channels on Pandora
• Listening to BBC Witness on the iPod at 24 Hour Fitness
• Near daily cuddles with Freddie, the Pomeranian who lives next door
• Herman Cain's spectacular downfall
• Figuring out how to use the automatic thermostat on the car heater (I've only had the car three years)
• Watching the hawks outside my office window

Happy Holidays! See you next year!

Dying Dishwasher Spurs Appliance Crisis

 When I remodeled my kitchen, the green dishwasher which melted all of my plastics was replaced with a white one that had heat control; the green stove featuring uneven metal coil burners was discarded in favor of a white model with a smooth glass top; the green fridge sporting metal shelves was replaced by an energy efficient white unit containing glass shelving. All the cheap dark corkboard cupboards and drawers were replaced with European style (or so I was told) glossy beige and blue ones.

My modern kitchen!

As a relatively new homeowner, I felt like I had taken a big step towards transforming the dumpy fixer-upper where I lived into a showpiece home.

That was 12 years ago. Since then, every three or four years, I've done a major remodel on a different part of the condo, the most expensive of which was the bathroom, itself worthy of a separate writing.

Thing is, though, I'm wondering if it's time to start all over and again invest in the kitchen.

I'm asking because the "new" dishwasher I got in 2000 is making a loud noise - like a death rattle. Recent Thanksgiving guests could barely converse without shouting over the rhythmic clang-chunk, clang-chunk, clang-chunk sound.

Do all appliances age at the same rate? Will I have to replace everything at the same time?

My worst fear is not the cost, but whether I have the nerve to empty the freezer. See, I love to freeze stuff. I really like the idea of being prepared for that blizzard which strands me in the house for several days with lots of frozen soup on which to survive. So every time I cook, I set something aside and stick it in the freezer. It feels very secure, like money in the bank.

The problem, however, is that I don't take stuff out as much as I put stuff in. It gets to the point where I'm cramming and shoving just to make room for a sandwich baggie of leftovers.

I recently found a jar of unidentified frozen substance that I was pretty sure predated the last couple of blizzards. I thought about thawing it to save the jar, but decided it was too gross to contemplate. I threw it away to make room for a baggie.

There are also a couple pounds of meat someone gave me in 2010. I don't know how long they had it before that. I've heard of people eating 10,000 year old mastodon found frozen in a glacier. The meat in my freezer isn't that old, but I'm still not sure how long I should keep it.

Way in the back of the freezer, I fear, could be items dating back to the Clinton administration.

As I foraged for a snack one afternoon, I found an old ice cream sandwich. It looked ok. But when I bit into it, my teeth encountered something completely dry, spongy, and flavorless. All ice cream had been defrosted away, leaving nothing but a scummy white shell between ancient husks of wafer. I gagged on what was basically a mummified frozen snack. I only finished it because I was hungry.

 Epilogue: The good news is I have cleaned out the freezer and now it's nearly empty. The bad news: they are predicting snow this weekend.