November 5: A Friend and Anne Lamott

I have a friend whom I recently introduced to the writer Anne Lamott.  When I say "introduced," I mean that I bought Erin a copy of Lamott's book Traveling Mercies.  It was my friend's birthday, and we were having a small celebration at work.  I wanted to get her something special.  I thought about it for a few days, and I couldn't come up with any idea.  Then, one morning, as I was getting ready for work, I remembered Anne Lamott.

Lamott is an essayist/novelist/teacher.  She lives in California and is probably most famous for her books on spirituality.  Now, when I say spirituality, I'm not talking Billy Graham here.  Lamott came to Christianity the hard way, through alcoholism, drug addiction, and abortions.  She is candid, honest, and unvarnished when she speaks of her journey to Christ, and that's what I love about her.  She has struggled, and, in writing about her struggles, she lets her readers know that struggle is OK.  It's normal.  It's part of being alive.

I don't know why Anne Lamott popped into my head, but I knew my friend would fall in love with her writing, the way I did a few years ago.  I was right.  This morning, I loaned Erin two more books by Lamott.  She just friended Lamott on Facebook.  I could make some sort of disparaging comment about my friend's obsession, but, if I did Facebook, I probably would friend Anne Lamott, as well.  I did advise Erin not to use the words "stalk" or "obsessed" in any communication she sends to Lamott.

Anne Lamott has allowed my friend and me to speak about Jesus and church and being a part of a worshipping community.  It has deepened our friendship, and it's putting Erin more in touch with her spiritual side.

I think it was a God thing, me giving Traveling Mercies to her.  It was one of those moments where God steps in, rolls up His sleeves, and says, "Let Me help you here."

Saint Marty is thankful for God, for Anne Lamott, for his friend.

Getting a little grace from Anne

November 5: Idle People, President Willard, "Carol" Dip Monday

..."Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer.  I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry.  I help to support the establishments I have mentioned:  they cost enough:  and those who are badly off must go there."

No, the quotation above is not Mitt Romney, although it certainly could be.  I tried to find a passage from Charles Dickens that could have come from the mouth of our esteemed presidential candidate.  Then I realized that anything spoken by the early Ebenezer Scrooge, pre-redemption, could have come from the lips of any Republican running for office this election.

If you can't tell, this post is going to be about the upcoming election.  One day to go, and every other commercial on TV and the radio is some kind of political advertisement.  "Vote Yes of Proposal 2."  "Vote No on Proposal 2."  "Barack Obama has ruined the country."  "Barack Obama has saved the country."  Even for a political junkie like myself, it's starting to wear a little thin.

That being said, I would like to take a few last cheap shots at Willard Romney.  (Yes, that is his real name.  If he is elected, we will have a President Willard.  Imagine what he will do for the welfare of rats everywhere.)  I was reading an opinion piece by Juan Williams this morning.  The article was titled "A Romney win would be a victory for shameless cynicism."  It was published on the website The Hill.  In the post/essay, Williams talks about how the Romney people have tried to turn every accomplishment of President Obama into a liability.  (George W. did that with John Kerry's military service in 2004.)

Mr. Obama took out enemy number one of the United States.  Mr. Romney now questions President Obama's dedication to the security of the United States because of the tragic killing of the U.S. ambassador to Libya.  President Obama supported the bailout that saved the auto industry in this country.  A week ago, the Romney campaign released a commercial in Ohio falsely hinting that Chrysler was going to move Jeep manufacturing to China.  Coming from a political party that gave us Dubya, who, in eight years, started two wars and oversaw an economic recession, Willard Romney doesn't have much firm ground to stand on.  Mr. Williams quotes a Romney  pollster who said, "We will not have our campaign dictated by fact-checkers."

That is the truth.  If you check the facts, Mr. Romney is a "cipher candidate."  I have no idea where he stands on any issue.  He keeps saying, "I stand behind America," but I have no idea what that means.  He's built his entire presidential bid on cynicism instead of hope.  I can't get behind that.

This Monday, my question for Chuck Dickens is easy:

Will Barack Obama be reelected President of the United States tomorrow?

And the answer from the great book of Christmas is:

...I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate.  A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer...

There you have it.  We will escape the Marley/Republican fate of chains and poverty and hunger.

Saint Marty can relax.  The United States still has a chance and hope.  A chance and hope of Barack Obama's procuring.

I won't pay to see this movie

November 4: My Favorite Things, Christmas Porch, New Cartoon

Can you hear Julie Andrews singing?

Sunday means it's time for My Favorite Things.  I wish I could be Oprah and offer free things to you, like books and iPads and Kindle Fires.  Can't do that, unless Apple or Amazon wants some free publicity, and the last time I checked, neither company is really desperate for business.  No free stuff this week.

As you can tell by the photograph, I'm going to focus a little on Christmas for this post.  You see, yesterday afternoon, I put up the Christmas decorations on my front porch.  I always pride myself on being the first person on our block to put up Christmas lights.  That's why I always do it the weekend following Halloween.  Nobody is as ambitious (or crazy) as me.

So, my favorite thing this Sunday is decorating for Christmas.  I love doing it.  I love the work.  I love the result.  I love the feeling I get when everything is done, and I can stand back and admire the results.  Each year, one member of my family picks the theme for our front porch decorations.  This year, it was my wife's turn.  Her theme is "Silver White Winters," as in the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music:  "Silver white winters that melt into spring..."  Next year is my turn.  I'm leaning toward some kind of It's A Wonderful Life motif.  We'll see.

If you're walking by Saint Marty's house tonight, stop for a few minutes and enjoy the view.  Think of Julie Andrews on a mountainside.

Confessions of Saint Marty

November 3: Once Upon a Time, Good Reads, New Cartoon

Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house...

With these words, Charles Dickens basically kicks off A Christmas Carol.  Those words ("once upon a time") are a signal to readers.  A story is coming.  A tale is going to be told.  We are all trained as children to expect dragons and fairy godmothers and ghosts when we hear those words.  Dickens give us a whole bevy of spirits to satisfy our fairy tale natures.  We all, as human beings, love to be told stories.  It's as much a part of our make-ups as eye or hair color.  It's in our DNA.

Today is Good Reads day.  I will be talking about a book I love.  It may be a novel or collection of short stories or compilation of poems.  Whatever strikes my fancy. 

This week, I want to talk about poetry.  I received a book of poems by Terry Godbey for my birthday.  Beauty Lessons is a stunning collection, full of the pain of childhood, the wars of adult life.  Literally, some of the poems in this collection take my breath away.  Mostly narrative, these poems tell stories of growing up, of learning what it takes to move from girlhood to womanhood.  At times, the poems are wistful.  At times, the poems are brutal.  Always, the poems connect the reader to the fragile tapestry of human existence.  Through her work, Godbey reminds us of our common need for connection and love, and the terrible/wonderful cost of that connection.

I would like to include one of my favorite poems from the collection here.  It's a poem about connection, again.  A poem about mothers.  A poem about love and loss.

Two Mothers Stranded in the World

She circles, distraught and loud,
and like any expectant mother
displays an unfortunate waddle.
Behind her, a man emerges from the lake,
shoes and shins dripping,
holding her glistening oval
found on a lily pad
where it lay like a woman sunning.
He places it in the nest and she tests it gently
with her webbed foot, sits down
and settles in.  Finally, explanation,
a boy had sailed the egg
into water two hours earlier.
The goose shuts her eyes, complete.
All around the air sighs with us,
and crape myrtle blossoms
fall feathery at our feet.
A woman breaks the silence:
"My son is going to Iraq.
We're pretty torn up about it,
but if the goose got her baby back,
that means I'll get mine back too,"
her voice thin as an eggshell,
and cracking.

With her poems, Terry Godbey tells stories that break your heart, over and over.

That's the word on words from Saint Marty.

Confessions of Saint Marty