June 23: Falling from Airplanes, Absence Yesterday, Blessings

I think that the dying pray at the last not "please," but "thank you," as a guest thanks his host at the door.  Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you, all down the air; and the cold carriages draw up for them on the rocks.  Divinity is not playful.  The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest.  By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet . . .

A sort of comforting paragraph.  There is praise and gratitude.  However, there is also people hurtling through the air toward rocky ends.  God doesn't mess around, Dillard seems to be saying.  There's nothing casual about the universe.  It is mysterious, sacred, and nimble. 

Hi, I'm back.  Sorry for my absence yesterday.  I have been working on putting together the online class I'm teaching this summer, and last night I had some technical issues.  Actually, after five, frustrating hours, I was ready to take a sledgehammer to my laptop.  I was in no mood to try to be reflective.  I barely wanted to be around my family.

Today, I'm better, and I have a lot to be thankful for.  Good things.  First, yesterday morning I heard from my editor.  He loved my poems and is going to use them in the anthology that he's putting together.  That was blessing number one.

Second, I have found a new car to buy.  It is a Subaru Impreza.  Much smaller than my Ford Freestyle, but it has low mileage and will probably last for about ten years.  I drove it all last night and today, and I'm convinced that it will be a good choice.  And the price is right.  Blessing number two.

Finally, when I got home today, there was a letter waiting for me.  It was from the Dean of the College, congratulating me.  It seems that I have been awarded the promotion for which I applied.  Now, instead of Contingent Assistant Professor Saint Marty, I shall be called Contingent Professor Saint Marty.  It made me really happy, and it also means that I will be able to make more money in the fall when classes start.  Blessing number three.

However, as Dillard points out, as you are soaring through the air, saying "thank you," the rocks are quickly approaching.  My daughter just had a major meltdown in front of me, telling me how miserable she is.  She doesn't have anything to do, and I am one of the main causes of her misery.  Rocks, ahoy.

Blessings or not, Saint Marty always has his daughter to bring him back to reality.

June 16: Shoots Like a Tree, Stuck in a Moment, Car Problems

I am not here yet; I can't shake that day on the interstate.  My mind branches and shoots like a tree.

Dillard is stuck in a moment when she was driving along the interstate.  She stopped at a gas station.  Petted a puppy.  As she did this, she watched sun and shadows pass over a ridge of mountains.  And she feels really alive, smaller and bigger than herself.  Metaphysically, she is Emerson's transparent eyeball, absorbing everything around her.

I'm sort of stuck in a moment today, as well.  I wasn't petting a puppy.  I wasn't watching the sun rise over Lake Superior.  I was on the phone with my wife, and she was telling me what the mechanic told her about my car. 

I have owned my Ford Freestyle for eight years.  My son grew up riding in it.  It has brought my daughter back and forth to dance class about 5,763 times.  I drove it to my brother's funeral.  I drove it to my sister's funeral.  I was going to give it to my daughter when she got her license.  I love this car.

Well, the mechanic's diagnosis is not promising.  Somewhere around two thousand dollars worth of repairs are needed.  The Freestyle is only worth about $2,500.  I face a difficult but necessary decision.  I have to get a new car.  This bothers me on several levels.  First, I have many memories attached to the vehicle.  Second, I just finished paying off the car loan about a year ago.  Third, I can't really afford to take on another monthly payment of any substantial amount.

That's the moment I'm stuck in.  By the way my wife and I figure it, we will be able to afford a small, four-door car.  Considering how much winter driving I do for work, I am not looking forward to downsizing.  I've owned a Geo Metro before.  It was a good car.  However, I didn't have two children at the time.

So, in a week or so, I will probably be saying goodbye to my Freestyle, trading it in for a vehicle that I will probably hate driving simply because it is not my Freestyle.  I try not to write about money problems and car problems because I know that I'm better off than probably 99% of the world's population.  I have two good jobs.  A home with a brand new roof (for which I'm still paying).  Food and clothing.  Good health.  I'm very blessed.

Saint Marty just wishes his car was a little more blessed.

July 18: Ed Banky, Car, Bad News, Piece of My Mind

Ed Banky was the basketball coach at Pencey.  Old Stradlater was one of his pets, because he was the center on the team, and Ed Banky always let him borrow his car when he wanted it.  It wasn't allowed for students to borrow faculty guys' cars, but all the athletic bastards stuck together.  In every school I've gone to, all the athletic bastards stick together.

I'm not a basketball player or an athletic bastard, and I don't attend school or teach at Pencey.  But I could sure use Ed Banky's car right now.

The bad news from the mechanic at the dealership came a lot earlier than I expected.  He called me around 10 a.m. to tell me my car was done, but he had to talk to me about "an issue."  "An issue," in mechanic talk, amounts to an $800-plus repair.

I kind of sat at my desk, speechless.  Finally, I said, "Well, I can't afford that right now."  To be honest, I don't know how I'm going to afford it later, either.  That kind of money doesn't come my way very often.  Actually, that kind of money never comes my way.

I'm beginning to intensely dislike auto mechanics and cars.  Owning a vehicle is a necessary evil for people who live in rural places like the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  I put about thirty miles on my car every day simply driving to and from work.  Taking the bus isn't an option, and riding my bike down the highway at 4 a.m. is not an appealing proposition.  So, I own a car that's becoming more expensive to keep on the road than raising my two children.

Here's the thing:  the first car I owned was a 1978 Dodge Aspen.  I inherited it from my older sister, and, aside from a brake job or two, it never gave me a lick of trouble.  I'd bet that Aspen is still running somewhere in the world.  It was a solid, reliable car.  Every car I've purchased since the Aspen has given me costly migraines.  My Ford Freestyle is the latest in a long line of headaches.

Cars used to last longer than car loans.  A lot longer.  I offer my Aspen as evidence with over ten years' of good service.  The car I owned before my Freestyle, a nice little Mercury Sable, lasted one month past the date I made my last payment on it.  Then I had a close encounter with a deer one foggy morning on my way to work.  My wife's Subaru has a laundry list of ailments, and we just payed it off about two months ago.

I want to own a car for once in my lifetime that I can drive for a couple of years without failing brake pads or ball joints or spring nut filters or whatever.  Two years without a single car repair.  Two years of just oil changes and tire rotations.  That's all.  I don't think that's too much to ask of Ford or Chrysler or Dodge or Subaru.  Make a car that lasts longer than a team of oxen, for God's sake.

That's a piece of Saint Marty's mind.

Anybody want to trade for a couple of bulls?

July 17: Pile of Dough, Cadillac, Oil Change

...Anyway, he gave Pencey a pile of dough, and they named our wing after him.  The first football game of the year, he came up to school in this big goddam Cadillac, and we all had to stand up in the grandstand and give him a locomotive--that's a cheer....

Holden is talking about a man named Ossenburger who donated a great deal of money to Holden's current school, Pencey.  Holden doesn't like Ossenburger, thinks he's a "big phony bastard."  But Ossenburger's a rich phony bastard who drives a Cadillac.  The world pays attention to people like him, because things like money and cars are status symbols for most cultures.

Me, I drive a 2006 Ford Freestyle that just cracked 100,000 miles.  It's a good car with plenty of space.  I've owned it for around four or so years.  It has now reached a point in its life that, every time I bring it in for an oil change at the dealership, some major problem gets discovered.  Last time, I needed a brake job to the tune of over 400-plus bucks.  I'm not Ossenburger.  I can't afford to drive a brand new Cadillac, and I don't have a pile of dough.

I'm dropping my Freestyle off at the dealership tomorrow morning for an oil change.  I'm already dreading the phone call from the mechanic that starts like this:  "Well, I've got some bad news."  I can't afford any bad news right now.  I simply want an oil change.  Period.

That's my biggest worry this Wednesday--an expensive auto problem.  I've already put off one repair until the fall.  I really don't want to go double or nothing.  Until I get the mechanic's phone call telling me I'm free and clear, I'm going to be holding my breath and saying a lot of prayers.

Eventually, Saint Marty is either going to turn blue and pass out or heave a very big sigh of relief.

This guy could ruin my day tomorrow