Lillie and Gma

Our dog, Lillie, talks to me.  Or rather, she thinks to me.  I never see her lips move.  As far as I can tell, nobody else can hear/feel/receive her.  I’ve even stopped looking around, to see if others perceive anything odd.  I just think back at her.

For example, last week, when we dropped her off at my sister’s house (so Lilly could play with my sister’s dog, Xena, while we were at my grandmother’s funeral), the ~read more~


This November, I will celebrate the fortieth anniversary of my birth.  Some of my friends report that they found their 40th to be a troubling time; it caused them to meditate rather too much upon their own mortality.  Others found 50 to be more disturbing than 40, while a few have declared that 30 was their worst birthday (so far!). 

Some folks find birthdays ending with ‘5’ to be more problematic than those ending with ‘0’.  Some ~read more~

working for peace

When I answered Yolanda’s call, I knew (from Caller ID) that she was calling from the Jehovah’s Witnesses.  Nevertheless, I wanted to hear what she would say.  She wished me a good day, told me her name, and asked if we might have a short conversation.  I reciprocated, and agreed.  She asked if I thought there would be peace on earth during my lifetime.  I resisted the temptation to be flip—“sure, there may have been two ~read more~

bathroom of heresy

The Bathroom of Heresy was created by two of my colleagues (names withheld to protect the guilty), when their seminary living quarters shared a bathroom.  They decorated it with religious images both sacred and profane, setting fine art next to contemporary kitsch.  They displayed everything from tracts handed them on street corners to postcards with Jesus pointing the way to Las Vegas.  There was a reproduction of a Renaissance painting near a wind-up “boxing nun” toy ~read more~

so may we categorize: