Bee in Your Bonnet?

There's uproar in my dad's family that's now matriculated down to me.  Apparently, my sister Amy (she's fourteen) has developed this attraction to the Jewish faith.  Under ordinary circumstances that revelation shouldn't have been earth-shattering news in the Marshall family - except that's exactly what happened.

My dad was raised Methodist, but really didn't practice in his adult life.  When he met my mom (who is Jewish), he agreed to get married in a Jewish ceremony and let her raise me according to the Jewish faith (I lapsed on my own accord, thank you.).  Ten years after I was born, my parents divorced, and my dad married Barbi, who was raised Jewish but had basically become anti-organized religion.  When my siblings were born, Barbi told my dad that she didn't care whether they raised my siblings in either the Christian or Jewish faith, only that they grew up with faith.  Because the only synagogue close to them was at the time about a half hour away, dad and Barbi decided to feel out the local churches.  They were never particularly serious about it.  My siblings attended maybe a year and a half of Sunday School over this three-year process because whenever dad and Barbi found a congregation that showed promise (a good preacher, lots of music to keep dad and the kids entertained), dad and Barbi felt out of place because both of them are staunch liberals.  So, that was really the end of the religion quest.

The problem started when Amy became a teenager and, in the ways of many teenagers, started to wonder.  According to Barbi, who actually is able to have deep discussions with Amy, Amy’s just never accepted Christ, rejects the Christian ideas of Heaven and Hell, and apparently became interested in Judaism this past spring because one of her best friends is Jewish.  It also helped that Amy’s friend attends a relatively new and progressive reform congregation fifteen minutes away.  In that same conversation, Amy told Barbi that she [Amy] has no faith – at all.  Obviously, that worried Barbi.  So, being the cool person that she generally is, Barbi decided to encourage Amy to explore her spirituality (even though it’s likely this is just a teenage phase) on the off-chance Amy might find faith.

My brother Cory (who apparently has no problem with Christian philosophies - yet) was confused and upset by Amy’s quest – he’s younger than Amy by four years so the confusion is understandable.  While I’m sure Barbi tried to explain the concepts of religious freedom to Cory, I think he took his cue from my dad who didn’t seemed to dismiss the whole thing as a teenaged whim.  I remember him telling me about it before I saw it myself when I visited them in July.  He treated it as a vaguely amusing irony – surrounded by Jewish women and all.

All of this changed as August came and Amy (with Barbi's support) started to make plans to enroll in Jewish religious classes for the year.  Suddenly my dad had major problems with it – and the problems are major enough that Barbi called me to tell me about it and to ask for my opinion and advice.  Apparently when Barbi finally cajoled him into talking about it, my dad gave her his reasons.  He’s apparently concerned that Amy’s choosing a “religion of the minority” and that he’s worried that her choice to be Jewish will mean she will live a difficult life.  He also brought up the fact that Cory’s having a rough time understanding all of this – but I think that part is mostly a red herring.  It doesn’t take a rocket-scientist to figure out that Cory takes his cues from the only other male in the Marshall family – it’s not a coincidence that Cory’s basically a carbon-copy of my dad’s personality.  If Dad was cool with this, Cory would be too.

This situation couldn’t have surprised me more than it has.  My father is… well, he’s a lot of things, but he's neither xenophobic nor Christian-centric.  Remember, he let his first-born be raised Jewish and married into the Jewish faith.  The problem my dad has here certainly isn’t with Judaism itself.   

If you’re wondering about his whole “religion of the minority” spiel in relation to the previous statement, don’t worry.  I am too, and that’s the bee that’s stuck in my bonnet.  Apparently my dad’s concerns ARE political.  My dad “hates the way Israel invaded Lebanon” (verbatim from Barbi), and I saw that for myself when I visited them this summer (I was there the day after Israel invaded.).  In my dad’s opinion, Israel is incredibly dangerous by the fact that they’re given carte blanche by the U.S.  He’s convinced that the Israel lobby in the United States has gotten out of control, and basically blames the U.S.’s unfettered support of Israel for… well… the reason things are like they are in the Middle East.  Barbi thinks that what my dad meant when he said “religion of the minority” was that he doesn’t want Amy to become Jewish because (in his view) eventually there’s going to be backlash against Jewish people as others become increasingly disgruntled with Israel.  I think he’s worried that she’ll get caught up in that mess (because being a Christian is sooo much safer right now ).

So riddle me this, Batman.  What’s the point of shielding your child from perceived outside threats when you do nothing to try to support your child’s motives or feelings – especially when we’re talking about something as personal as faith?  Would you rather watch your child struggle or let them live knowing you didn’t support or understand them?  What happens if your child chooses the difficult paths in life when you equate happiness with simplicity?  That’s the reason my dad and I continue to have problems.  I’m the first to admit I’m not always an easy person to deal with.  My dad desperately wants me to be uncomplicated.  He doesn’t think people who have difficult or unsettled lives are capable of finding happiness.

Is it possible to be fulfilled by an “easy” life?  Faith isn’t simple.  I don’t care what religion you point to, everyone has to suffer (physically, mentally, spiritually… and/or all of the above) in order to attain anything – even if that something is spiritual peace.  Would people find faith so fulfilling if it was easier?  I wouldn't think so.

But that’s not my point.  Neither is the fact that by the time Amy finishes college my dad’s going to be batting 0-2 in his quest to have a “simple” offspring – I hope for her sake that he deals with it better than he has with me.  My point is that faith shouldn’t have dropped this headache on my family in the first place – and for once I’ve come to the conclusion that this extends beyond my dad.  He’s simply caught in with the rest of them.  Sometime long ago religion became a political platform, and whenever that happened it pushed out almost all room for spirituality and those who seek to express it with others.  I didn’t think there was something worse than watching disingenuous politicians wrangle over faith, but I was wrong.  It's living with the knowledge that religion has replaced skin color as the current excuse for people to perpetuate hate, isolation, and fear (though believe me, I realize skin color’s still a major issue).  It’s watching people who speak words like “retribution” spit in the face of people who speak “truce” as if one was less than the other.  It’s watching the self-proclaimed righteous flock to their places of worship to pray to their paragons of peace, love, and kindness.  They pray for deliverance.  Show me something more blasphemous.

Not to be Out Done by The Pepper....

So, I spent my weekend in Columbia, SC.  I was there tagging along with The Pepper for a 19th Century Literature Conference.  The Pepper presented a paper - and did VERY well.  Not that I was surprised at all.

If you're ever in the area, I HIGHLY recommend The Public House (on Desire St.) or Alex's Diner (off of Greene St. and Harden) for good food and drink.  Oh, and also Liberty Tap Room and Grille (off of Lincoln, right next to The Hampton Inn)... just don't forget to pay your tab before you leave or else you'll have creditors breathing down your neck the next day....

The Prodigal Writer Returns.... Without Further Ado....

"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap.  I believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.  I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter.  I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents on Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."  Kevin Costner as Crash Davis, Bull Durham. 

For all of those who are familiar, this is your chance to revel with me.  For everyone else that has been deprived the pleasure of watching Bull Durham, allow me to issue the following public service announcement: RUN - do not walk - to the nearest video-rental store and see it (wow... that takes me back to Dr. D.).  But in the meantime, please allow me to introduce you to what is, in my not-so-humble opinion, one of the finest lines of dialog.

But Katie, why?  Good question.... and I have several reasons.

• The way it's delivered in the movie.  The people who have seen the movie know exactly what I'm talking about.  The whole scene is classic, but I don't have enough time to get into that much depth.  I won't explain the movie to those who haven't seen it yet, because they'll take care of it eventually.  Until that time... just take my word for it.
• It's a treastice for old-school traditionalists. Granted, the movie came out in 1988, so it's getting pretty old-school in itself.  Regardless, I'm attracted to the script writers' nostalgia - even though I don't agree with everything in Crash Davis' littany. 
  • I don't see the D.H. going anywhere anytime soon - not so long as there are players like David Ortiz  to make the position popular among the casual fans (mention Papi to The Pepper sometime and you'll see what I mean).  I understand why so many people don't like the addition of the D.H., but seriously... time to move on. 
  • I haven't read Susan Sontag's novels to have an opinion one way or another... but it still can't be as bad as what I'm slogging through in Wicked .  
  • The following disagreement is the one probably most subject to personal taste, but seriously... what's the point of soft-core pornography?  Isn't that the same thing as half-assed sex?  You get teased, but never really get fulfilled.  And I could be very wrong about this, but I would think that if you're going to watch something for the purpose of SEEING sex, you'd at least want to see sex taking place.  Ahem... now that I've revealed entirely too much about myself....

The rest of the littany I believe in - same as Crash (yes, people... I believe Oswald acted alone.  That's not to say I don't believe there were conspiracies to kill Kennedy...  I just think Oswald beat everyone else to the punch.... so to speak.).  Then there's the BEAUTY of ending the diatribe with that last sentence... takes a stronger person than I am to resist that one.

• And the last, but certainly not the least important reason is: This movie is to me what It's a Wonderful Life is to others; the difference is that my Christmas is from April to October.  Opening Day of the major league baseball season is this Sunday, and there isn't much that gets me excited for baseball more than Bull Durham.

Well... my stepdad (of sorts) pulled through his quadruple bypass surgery.  It looks like he's going to be all right.  Very, very, VERY lucky man.  I'm still not sure how the hell he managed to walk around with four major arteries 90% blocked - and not suffer a heart attack. 

I'm picking up the dogs in Mooresville on Friday and taking them back here to stay with me for the forseeable future.  That way when Jones is released from the hospital, mom only has to take care of him.  It's kind of funny since I've been missing the dogs badly the last couple of weeks in particular.  Seems like now I've got my wish.