I have the attention span (or is that 'spand'? I'm an English major and should know!) of a baby chipmunk. Someone told me the other day that I hadn't posted a blog for over a month. "Nonsense," I said, "it was just the other day...or last week...or the week before that...or, oh, I guess, over a month...."
Well, as I was saying....
I have a new granddaughter since I last wrote. Her name is Tegan Hoyt Bradley. She is the sister of Morgan and Emma and we'll be going to Baltimore to meet her on Sunday. Since the twins were tiny, it is a new thing for Josh and Cathy to have a 7lb plus baby. I can't wait to see her and hold her. Josh is now living with four women. Even the dog is female! Lord have mercy upon him....
Hoyt is my father's middle name. It goes well, I think, with Tegan and I'm not sure Josh and Cathy realized what they were doing. Whether they realized it or not, I am eternally grateful. My father was a melancholy and somewhat haunted man. I love him more each day, which is sad, since I didn't love him enough when he was physically with me. I was embarrassed by him much of the time--thinking I was smarter and better educated than he was. Which might be true in some respects but is a horrible reason to be embarrassed by the bone of your bone. But, as Mark Twain observed, one's parents get smarter the older we get. He, at least, met Josh and Mimi but missed his grandchildren by years. My mother missed them all. Sometime I might write about my mother. I haven't started loving her more the older I get yet. I loved her fiercely when she was alive but as the years pass I think less and less of her. She died when I was 25, so I've had a lot of years to have her memory fade. I'm not sure I can remember her voice or her smile--a sad thing since she had a beautiful smile. She was very, very smart and well educated. Mother had a master's degree and was a school teacher. Dad finished 8th grade and worked at lots of jobs from coal miner to insurance salesman. God bless him. He worked hard his whole life and worried like a wort. The worry gene jumped me to my son, I think. Seems that way, at any rate.
I spent 8 hours today in a room full of lawyers. I've spent lots of time with lawyers recently, which may be why my chipmunk brain has forgotten to write here. The church is being sued by one of our former curates. (A 'curate' is the assisting priest but since Episcopalians have to have un-understandable names for everything, we call them 'curates'. Like we call the front hall of the sanctuary the 'narthex' and the basement of the church the 'undercroft'. Go figure....) The church's lawyer would probably have a stroke if he knew I was writing about this, but since it has consumed me so long and my deposition isn't until All Souls' Day (what Episcopalians call November 2nd) I can't hold it in any longer.
It's just a mess. I will, with greater self-control than I imagined I had, withhold any details. But it is just a mess and has caused enormous pain and confusion and anger for me and many members of the parish. (By the way--the lawsuit is not about anything sexual...take a deep breath, ok?) It's a long story I'd like to tell, but being a good 'do-be' won't right now....
Lots of things have happened since I last wrote. Jack Parker's memorial service, my 'roast' after 20 years as Rector, Tegan's birth, the Yankees in the playoffs, West Virginia University's football team climbing into the top 25, the parakeets' arrival, my annual physical, the blessing of the animals...I'm still thinking...lots of stuff. I'll try to be a good chipmunk and write more often if anyone is still reading.
Right now, I have to take the dog out and go to bed. Be well and stay well....
- ► 2018 (136)
- ► 2017 (248)
- ► 2016 (291)
- ► 2015 (341)
- ► 2014 (346)
- ► 2013 (262)
- ► 2012 (120)
- ► 2011 (136)
- ► 2010 (204)