An end of the year post would appear to be in order. I have been remiss in making regular posts the past few months. I even failed to shout out a Christmas greeting to my readers. My reflections of late have not lent themselves to be the subjects of posts. I could make the excuse that I was waiting for the fiscal cliff matter to be resolved by our elected officials so that I could comment on the resolution that will be forthcoming. It seems like we will have to wait another week or two before that matter is resolved. "Set aside" may be a more accurate term to describe the outcome, since it appears little will be resolved with any degree of completeness and longevity.

I have come to the conclusion that we are what we read. I recently read Backes' biography of Sigurd Olson, which caused me to reread Olson's "Reflections from the North Country." During a Christmas visit, my daughter made mention of the desire for a Boundary Waters canoe trip at some time in the future. Being already primed with the Olson reads, the mere mention of a trip at some yet to be determined future date inspired me to pull the canoe country maps out of the dresser drawer--their longterm storage site--in order to identify possible routes. When we checked in with the Forest Service before heading out on our 2004 trip, a Forest Service staff person suggested the Granite River as a possible trip. I don't recall her reasons. We could put in at Gunflint Lake and follow the Pine and Granite Rivers to Saganaga Lake taking out at an outfitter at the end of the Gunflint Trail. Gunflint Lake, the Pine, and the Granite are actually on the US and Canadian border. This area was burned in the 2007 Ham Lake fire. I have gleaned from various blogs that the fire burned hot and fast in some areas and totally avoided others. Even in the badly burned areas there has been significant regrowth, which makes for some prime moose habitat. River travel itself presents some challenges with various rapids, some of which are described as easily runnable, and others, which must be portaged.

I don't plan to spend the upcoming winter months planning summer canoe trips. I fully intend to complete a few winter hikes and at least one campout before the start of the 2013 maple syrup season. The North Country Trail section, which lies between Mellen and Drummond, WI, deserves either a repeat visit to places experienced in years past or a visit to places not yet seen.

These thoughts make for a much more positive approach to the new year in stead of ruminating on the fiscal cliff, the array of possible ramifications upon one's personal finances, and the seemingly perversion of representative government.

I wish all thoughts of creative endeavors for the new year.

I simply can't resist.

Now that the Supreme Court has agreed to hear two cases related to gay marriage, and the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has issued a statement on that action, I feel compelled to share the following link.

http://www.yawningbread.org/apdx_2004/imp-141.htm

There is nothing more that I can say at this time and certainly nothing as well-spoken as Professor Schloesser.

It is Thanksgiving morning. I have decided to forgo my morning walk, or I have simply not decided to take a walk. It was 50 degrees when I got up at 5:30AM--not your typical Thanksgiving Day morning temperature. The forecast for tomorrow calls for temperatures in the single digits and wind chill in the below zero range.

This morning I get to watch the sunrise as I compose this entry. Now that the tilt of the earth is in its usual seasonal place for this time of the year--a never ending planetary slow dance in my interpretation, I am able to see the morning sky out of the south-facing window over my desk and through the seriously under storied balsams in the neighbor's back yard. For the past several days, the sunrise has included a horizontal ribbon of red along the horizon. If morning red skies are to be a warning to sailors, I am not sure how to interpret the dawns of the past several days. The days have been marked by partly cloudy to sunny conditions with unseasonably warn temperatures. Maybe I am confused about the timing of the warnings; they don't necessarily apply to the very day on which they appear. Could it be that particularly dire weather involves several warnings over as many days preceding the actual outbreak of seriously foul weather? If that be the case, tomorrow might mark the start of the winter of 2012-2013 with a big old exclamation point at its very outset. (This is something akin to Spanish punctuation rules where question marks are placed at the start of and the end of a statement intended as a question.)

Also to mark the change of the season, yesterday I dug out the leftover Christmas cards that had been packed with the Christmas decorations. Yes, it is also that time of the year to think about cards and letters. I have a former co-worker from a job I left in 1984, who must mail Christmas cards the day after Thanksgiving. Experience has shown that I can bank on receiving at least one Christmas card, if not by this weekend, then on Monday or Tuesday of next week. Not only the receipt of that card, but simply its anticipation motivates me to take the first step in my annual Christmas card project. Maybe this is my concession to Black Friday, since shopping--be it Christmas shopping or the regular old generic kind--will not be part of my Thanksgiving weekend activities. Early morning walks will be.

Heartfelt Thanksgiving Greetings to all my faithful and unfaithful readers.

I am satisfied with the outcome of Tuesday's election, both in national as well as local races. I also take considerable satisfaction in that I live in a part of the state where my political leanings are in the majority in terms of the presidential and senatorial races and most local races this time around, at least. During my early voting years, I went several presidential elections where I did not vote for a winner. The past couple of decades have seen a different outcome.

Leading up to an election, one can not accurately gauge the leanings of one's neighbors. Not everyone hosts yard signs or writes vociferous letters to the editor. The shrill voices, which are so often heard, may or may not be representative of the community at large.

Wisconsin shows a curious mix of Democratic and Republican victories. I suspect that Democratic interests have greater sway in statewide races and that Republican interests have greater sway in local or regional races. One can not underestimate the value of the candidate him or herself. It would be perilous to assume that party affiliation is all that matters.

A surprise this time around is voters' acceptance of gay marriage in three states and their rejection of a traditional marriage amendment in the neighboring state. I am not sure anyone predicted such a "sweep." We must keep in mind that these votes addressed the matter and concept of civil marriage and not church or sacramental marriage. This is not unlike those, who posit the indissolubility of marriage and yet accommodate civil divorce.

We can only hope that some accommodation can now be made so that critical national issues can be effectively addressed.

Roxie is back.



 

The neighborhood dog that appears to cruise the neighborhood in search of a playmate made an appearance today--the first in several months.

 

I was doing some fall clean-up and seasonal transitioning this morning, which included taking the snowblower out of summer storage and putting the lawnmower into winter storage. In the process, I started up the snowblower just to make sure it was still operational. I would just as soon not let that trial wait until the first significant snowfall. I let the snowblower run a while. I am guessing that the sound of the engine attracted Roxie, who showed up in short order with a tennis ball and in search of a thrower so that she could live out her genetic drive as a retriever. I tossed the ball while attending to my chores.

 

Roxie still has the spirit of a retriever, but is showing her age. She moves more slowly than in previous years and even favors one back leg. In past summers, she would often appear shortly after I started the lawnmower, but not so much this year. Apparently she finds the snowblower irresistible. Maybe she spent much of the summer "grounded" and restricted to her own yard or doghouse, aka "room." Whatever the explanation, it was good to have company.

 

When I started up the chainsaw to clean up a deadfall from the neighbor's yard that found its way into our yard, Roxie quickly picked up her ball and moved on--a not so dog friendly noise, I presume.

 

This past spring, when I raked the yard, I found four tennis balls that Roxie had left behind during the previous winter. Once this past summer, she took one of those balls with her when she had come by to play. I suspect that it was one of the times she showed up with a stick, that she had liberated on her cruise through the neighborhood.  I still have the remaining three balls on hand, so if she shows up with a stick, we can switch to a ball. Good throwing sticks are not easy to come by, which means Roxie will usually show up with a piece of brush that she has pulled up somewhere. It is good to have a ball available.

 

Even without Roxie's visit, this morning's outside chores reminded me how much I enjoy outside work, especially when one is not up against some deadline imposed by other commitments or foul weather on the horizon.

Two items have recently crossed my computer screen.  The first was included in an article on the Thirteenth Ordinary General Assembly of bishops currently underway in Rome on the topic of evangelization. The second was forwarded to my by a very good friend with whom I shared an admiration for the work of the Native American author, Louise Erdrich.

Here is what a prince of the Church has to say:

“Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, president of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, warned that poorly-catechized Christians should not take part in interreligious dialogue.

“Christians, often ignorant of the content of their own faith and incapable because of this of living of and for it, are not capable of interreligious dialogue that always begins with the assertion of one’s own convictions. There is no room for syncretism or relativism! Faced with adepts from other religions with a strong religious identity, it is necessary to present motivated and doctrinally equipped Christians.””  (Reported by CWN)

This is Louise Erdrich’s statement:

“The Ojibwe peoples’ earliest contact with non-Natives was with the Jesuits, so there’s a long history of entwinement of the cultures. But it’s always up to the individual priest how much he’ll allow the traditionalists into his belief system. It’s anathema to the church itself to admit the truth or goodness of any other form of religion, especially a non-Christian religion. But priests are sometimes hit over the head by the fact that they’re trying to teach spirituality to an intensely spiritual people, and they’re trying to take their spirituality away from them in order to force another form of spirituality upon them.” (Published in “Book Page, American Book Review”)

I can’t help but wonder if these two comments lay bare the disjunctures between the different levels of Church leadership and many of the clergy/hierarchy and the laity.  If the starting point of one of the parties in a conversation is that the other party has absolutely nothing to offer by way of insight into our common human condition, why should we even have a conversation? If the party presumed to be in total and absolute ignorance is not simply overwhelmed by the self-ascribed richness and totality of the other’s message, there is clear justification to browbeat or simply beat the other into submission. Many folks, who find themselves at the interface of cultures, have the kind of “a ha” experience described by Ms. Erdrich. Some certainly resort to browbeating or violence or bribery. Others feel compelled and properly so to rethink some of their preconceived notions about differing views and conceptualizations of the shared human condition.

In an earlier blog, I made a similar criticism when reflecting on the ecumenical efforts of the Church. How is it that sectarian arrogance on the part of seemingly bright individuals results in the concretizing of these positions when faced with any challenge? Is not the clear evidence of multiple and divergent claims to “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” ample reason to rethink and refine one’s currently held position rather than to simply double down and become more strident?

Maybe it is true, that democracy is very much a subversive activity and is seen as a direct threat by any number of contemporary human organizations—religious sects, international corporations, and political leadership. We may have moved towards and into representative governing models in several spheres—political, economic, and social—but there are lots of things left over from the age of monarchy and empire, including some of the ways by which we exercise democracy in our contemporary world. (I am currently readying “The Great Turning” by David Korten, to whom I must give credit for this observation.) Top down leadership is only as effective as the violent means those in leadership positions are willing to employ to enforce and maintain their leadership positions.

Once again, I am faced with the question: how are we to bridge these divides?

 

 

 

If the Big One upstairs gives grades for effort, I figure I earned a pretty fancy one this morning. Today's church service ran long and loud. There were several young children, who vocalized as such children are wont to do throughout the length of the service. They all must have had a good night's rest, because they were able to keep up the cacophony for more than an hour. The musicians appeared to accept the challenge and kept cranking up the volume of their voices and their instruments in an attempt either to be heard above or to drown out the din. As their volume increased, the quality of the singing and the musical accompaniment suffered. Father K. had prepared an harangue of a sermon and was committed to its delivery irrespective of the circumstances or the appropriateness of his message. He also kept increasing his volume. At some point, the louder one yells into a microphone the less intelligible one's speech becomes. He clearly refused to abbreviate his comments; the service ran all of an hour and a quarter. Maybe he got to repeating himself to make sure that we couldn't understand what we didn't understand the first time. In this battle of the bands, the clear winners were the youngsters in the pews. Maybe there is hope yet for the future of the Catholic Church.

The topic of Fr. K's sermon was "young adults no longer come to church." Interesting! The parents of the youngsters laying claim to center stage and refusing to back down in the face of either art/music or deference towards the clergy are young adults. It was as if the youngsters, as they represented several sets of parents, were shouting clearly and repeatedly: "For heaven's sake, look around. There are a bunch of young adults right here. How do you think we got here--both in terms of our simple existence and our presence in these pews?" The final kicker. Father announced that following mass there would be the baptism of a newborn. So, it wasn't like he couldn't have anticipated at least the possibility that some young adults (parents, godparents, aunts and uncles) would be in attendance today. I know that I am 66 and most everyone looks young. Trust me. This mom was young.

If this experience hadn't have been so painful on so many levels, it would have been funny.