Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Yesterday was the anniversary of the date in 1377 when Pope Gregory XI moved the papacy from Avignon, France, to Rome. It stands to reason, however I have little evidence to support it, that today must be the anniversary of the date in 1377 when the pope had his cable turned on and unpacked his record collection.

Gregory and his small retinue of hundreds moved into a charming fixer-upper and proceeded to plan his vegetable garden and to innovate new ways to torture heretics. The house immediately became a magnet for Rome’s cognoscenti, literati, and illuminati. Unfortunately for the thirty-second most unoriginally named pope (all of the Johns (including an antipope (John XVI) and a non-existent pope (John XX)) and the first ten Gregorys are ahead of him), he died not long after his move, leaving his garden plan unexecuted (but not a few heretic--they WERE executed) and casting all of Catholicism into a lengthy spat.

Before I get into The Great Schism, I would like to revisit the fact that there is a nonexistent pope. Somehow the papal historical record labeled one of their honchos incorrectly. John XIV was apparently counted twice (perhaps due to the action of another antipope, Boniface VII (sometimes the history of Western religion reads like a Marvel comic book: Pope/Antipope)).  I am not kidding when I tell you that the papal record apparently refers to John XIV AND John XIV the second.  How can you have a John XIV the second?  Isn’t that like having a John Jr III?  It doesn’t make any sense.  But, when the pope who would be XX came around--a guy referred to as (again, no joke) Spanish Peter--he decided to correct the record (assuming there already had been XX popes named John) and he skipped the XX and went right in as XXI.  As it turns out, John XIV and John XIV the second turned out to be the same guy.  Um, duh?  No wonder some Christians believe the world is only 6000 years old--they can’t even keep track of sequentially numbered guys named John.

But, anyway, the pope elected after Gregory XI was from Naples, and the French, being used to a) having a short walk to the pope’s house (pre-1377) and b) speaking French to the pope (okay, you got me, it was probably Latin, but there’s no joke there…is there?), did not like the new guy. So, they did what any reasonable collection of people will do when an election doesn’t go their way—they split. Literally. And, so, The Great Schism began, and Europe had to choose a patriarch. This was highly confusing to Europe. The pope was supposed to be the closest human to God, and now there were two?  How could that be right? As it turned out, most of France and Scotland went with the antipope in Avignon, and everybody else sided with the Neapolitan pope.

For thirty years, cardinals tried to solve the problem. The best solution they could come up with occurred in 1409, when, in an attempt to sort out who was the legitimate pope, they elected a second antipope, giving them, you guessed it, three popes to choose from! I have no idea how they managed such an unbelievable act of incompetence.  Maybe they thought they were voting for one thing and voted for another? Perhaps the ballot was printed in too small a print, or it was written in the vernacular (which they did not understand). Be that as it may, the episode of The Great Catholic Comedy from season 13 titled “Aw, Schism!” began to rival the most madcap episodes of I Love Lucy ever filmed at DesiLu Studios.

Eventually, the cardinals figured out the difference between one pope and three popes (or one pope and two antipopes), and they recognized the legitimacy of the Roman “line” of popes. They call it a line, but that would imply heredity, wouldn’t it?  Are only popes allowed to reproduce? I will stop this line of inquiry here, I don’t want to upset too many of my family members.

Needless to say, the Roman popes eventually moved out of Gregory XI’s little cottage and started their own city-state, Vatican City. Hmmm, city-state. Didn’t the Greeks have city-states? And wasn’t there a big break up between the Greek and Latin Church in 1054? And wasn’t that The Great Schism? Does that mean we should refer to the 1377 break as The Great Schism the second?  And, really, y’all, what’s with all the schisms? Can’t we all just get along? 

Sitting Still

In 2006, Monkey and I spent part of June in Maine. In 2007, Monkey and I spent part of June moving from CoMO to Lincoln. In 2008, Monkey and I spent part of Jun in Italy. Last year, Monkey and I spent part of June in OCMD. This year, we aren't going anywhere.

For the most, we are staying put this month due to our new puppy. We will be heading to Colorado at the end of July, but, right now, we think he's a little too young to be left in the care of someone else (especially if he'd be around strange dogs). This is, after all, his formative period, and we wanted to be here to form him, of course.

It's fine by me to be keeping close to home. I find plenty on the old homestead to keep me busy, including reading (of which I have done too little, so far). Add to that that World Cup eating up anywhere from an hour to six of any given day, I am perfectly content to be here.

In a way, however, I am traveling. After three years teaching at my school, my position was cut due to budget tightening. As a result, I spent several weeks this past semester interviewing with other schools in the district who, due to transfers, resignations, retirements, etc., had openings. Lucky for me, a high school position was available, and I was offered it. So, I am moving to a new school next year. I am still in the LPS district, so I keep all of my seniority and such, but I still had to pack everything up and store it here until I can get into my new location.

It is frustrating to lose a position for such arbitrary reasons, but I feel fortunate that I didn't get laid off and left to fend for a new job in a completely new district. That would have really been tough. I am, to some extent, looking forward to the excitement of a new school and new classes.

Yet, staying in one job for a while wouldn't have been bad, either. That seems to be something I haven't done for a long time. And, now that I think about it, the last time I was in the same job for a long time (ten plus years), I kind of grew to hate it.

Two Kinds of Friends

Several recent events have put me in a pensive mood, lately. Or, perhaps I should say a more pensive than usual mood, since I think I am just pensive by nature. At any rate, much of my pensiveness is focused on relationships. Primarily friendships. What makes them? What makes a good friendship? And, why can't I spell friendship? (Thank you spell check.)

It seems that the last couple of months have really brought some highs and lows in the annals of me and friends. Now, I don't want to give you the impression that I am spending time on the phone engaged in some sort of I-don't-believe-he-would-do-that-how-can-I-still-be-his-friend kind of drama. It's really more of the looking back on friends I have had and friends I have in a time of change and, well, just contemplating.

Now, it seems, I have a lot of friends in a lot of places. Who doesn't? But, it wasn't long ago, I thought I would always have the same group of friends who all lived within ten miles of each other. In hindsight, that was a silly notion. And, had my life turned out that way, I most likely would have been the worse off for it.

I was not an Army brat as a child. My parents were not in a witness protection program (if such a thing even exists). My mom or dad never worked in an industry that forced them to relocate often. We stayed put. From my birth until I was thirty, Baltimore was my home. Pulling up stakes in 1999 seemed like the hardest thing I would ever have to do. I was leaving my family. I was leaving my friends. Some of these friends I had known for decades, some I had known for a few years. They all seemed like the best friends I might ever have.

Leaving family was hard, but, I knew I would always maintain my contact with them. I knew I would always come back to see them. Maybe I wouldn't be able to get back as often as I wanted, but, I'd still see them. The friends were another matter.

We all swore we'd keep in touch. We'd write. We'd phone. We'd email. For a while, we did. But, after some time had passed, after they had grown used to me being somewhere else and had busied themselves with their ongoing lives, after I had settled in to CoMo and began to grow a brand new social life, the communication trickled, trickled, and died. I still occasionally keep in contact with a person or two from back in Mobtown, but, for the most part, it's a surprise when I hear from anyone (or when they hear from me). This may seem like a story behind which some Eastern European strings should be playing, minor and slow, but, it's not. This is simply a function of life.

In Missouri, one close friend moved on, leaving a large hole in my life (and Monkey's). However, we stayed in close touch. We see each other regularly (but not often). We are, indeed, still close friends. Even after more years than I care to mention, our friendship seems to have survived a physical separation. Other friends moved on. Some I still connect with (some right here on the ol' Central Standard), while others are simply moving in other spheres, I guess. As my time in Missouri drew to a close, as people left me behind, or I prepared to move on myself, the situation seemed to repeat itself. After a year away, the number of people I stay in regular contact with is small, but, it encompasses the closest of my friends from that most central of central Missouri towns.

And, now, here in Cornopolis, the situation repeats itself, as close friends we have had the chance to meet and quickly grow to love are heading off to greater opportunity. It is a sad, sad feeling, losing friends, but, really, I realize, it is not a loss.

As this school year began, I was introduced to an essay by Jane Howard called, "Families," which appeared several years ago in The Atlantic Monthly. In her essay, Howard uses some terminology from a tribe in Cameroon which identifies two kinds of friends, friends of the road and friends of the heart. Friends of the road are people that you are with by chance: classmates and other people who are somehow in a social group in which you circulate. They are people you like, but, you come to be with them mostly through convenience. On the other hand, friends of the heart are those whom you choose to be in contact with. Those formerly friends of the road who are no longer convenient, yet still draw you to them (and you draw them, too). Reading this essay was definitely a case of the right text at the right time.

I have had many friends of the road, and I am grateful for them and the time we've spent together, but I truly treasure those friends of the heart who have come into my life and stuck there, even when far out of sight, and without the parting, as painful as it is, they don't get to make the jump from the road to the heart. So, I guess I am comforted by the revelation that good friends gone are somehow better friends. The inability to spend more time with them might make one unhappy, but the quality of the relationship grows if the connection is strong enough to transcend distance.

Thanks for listening, friends.

The Bird Of Paradise Flies Up My Nose

Lest it be said that only the darkness is allowed to pervade Central Standard, allow me to relate to you that I have had a pretty good week, so far. We're talking Cornopolis-style, lads and lassies. I have felt pretty on my game at school. As well, I have given myself a good talking to and decided to permit myself to be imperfect. This will, if past experience is any indicator, only last a week or two, and then I'll be right back to kicking myself for the littlest things, but, hey, I gotta be me.

In addition, I got an email from NaNoWriMo , reminding me that it is time to sign up. In 12 days, it'll be writing time, again! Woo hoo! I don't know if I can pull it off this year. Of course, I didn't know if I could do it last year, and I did, but this year, with all of the changes.... Already, I am making excuses. Boo! However, I did not complete Script Frenzy this June due to the move, so a precedent has been set (and an unfinished film script needs more attention).

And, to top it off, I nailed a trey from the top of the arc at basketball Wednesday, so, you know, I've got that going for me. Along with the fact that, after tomorrow's half-day of finals, I have a week off, and Monkey and I are going to South Dakota! We plan on seeing the half-finished Crazy Horse, the giant president's heads, the Badlands, the Black Hills...lots o' clash of cultures history. I am pretty psyched.

Now, if we could just get the football team up here back on track, life in Nebraska might start looking up.

Hurricane James

Aunt James whipped into Cornopolis on Friday afternoon. A little chit-chat, and we were off to various crafty-type places to buy the fixings for a good old-fashioned reupholstering. You see, unbeknownst to me, Aunt James wasn't here for just a-visitin'. It was a project she was after.

And a project she got. We roamed the Cornopolis hills and dales looking for proper furnishings and decorative items, as she and Monkey got their noggins together and worked up a proper design aspect for Monkey House Nebraska. Now, we're not talking ropes and tire swings with some plastic jugs to play with and a pail full of dirty water in the corner. Oh, no. We've left decor like that far behind us.

What we did wind up with was some fine thrift store breakfast nook furnishings (c. 1960s), a cool blue chair (it softens the room, I'm told), a reupholstered 1950s-style Montgomery Ward chair, an neat little table and lamp for the sun room, and a mess o' wall hangings (all original Monkey House paraphenalia).

By Sunday, everybody was pretty wiped, but the house looked great. We still need one more chair and some house plants, but the place really looks like a place people live in, rather than a place people are transitioning in (I am so over transitioning--I know, it's not over, yet).

So, a big thank you to Aunt James. She has some skills.

I'll be posting pics right soon.

Settling In

Well, the trips to Lowe's and Target seem to have slowed down. We have been acknowledging many first lately. Our first home cooked meal in the new house: burgers on the grill, corn, salad. It was very good. So good in fact that our second home-cooked meal, which occurred but three days later (sandwiches do not count), was burgers on teh grill, corn, and salad. We had our first visitors (Monkey's program chair and his wife), we hung our first wall hanging (the tile mirror), we noticed our first chip in the paint (thanks to the furniture deliverers). We met our first male next-door neighbor, back from an archeological dig in Alaska. We read our first home-delivered newspaper in the living room.

I mean to tell you, it has been an exciting time.

The big happening in LincTown this weekend has undoubtedly been the Americruise car show. 10,000 (I think) classic cars at the fairgrounds. Not a few of them cruising the main drags of town. It's pretty neat to see one as you make your way around town. Monkey and I didn't go to the fairgrounds, however. Admission was in the area of $15. That just seems like too much to see a bunch of cars parked on the midway. Even if it is 10,000.

Hey. I identified those three plants that I didn't pull up. Mrs. Program Chair took one look at them and said, "Peony." And so they are. I just won't know what kind until they flower next year.

Idly(?) Threatened

Okay. Okay. Yes, we were linked up to the "internets" on Tuesday of this week, yet I have not posted. Not for lack of material, my friends. Oh, no. But, you know, we had a number of boxes to unpack, and we had to visit Target and Lowe's, like, every day. We had to go to the Nebraska DMV, only to find out we didn't have enough money (and no checks) to pay the property taxes up front on both of the vehicles (so we had to go back today). And we had to saw off the screws holding the MO license onto the Civic. And the queen-sized box springs didn't fit up our tiny, twisty staircase, so we had to go buy split queen box springs (which will be delivered Saturday). And we had to break down about five hundred boxes, and dispose of a half ton of newsprint that the movers wrapped everything in.

It's been a busy time.

I have also been enjoying tending to the yard which had not been tended since about April. Sure, the lawn had been mowed, but all those little beds with the pretty flowers that we thought were so lovely when we saw the house in March? They are an overgrown mess.

I did find three random tomato plants growing in various border areas of the yard, which I dug up and replanted in a little patch that I had previously laid waste to. Now, I have no knowledge of plants at all, so I just considered everything a weed and played "human napalm" (without the stickiness and the flames.... Come to think of it, it wasn't anything at all like napalm; that analogy sucked. Sorry.). Except for these three green things that didn't look like weeds, but I'll be damned if I know what they are. So, I left them. And, I went to the library and checked out a mess of books on gardening and plants. I could have checked out one hundred and fifty books if I wanted. I swear to Christ, the public library here limits checked out items (non-audio-visual) to 150. I mean, why even put a freaking limit on it, if you're going to let people check out half a small branch library at a time?

Anyway, as you may have guessed, I also got a library card (Monkey already had hers). So, we are totally set. And we are finding some local places that may make it a good deal easier to live here. Two places are big on pie, which is good; and we found a pizza joint with about 400 beers in stock, so God bless them. We are slowly settling in; however, at this moment, the only thing we have hung on the walls is the calendar in the kitchen. And, we have about twelve boxes of books yet to unpack, due to the fact that we jettisoned three rickety bookcases before we moved and have not replaced them (plus all of our CDs are still packed for the same reason--no place to put them). And the garage is full of two queen sized box springs, a washer, and a dryer. All for sale. Buyer assumes all costs for shipping and handling. Interested? You know how to find me. Other than that, there's no place like home. This place truly is wonderful, and I invite you all to come up for a visit (except you strange anonymous people...okay, I'm sorry, you're not strange, just anonymous).

I hope to communicate with you all real soon. And I promise, some time before the end of the summer, I'll put some damn pictures up on this piece!

Temporary Shutdown

Well, I'm chasin' the blues
Right out of my mind
I'm leavin' my cares
And worries behind
'Cause I'm on my way
I'm leavin' town today
--Patsy Cline, "I'm Moving Along"

The sofa excursion was a success. No problems at all, except now our little rented house feels even littler. The packers come tomorrow, the loaders on Wednesday. A little cleaning, and we should be closing this chapter of Central Standard by about 2pm.

This afternoon, we will be shutting down and loading up this here computer. We won't have internet access at Monkey House Nebraska for a few days (haven't even made an appointment with the cable company, yet). So, this will be my last entry for a while. I hope to get back to you all as soon as I can. Until then, I send my best to you. Wish us luck!

One of Those Days

Have you ever in your life experienced a day
where nothing at all seems to go your way?
No matter how hard you try to get out of the rut
you just could not break the string of bad luck?
A day where Murphy's law takes over your life,
and you just can't seem to do a darn thing right.
And when the day was over you just had to say,
you said, "Man, it's just one of those days."
--Will Smith, "One of Those Days"

Yesterday started out pretty beningnly. Coffee and newspaper (Saturday style), some going through of drawers and closets to prepare for the move, cleaning the top of the refrigerator, etc. Around the middle of the day, Monkey suggested we go to Sears to do some research/buy a stove for Monkey House Nebraska. We stopped off at a music store to buy a case for my guitar, had lunch, and proceeded to that architectural celebration of commerce, the mall. We purchased a stove. A good one. We ran into a friend at the Sears. Everything was going swimmingly, don't you think?

Well, we get to the car, and it won't start. No attempt at all from the motor to get the engine started, no time on the clock radio, nothing. We call AAA, and they arrive pretty promptly. The tow driver gives us a jump, and the car starts. I ask, "What are the odds of the car stalling on the way home?" He says, "It shouldn't."

About a quarter of a mile later, still on the mall parking lot, but now blocking an exit, the car stalls. We call AAA again, since the tow truck is nowhere in sight, and I am treated to: "All operators are busy right now, please hold." I thought that was rather odd, for an emergency service to put one on hold. Lucky for us, however, just as an operator came on the line, Monkey spotted the tow driver and flagged him down.

We were towed to a local repair shop, where we hope they will be able to repair the vehicle before Wednesday. Suh-Weet and Queen came to pick us up and drive us home, so, a big shout out to them.

We still needed to get to the Hyve, to purchase stuff for a birthday party we were going to (I didn't tell you about that). So, we proceeded to the Hyve, letting the Penguin work out all the bugs from ten days of inactivity. Then, leaving the grocery, a woman and I backed into each other in the parking lot. It was not very serious at all; however, considering that we had just left a dead vehicle at a repair shop, I felt like I was in a short film about bad car days. In an absurd kind of way, it was funny, but, at the time, I was not seeing it in such a way.

So, we exchanged info with the woman, went home, made some burgers and were off to the party, but, needless to say, I just wasn't into it. We were back home by 11:30, I was asleep by 11:45.

Today, we drive to St. Louis to pick up a sofa. Stand by for THAT story. I hope it's not a very exciting one.